by Nick Harrow
“The big boys want the godmarrow to be your priority.” The orc’s voice was gruff, but there was a thread of fear that ran through it when he talked about his bosses.
“I’ve got bigger fish to fry.” The assholes who’d sent me here might be big shots wherever they came from, but they weren’t calling the shots on Soketra. “Some king I’ve never heard of sent his tax collector around to soak me for a bunch of gold. Pretty sure there’s gonna be a fight.”
The orc considered my words for a few moments, puffed out more sticky-sweet-smelling clouds, and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Far be it from me to tell you how to deal with your own shit,” the orc said. “But this is bigger than just you and me. The bosses need that marrow. They’ve got projects running all over the place, and without that stuff their plans will fall apart.”
“Then have them send me some muscle,” I said. “A couple hundred guys like you should do the trick.”
“You’re a funny man.” The orc exhaled his words through a vapor cloud that hid his entire face. “If you don’t have some godmarrow the next time I show up, you will not like what they do to you.”
“You have to be fucking kidding me,” I growled. “I can’t make it any clearer. I do not have time to go on an Indiana Jones autopsy expedition to find the blood of dead gods for you. It’s just not in the cards right now. Tell your bosses they can either help me with the problem I have, or they can fuck off.”
I expected another threat, but the orc was stone silent. It wasn’t until the e-cigarette vapor faded away that I realized the cartel’s messenger was no longer there.
“God, you’re annoying,” I grumbled. “Thanks for the backup, Pinchy.”
I mulled over what the orc had told me. He seemed to believe that the work his bosses were doing was super critical, but I couldn’t spare the bandwidth to deal with their shit on top of my shit. Maybe the Inkolana thug was right and what his bosses did was literally the most important thing in the universe.
But those shit-eating monkey fuckers hadn’t bothered to clue me in on the big picture before they dragged me out of bed and shipped me off to Soketra. As far as I was concerned, they could take a number and wait their turn behind the other problems I already had queued up. Because while there might be a disaster if I didn’t do the Inkolana’s bidding, there would definitely be a shitstorm if I didn’t deal with Lexios and his gaggle of goose-stepping revenuers.
The extra stress the orc had dumped on me made me careless, and the walls I built around the Solamantic Web looked like they’d been sculpted out of off-brand clay by a drunken baby. Despite its ugliness, the walls were solid, which was all that mattered. With the barriers up, I wouldn’t have to worry about any wandering drow or members of the Raiders Guild slipping in the back door.
Not that the raiders were of much concern since I blew their teleportation gate to kingdom come and cut them off from Soketra. With any luck, we wouldn’t see any of those assholes again for a very, very long time.
And when they finally did show up again, I’d be more than ready for them.
First, though, I needed to plan out my inevitable war with Lexios the Greedy Fuck.
My guardians were more than a match for any small-scale threats, and the wahket had the power to face down larger threats, but if the tax collector had an army with him, that was a whole other level of conflict. Push was most definitely going to come to shove with that guy, and I needed more military strength when it did.
I pulled up my Tablet of Guardians and examined the monsters I could summon. The list had expanded greatly since the last time I’d looked at it, and some of the monsters looked very promising.
“Air elemental, bandit captain, flying serpent,” I muttered to myself. “Lamia, mummy, revenant, oh, my.”
Unfortunately, the tablet assumed I knew what the monsters were and only provided me with their names and challenge ratings. The elemental and revenant were the most powerful with challenge ratings of five, which was the same as my dungeon. The others on the list ranged from four on down to less than one, which made them useless to me.
I ruled out the mummy and revenant because after my battle with Delsinia’s ghouls, zombies, and skeletons, I didn’t want any undead on the home team. The absolute minimum requirement to work for my side was a pulse.
Bandits didn’t seem tough enough to be of much help, even with a captain. The flying serpent had a challenge rating of three, which probably meant it could kill a few newbies before it got itself offed and would have to respawn. Bleh, and double bleh.
“Lamia,” Rathokhetra groaned, and flashed an image of the creature into my thoughts.
A beautiful woman with the lower body of a serpent crouched atop a pile of small bodies. Her chin and naked chest were smeared with sticky blood, and she used a yard-long barbed fork to rip chunks of meat from the corpses pinned beneath her coiled tail. She shoveled the raw flesh into her mouth and swallowed, one gulp after another. In a matter of seconds, the lamia stripped a thigh bare of skin and muscle.
“Okay, so, no,” I said. As impressive as the lamia was, she looked like her appetite for humanoid meat would be a problem.
Zillah constantly threatened to eat any creature who wandered into her path, but she’d resisted the temptation to build a cannibal buffet in the dungeon.
So far, anyway.
But if the lamia didn’t have the same control over her appetites, there’d be no end of conflict. Nope, hard pass on the snake lady.
I decided to summon an air elemental because a guardian who could fly would prove invaluable in any conflict with the tax collector. Aerial reconnaissance and attacks deep behind enemy lines? Hell, yes.
“Give me the intelligent tornado for five hundred, Alex,” I said and tapped the air elemental’s name.
<<<>>>
No available air elementals within range.
<<<>>>
Seriously? What kind of bullshit was that?
“All right, how about a flying serpent?” I decided to stick with the flying scheme, even though the serpents weren’t as powerful as the elemental. Airborne forces had advantages that couldn’t be expressed in raw numbers, after all.
<<<>>>
No flying serpents within range.
<<<>>>
Well, that was annoying.
I tried the bandit captain, mummy, and even the damned lamia, and the tablet kicked them all back at me. Even the custom guardian option was a no-go, which was aggravating as hell because I could have used crow boy’s amazing surveillance birds to keep an eye on Lexios.
Frustrated, I paced the floor and focused on the problem at hand. I needed monsters, but there weren’t any within my tablet’s reach. I wasn’t sure why all the creepy-crawlies had moved out of the region, but my best guess was the settlement had chased them away. In a lot of the strategy games I’d played online before my unexpected trip to Soketra, the areas around towns didn’t have many monsters. Score one for civilization, even if it did fuck me over a little in this circumstance.
It might be possible to move my dungeon, or part of it, to a more monster-friendly area, but that would take time and resources I couldn’t spare. With my luck, the tax collector would launch a sneak attack the second I was distracted.
Anxiety tried to force its way into my thoughts, but I turned my focus inward and kicked it right the fuck out of my brain. This problem had a solution; I just had to ferret it out.
The monsters had all run away, and I couldn’t chase them down.
But maybe I could lure a few of them back.
My meditation dug up a wisp of memory and prompted me to take another look at the Tablet of Incarnation.
I summoned the golden slate and found three level-five abilities that seemed out of place amongst the others.
“Exemplar of Growth, Exemplar of Peace, and Exemplar of War,” I murmured as I read their names.
<<<>>>
Exemplar of Growth
Duration: T
hirty days
Cost: 20 motes of ka
The dungeon lord emits an aura of fertility that increases the yield of crops, the size and birth rate of livestock, and the number of settlers born into a region while it is in effect.
For every five levels, or fraction thereof, of the dungeon lord's primary dungeon, the yield of crops is increased by 50%, livestock reach their maximum maturity in 50% less time, and birth rates for livestock and settlers also increase by 50%.
This aura cannot be used more than twice each year.
Exemplar of Peace
Duration: Thirty days
Cost: 20 motes of ka
When this ability is activated, all monstrous creatures with challenge ratings equal to or less than the level of the lord's current dungeon and within one mile of the dungeon lord will be repulsed. They will leave the area as soon as possible and will travel at least one mile from the location where this ability was activated. These creatures will not return for the duration of this ability.
Creatures that are unable to leave, either because they are not mobile or because they cannot leave their lairs, will fall into a dormant, hibernation-like state for the duration of this ability. They will not starve or become dehydrated and will awaken immediately if attacked. Once the threat is dealt with, the creatures will return to their sleeping state.
Exemplar of War
Duration: Thirty days
Cost: 20 motes of ka
The dungeon lord emits a magical call to war that attracts monstrous creatures within a five-mile radius. One monster, or group of the same monsters, will answer the call within one to three days. If there are no suitable creatures within that range, the call extends an additional mile each day until there is a response.
Monstrous creatures with a challenge rating equal to or less than the dungeon's current level who hear the call will come to investigate within one to three days. The dungeon lord may then decide whether to subdue the creature and bind it as a guardian or dispatch it.
Another monstrous creature, or group of monstrous creatures, will arrive every one to three days for the duration of this ability.
<<<>>>
A quick review told me Growth and Peace were useless to me at the moment, but War had promise.
This ability was just what the doctor ordered, but the twenty-mote cost was a little steep. I’d be down to eighty-five motes in my core if I bought this one, and then I’d need another ten motes to transform the random creature that showed up into a guardian. That still left me with seventy-five motes, and the ka refinery pumped out five motes every day. That’d be enough buffer if I needed to pump up my other abilities to deal with the tax man.
“Let’s call the beasties.” I purchased the ability.
I’d imagined the Exemplar of War would be like all the other powers I’d purchased. Spend the ka, turn it on, no drama, no fuss.
I could not have been more wrong.
The instant the ka vanished from my core, angry winds howled around me. Pinchy and her cousins emerged from the shadows with their tails bent almost flat against their backs and their claws raised defensively in front of their faceted eyes. They clacked their mandibles together in an agitated chorus that was all but drowned out by the wailing wind.
My perspective shifted until I looked down on the Kahtsinka Oasis and the surrounding terrain. A massive golden figure stood on the hills north of the city, so tall his shadow blotted out the sun over the village below. His voice boomed like a barrage of cannon fire that echoed over the land.
“Come to me.” Birds took flight from the oasis as his words crashed down on the land below.
Holy shit. I recognized that voice.
The big dude was me.
Before I could exercise my fantasy of going full Godzilla and stomping my way across the oasis to find the tax collector and smite him and his forces with a great vengeance, the wind died down and my sight returned to my eyeballs.
“Well, that was different,” I said.
“What did you do?” Nephket asked in my thoughts.
“I turned on an ability to lure in some more guardians,” I said. “No big deal.”
“It was kind of a big deal,” Nephket responded. “Your villagers are screaming and crying. You may want to get up here and help calm them down.”
“Oh.” In my defense, it wasn’t like I knew Mega Me would show up and ring the dinner bell when I spent the ka. That side effect had not been disclosed on the label. “Be right there.”
“Keep an eye out for the bad guys, Pinchy,” I said. “You’re our first line of defense.”
The enormous scorpion ambled forward and raised her tail and claws in salute, then retreated into the darkness. She seemed a little nervous, but I had faith she’d continue to watch over the web with the vigilance and ferocity of a junkyard dog.
It took me the blink of an eye to travel from the depths of my dungeon to my throne in City Hall. Nephket was perched on the left arm of the throne and damned near jumped out of her skin.
“Are you trying to scare everyone to death?” she yowled, and the wahket in the audience chamber spun around with their shields and spears at the ready.
“Sorry, that wasn’t the plan. I just wanted to get back here quickly.” People wailed outside the doors. “And not a moment too soon.”
“You’re something else,” Nephket said with a shake of her head. “Go see to your people before they start piling sacrifices outside the door.”
I vanished from the throne and reappeared next to the door. A guy could get used to this silliness. I gestured to the doors, and they opened with silent ease.
“Hey,” I said to the crowd. “There is no need to fear.”
I gave my words a little boost with my dungeon lord skills, which transformed the syllables into boulders of sound that crashed through the crowd.
Their cries stopped dead.
For about two seconds.
“Lord Rathokhetra,” half the crowd shouted, while the other half screamed in mindless panic.
“Go home,” I said. “Or back to work. Whatever. Everything’s fine.”
“But we saw—” someone cried from the back of the crowd.
“You were a giant—” someone else pointed out.
“The sun went dark—” said a peasant who didn’t understand how shadows worked.
“It’s fine,” I shouted. “Seriously, it’s fine. Move along.”
The crowd shuffled its feet for a few moments before my disapproving glare finally wore them down. The villagers whispered to one another as they trickled away until all but one of them had returned to their normal routines.
The one who remained couldn’t have been more than ten, but her serious expression would have been more at home on the face of someone much, much older. She didn’t say anything, but she obviously had something to tell me. Probably wanted to bitch about her bedtime or something.
“What is it?” I asked in the most soothing voice I could manage. I didn’t know shit about kids, but I did know that this one was on the ragged edge of bolting. It would have been nice to enjoy the rest of my afternoon in peace, but this little rug rat lived in my village, which sort of made her my responsibility. If she really needed help, I’d do what I could.
“My mum and da,” she said in a voice that hitched and broke on every syllable. Fat tears sprouted from the corners of her eyes and threatened to spill over chubby cheeks that had gone suddenly pale. “They got hurt.”
“Have them come here and my priestess will see to them,” I said. Hell, I could probably even heal the injuries of a couple of villagers with my few spells. “They’ll be fine.”
“I don’t think so,” she said in a voice so low I struggled to hear it. “They can’t get up.”
Well, fuck. That sucked. A tax collector on my doorstep, no guardians to summon, and now my villagers had fallen down and gone boom.
Time to be the Kind and Gentle Leader.
“Can you show me?” I asked.
>
She nodded, and her glossy black hair, tangled as it was, bounced around her shoulders. She hesitated, then reached up with one grubby hand.
“Sorry, kid.” And I really was. “I can’t touch people most of the time. Dungeon lord rules.”
“Do you need my help?” Nephket asked.
For a moment, I considered handing this off to her. She was good with everyone. The little girl would definitely feel more at ease around Neph.
But this was my settlement. These were my people.
“Nah, I’ve got this,” I said to Neph. “I’ll be back soon.”
“As you wish,” my familiar thought to me, and I felt a tinge of amusement in her thoughts. Rathokhetra as a babysitter. Who’d have thunk it?
“Okay, bud,” I said. “Lead the way.”
The girl sniffled, but nodded, and headed off toward her home.
A pang of regret stabbed through my chest. I could have spent a few ka to take the kid’s hand and make her feel better. Probably wouldn’t have taken more than five minutes to get from here to her house. She clearly needed someone to comfort her, and I could have at least done that.
Rathokhetra’s breath rumbled his disapproval. The old bastard didn’t agree with any compassion, but he did have a point. Spending ka to make a kid feel better would have lifted my spirits in the short term, but when I most needed those motes, I’d have ended up short. That’s just how the world works.
The little girl led me into a residential neighborhood on the north side of the oasis. The homes were squarish and flat-topped, the walls fashioned from clay and painted vibrant blue and yellow. Most of the villagers hadn’t made it back to their houses by the time the girl and I reached this part of town, and their curious eyes followed us as we wound our way between the small homes.
“They’re here,” she said at the threshold of a small blue home. She pushed the door open and stepped back. “In my house.”
Instead of leading the way inside, The girl leaned back against the house’s front wall and crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes took on the empty, distant quality of someone who’d seen too much and didn’t know what to do with all the bad memories stuck inside her head.