by DB King
The command came to him immediately, and he spoke it aloud.
“Crucible: Create Arena chamber.”
Marcus was unsure what would happen, but as soon as he cast the spell, a light glowed around his right hand. He held it up, clenching his hand into a fist and watching as the pale green light steadily increased in brightness.
His palm felt warm, as if he held a coin that had been lying in the sun. He felt something inside his fist where there had been nothing before. Amazed, he opened his hand and found a metal disk lying in his palm, twice the size of the biggest coin that was used for trade in Kraken City.
And this was no coin. It was a token, and it reminded him of the entry tokens that were used for the fighting pits. Money was not allowed into the seating area in the fighting pits—instead, every man who wanted to watch the fighting paid his entry fee and received a pit token, and that allowed him to enter and buy beer and food from the stands while inside.
The pit tokens were smaller, though, and well-worn from much use. The round token in Marcus’s hand looked at if it had been newly minted. The edges were clean and sharp, and the interweaving geometric pattern which covered the whole surface of the gray metal disk was incredibly clear.
“It’s beautiful,” Ella said as he held it out to show her.
“I guess this is the token you mentioned. I’ll place this in the blank chamber and that will create an Arena dungeon.”
“What about the environment?” Ella asked.
Marcus thought about it for a moment before answering. “Sand. That’s the most appropriate element for an arena environment, I think.”
“Where will you get sand from, though?” Ella asked curiously.
Marcus smiled. He reached into the pouch at his belt and pulled out a handful of small items which he laid out on the table in front of them. There were a couple of gold nuggets, some iron coins, rings of bronze and of silver, and a few little leather bags each small enough to pick up between your thumb and forefinger.
He gestured to the little bags. “I’ve been collecting things over the last four weeks,” he explained. “Things that I thought might make for useful dungeon ingredients.”
He opened one of the bags and looked inside. “Here’s some soil from one of the work days when we were digging up to lay the foundations. In this other one here is sawdust from the oak timbers that we used to make the floor for the study. And this one here, this contains a pinch of the sand that we brought in at Kairn’s request, to thicken the mortar for the outer wall foundations. I’ll use this sand for the Arena chamber’s environment ingredient.”
“Brilliant,” Ella said with a grin. “That’ll work. Come on, let’s get the new chamber started then!”
Marcus smiled at her eagerness. He repacked his bag of dungeon ingredients but kept the bag of sand and the token he’d been given by the dungeon in his hand. He walked to the edge of the Grove chamber, and Ella followed. Once they reached the low cliff that formed the edge of the Grove chamber, Marcus took a breath and spoke the spell that would begin the process of creating a new dungeon chamber.
“Crucible: Initiate!”
A deep, far-off boom rang through the grove. A bright light shone out from the blank rockface. Marcus held up his left hand and pointed it, palm outward, toward the light. The light blasted out from the rock and hit his hand. It settled into a steady beam of clear pale green light between the cliff face and Marcus. But the light soon became blinding, and Marcus blinked. When he opened his eyes, the light faded quickly. A heavy bronze door was embedded in the rockface.
Marcus smiled and stepped forward. The door was immense. It was not actually much taller than he was, but it was a foot thick as he laid a hand to the handle and drew the door open. It swung outward silently, drifting as if it was perfectly aligned on its hinges.
Behind the monstrous slab of bronze that served as a door, Marcus found a small, shallow chamber. It was lined with stone, as if carved out of the cliff itself. It was three feet square and six feet high, and utterly featureless. Ella remained outside, but Marcus stepped through the doorway and knelt to place the ingredients. First, he opened the leather drawstring that secured the little bag of sand and tipped the contents out into a little conical pile on the stone floor.
As he shook out the last grains of sand, he noticed just how smooth the stone was inside this chamber. He had never seen stone ground to such a fine finish, and the entire chamber was like that. Kairn would appreciate this, he thought as he ran a finger over the gray surface. It’s a shame that he won’t get to see it, since this featureless room will disappear once the dungeon has been through the evolution phase.
He put the empty bag that had contained the sand away in his pouch and placed the token on top of the pile of sand. Light shone out from the token as he placed it down, but it faded shortly after.
Marcus smiled as he stood and made his way out of the chamber. He laid a hand on the enormous door and it swung shut and locked with a loud click. Marcus took a breath and spoke the spell that would begin the evolution from a blank room to a fully-fledged dungeon chamber.
“Crucible: Initiate Gestation Phase.”
As soon as he said the words, the door glowed brightly, as if it had been heated in a furnace. It shone, and the air around it shimmered with pure magical energy. After a few moments, the light faded and the shimmer ceased.
But the bronze door didn’t disappear. With all Marcus’s other dungeons, the initiating the gestation phase usually hid the entrance from view, or at least blocked it up. I suppose a foot-thick locked bronze door doesn’t need any help stopping people from entering, he thought.
As he looked at the closed door, he heard a noise. Something churned, as if a giant were behind the door stirring a huge pot of thick soup.
Marcus grinned at the image. A giant, he thought. Now that would be an impressive enemy to fight in a dungeon. Giants were the stuff of legend in Kraken City. No one had ever seen one, nor was likely to as far as Marcus could tell. To the best of his knowledge the giants had all been killed off long ago, even before the founding of the Dwarven Realms in the far northern mountains of the Kingdom of Doran, over the sea.
“What’s funny?” Ella asked.
“Hm?” Marcus said, jolted from his thoughts. “Oh, I was just thinking that a giant would be a challenging enemy to fight in a dungeon chamber.”
Ella nodded. “Unlikely,” she said. “Though perhaps not impossible.”
“I suppose nothing is completely impossible when it comes to dungeons.”
They walked back toward the campfire. “How long will the gestation process take, I wonder?” Marcus said as they walked.
“My guess is that it’ll take a while, probably longer than the usual gestation process takes,” Ella replied.
“Why, because it’s using so much energy?”
She nodded.
“I guess that stands to reason,” Marcus said, yawning. “Oh, I’m tired now. I don’t know what time it is up top, but I feel in need of a rest. I think I’ll go upstairs to sleep rather than spend the evening in the Grove. I want to have a quick look over the day’s reports before I go to bed.”
“I think I’ll stay here in the Grove,” Ella said. “I’ve missed it.”
Marcus smiled. “I’ve missed it too,” he said. “It’s great to have the dungeons available for use again.”
They said goodnight, and Ella flew up into the branches of the highest tree. Marcus walked over to the Grove’s chamber’s doorway and put his hand on the door to push it open.
As he stepped out into the dungeon entrance hallway, he glanced over his shoulder. Night had fallen, and the sky was full of stars. A thin waxing moon had appeared over the cliff, shining a white light over the peaceful scene and casting inky shadows. Yellow light from the campfire illuminated the campsite area.
Marcus closed the door quietly as he left, cast the spell to conceal the entrance, and made his way up the stairs to the courtyard. Ella w
as right. He had missed the dungeons.
It was great to have them back.
Chapter 9
Marcus had strange dreams that night. Usually, he slept like a log and only remembered fragments of his dreams, if he remembered anything. When he woke the morning after the Bladehand chamber fight, however, his first thought was how strange and vivid his dreams had been.
He hauled the bedclothes off and stepped onto the rug. He flung on a wool robe that hung near the bed and walked to the desk, glancing out the window. It was still early. Even Hammer did not stir—he was curled up in a tight ball, nose to tail, on the blanket beside the hearth. As Marcus stood, Hammer lifted one ear for a few seconds, then dropped it again.
Marcus smiled. He had time before anyone else would be up and about.
Sitting at his desk, he grabbed a fresh leaf of paper and a quill pen, and wrote down the quickly fading, brightly colored memory of his dream.
I dreamed of a dark island where it was always night, he wrote, and a man who ruled the island with an iron fist. He had a pale face and razor sharp teeth, and a thirst that could not be quenched. He had a ship, too, and a crew of bloodthirsty creatures under his command. They sailed under the light of the moon. I remember the man’s face most of all—angular and sharp, with dark, merciless eyes and a beard styled like the beards of the duelists.
There was a monster under the man’s command, a huge thing like a lobster, but covered in spikes. In the dream, it was as big as a ship, but also small enough to fit in the man’s pocket. He wore a bright red greatcoat and carried a curved sword.
I only remember one thing that he said. He said, “I shall have my prize.”
Marcus sat back and looked at what he had written and frowned. It was dissatisfying. Even as he had been writing, the sharp edges of the dream had faded. With an effort, Marcus visualized the face: cold and hard, and somehow ancient and young at the same time. And the sharp teeth, glinting over the top of a thin, cruel mouth.
“I wonder what it means?” he asked himself out loud as he sat back in his chair, but he had no answer to his own question.
A little while later, Marcus was dressed and bathed and on his way down to the kitchen. They had built a generously sized kitchen on the first level below the ground, and here a team of former slum dwellers worked to cook enough food to satisfy the many hungry mouths who now worked in Marcus’s stronghold.
Despite the closure of the Middle Watch by the Traders’ Council, there had been very little difficulty getting supplies through to the stronghold, because a man could walk through the slum district to the docks without having to pass through the Merchants’ Town. Particularly during the first week, Marcus had made sure to buy wagon loads of grain and dried fruit from the docklands sellers, and later, when the prices had gone crazy, the slum dwellers found that they could buy supplies direct from the ships with their labor because there were so few workers available.
So food had not been an issue over the past months, and at any time of day or night a man could come down to the kitchens and find fresh bread and a bowl of stew at the least.
Marcus eased the door open and stepped into the warm, dimly lit, humid room. The place smelled like roasting meat, onions, and rising bread, and Marcus inhaled deeply as he entered. He was not expecting there to be anyone here except the early shift of the kitchen crew, so he was surprised to see a big, armored figure sitting at one of the benches, deeply engrossed in his meal.
“Ben!” Marcus said, recognizing his friend.
The figure turned his head, showing the kindly, simple, black-bearded face of big Ben Hammerfist. He had been fighting alongside Anja for a year before they had met Marcus and become his dungeon runners, but Marcus had sent him to spend time in the docklands and the Merchants’ Town and try to gather news. He had been gone for ten days, and had sent no word, so Marcus was very pleased to see him.
“Ah, Marcus,” the big guy said, wiping crumbs from his beard with a sheepish grin. “I’ve not long got in. I thought everybody would still be asleep, so I came here to break my fast before coming to report.”
“That’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Marcus said with a smile. Ben was a huge man, an accomplished fighter, and a solid, honest, and reliable friend, but he had become somewhat nervous around Marcus in recent weeks, as Marcus’s power grew. Ben seemed to consider Marcus a lord of some kind, and that must’ve made him nervous.
Marcus wanted them to be able to get over that. He went to the board and cut himself a slab of bread. He grabbed two hard-boiled eggs, a green apple, and a brown earthenware bowl from a covered tray.
A mug of weak beer from the barrel completed his meal, and he sat opposite Ben and ate. Ben watched him, and smiled, shrugging, and continued with his meal.
“So,” Marcus said with his mouth full, “how was it in the city? You’ll have heard that the Middle Watch is open again and we’ve made a truce with the Traders’ Council?”
“Mm,” Ben said, nodding and swallowing a mouthful of beer, “I heard. The talk in the inns was of nothing else. You seriously put the wind up the merchants, and scared them badly, I think, but they came around and realized they had to work with you if they were going to survive.”
“It was only a matter of time,” Marcus said. “They had to realize that it was in their interests, and that they were going to suffer more from the situation than we ever were.”
Ben nodded. “What’s the situation with the slum dwellers now?” he asked.
“Well,” Marcus said, “for a start the place they live is looking less and less like a slum by the day. We’ve a strong team of them working here at the stronghold, but there are many more still at home. Since the Middle watch closed and I started feeding them, they’ve found that they have full bellies and no work that they need to do for their pay. I’ve set them to redesigning and upgrading their own living spaces, and they’ve set to with a will. We’ve got lots done here at the stronghold, but they’ve done more in the slums.” Marcus frowned, thinking about something. “Wait a minute. Didn’t you see? Didn’t you pass through the slums on your way here?”
Ben shook his head. “I just passed along the outer edge of the slums, I didn’t go through the main areas. I wanted to be seen by as few people as possible, and to get back here by the most direct route.”
Marcus caught the note of urgency in Ben’s eyes. He glanced around at the kitchens, which were starting to get busier with the morning shift coming in to work.
He stood, grabbed a wicker basket from a sideboard where there was a stack of them and packed his meal into the basket, adding more items as he did. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s take our meal out and finish it on the walls. There’s more to tell here, I see, and I want to have a bit of privacy to talk with you.”
“Good idea,” Ben said with a nod.
Together, they packed up their food and left the kitchen.
Above ground, the stronghold was built across three levels, with the main hall and the sleeping quarters for guests and permanent residents on the ground floor. The second floor contained Marcus’s study, several other bedrooms where Anja, Kairn, and other high-ranking people slept, and the third floor, which was mostly unfinished so far, was going to be storage, workshops, and armories.
Marcus and Ben walked up from the underground kitchen level to the first floor, through the main hall and down a corridor to get out into the courtyard. They walked up onto the walls, but wandered around to the other side of the stronghold walls, away from the view of Kraken City. At this side, their view was over a wide open mile of featureless wasteland, then the sea.
The morning was turning fine, and the mist that inevitably rose from the boggy marshes of the wasteland was burning off in the sun. Ben and Marcus sat down in a quiet spot away from the guards, where there was a table and three chairs set in a nook in the walls. The sun shone down on them as they laid out their food and drink and ate and talked again.
“Tell me about Diremage Xeron,” Mar
cus said.
“The Diremage?” Ben said. “That’s a strange tale. He’s gone.”
“Gone?”
“Left the city, almost as soon as the rains stopped. Word on the docks was that a ship had come in and was waiting for him.”
“What kind of ship?”
“Ooh, a black ship—a galleon with black sails, crewed by men who didn’t speak to anyone while they were in port. The Diremage came down early in the morning on the day the rains finally stopped, and embarked at first light. They sailed on the morning tide.”
Marcus let out a breath and sat back in his chair. Diremage Xeron had left Kraken City! That was news indeed. Xeron, so it was said, was a retired vampire hunter who had come to Kraken City some years ago and settled in a rich home up in the Merchants’ Town. It was Xeron who had been keeping Ella prisoner in his basement.
Marcus had gone there with the intention of stealing a consignment of magical dust that granted the user spells, but in the course of his robbery he had found Ella in an iron cage in the basement and had rescued her, much to the benefit of everyone concerned. Well, everyone except Xeron.
Xeron had sworn revenge on Marcus and had tried various means to get Ella back. Eventually, he had resorted to funding and arming the denizens of the Underway and encouraging their attack on the Gutter Gang. Xeron had funded the battle of the Underway.
Since the battle, Marcus had been expecting trouble from Xeron. He’d sent Ben to scout the city for news mostly to discover Xeron’s movements. The fact that the Diremage had left Kraken was unexpected.
“Well,” Marcus said consideringly, after giving it some thought, “it’s surprising, but not unwelcome. If he’s gone, we can expect that we won’t have any trouble from him at least in the immediate future. We’ll need to keep an eye open for him though. He’s a tricky one.”
Ben nodded. “I don’t think he’s left for good. His house is not for sale, and his servants have all been kept on with orders to keep the place ready for his return.”