by Wolfe Locke
He would have to be careful with that ability. Durability was not the same as indestructibility. And if what I heard was correct, it won't protect me the same way or the extent to which it did that monster.
After descending for what felt like an eternity, John began to see a pale light as he came to the landing that led to the next floor.
He stopped briefly and breathed a deep with a sigh and sent up a silent prayer to any god that may be willing to help, and he clutched his weapons closer.
When John reached the bottom of the stairs, the landing led to a large archway, and through it, he beheld his next challenge.
The room was large and square. Like the rest of those he had encountered, it was made of stone all around, with no windows or other exits in sight save for the other side of the room.
That exit, however, was different. Before, each path to the next floor had been blocked by a wooden door. John would need to find the key and continue his journey deeper into the dungeon. The exit to this floor was a massive wrought-iron gate. The gaps between the bars were not big enough to slip through. Of course, that would have been too easy.
The bars of the gate were thick. Easily the width of John's arm, and it was crossed lengthwise with metal bands. It also did not have any type of keyhole. Different indeed.
Around the room in a circle were six brightly burning braziers which were the source of the light that John had seen from above. The pits of fire were arranged meticulously, each of them equidistant from the other. They all burned with fire, sending sparks into the air from the crackling wood that fueled them.
John broke out into a light sweat while he was surveying the room. The heat that the braziers gave off was immense. He realized his mouth had grown parched. I'll need water soon. If he had to stay here for long, then dehydration would become an issue.
In the center of the ring of braziers was a lit torch on a stand. Its fire was different than that of the braziers. It had a faint white glow to it, almost as if it were purer. It burned steadily, not like the wild ferocity of the braziers.
The everlasting flames cannot be extinguished. Though the braziers it lights will only burn for a time. Be wary, this place belongs to another. Many wait to see how you do here.
I'll remember that. Scattered throughout the room were bones. They were of varying shapes and sizes, but John could tell they were all human. Some of them looked older than others. The stark white of the new giving way to the brown of the old. They were scattered without any pattern or reason to them.
There had been bones on the last floor too, but these are different, those had been the result of the Gluttonous King’s insatiable appetite and had come from the unfortunate souls that had been taken to the dungeon before John himself.
The unworthy had butchered the others and fed them to their vile ruler. Their broken bones were all that remained and were on the floor after. The nameless dead.
He was troubled. He hoped that he was not looking upon the remains of other people like him. Others who'd made it this far but traveled no further. This floor held at least double the number of bones than the previous one.
I hope that there’s another explanation for this, but I can’t be foolish enough to believe it. These bones belonged to people like me. People who had managed to survive the perils up to this point and had still been killed. Something deadly and dangerous is here.
What hope do I really have of escaping? Of getting through this. John was a capable man, but what made him more capable than any of the others? Doubt leeched into his heart.
He was not sure. But if that was the case. If all of these others had been just like him, then he would see this through until the end. His resolve to see this through grew within him until it almost seemed its own presence. John did not know what manner of god or monster awaited him in the end, but if it could even be killed, he was willing to try. Better then dying running.
But first, he had to take the next step. Always the next step.
Chapter 15: The Risen Horde
* * *
I’ve got a bad feeling about this floor. I can’t linger long. John couldn’t help but notice the goose flesh that stood up on his skin. Every part of his body screamed at him to run.
Like every other floor before, this newest floor was likely to culminate in some sort of puzzle. There had to be some way to get the gate on the other side opened.
Tentatively, John waded down into the pit of bones. The ground was almost completely covered in white. There were enough of the bleached remains that even though he was careful, his footsteps still kicked up some bones that then went to bounce against others.
The rattle of bones on bones was unnerving. It was something that John never wanted to hear again. I wonder if this is what it feels like to swim through the river of the dead?
Gradually, he made his way toward the torch. If the voice was right, and the torch was ever burning, then that was where John wanted to be.
There had not been many instances of true light thus far, but each of them had meant a safe haven for him. The light of the god of lost warriors who had originally blessed his weapons, as well as the light of the fragment of a goddess that he had met.
Best to go along with what’s proven to work for me. John thought with a nod of appreciation towards the weapons he carried. This light means something. It’ll help keep me alive.
John shrugged the thought away. No need to make a good thing more complicated I won’t bite the hand that feeds me.
When John was near the torch, he sheathed one of thrice blessed axes and reached out for the torch. The glow of it felt warm, but not hot. How odd that here in the center next to the brightest torch, the heat of this place is the most bearable.
When his fingers had just barely brushed the handle of the torch, a flash of energy flooded the room. A reminder of the dread and dark power that governed this place. Triggered? Maybe. But something like that was going to happen, anyway.
Having experienced the energy flash so often in such little time, John had noticed all the effects that the surge in power had on him, and the feeling that wrought in him.
The hairs on John’s body stood on end and his skin erupted with goosebumps. It was as if a deep and unsettling cold had traveled up his spine and throughout the rest of his body. His breath appeared in visible puffs of white as the room rapidly cooled down.
The feeling that came along with it was a deep sense of wrongness. A sense of feeling on edge, as if a thousand eyes were upon him. This is more than magic. This is unnatural.
That surge of power from the torch rooted John to the spot. He stood with his arm outstretched as the torch blazed again while his other hanging rigid at his side where he held one of his axes. The only thing that he could move were his eyes, and he scanned around the room.
On the far side of the room, the wrought iron gate began to ascend. John now saw that the bottom was lined with sharp iron spikes that slotted into grooves in the ground. It kept pulling upwards until the stairs on the other side were illuminated clearly. But why? Is it a trick? I can just walk out?
Then, all at once the braziers went out, and the gate fell with a loud crash. Yeah. A trick. It was freezing. The dramatic shift in the temperature of the room was a shock. Where before he had been openly sweating, now the air was cold and frigid on his skin.
The message was clear enough. If he wanted the gate to open again, then John had to relight the braziers. That must have been what the torch was for. But of course, it was not as simple as that.
The power disappeared in the air as if it had never been there at all. Then the dead started to rise in its wake.
It started with the rattle of bone on bone, a sound that John dreaded. He watched as the undead bodies began to form, jumping over each other to recreate the forms that they had taken in life.
Skeletons began to assemble from the mass of bones until John was surrounded by the undead. There had to be at least twenty of
them. They stood watching John and gradually the eye sockets of their skulls began to fill with a bright green light.
They turned those eyes toward John now and began ambling toward him. He stood rooted to the spot, unaware for a moment that he was no longer forced to stay in place. He retrieved his other axe from his side and raised them. He would have preferred to have his back to a wall against so many, but they surrounded him, cutting off all of the viable paths forward.
The only thing to John’s back was the torch. It burned with it’s pure light and the slight heat that it gave off was like a caress to his skin.
There has to be some way out of this. There always had been before, even though the path did not always seem clear. I just need to figure it out. I need to do something. They were drawing closer. The clattering of their bones on the floor echoed through the room.
The undead were not something to trifle with. I need to be careful. Undead possessed a strength that they never had in life. Hordes of undead had been known to plow through entire companies of hardened soldiers, ripping them limb from limb and sending their bodies flying. It was never good to underestimate any opponent. I won’t make that mistake twice.
Although John had never encountered this many undead at a time, he knew the stories. Unlike many who believed them to just be fables, he took them seriously. That was why John had survived so long where others had not. Over the years he had learned which sources to trust and which to disregard.
Chapter 16: Light the Beacon
* * *
When it came to the monsters of the world, John had always followed a particular rule on the subject. Never believe the young and untested. Don't follow some fool on a doomed quest for glory. Listen to the ones, the hardened veterans, the survivors with their haunted eyes. Learn what they know and follow them. Most of all, stay alive.
John knew without needing to pull from the things he'd learned over his life that his situation was dangerous and dire. But really, what can I do? It's not like all of the old-timers had any advice for a situation like this. One piece of advice came to him. When you're up against a crowd, use that to your advantage. Numbers don't matter much if you can funnel them.
Light the braziers John and be on your way to the next floor. This is a challenge unworthy of you.
Maybe so. He looked around, trying to assess the situation. The undead were legion, and they were everywhere. Dark sockets that glowed with eldritch energies glared back at him and slowly approached. I won't be able to get through all of them with the torch to light up each individual brazier.
They move slowly now, but they have only just been called from the Great Empty. The longer this undeath lasts, the faster they will move. You do not have long.
So maybe I need to take them head-on before I run out of time. John knew he had to use any advantage he could find to survive.
As the undead drew closer, John saw he had another advantage. The ring of light cast by the Everburning torch in his hand might not have stretched far, only a foot or so in every direction, but it did have an effect, and John was within the area of that effect.
It had happened when one of the undead had gotten close enough to feel the sting of the torch. John had been about to lash out with his axe. He saw the skeleton hit the light and stop abruptly, like it had come up against some kind of barrier. A barrier that made its bones smoke. It had a secondary effect. A consequence. The flame wavered. So much for Everburning.
Although his body was on edge and everything within him was screaming to attack before the skeleton got the chance to tear him apart, John hesitated. I need to know. He let the undead get closer until enough of them came up against that barrier. The flame wavered again, but seemed to hold steady.
I’m not sure if it’s a holy object or not, but it seems to keep the undead away. So long as I don’t overuse it, I should be ok.
That’s the puzzle, then. John had to use this torch to light the braziers while trying to make sure the undead didn’t overwhelm him. And while keeping the flame strong.
It was not as simple as it seemed. As he had seen, the halo of the Everburning torch only extended so far. Even if John took it and held it directly overhead so that he had a circle of protection around himself, he would have to lower it to light the braziers once he got to them, and at that moment, the undead would attack.
He would have to go about this delicately. Carefully, John grabbed the torch from its stand and held it above him.
The movement sent the undead into a frenzy. Snapping teeth gnashed together in grim chorus. It was like nothing John had never heard before. Skeletons ran towards him, throwing themselves against the barrier and striking it with their weapons. The flame dimmed noticeably.
Each strike at the barrier nearly knocked him over and John found himself scrambling to hold on tight lest the Everburning torch be forced out of his hands by the undead and more than once was forced to knock the undead away.
How am I going to manage this? There were so many of them, and they kept throwing themselves at him. The undead don’t tire, but I do. The only thing that was keeping John from an untimely and gruesome death was the light of the torch.
The glowing green eyes of the undead bore into him like daggers to his chest. They were all around him, closing in. Those glowing eyes hungry and waiting for a moment of weakness to devour him.
John felt a moment of panic. His palms started to sweat. His grip on the Everburning torch lessened and the flame diminished. No. Don’t give up. Keep moving forward. Take the next step.
John Younger had dealt with monsters and horrors. He had beheld gods, both heinous and righteous. He would get through this as he had gotten through everything else. With his skills and his will to keep moving forward. To him, the undead were nothing.
If the skeletons wanted to come at him, then he would do so in kind.
If the light of the Everburning torch was like anathema to the undead, then it was time to use it.
Sometimes the only way out is through. This you will learn. A time to do and do well.
So, John attacked. He thrust a thrice blessed axe through the flame of the torch and pulled it out. Suddenly it illuminated the weapon with the holy flame. This will work. He attacked; each swing a vicious haymaker of all the force within him. Every undead that was on the receiving end of his attack went flying away in an explosion of bones as the enchanted weapon made quick work of them.
Even if the undead were capable of thought, it was unlikely anyone, any of the adventurers who had made it this far had even decided to go on the offensive. First time for everything.
John used that moment of violence to dash to the first brazier. The undead that came between him and the brazier met a similar fate thanks to his makeshift mace of purity. Before those that still stood could register and react to what was happening, the first brazier was burning once more and with it, the Everburning torch blazed brighter too.
With the resurgent power, John held the torch high, re-centering the protective bubble on himself as he held the thrice blessed axe steady in his other hand.
Around him, what undead he had knocked down and thought he’d destroyed stirred. The scattered bones coming together to reform into animated skeletons. They did not come streaking back at him. Not at first. They simply watched him.
Although they could show no expression, a crimson aura glowed. John knew they had become enraged and empowered. I might be the first one to even try attacking them. Has anyone else made it past them?
The ordinary people who made it this far were likely no match for this small army of undead. But John was not an ordinary person. There was a pause in the action as John looked on, ready for the undead to lunge at him. Finally, the tension that had been hanging in the air broke, and the undead rushed him once more.
He allowed that first wave of skeletons to smash into his barrier, the muscles of his
arms straining to keep the torch directly overhead while attacking with his thrice blessed axe to keep them at bay.
One of the undead crashing into him from behind, and John went sprawling. He only barely kept hold of the torch, though with his leg exposed, one of the undead raked him with a bony claw. John kicked it away and scrambled to his feet.
It planned that. John realized. That one had waited, anticipating that John would try the same tactic again. It had come at him when his back was exposed.
John didn’t get as far as he wanted to, but the pain he had expected after the undead had slipped through his guard didn’t come. In its place was a dull warmth on his hand. He glanced down to see that the Ring of Temperance was glowing, though the metal band seemed to have lost some of its shine.
John offered a silent prayer to that fragment of a god and got back to his feet before the undead knew what was happening, before they realized he was unharmed. I can’t assume they’re unintelligent. That ring will only save me so many times.
He reached the second brazier and lit it before they could regroup once more. John breathed easier seeing the flame flare back to life.
In response, the undead roared. An otherworldly sound of the realm of the dead. They rushed him again, a sea of bones crashing against his impenetrable barrier. They threw themselves at him with the reckless abandon that only the dead had.
John waved the torch through the air, striking bones and sending them flying to the far corners of the room. This time, he was careful to watch his back and he sent the same skeleton from before, now reformed, sprawling with the rest in a heavy attack with the flaming thrice blessed axe.