Dungeon Mauling

by Eric Ugland

  Head down, I moved along the wall until I was right next to the chanting asshole.

  I punched through the wall, grabbed the asshole by the neck, and ripped him back through.

  As soon as the chanting ended, light returned to the room. It was surprisingly bright, and I could see the girl staring at me, her eyes filled with pain and tears. And the asshole in my other hand was a middle-aged man with an unfortunate hairstyle. Bald on top, long everywhere else. Dude looked like the worst stereotype I could come up with about a wizard.

  “Hi,” I said with a smile.

  The wizard mumbled something at me, which made me a little worried he might be casting a spell of sorts. So I brought the girl and the guy together in a meeting of the minds at high speed.

  There was a solid thonk, and my new friends were in something like sleep.

  I peeked my head through the hole in the wall.

  It was a small room perfectly suited for spying on people. Perhaps there’d been a peephole in the wall. It was possible the room was for voyeurs. Or, it could have been for spell casters to, well, cast illicit spells. Whatever the case, the hole was a little too big for subtlety or secrecy now. I stepped through the hole, and opened the door. Another fucking hallway.

  I made my way back to my changing room and did a little wall jump up to the beam where I snagged my bag before dropping back to the ground. I pulled out clothes and an axe before pausing. I knew there was a very large man standing right next to the door, leaning against the wall. His heart was pounding. I planted my feet, rechecked my grip, and then I swung for the fences.

  The axe cracked right through the wood, and the man’s skull. There was a gurgling noise from the man, and then a gruesome spray of blood when I yanked the axe back.

  A sword clanked as it fell to the floor in the hall.

  I opened the door, and looked down on the death throes of Mason Crogan. I patted the man down quickly, and pulled off his purse and a ring of keys. I chucked his sword into my bag.

  Then, I paused again, trying to figure out where everyone within 200 feet might be or might be going.

  Someone was right beneath me.

  I thought about punching through the floor.

  So, naturally, that’s when the wood beneath me dropped out from under me.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  I was tired of falling.

  At least it was a short trip, I smacked into stone pretty damn quick, and I scrambled to my feet as fast as I could, axe out, ready to fight.

  Stone floor, stone walls. Giant wooden beam spanned the space, and I could see all the baths in the bathhouse, or at least the bottoms thereof. There were a few well placed lanterns so it wasn’t completely dark, but it wasn’t easy to see much of anything. Metal pipes darting from baths to what I assume was a firebox, and piles of split wood were everywhere. Water dripped from plenty of the junctions that clearly weren’t quite tight enough, making the floor slick.

  I knew I wasn’t alone, but I couldn’t see anyone.

  “My master wanted to meet you,” came Donner’s voice, echoing out of a plume of steam that seemed to come from nowhere.

  I stepped to the side, keeping the axe in front of me.

  “You mean your uncle?” I asked.

  Laughter.

  From more than one person.

  “You may call him that, should you wish,” Donner replied, this time from my left.

  I spun.

  Steam.

  I ducked under some pipes, moving to where I heard him.

  “So where’s this master of yours?” I asked.

  “Oh,” Donner replied, “he is around.”

  Still hiding in the steam. I was getting irritated. I reached my tremorsense out.

  The whole building was moving now, enough that I was confused. Then I heard wood tumbling into the fireboxes. The fires were getting hotter, driving more water into steam, and the pipes were vibrating.

  “We underestimated your skill set,” Donner said. “Now it excites us.”

  “Pretty sure you should feel afraid,” I replied.

  “Oh, some of us did, but the master set that right.”

  “Who is the master?”

  “Let us not be hasty.”

  It was getting really fucking hot in the basement, and I thought I might start cooking alive.

  A pipe burst, sending boiling water out across the floor, steam rising everywhere until I was practically blind.

  I waved the axe from side to side, keeping some sort of obstacle in front of me.

  “Wrong way,” Donner said, whispering right into my ear.

  I spun, swinging the axe as hard as I could.

  The head sunk deeply into a bath, and water shot out, covering me.

  It wasn’t boiling, but it was close.

  I slipped.

  Strong hands grabbed the axe and ripped it from my fingers, then threw it away. I heard the metal head clang against the stone wall a ways distant from me.

  Then someone fucking punched me in the fucking face.

  Right in the schnoz.

  I heard the nose break.

  “Motherfuck—” I started, but then someone punched me again.

  I rolled to my feet, and took the best defensive posture I could, backing up. One unexpected blessing, I knew exactly where I’d been, so I could find my way back towards the opening in the floor I’d fallen through.

  An arm came at me, and I had just enough time to lean back and feel it whoosh past my face. I got my hand up and grabbed the wrist as it passed. Following the arm back, I punched as hard as I could up into the armpit, and the shoulder popped out of the socket.

  There was a scream of pain, and whomever’s arm it was managed to slip out of my grip. Stupid steam and sweat.

  “The master appreciates your work,” Donner said. “Identifying those who are too weak to be a part of the master’s plan.”

  “Tell him I charge reasonable rates,” I replied. “Like, your head.”

  “Ah, but I am the master’s chosen one. He needs me. But he wants you.”

  “Is he afraid to face me?”

  “Oh no,” Donner said. “You misunderstand. It is you who should be afraid to face him.”

  I was back at the hole. Steam escaped through the hole, and there was a small pocket of visibility.

  Donner appeared there. Smiling. His teeth were different. Longer. More numerous.

  “What are you?” I asked.

  He smiled bigger, past the point where a human mouth would have been able to do that.

  Quick as I could, I struck out, my fist smashing into his jaw.

  There was a cracking noise, followed by the unmistakable tink-tink of a bunch of teeth hitting the ground. Blood poured from his mouth.

  I didn’t pause to figure it out, grabbing Donner’s hair on the back of his head, pulling it back to force his face straight up, and then I jumped up and slammed my elbow in his stupid face, crushing his nose.

  He stumbled back a step.

  I pushed my advantage, slamming punch after punch into his stomach, but his stomach felt like iron. Despite my strength, I felt like I wasn’t doing that much damage to him.

  Donner got both arms up and shoved me.

  And I moved.

  I was stunned.

  This guy was strong. Maybe stronger than me.

  He swung for me, and I jumped back. His fingers seeming to grow in size, his gross finger nails scraping across the chain mail.

  I followed the motion until I had a chance to grab his arm. Pulled his fist to my chest as I threw myself back, getting my legs up and around his shoulder, putting him in a lock. Then, I arched my back as far as it would go, feeling Donner’s flesh tighten as it reached its limit.

  Then I pulled it past the limit, tearing his fucking arm off. Standing up, I spun, smacking Donner upside the head with his own arm. I threw the arm as hard as I could into the steam.

  Donner was down, his legs were sticking out, twitching.

&nbs
p; Jumping up, I grabbed the edge of the floor, and pulled myself out of the basement mess.

  I smelled wood smoke, right before I saw it. Fire licked out from below. I wasn’t sure if we’d caused the fire in the fight or if someone had set fire to the place to stop me from winning, whatever the case, as soon as I got near the curtains, I could see that the whole bathhouse was going up in flames. I gritted my teeth, and pushed through, sparks and ashes flitting up and around me. Without stopping, I plowed right through the front door out onto the street.

  It was dark and cold outside, but I kept running until I got to the end of the alley. At that point I slowed down, walking as if I was just strolling about.

  A window behind me blew out, and I saw brilliant orange flames reaching to the sky. I figured this could be a very bad night, considering Osterstadt was made out of basically nothing but wood. I needed to get to the hotel in the rich district, where the buildings were made of stone.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  By the time I got to the hotel, alarm bells echoed across the city, calls of fire rang out, lots of people were out and running amok.

  I walked inside the hotel, and initially planned on zipping right past the front desk, but the night clerk cleared his throat with such force and verve I stopped completely.

  “Can I help you?” he asked.

  I looked over at him, eyebrow up, genuine surprise on my face. He was a very prim sort, dark hair slathered with whatever passed for gel in Osterstadt into something along the lines of a pompadour.

  “Yeah,” I said, “I’m going up to my room.”

  “Oh?”

  “Uh, yes.”

  “Like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “Have you been busy little butcher?”

  “Uh—” I paused and gave myself the once over. I’d certainly looked better. “Sure. Yeah. That is exactly what I’ve been doing.”

  “Are you a guest here?”

  “My room’s at the top, it’s, uh, Léon’s suite.”

  “Oh, of course, I should have recognized you being related to the Viceroy of Osterstadt and the Emperor of Glaton. How could I have been so foolish? Only royalty would dare traipse into one of the most beautiful hotels in the city covered in blood and mud!”

  “Dude—”

  He raised his eyebrows at me.

  “Sorry, uh, can I have your name?”

  Almost lazily, he gestured to the small nameplate on the desk.

  “Reginald Moonweather,” I said. “It is nice to meet you, I am Montana Coggeshall, Duke of Coggeshall.”

  It did not impress the man in the slightest, he just sighed. He pulled out a ledger, and flipped through it idly until he got to the page he was looking for.

  “Montana Coggeshall,” he repeated. “Someone by that name is indeed staying here—”

  “It’s me, and I kind of need to get upstairs.”

  “Not like that you aren’t.”

  “Buddy—”

  “I am not your buddy.”

  “Clearly, but here’s the thing. I need to get up there, so, either you tell me what I need to do to go up the stairs and to the room I’m staying in, or I just go up there and you deal with the consequences.”

  “Are you threatening me?” he asked, eyes wide in mock fear.

  “Are you threatening me?” I snapped back at him.

  He sighed at me. Very directly.

  “At least take your boots off. And I am contacting Léon to let him know what a terrible guest you are. Providing you are who you say you are.”

  “You want me to show the indicium?”

  “Leave your rusty armor in place, seeing what is beneath will surely serve to embarrass you and depress me. Off with you.”

  He waved me up the stairs, and before I even got a single boot off, he’d started writing a letter while glaring daggers at me.

  I carried the boots, and ran up the stairs as quickly and quietly as I could up to the room, stepping inside and getting a dagger against my throat.

  Nikolai.

  “Where the fuck were you?” Nikolai asked.

  “Went to a bath.”

  “Why are you covered in blood and why do you smell like smoke?”

  “It was a terrible bath.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Is there, maybe, some way we could discuss this when we aren’t in the city?” I asked.

  He frowned, but nodded, and immediately started packing things into a sack.

  Skeld walked into the room holding a mug of beer and plate of meats, both of which he set on the bed.

  “What’s going on?” Skeld asked.

  “We are leaving,” I said.

  “Go and tell Lee we will meet him tomorrow morning at the tree we slept at outside the city,” Nikolai said. “Bring Ragnar back with you. We exit the city tonight.”

  Skeld nodded, and ran out the door.

  I grabbed the mug of beer, and passed it over to Nikolai. He nodded, and drank deeply. I ate the meat.

  It took barely a minute for Nikolai to be ready to go. We were already down the stairs and out the front door when Ragnar and Skeld caught up with us. And Emeline. And Nathalie.

  “Suddenly this is a lot more people to sneak out with,” I said.

  “Where you go,” Nathalie said, “I go. I have been charged to you, and I will not allow you to get rid of me again.”

  Nikolai raised an eyebrow at me. I just shook my head.

  “Just follow me,” Emeline said, brushing past me wearing leather armor. “I will be the one who gets us to Philomon and Philomon will get us out.”

  Whether or not she spoke the truth, her confidence made up for it.

  It was a quick trip from the hotel to a rather large mansion with high walls and a symbol I recognized. We didn’t go to the front gate. Rather, we went around to the side, the servants’ entrance. There was a large man guarding the small gate there. He was almost big enough that he could have blocked the gate just with himself.

  Emeline whispered something to the guard.

  He looked a little confused, but nodded. He went inside, and we stood around like idiots for a minute.

  Alarm bells were still going on in the poorer districts, and I really hoped the fire wasn’t spreading too far.

  “Question,“ I said, “what’s the fire department situation here?”

  All eyes went to Emeline. She was the only true local here.

  “There are fire brigades, both volunteer and professional, and I believe there are certain Imperial Magic Users who are staffed for emergencies.”

  “So fires aren’t really that big of a deal?””

  “It is a city made of wood, Montana,” Nikolai said. “It is always a horrible occurrence should Osterstadt burn.”

  “Right,” I said.

  A moment later, a wagon trundled up to us and stopped. It was a bigger, rougher thing than I expected to see around these mansions. The driver, a clean shaven fellow with a hooked nose and long hair gathered in a ponytail, leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. He produced a pipe from somewhere about his person, and, as if he hadn’t a care in the world, he packed it and lit it. He drew deeply, then blew a few smoke rings.

  The gate creaked as it opened, and the guard stepped out.

  “This is for you,” the guard said, pointing to the wagon.

  “But,” Emeline started, “is he—”

  “He said for you to get in and go. That a visit might be in order in the future, but at the present time, it is neither appropriate or safe.”

  “I— I—” Emeline stammered. She swallowed hard, then climbed into the wagon and faced away from anyone.

  The others got aboard. As I grabbed the wooden rail to pull myself up, I felt a hand on my back.

  “Montana?” the guard asked.

  “That’s me,” I said.

  “This is for you,” he replied, handing me a folded note and a small pouch.

  “Uh,” I said, “thanks.” />
  The wagon started moving before I had even gotten in, and I had to do a little hop and a jump to get aboard.

  I looked back, and the guard was already standing at his station. I gave a little wave. The guard just looked at me.

  We trundled and bumped along until we got to the gates. Not the main gate, but gate three, the one reserved for the guild. The driver gave a jaunty salute to the guards, and the guards, seeming bored, opened up the massive door and let us out with nary a second glance. The wagon drove a ways, then stopped, before going through the rather laborious process of turning around.

  I snuck a gold piece out, and palmed it.

  As the others jumped out, I shook hands with our driver, and gave him thanks. The driver nodded, disappearing the coin without even pausing to look at it.

  And then he drove his wagon back to the city.

  It was nice being away from everything, back out in nature. Sure, I’d been looking forward to a night in a real bed. I was also looking forward to a hot meal or two, but that just didn’t seem to be my luck.

  We walked towards the tree, Ragnar and Skeld in the front, then Nathalie, then Emeline with a cloak around her shoulders and the hood up as far as it would go, and then Nikolai and I.

  I related the story of the bath house to him.

  Nikolai kicked a rock. “I cannot help but wonder what Donner’s true motivations were.”

  “Getting out of prison,” I said.

  “That much is true, but he could have just walked away from you. What did he gain in attempting to kill you?”

  “He’s thorough?”

  Nikolai barked a short little laugh. “You are far too innocent for the game of court we are about to play.”

  “That’s why you’re here.”

  “If only you would listen to the words I say.”

  “They might sink in one day.”

  He just shook his head.

  I put my arm around his shoulder, realizing how much taller I was than him. “Let’s build a nice little town, shall we? Maybe forget about all this court nonsense, just make a place that’s relaxing and peaceful?”