by Nick Harrow
“Rathokhetra is a dungeon lord, not a wet nurse,” Delsinia shot back. “Fear makes—”
“Enough,” I said. “Let’s not turn this mess into a total shitshow by arguing with each other in front of the locals.”
The woman had fled with her child, but her cries had drawn attention, and a small knot of men gathered as we approached the village. With any luck, they wouldn’t round up any torches or pitchforks before we reached them.
“I called the wahket,” Nephket said as we neared the village’s edge. Her connection with the other cat women had grown so strong since they’d become my worshippers that my familiar had only to think and they responded. “They will be here soon.”
Delsinia nodded her approval at Nephket’s decision, but she didn’t have anything else to say. She did her best to keep her thoughts to herself, but I felt the turmoil in her heart. She’d been a dungeon lord until a few days ago and had spent the past few centuries yearning for her husband, the old Lord Rathokhetra, to return. Since I’d taken up the mantle of her long-dead lover, Del had struggled to reconcile her memories with her new position.
“Good call,” I said. “Keep them out of sight if you can, but let’s be ready for anything.”
“Villagers,” Zillah snorted. “There was no need to call the wahket. I could eat the lot of them before they raised a finger.”
“Do not eat them,” I said. “I mean it.”
“Fine.” The scorpion queen stuck her red tongue out at me. “But in the heat of battle, I might take a bite or two. In passing. You can’t fault a girl for getting hungry.”
The buildings that surrounded the oasis were small and so close together we had to walk single file to slip between them. The structures had no back doors or windows on the sides that faced away from the pool at the heart of the oasis, and I admired the defensive possibilities they offered. An invading army would have to navigate the rough hills and forest that served as natural barriers, and then they’d be forced to file through the alleyways between the homes and businesses. Defenders would only need a small force to plug those holes and hold the bad guys off for hours, maybe days. The wahket’s shield wall tactic would work amazingly well here.
Of course, if the enemy managed to get siege engines on top of the hills that surrounded the oasis, things would be very different for the home team. We’d need real walls to hold that off. Maybe some ballistae or trebuchets of our own to fire back at the attackers. I’d have to look into those upgrades as soon as I’d put out the fire with the unexpected and alarmed villagers.
“Who goes there?” A man’s voice dragged me out of my internal strategy session, and I realized I’d lost myself in another reverie.
Shit.
I was at the edge of an alleyway, my guardians behind me and an angry mob of dudes in front of me.
The miffed guys wore loose-fitting kilts in vibrant blue or yellow. Most of them hadn’t bothered with shirts, and I couldn’t blame them. Despite how close we were to the cool water of the oasis, the Soketran air was warm enough to make even me, who didn’t feel hot or cold as anything but the vaguest of sensations, want a nice pitcher of iced sweet tea.
That I wouldn’t even be able to drink without wasting ka.
Go, me.
Most of the dudes who faced me down the alley looked like standard-issue humans, but I also saw a stocky dwarf with a thick beard, a couple of willowy, pale-skinned elves, and even what appeared to be a lemur-man complete with a ringed tail that arched above his head like a periscope. They didn’t have any weapons, though a few of them did have walking sticks that could be pressed into service as cudgels if skulls needed to be cracked.
No pitchforks, though, so that was nice.
The villagers eyeballed me while I tried to decide how to respond. On the one hand, I wanted them to like me. On the other hand, I had just magicked them up from thin air, and a little fucking respect seemed appropriate. I decided to split the difference. With a thought, I activated The Dungeon’s Visage and The Dungeon Speaks abilities to address my new subjects.
“I’m Lord Rathokhetra,” I said in a conversational tone. “We’re neighbors. Figured I’d come down and see how you all were getting along.”
A ripple ran through the small crowd as soon as I got the first sentence out of my mouth. The guys exchanged shocked glances, murmured amongst themselves, and then turned back to me with suspicious eyes.
“How do we know you are Rathokhetra?” the mob’s leader asked.
I frowned at the question. I’d expected fear, maybe some anger, but I hadn’t anticipated these people I’d created would doubt my bona fides. Surely I looked like a resurrected dungeon lord with my sweet headdress on, right?
The nice-guy routine had failed to impress the common folk. It was time for shock and awe.
Thanks to The Dungeon’s Visage there were no limits to how I could appear. It took me a few seconds to conjure up the right image in my head, and then I dropped the god bomb.
My face transformed into the golden death mask of good old King Tut, and my skin melted away to reveal a golden body that reflected the sun in shards of light that forced the small mob to shield their eyes. I grew to twice my normal height, and thick slabs of muscle swelled across my chest and arms like I’d been hit with enough steroid juice to beef up an elephant. Wings of golden fire burst from my shoulders and gushed flames into the sky.
The villagers’ skepticism vanished. They threw themselves onto the ground and groveled at my feet like I’d dragged the sun out of the sky with my bare hands.
I hated to admit it, but their instantaneous attitude change from assholery to total obedience was pretty fucking nice.
“Any other questions?” I prodded the nearest villager’s head with the toe of my gold-plated boot.
“F-f-forgive me,” he stammered into the dirt. His hands and feet scrabbled at the earth as if he was a bug trying to bury itself to escape a predator. “I didn’t know.”
“Get up.” I let my burning man body fade away. “All of you.”
“That was neat.” Zillah’s whisper was hot and urgent in my ear. She’d planted herself next to me, tail wrapped around my waist, an arm across my shoulders. “I want you to be like that next time we do the dirty.”
That thought hadn’t occurred to me. I could appear however I wanted in my dungeon, which could lead to some interesting new configurations in the bedroom. I needed to go back and see how many of my early abilities might be good for more than just smoke and mirrors.
The rest of my guardians gathered around me and struck impressive poses for the benefit of the villagers. The stunned dudes looked like they couldn’t decide whether to shit themselves in fear or drool at the array of deadly women before them.
Sometimes, I felt the same way.
“Let’s talk,” I said to the guys. “Gather up your families and spread the word. We’ll meet on the west side of the oasis.”
The villagers backed away from me the second I stopped talking, then scattered at a dead run as soon as they reached the water’s edge.
“You see?” Delsinia asked. “Terror and awe will get you what you deserve from the small people. It is all they respect.”
“That’s not true,” Nephket argued. “You’ll see. Now that they know who they’re dealing with, they’ll respect Clay and serve him willingly.”
While I wanted to believe that Nephket was right, the villagers had forced me to resort to scare tactics to get them in line. I’d love to believe they would all love and respect me because I was a swell dude, but maybe folks did need to see the sword before they’d bend the knee. Or maybe they were just canny enough not to trust every costumed freak who showed up and claimed to be their boss.
I guessed we’d find out, sooner or later.
“I really want to know where they all came from,” Kezakazek said as we walked along the oasis. “Neph, the wahket lived here forever without any neighbors, right?”
“True,” Nephket said with a
nod. “We settled at the oasis because it was surrounded by leagues of treacherous desert. We lost many of our number crossing those shifting sands, and the last village was days behind us when we found the oasis. I’m at a loss to explain where these people came from.”
“Magic.” Zillah yawned. She stretched her arms overhead and arched her back to let the sun’s warmth pour over her. “This is glorious. I’d forgotten how nice it is to get out of the dungeon and into the open air. Anyway, you’re all overthinking what’s happened. Clay made these people. End of story. You’ll drive yourself nuts if you try to figure it out any further than that.”
We chewed over Zillah’s proclamation as we walked, and none of us came up with a better answer before our meeting with the villagers. It seemed too bizarre that I could create this group of a hundred or so people with the wave of a hand, but that did appear to be what had happened. One moment there’d been nothing down here but ashes and ruins, and the next a thriving little village of a few dozen souls had popped into existence.
We’d taken up a position on the western shore of the lake at the center of the oasis, and the villagers had arrayed themselves in uneven rows a respectful distance away from us. Men with wary eyes watched over their families, the women held their children close, and the kids openly gawked at us like little monkeys who’d just spied a giant bunch of bananas in a tall tree they knew they couldn’t climb.
“I believe they are getting nervous,” Delsinia prompted me after a minute. “You should say something to them.”
“Yeah,” I said, though I had no idea what to tell them. After I failed to come up with an inspiring speech, I decided to just fucking wing it. I cleared my throat and jumped right in.
“As I’m sure you’ve heard,” I said, The Dungeon’s Speaks ability amplified to make sure it would reach everyone and drown out any idle chitchat, “I’m Lord Rathokhetra. My dungeon is up in those hills over there. You probably want to steer clear of it because it’s full of monsters and traps. I’m also the ruler of this territory, so if you’ve got any problems, questions, or concerns, feel free to ask.”
No one said anything for a few heartbeats, and then a timid woman clad in a bright yellow robe with a deep, shadowy hood raised one hand. Her sleeve fell back from her wrist as she lifted her arm, and the sun’s rays highlighted the thin layer of brown fur that coated her fingers and forearm.
“Um, sure, go ahead,” I said with a nod to the woman.
“What sacrifices do you require?” she asked in a voice that trembled with fear. “I have only one child, and—”
“No, no,” I interrupted her. “There will be no sacrifices at this time. My priestess will guide you in this should it become necessary, but I have no intention of demanding any children. Or women. Or men. That’s just—no.”
Nephket nodded toward the crowd, and I felt a hint of amusement leak from her thoughts into mine.
“I am Nephket,” she said to the assembled villagers. “Soul Familiar and Priestess of the Immortal Lord Rathokhetra, pridemother to the wahket. We wish you well and hope you will have patience as we guide you into our future together.”
A palpable sense of relief swept through the crowd. I wondered if they had any memories of the old Lord Rathokhetra or if they’d just assumed that any time a scary dude and a bunch of monster chicks showed up it was to take their firstborn children for baby-eating good times.
“Do you plan to raise our taxes?” A portly dwarf with a long beard waxed to a point that nearly reached his toes had interrupted my thoughts to ask the most mundane question I could imagine. Cheeky little fuck hadn’t even raised his hand. “Because we already pay a significant percentage of our income to the treasury, and more is simply unacceptable.”
“Not at this time.” I stared at the chubby bastard. He met my gaze for a split second, then realized what he’d done and turned his eyes to the ground as if he was afraid I’d burn them out of his head with a glance. “Though perhaps I should discuss that with you personally at a later date.”
The dwarf had nothing to say to that and slowly shuffled himself back into the crowd as his dark cheeks reddened like a hot iron.
“Lord Rathokhetra,” another man said, “there have been rumors of brigands in the area. How do you plan to defend us?”
“By kicking ass and taking names,” I said with a grin. “I have a small, but potent, force of wahket with me, not to mention my other guardians.”
Zillah clacked her spear’s tines together at that and thrust her chest out with pride.
The men in the front row of the crowd damned near swooned at the sight, and their wives furrowed their brows and jabbed sharp elbows into the poor dudes’ ribs. I felt for the guys because there wasn’t a man alive who could ignore the scorpion queen’s deadly beauty. She oozed danger and sensuality in a mixture that made it hard to think.
The questions poured in after that. One after another, men and women peppered me with demands for a granary, better sanitation, permits to irrigate their fields with water from the oasis, and other annoying bureaucratic nonsense. I’d needed a settlement to raise my dungeon above fifth level, but I’d had no idea running a town would be such an aggravating nightmare.
Nephket finally stepped forward, raised both hands in the air, and told the crowd to get the fuck out of there before I lost my cool and started smiting motherfuckers.
Not in those words exactly, but she got the point across.
After the crowd dispersed, Neph snuggled up against me and curled both of her arms around my right bicep.
“You did great,” she murmured and offered me a kiss that I gratefully accepted.
“Back to the dungeon?” Zillah asked.
“We need to establish a seat of government,” Delsinia pointed out. “Someplace your followers can come with their questions. An audience hall where you can issue proclamations or execute the unworthy.”
I swear she grinned at that, but the expression came and went so fast I couldn’t be sure.
“Why not?” I said. “If I conjured up all those people to annoy me, I bet I conjured up a suitable office for myself.”
My skin crawled at that word. I’d become a hacker to stay out of an office job, and yet here I was, looking for a place to set up so people could annoy me with their petty-ass problems. Even traveling to a whole new world hadn’t been enough to avoid a goddamned desk job.
As we searched for an appropriate structure to serve as my prison, the air filled with the rich smells of dinner. Fragrant smoke wafted from the short chimneys on the flat roofs of the homes that surrounded us, and my appetite flared at the aroma of flame-seared meat and rich spices.
At least I knew my people ate well, though where the food came from was a mystery.
“Food,” Kezakazek said with an exaggerated groan. “Food before I perish.”
“At least you can eat,” I said.
“You could eat,” she said. “But it better be damned tasty if you waste ka on it.”
We’d wandered into a section of the village that seemed unoccupied despite the quaint little houses that lined the streets. I considered one of the cozy structures for a city hall, but they all seemed so much alike it would be difficult for people to find us. And, if I were to be totally honest, none of the buildings were impressive enough for yours truly.
“Fuck it,” I said. “I’ll make what I need.”
I concentrated on a trio of buildings in front of me and willed them to merge together. Nothing happened at first, but after a few seconds of concerted effort, the smooth, straight lines of the clay walls warped and bulged toward one another like balloons slowly filling with water. I doubled down on my desires until the faint throb of a headache gathered behind my forehead.
“Come. On,” I gritted through clenched teeth.
“Almost,” Nephket whispered as she entwined her fingers with mine. “Just a little more.”
Her encouragement pushed my efforts over the edge. One moment there were three bulging
buildings, and then they snapped into a single structure that towered over its neighbors. A lion’s head, jaws opened wide in a savage roar, surrounded the heavy twin door. Twin cobras flanked the lion, their coiled bodies a serene counterpoint to the predator’s toothy open maw.
“Very nice,” Delsinia said. She strode up to the nearest stone cobra and stroked its scaled body. The soultaker turned back to me with a wistful smile on her lips. “This should get their attention.”
“Wait until you see what we’ve got inside,” I said.
The guardians followed me through the darkened doorway into an atrium filled with a warm golden light that radiated from the ceiling. Red streaks from the sunset slanted across the floor through tall, narrow windows that pierced the hall’s north and south walls at regular intervals. The spaces between those windows held engraved images I’d shamelessly lifted from the temple in Delsinia’s old dungeon, with the bonus that their eyes followed you as you moved across the marble-floored chamber.
“This is cool,” Zillah said. “Though it could use more nudity. People really like nudity. You should put naked statues of all your guardians in here.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. “This is where people will wait for their audience.”
“Wait?” Nephket asked. “But there are no benches or seats.”
“Right,” I said as I led them into the next room. “I don’t want them to be comfortable while they wait. If it’s important, they won’t mind standing around. If it’s not important, they’ll get bored and go home when their feet start to hurt.”
“Clever,” Delsinia complimented me.
“Thanks,” I said.
“I hereby proclaim this a bullshit idea.” Kezakazek gazed coolly at Delsinia, as if she expected the newer guardian to argue the point.
Nephket and Zillah glanced between the drow and the soultaker, both of whom pretended they hadn’t narrowly avoided an argument.
Kez had crossed the room and jumped up into the cobra throne that dominated the chamber’s far end. The dark elf perched in the cushioned seat on her curled legs and clasped the throne’s arms with her delicate hands. She adopted an imperious glare as she eyeballed us, as if she dared anyone to question her position in the seat of power. She held the pose for all of five seconds before she was overcome by a fit of giggles.