by Wolfe Locke
Scattered all over the floor were dozens of old books. Many were destroyed, leaving only shredded pages and torn leather bindings. Even then, most of the library was untouched. Although it was grand by most standards, the library had the musty air of a place that had not seen use in a very long time. The dust that covered most of the books further proved it.
I’m running out of places to run. He had already seen most of the rooms and knew this floor of the castle was only so big, and John felt the anxious stirrings of a truth all adventurers know. Eventually, my strength will fail, and the monsters will keep coming after me. Nobody can run forever.
Worse. Those minotaurs are spawns, rather than born creatures. They won’t ever tire. As such, John knew they would remain relentless. He still had the fountain, but he’d seen its power start to weaken already. It would quickly be exhausted. I need to find a way out of here. Some clue to help me escape this labyrinth or at least find the key to the next floor.
That clue came in the form of a book as John crept stealthily through the library, keeping his head on a swivel and his hearing tuned into his surroundings as he made time to look about. He carefully looked up on shelves and shifted through piles of books.
Nearby, John could hear the clopping sounds of the remaining two minotaurs walking around in the hallway. When the sound stopped, John knew they had found the third minotaur he had killed. John waited for the bellow that would announce the minotaurs were coming after him in a rage. In the meantime, he was grateful for the limited reprieve.
The book sat on the floor of the library, among many others. The only thing that even drew John's attention to it was the fact that it looked newer than those scattered about, and the layer of dust was noticeably less. It may have been a trick of his mind, but he also thought that the book gave off a faint glowing light. Enchanted. Or a quest item?
As he got closer, John noticed the book was bound in brown leather, thin wisps of old hairs clinging to it. Human skin. John shuddered; he was sure he had rightfully guessed the source of the book’s binding. The writing was in an ancient language that John only knew from his studies as a child. He recognized a few of the words. "The Lesser Key" He muttered.
Maybe this will give me insight into the gods here. John didn't know why he had referred to the voice in his head that way. It just sounded right within his mind.
Or it could be a trap. An enchanted book that might seal me within its tome. After all, he was under no illusions about his situation. He was at the mercy of the god's whim in this infernal dungeon. Best not to look a gift horse in the mouth.
I have taken the book and stored it for you. At a later time, you may delve into its secrets when your mind can be allowed a bit of madness. For now, make do with what you have and make haste.
Make do with what I have? John wondered, repeating the advice. He knew a clue was in that statement. He looked at where the book had been. Ah. I get it. He picked up a piece of paper that had fallen out of the book. Thanks for letting me grab it. Quickly, before his pursuers could sniff out his location, John bent and began to read the book on the page which had fallen onto on the floor.
Torn Note:
"I fear that I will never leave this place. My hunters are relentless, and the fountain holds no more warmth for me. I managed to take down one of the bull men, but those that remain have become stronger. I know not what kind of evil magic thrives in this place, but I can feel it in the very framework of the walls. It is alive with the malice of those who dwell within.
I have found the key, but I cannot get near enough to use it. I fear that I will die here. I record this message for anyone else who may come after me, who may be thrust into this terrible place. If I find my way out, this message will be useless to you. But if not, seek me where the darkness gathers. As blood calls to blood, so do I call to you."
The note ended there. The page on which it was scrawled upon contained several drops of dried blood and a bloody fingerprint. Nothing else.
What did the note mean by those that remain have become stronger? As if in answer, the remaining two minotaurs stalked into the library. Their horns nearly brushed the ceiling, whereas before there had been a decent gap between the two.
They had grown at least another foot, and their wide, muscular limbs had become even more so. Power radiated off of them and the ground trembled. From their mouths, blood dripped onto the floor, and they regarded John with a burning hatred.
"Well, that certainly answers that question," John muttered with a sardonic laugh. John hoped that he would live long enough to find out whether or not the previous adventurer that had left the note had escaped. I mean, I'm guessing not, but we'll see.
He had searched every room except one so far, and that was the dark one. If the key was still here, that's where it would be. But first, he had to get past these two enemies that remained
It's different now, though. John had thought previously that he'd be able to take on each of the minotaurs one at a time, so long as he split them up. Now, with their increased strength, and size, that was going to be even harder.
Not all bad though, John thought as he peered ahead at the immense monsters. With great size comes great immovability. The creatures were massive, yes. But now, they could barely fit through the doors and archways of the place. The rooms were large, but the creatures had grown to the point that they would have trouble navigating some of the narrower spots.
I can use that to my advantage.
He would have to come up with some type of plan quickly because the minotaurs were ready to attack, each quivering as their bodies shook with unbridled power.
Sure enough, the beasts let out twin bellows and charged after him like wrecking balls. Each of their heads lowered so that their gleaming white horns would gore him.
John had learned long ago not to let his pride get in the way of survival. If faced with insurmountable odds, the best course of action was to run so that you could live to fight another day. He had spent the entire night running, taking what opportunities he could, and he felt no shame in doing so again.
But now, he stood firm as the two minotaurs charged him. They must have thought that he had given up because their pace increased. Eager to spill his blood on the stone floor.
But John had no intentions of dying tonight. What tricks worked before would most likely work again. He had positioned himself against the back wall of the library, and as the beasts got close, he once again dashed to the side.
Still, at the end of the day these minotaurs are basically nothing more than animals. These dungeon spawned creatures don't learn. The minotaur crashed into the wall headfirst, and its horns jammed into the stone.
The other caught itself in time, turning its head to the side, but it still fell ungracefully to the floor. John took the opportunity to dash out into the hallway and toward the dark room.
John saw the remains of the minotaur that he had killed. There were large chunks of flesh missing from its head and torso. One gaping hole where its heart should be.
Well, that explained the bloody mouths. John had never heard of cannibalization among their kind before, and if there were stories, then he would know about them.
Could that explain their sudden increase in size and strength? Some kind of ritual? He supposed that it wasn't out of the realm of possibility. He had been abducted by cultists and thrown into a dungeon where a disembodied voice had told him to go forward and then thrown minotaurs at him. At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised if a dragon busted through the wall.
Instead, what busted through the wall was a minotaur, the one who unfortunately had not gotten stuck. As he ran, John heard the crash of stone as the massive thing completely plowed through a stone wall, opening up a brand-new door out of the library.
If he’d been nervous before, he was absolutely terrified now. He had barely survived a blow from one of them before. Now, it was super-sized.
What was worse was that the mo
nster saw John heading towards the end of the hall, and John didn’t know if the dark room contained an exit. The fountain room hadn’t. If this minotaur saw him go that way and followed, he could be trapped with nowhere to go.
Looking around himself, John did not have many options. He could run back down the hallway and into an adjacent room, but the now bigger and probably faster minotaur could beat him there and smash me to bits. So what do I do?
Then came an answer. All along the hallway, there were torches embedded into the walls that had come alight when he entered. Maybe he could use one of them.
Once again, John made a motion with his hand, drawing the attention of the monster. The minotaur obliged. If he was being hunted by smarter predators, John would have most likely died already. But the bloodthirsty single-mindedness of these minotaurs was working to his advantage.
The bullman charged down that hallway, and it was as if the very earth were quaking. Once John was sure that it wouldn’t be able to stop, he grabbed one of the torches from the wall and lobbed it at the charging minotaur.
The flame connected, smashing into the minotaur’s chest as blackened tar and oil spilled out, helping to spread the flames. The monster’s coarse, thick hair went up like a tinder box, but it didn’t stop the minotaur.
Hurriedly, John dodged to the side, and headed straight towards the dark room. The minotaur crashed into the wooden door, screaming in agony he proceeded onward.
Chapter 7: Further into The Abyss Below
* * *
Inside the darkened room, John struggled to see. He cursed himself for not retrieving another torch to light his path. The light of the burning minotaur cast a pale glow that barely stretched into the room, but what John could see looked like bars.
Carefully, he reached out. John used his sense of touch where his vision failed. His fingers snagged against cold metal. Alright, those feel like bars. In fact, after he felt around a bit more, he realized that it was a cell, or at least a cage.
In the next instant, a skeletal hand reached out and gripped his own with bony fingers. It took all his resolve not to scream. It was a grip he could not pull away from.
John feeling panicked pulled away with his whole body. There wave another wave of energy. It was much smaller than what had spawned the minotaurs, and in response the torch on the wall of the room came to life.
The light revealed what had grabbed him from within the cage. One of the undead. A broken hand lay unmoving at the monster’s feet.
The skeleton looked relatively new. It didn’t have the discoloration one would expect to see in older bones. From a belt that dangled off the body John saw a key. I think that’s the one from my note then. The one who came before. John offered a silent prayer that the undead would eventually find comfort in whatever afterlife awaited it.
John was in no immediate trouble. The skeleton was safely behind bars and the hand that gripped his own did not do so with much real strength. Still, if he wanted that key, he would have to go inside and face the undead.
The cell wasn’t locked, just closed shut. The adventurer likely tried to hide in there. Maybe they died from blood loss? John had faced the undead before. They could be relentless and could easily overwhelm opponents with sheer numbers. They also possessed an unnatural strength. Still, if he could take down two minotaurs, one undead skeleton shouldn’t be much of a problem.
John readied himself. I can do this, just stay away from its mouth and don’t let it bite me. He had just about been ready to open the door when the skeleton inside of it reached down and retrieved the key from its side with its remaining hand and pushed it through the bars, offering it to him.
John was obviously stunned. The undead typically had one drive and one alone. To add to their numbers. But this one seemed different. The skull held no expression, the skin having long since faded. But still, it looked as if it were pensive. Did this undead just see another adventurer, as it had been in life? One who had a chance like it had had?
Whatever the case, John would not pass up the gift. He reached out and retrieved the key from the bony hand. Once it was free of its burden, the skeleton stepped back and fell into a pile of bones. It was cursed. The skeleton had to wait to pass on the key.
John almost thought he saw it smile beforehand. Now, there was only one minotaur left, and John had the key. He could make it. The light in the room suddenly started to increase. Why was it getting brighter in here?
The second minotaur came to the doorway of the cell, still burning. There was no way it should still be alive, but here it was. John could see the blackened skeleton of its face and chest. The only thing driving it now was the thought of ending the one who it would eventually succumb to.
It roared and charged forward. John retreated to the only place he could. The cell. He was inside with the door closed before the minotaur made it across the room. If he could just wait it out long enough for the thing to die he might be ok. But then it started bashing on the bars and that hope was gone.
Even on fire and nearly dead the minotaur remained monstrously strong. One blow bent one of the bars inwards. A couple more like that and it’ll be free to take whatever revenge it wants on me.
Even if it did die beforehand, John noticed didn’t matter. He saw the figure of the third minotaur darken the hallway. Whatever this one doesn’t finish, the other one will.
John was trapped with no way out. He would die here, and probably become another undead skeleton, guarding the key until the next unfortunate soul was trapped within these walls, and the cycle would repeat.
With no other course of action left to him, John prayed. He was not an overly religious man, but there were no other options. He prayed to the god of those who were lost begging for guidance. He did not expect to get an answer, but he did receive one.
All around the cell, there was a new, pure, white light that had nothing to do with the burning minotaur. It soothed John and spread warmth through his body. A voice that was completely different from the one before spoke into the air.
I who call this dungeon my own have heard your prayers my child. I have come for the lost. I am the god of the Ruthiare. The vagrant and lost warriors. He'rne
Suddenly, an energy that was also different than the one before coursed through John. The while light brightened until he was forced to close his eyes, and there was the feeling of vertigo. When John opened his eyes again, he saw that he was sitting in the chapel.
I have removed you from the danger you faced, my child. But there is little more I can do. Much of my power is sealed. Perhaps once you've grown in faith and helped to restore some of what has been sealed away, I can provide further assistance.
“Thank you for answering my prayers. But I don’t know that I can make it out of here. The last creature will consume its brethren, and it will become too strong for me to stop." John explained
I cannot help much, but I can help some. You may ask a boon of me. Three options I will give you, so that you may live to fight again. Tell me, would you seek to smite darkness, wherever it may roam? Do you seek to endure the injuries of the flesh, so that you may continue the fight? Or do you seek a shadow, to fight alongside you?
After some careful thought, John had his answer. “I choose to smite darkness, great one.”
A wise choice. Go forth and rend the dark. You will be able to smite the unclean. My blessings upon you.
The divine energy of the god of lost warriors filled John once again, bringing his senses to high alert, as the roar of the final minotaur emerged from the room of the prison cell.
That divine white light filled him, and then slowly faded as the sound of hooves drew closer. In his hands, John held his twin axes, but they were different now. Even though the godly light was gone, his axe still glowed with it, as if they were shining with holy attribute. No. They have become something else. They have
become blessed axes.
Feeling confident after being saved by the god, John walked from the chapel into the large library. Moments later, the final minotaur smashed through the door. He had grown too large to fit normally, but his strength allowed him to rip the wall as if it were tissue.
Blood dripped from his mouth, and his once dark eyes were now the shade of blood. His horns curled and rubbed the ceiling, making sparks.
John Younger was ready. His meeting with the god who had answered his prayer had filled him with a confidence that he had never felt before. He did not see a gargantuan of muscle before him, but a challenge to overcome.
The minotaur roared, and John roared back. Together, they charged. John barely dodged the swinging arm the beast sent at him. The next swing was met by the blade of his blessed axes. The weapons glowing with that ethereal white light that meant it had been imbued with a holy attribute.
Blade met flesh and it cut deep. Where before, he had needed to target the vital spot of a regular minotaur to deal any damage at all, his blessed axes bit into the flesh this more powerful as easily as the minotaur had torn through stone.
The minotaur drew back its arm, roaring in pain. John stepped further into its reach and delivered a blow to its massive thigh.
Before he could do more, the beast lashed out with both arms, one bloody, and John had to dodge backward or else be crushed.
He distanced himself from the angry creature, and watched as it bent forward, its gigantic horns aimed toward his heart, and charged.