Dungeon Mauling

by Eric Ugland

  I hit hard enough to cause some damage to myself. It hurt. A lot. I lay there on the ground, feeling the pain, but also feeling that rage subside. Maybe it wasn't the healthiest means of dealing with the issue, but at least I hadn't done something truly stupid.

  Ragnar and Skeld were both looking up, totally ignoring me on the ground.

  "What are you two looking at?" I asked.

  "Light," Ragnar said.

  It took a moment to roll over so I could look up at the ceiling. Sure enough, there was a bit of light leaking through. I’d pulled down a fair amount of ceiling rock, plus the long length of chain, and had exposed the floor of the room the floor above. And that floor was wood. The wood was cut into boards, long and thin, the diametric opposite of what had been in the Murdered Bishop. I had to wonder if that was a result of the giant trees being so close, here, in Osterstadt, having massive wood available, the thin strips would be a sign of luxury, that more work had been done to the wood. A singular chunk, on the other hand, that’d be something you might get as leftover from an actual project. I made a mental note to ask some native Osterstadter once I had a free moment.

  There was just enough of a gap between the floorboards that I could see a little bit of friendly orange candle light, or maybe firelight, peeking through.

  "Well shit," I said. "We might have a way out of here."

  "How are you going to climb back up there?" Skeld said. "What with, you know, having ripped the chain out of the ceiling so subtly.“

  "If I hadn't ripped the chain out, we wouldn't know there was a wooden floor up there, numbnuts," I shot back.

  "Weren't we working together, as a team?" Ragnar said.

  "Does that mean you're volunteering to go up there?"

  "How would I climb?"

  "You'd fly."

  "I know we Lutra are a new species to you, but flight is not one of our—“

  I picked Ragnar up and threw him straight up.

  There was a bit of a surprised yell, but then he hit the ceiling. My aim was slightly off, and he dropped, unable to catch hold of any of the joists above. I managed a graceless catch on his way down, and he promptly bit me.

  So I dropped him.

  "You bit me—“

  "You threw me—“

  “Look at this teamwork,” Skeld said, not even trying to contain his furry smile.

  "You shut your mouth," I snapped back.

  Chapter Ten

  Tossing the otters up into the air wasn't exactly the easiest thing. Neither of them were happy about it, and neither of them were great at flying. Or being thrown. There were flailing limbs, missed catches, and a lot of cursing. I had to heal Ragnar twice, and after that he refused to do it anymore.

  Eventually, though, Skeld managed to get two tiny daggers into the floor boards, and himself wedged between the stone bricks of the ceiling and the wooden planks of the floors. From there, I tossed the chain up to him over and over until he snagged the eyebolt. Then it was time for him to work on getting it wedged in place until it could hold me. That took another few tries, and me falling on my ass a bit. Finally, it was in place. Skeld slid down the chain and threw himself down on the ground, absolutely exhausted. Ragnar didn’t look much better.

  I realized I needed to do a little better remembering that other creatures didn’t have the luxury of my limitless stamina.

  “You guys rest, and, uh, listen at the door,” I said. “Let me know if someone is coming.”

  “At which point you will do what?” Skeld asked from the ground. “Pull the chain down so we have to do that all over again?”

  “Let’s all hope I’ve got a better plan should the need arise.”

  A quick scurry along the chain, and I got myself up against the wood floorboards. The tiny Lutra daggers were comical in my hands, but they were made of metal, and they were long enough that I could slide them in between the joists and the flooring. That gave me just enough leverage to pop the floorboards up. Not much, but enough of a start to work at making a hole for me to scurry through.

  It was a long and involved process, one that was rather joyless. I kept stubbing my fingers against metal and wood. My hands were littered with splinters. But eventually, I managed to get enough space that I could fit my arm and some of my head through to the room above.

  The room seemed designed primarily for comfort, like a staff room for the guards or the torturers to relax in between drawings and quarterings. There were comfy-looking chairs arranged in a sitting area with a plush carpet. An armoire leaned against the wall on the other side of the room. No one was in there, but it was clear the room was only recently vacated. The fire crackled and popped as newly placed logs caught flame, and smoke curled from a pipe resting on the table.

  Judging the how much of my body I’d squeezed through the hole I’d made in the floor, I figured I could continue prying boards up and out for a few hours so my whole self could get through, or I could send one of the boys up to see if that was worth my time.

  “You two well-rested?” I asked.

  “No,” came the inevitable reply from Ragnar.

  “I can do it,” Skeld said, sounding tired himself.

  “I can do it,” Ragnar snapped back. “I just was being honest and saying—”

  “Hey,” I snapped, “one of you scamper up the chain and go through the hole.”

  Down below, the two played their little game, and Skeld won. He pointed up. Ragnar dutifully climbed up the chain and over me before he slipped through the hole into the room.

  “What do you want me to do?” Ragnar asked.

  “Look for anything useful. Like keys.”

  He nodded, and was off. Those guys could really move when they wanted to. He scrambled around the room, opening and looking into everything. I could hear his feet across the floor, but I couldn’t exactly track him around the room without shoving myself through the hole again. This was definitely one of the downsides to being as large as I was. I had the feeling a normal person would be able to get through. But that was a problem I’d managed for a long time, even back on Earth I’d often been too big. I heard Ragnar opening up the armoire and rooting through it.

  “Robes,” he whispered.

  “Grab ‘em.”

  A heartbeat later, I was hit in the face with a bunch of grey fabric.

  I let it drop to the ground, figuring Skeld could take care of it.

  Then I heard what I’d been dreading. Footsteps outside the door to the room upstairs.

  “Cover the hole,” I hissed. “I hear someone.”

  Ragnar, not quite the sharpest otter in the shed, grabbed the carpet near the seating area, and pulled it over the hole. Which left him upstairs. But it did do a pretty solid job of covering up the hole.

  I heard the armoire door open and shut.

  A creak as the main door opened.

  There were some mutterings, but I couldn’t quite make out what the person was saying. Something about blood and the need for better uniforms.

  And then, he stepped into the hole. The carpet dipped down, further and further until I had to move out of the way as a body appeared in front of me. Well, a carpet-wrapped body. The thick carpet eventually reached the limit of the hole, and the figure was stuck, my guess, about chest high.

  The body struggled for a second, but then it stopped with a suddenness. Given where the carpet was bunched up, I could only imagine it was around his ribcage. He tried to yell, but there wasn’t enough air in his lungs.

  More struggles.

  “Ragnar,” I shouted.

  The body went still.

  “Stomp on him from above,” I shouted.

  The armoire door opened, and there were some definite sounds of surprise from the figure in the rug, and the sound of someone’s face being stomped on. Grunts. Groans. But no real movement.

  “He’s totally stuck,” Ragnar said.

  “Well shit,” I said. “Watch out below.”

  I jumped and wrapped my arms around
the figure in the carpet.

  We hung there for a Wile E. Coyote moment. Then there was a whoosh as the thickest part of the carpet came through the hole and we dropped.

  The two of us made a solid thump against the floor. And it probably would have hurt a lot, you know, if I’d been on the bottom. Instead, there was a kind man in a carpet who took the brunt of the blow.

  I rolled off him, grabbing the carpet and pulling it open. There was an older man inside, wearing a grey robe. His eyes went wide when he saw me, and his mouth struggled to make words while blood trickled from his ears.

  “What’s up?” I asked with a smile.

  Chapter Eleven

  Our new friend wore the same grey robes as the asshole who’d put us into the cell, but he wasn’t the same dude. This guy had at least a modicum of dental hygiene.

  Mr. Cleanish Teeth blinked a few times, trying to figure out what was happening. Then his eyes focused on me, and he seemed to realize what had happened.

  “You,” he said, hissing it out.

  “Yep,” I replied. “Me.”

  “What have you done?”

  “Improvised?”

  He tried to get up, but it seemed like he’d broken his arm in the fall, and it crumpled under his weight. He grunted with undeniable pain.

  “Let me,” I said, reaching out.

  “No—“ he snapped, fear coming out.

  He thought I was going to hurt him even more. And to be totally honest, that was my initial plan. I was actually thinking I’d force the bone out of his skin and stab him to death with it, but, long term, would that really be the best play here? Ultimately, these dudes were just doing their jobs, fucked up as the jobs may be. I’d been saying that quite a bit lately, but I was trying to think of the long term effects of my actions. If I was going to set up a city nearby, I’d need to keep relations reasonably friendly with Osterstadt, and cutting a bloody swathe through their correctional facilities wasn’t going to get things off to a good start. Fun, sure. But not smart. I knelt and put my hand on his arm.

  “What are you doing?” he snapped, trying to snatch his ruined arm away.

  I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes. I willed myself to be the bigger person, and not just physically. Instead, I sent my healing spell into the man. There was a spread of warmth from my hand, but despite the magic I’d poured in, I could feel the man’s arm and the bones in his forearm were still apart.

  The man groaned in pain.

  He grimaced in my direction, making it quite clear that he found me repulsive.

  “You lack the proper spells to heal,” he said through gritted teeth. He closed his eyes, muttered something, and glowing runes appeared around his head before settling around his arm. I heard a soft snap as the bones fused together, and the man finally let out a sigh of relief.

  The light dimmed above, and I saw Ragnar scuttling down the chain.

  “You hide the hole?” I asked.

  “Naturally.”

  “With?”

  “A table.”

  “Better than a sign I suppose,” I said. There wasn’t a chance in hell someone would miss the fact that a large table had been moved to cover a massive hole in the floor and that the big carpet was missing.

  Ragnar just shrugged.

  “It was a mistake doing this,” my captive said. “There was a chance you could have walked out of here a free man, and now—”

  “Dude,” I said, interrupting him, “you and I both know that’s a lie. You all are involved in some shady shit, and personally, I’m feeling y’all have reasons to want me dead.”

  The man was silent while he looked me up and down.

  “Who are you?” he finally asked.

  “You don’t know?”

  He shook his head.

  “The duke?” I offered. “The one who—”

  “Stole the land.”

  “Well, now there we’ve got to disagree, but at least you’ve heard of me.”

  He nodded, giving a sad sort of smile. “It would appear you have run afoul of someone with power and money.”

  “Would that be a Lord Northwoods?”

  “I fear I am unable to tell you that.”

  “Unable or unwilling?”

  “In most cases I would be both. But you have me puzzled, my lord.”

  “I seem to do that to people.”

  I got to my feet and shook my limbs out. I did a little jumping around. The cell was cool, bordering on cold, and I didn’t want my muscles to seize up. I figured it was going to be quite some time before I got any rest.

  “Let me ask you this,” I said, “you got keys to this place?”

  “To the prison? Of course I do.”

  “On you?”

  “Yes, but they will do you no good.”

  “And why is that?”

  “They are magically attuned to me. They will only work with my hand on them.”

  “What if I took your hand with me?”

  He paused. “You intend to cut my hand off?”

  “I mean, you could just come with me.”

  “Despite your kindnesses, we are currently on opposing forces, so you would need to kill me—”

  I picked him up and gently laid him on the carpet, then rolled him up until his head was just sticking out.

  “Wait,” he said, struggling, “I—”

  “Either we leave you here, or you come with us. Your choice.”

  He struggled, but there was no way out. Too much weighed on him, and even though he was squirming like mad, he made zero headway on his egress.

  “You know,” I said, sitting on the carpet, “you could just come with us all the way.”

  “All the way where?”

  “To my dukedom.”

  “You cannot get out of this prison, even with me. You will never make it back outside.”

  “Yeah, we’re not going that way, we’re going the other way.”

  “There is no other way.”

  “The dungeon.”

  “’Tis just a myth we let fools believe so they only escape into darkness.”

  “You’re just saying that to discourage me.”

  “What is the tale you have been told? That you may find a path from the oubliette into the dungeons left by the ancients?”

  “Something along those lines.”

  “And you believe we would not know of this entrance? That we would not have blocked it off a long time ago? Or that we would not be using the dungeon to bolster the city’s strength? You are a fool if you believe that nonsense.”

  “Not the first time I’ve been called a fool. Probably won’t be the last.”

  “Then get off me, fool! I can barely breathe with your great weight upon this carpet.”

  I stood, and shook my head.

  “You clearly have no sense of adventure,” I said.

  “Of course I do not. Are you insane? If that story is true, which it is not, you are speaking of going through the oubliette, a terror in itself, before making your way through an ancient dungeon, which exits where? Which version of that story have you heard? The Emerald Sea? The Council Building? The Treasury? Did you think you will finally find the lost treasure of the ancients in their dungeon, which does not exist? None of these things are positive experiences. Nothing could possibly be contained in the horrors below which might entice me to accompany you, and that is not withstanding knowing my life would be forfeit to Osterstadt should they ever find me.”

  “Yeah, I can see your point there. Okay, how about this: you say the oubliette is the danger zone, right? And there’s no escape?”

  “No escape is correct. I am unfamiliar with the other term.”

  “So what’s the problem in letting me into the oubliette?”

  “You have been brought here for a reason, Duke, and I daresay, you have yet to provide whatever it is that is wanted from you.”

  “My land, right?”

  “Again, I do not know.”

  Skeld hissed at me. />
  “Someone comes,” Skeld said.

  I picked the carpet up and stacked it in the corner that would be hidden by the door. Then I shoved some hay in the man’s mouth, much to his consternation. I got plenty of dirty looks while he tried to spit the disgusting straw out.

  Skeld and Ragnar stood on either side of the carpet, and I went to the center of the room, holding my hands as if the manacles were still in place.

  The small hatch slid open, and a man wearing a helm looked inside.

  “You Lord Coggeshall?” the man said.

  I raised an eyebrow while I considered my options.

  The truth was always a good way to go.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Duke Coggeshall?” the man asked.

  “Same man.”

  “Montana?”

  “Yeah. That’s me. Lord Montana Coggeshall, Duke of Coggeshall.”

  The man nodded once. Then he closed the hatch, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. He was dressed as a guard. Wore the armor, had the tabard, all the bits and bobs to look like he was a real guard. Hell, he could have been a real guard. He had a rather rough face with a nose that looked like it had been broken more than not. He pulled the Unfillable Knapsack from under his tabard, and passed it over to me.

  “A friend gave me that for you,” the guard said. “He also told me to give you some directions and a means of egress.”

  “Directions?”

  “From what I been told, you are here for someone who’s in a heap of trouble, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I was paid to give you the way there.”

  “Oh, that’s awesome. Mind if I ask how the hell you found me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh. Okay. Well, thank you.”

  He pulled out a small piece of paper, one that looked like it had been folded over and over again. He pushed it into my hand. Then, he gave me a heavy ring of large metal keys.

  “Keys are only to the doors you need. I am leaving now,” the guard said. “If I see you again, I will be forced to kill you. Start that way.” He pointed to the left, and then turned and headed in the opposite direction.