by Allan Joyal
A Living Dungeon
By Allan Joyal
Copyright Allen Joyal 2017
Chapter 1: A Village Hosts a Stranger
The village had been ignored for centuries. It was far from the main trade routes of the nearby kingdoms. The population had been kept small due to the lack of water. Only a tiny stream provided water to the inhabitants. The stream would eventually join a great river, but the trickle that provided water to the village was barely enough to keep the small community of fifty souls from dying of thirst.
The isolation of the village was treasured by the few families that called the place home. The village rested in a fertile mountain valley, but the limited water meant there was a definite limit on how many people could be fed. There were a few small deposits of iron and other metals. Enough to allow a skilled craftsman to make the tools the villagers needed, but not much more.
The villagers cared little for the outside world. A few children would leave to seek their fortunes elsewhere, but occasionally one would return with a wife and family, seeking the innocence and peace that came with the village’s isolation.
Villagers who had visited the outside world, would bring tales of wars and talk about bands of humans marching across the land, weapons ready. Other tales they told spoke of other beings they met in towns and cities. Those that stayed in the village would hear the tales and nod thinking that it was fortunate they stayed in the village, far from the chaos.
The peaceful nature of the village and its lack of prosperity resulted in the inhabitants ignoring a pair of bedraggled and battered young men who staggered into the village late one autumn. The men were barely alive, but the eldest woman in the village had learned enough herbal magic to nurse them back to health over the long winter.
The men rarely said much, and refused to say anything about what had driven them so deep into the mountains. However, they were willing to help with the planting in the spring, so the villagers cleaned up a cottage on the south side of the valley and left them alone.
The men proved to have strong backs and if they occasionally vanished for a week or two, no one much cared. Life was hard in the valley, and none of the villagers showed any interest in, nor indeed the time to find out more about the men.
Two summers after the men arrived, Feldmar, a young man who had left the village more than a decade earlier, arrived back riding a horse. The horse was followed by four others. Two were pack horses, and the packs were piled high on their strong backs. The other two were being ridden. One rider was a beautiful woman, easily the most beautiful to grace the village in centuries. She had thick blond hair that fell down her back in a golden wave. Her clothing looked to be in good repair, but was simple animal skin. The other rider was a young girl not quite into her teens. She had the same hair and nose as the older woman and wore similar clothing.
“Feldmar!” the village elder shouted. “What brings you back?”
“The lands out there aren’t for one such as I,” Feldmar said poetically. “The sight of death and war makes one grow weary.”
“Like anyone wants to live in this valley,” one of the new men snorted softly. “But look at that woman.”
“So you are here to stay?” the village elder asked? “And why bring so much?”
“My wife wanted us to find a place of shelter,” Feldmar said firmly. “I thought of the valley and described it to her. The goods are things we believe will help increase our crops.”
“We don’t want prosperity,” the village elder warned. “We’ve heard the tales of what happens when a small village like ours appears to be thriving.”
“We are many days travel from any kingdom,” Feldmar said. “Lystari has seen too much of death and merely wants to live in peace.”
“There are no empty cottages,” the village elder said firmly.
The woman nudged her horse forward until it was even with Feldmar’s. She learned toward his and whispered something that none of the villagers could hear. He turned to look at her as she pointed towards the south-east corner of the valley.
“Is the old stone ruin still standing?” Feldmar asked. A couple of the villagers noticed that he sounded confident in the answer
“Of course,” the elder said. “There has been talk of removing the stone, but no one wants to take the time.”
“We’ll head there,” Feldmar said firmly.
“Feldmar! You better not be running from something,” the elder cried out as the horses began moving. Feldmar waved a hand in negation, but said nothing.
The villagers watched silently as the horses left the village and headed into a grove of trees. A couple of children from the village raced after them as the two strange men moved away from the crowd.
“Did you see that woman?” one of the men said to the other. “I haven’t seen a woman like that since the campaign in Sorphyrda.”
“Of course I saw her, Clayde,” the other man said. “But you shouldn’t talk about things so openly. We know how the villagers are.”
“Idiots too blind to see a thing,” Clayde replied. “Have you been challenged by any of them in the last year. We came up here after stealing five mana jewels from the Rosalian Wizard Academy, and they never checked us for magic.”
“We hid the jewels near that stone ruin,” the second man said. “What if that Feldmar finds them?”
“What could he do with them?” Clayde asked. “He’s clearly no wizard. And didn’t you say that the jewels were keyed. I thought that was the reason we came here to hide out. It will take another three years before we can sell them.”
“I know, but Feldmar worries me,” the second man said. “He’s obviously someone who left the village years ago. However, he returns with a beautiful wife, and several horses. How many horses do you see in this valley.”
“None, except for the two we keep in that side valley south of our cottage,” Clayde said. “The villagers refuse to keep pastures for horses.”
“They don’t refuse, they don’t have enough people to set up a pasture or to protect it,” the second man said. “At least, not for horses. There is the one small herd of sheep kept by Arion and his kin, but that’s it for the entire valley.”
Clayde’s response was drowned out by a loud rumbling from the southeast. The ground in the valley shook violently.
Both men turned to look in the direction of the rumbling. It was clearly the direction that Feldmar had been headed when he left the village. A small cloud of dust and dirt was rising above the trees as they looked. They also noticed a pair of teenage boys running back toward the village.
“Orland!” one of the boys shouted. “That woman with Feldmar fixed the ruin!”
The elder turned to look at the boys. He was leaning heavily on a walking stick as he tried to take a couple of steps in their direction. “What do you mean?” he called back in a raspy voice.
“Once they got there she brushed her hair back. I could see her ears, they have points. Then she raised her left hand and spoke some strange sentence,” the boy who had shouted said.
“The stones seemed to turn into mud. They flowed. The walls became solid with a strange curved roof. There even is a new enclosure next to the ruin. Feldmar just sat on his horse and watched,” the second boy said.
“And the horses?” the elder asked.
“They just stood there,” the first boy said. “The girl watched intently, but said nothing.”
“Clayde?” the second of the two strangers said carefully.
“I know, Branlin,” the first man said. “Let’s get over there and see what is happening. This makes no sense. Who is that woman? Have you ever heard of someone who could make stone flow like water?”
“I’m sure there are dwarves who claim that abil
ity, but she was far too fair to be a dwarf,” Clayde said. He broke into a run and started to head towards the cloud of dust they could see over the trees.
Branlin dashed off after him. The two teen boys had also turned back and were racing back through the trees. Behind him he could hear others begin to hurry after them. There were a few shouts of indignant annoyance but most of the people sounded excited by the sudden change.
When Clayde emerged from the trees he stopped in surprise. There was a sizable clearing in front of him. Low walls composed of what appeared to be single pieces of stone formed a number of square plots in the clearing. Next to one of the squares Feldmar was standing as he unloaded one of the packhorses.
On the far side of the clearing was a stone home. Much like the stone walls, it appeared to be made from one large piece of carved granite. The girl was standing in the doorway and watching as the woman unloaded the other packhorse. The three horses they had been riding were peacefully grazing in a corral at the extreme right of the clearing. It was bordered by a stone fence. Clayde noticed that the fence appeared to have no gate.
“What?” Branlin asked. “This wasn’t here….”
Feldmar had emptied the packs from the packhorse and was turning to set something in one of the plots when he looked up and saw Clayde and Branlin. He waved. “We won’t need help.”
“Did we come to help?” Branlin asked in a whisper.
“No,” Clayde responded in a similar whisper.
“Okay, fair enough,”: Branlin responded as the two men moved to the side.
“Wow!” one of the teenage boys said. “This was fast. How did she do this?”
Feldmar ignored the question. He had assembled a plow out of some of the pieces of metal he had taken from the packs and was coaxing the packhorse to step over the stone wall and into the enclosed plot.
The villagers continued to straggle to the edge of the clearing. The trio of newcomers just continued their quiet work. By the time the sun was starting to set, Feldmar had plowed three of the plots and sown seeds in all three. The woman had finished unpacking the horse and with the aid of the girl put everything into the house before leading the horse over to the pasture. Every member of the village gasped when the stone flowed away long enough for her to guide the horse into the enclosure.
“How?” the village elder asked. He then got a determined look on his face and marched over to Feldmar as the man was removing the plow from the third plot.
“Feldmar!” the elder roared. “What evil have you brought to our lands?”
“No evil,” Feldmar said. He sounded puzzled. “Lystari only wants peace. I offered her that peace and she came here with me.”
“But this….” The elder said as he used his hand to indicate the repaired ruin and clearing.
“Is not the result of evil,” the man said firmly. “Would evil create? Lystari and I ask for nothing except to be allowed to live in peace.
“What about the stones?” Branlin asked Clayde quietly. They had moved away from the villagers, but continued to watch Feldmar and the woman. The girl had vanished into the house and the woman stood in the doorway glaring at the villagers. There was no fear in her eyes.
“They haven’t noticed them.” Clayde said. “But we can’t try to retrieve them right now. Someone would notice.”
“What do we do?” Branlin asked.
“We wait. And we watch,” was Clayde’s reply.
Chapter 2: A Village is Betrayed
For the rest of the spring, the village prospered. Feldmar and his strange family kept away from any offers of meals, but were often seen in the village during the day, and were more than willing to offer any help needed or wanted. Lystari proved to be the most helpful. She never spoke to anyone, but her power over stone was a miracle that the village was happy to exploit. By the time the last of the spring storms had passed the stream was much more than a trickle. A new waterwheel to power a small grain mill had been installed under a waterfall that Lystari had coaxed into existence. She even created a couple of small aqueducts to bring water to the various fields. The crops were growing straight and tall for the first time in generations.
Lystari’s daughter often played with the few children in the village. Like her mother the young girl never talked, but her smile was treasured by anyone who managed to coax one out of her. The children soon learned that the young girl had an amazing ability with animals. She could often be found at dawn at the edge of the clearing, holding out a handful of grain for a grateful deer. The animals would eat from her hand and then walk away. Other children tried to join her, but the animals never allowed another person near. The girl always stomped off if she was interrupted, and soon the other children merely watched from a distance, wondering what magic Feldmar had discovered.
The only two people who were still unhappy about the presence of Feldmar and his family were Clayde and Branlin. The fact that Feldmar was living so close to the hiding place where they had stashed their stolen stones meant they could not retrieve them. Branlin wanted to kill Feldmar, but Clayde was trying to find out more about the man before they took any action. He was also not sure if Lystari would intervene.
In the end the decision of the two men was made one night when they returned to their cottage. They were covered in dust from helping hoe one of the fields.
“Why don’t we just kill them,” Branlin complained. “You said those stones are worth enough that we could go to Orlinla’s and spend a year in the brothels after we sell them.”
“Really?” a voice purred from inside the cottage. “And were you going to include me in this payout? Or were you going to try to cheat me like your brother did?”
“Voriatz!” Clayde said in a gasp. “Why are you here?”
“The guild in Shikegol is gone,” thesilky voice said, as menace dripped from his words. “We were betrayed.”
“What?” Branlin cried. “Who would betray the guild?”
“I didn’t see who it was,” Voriatz said. “Several of the members vanished just before the guard started to raid all of our hideouts. It has to be one of them who betrayed us.”
“You escaped?” Clayde asked. “I’m sure you were one of the members the guard were determined to capture.”
“I wasn’t in the guild hall when they struck. I was checking with one of my contacts trying to find out why two members I had personally vouched for had not appeared at a guild meeting for more than two years. He told me about your attempt on the Academy,” the voice said. “Now get inside before someone hears us.”
“I doubt anyone will,” Branlin said as they stepped inside. “The children are all playing in the new pool that Lystari created and the villagers are working in the fields on the other side of Tumble Creek.”
“Lystari? That doesn’t sound like a name I’d expect from a bunch of mountain villagers,” Voriatz said in surprise. “Who is he?”
“Sheis new,” Clayde said firmly. “And the only one who might know would be Feldmar.”
“Who is?” Voriatz asked immediately.
“I’ve talked to people about him,” Branlin said. “He left the village thirteen years ago. He claimed he wanted to find a new place to live. I believe he wanted adventure. He returned early this spring with Lystari and a girl everyone believes is Lystari’s daughter.”
“Believes?” Voriatz asked in a disbelieving tone. “They don’t know.”
“Feldmar talks occasionally, but he doesn’t come to the hall at night. The other two never speak,” Clayde said firmly.
“Where are they?” Voriatz asked. He emerged from the back corner of the cottage where he had been hiding in the shadows. Clayde and Branlin immediately recoiled in horrified surprise.
Their friend's face was covered in blackened skin. The man’s hair was a mass of glossy black that appeared to be molded to the right side of his skull. His left hand was missing and his clothing blackened with soot.
“What?” Branlin asked.
Voriatz stoo
d. “I escaped, but not without paying a price,” the man said. “There is magic that hides the pain and allows me to move, but I need more to get full healing. Those stones might be enough.”
“We stole those!” Clayde said suddenly. “And we’ve hidden here for the last three years waiting for the key spells to fade enough to make them sellable. Now you are going to come here and steal them?”
“Not me,” Voriatz said. “I know how dangerous it is to anger wizards.”
“Yes,” another voice said in a slow and deep hiss. “Once again we find we must remind thieves not to meddle in the affairs of wizards.”
Clayde took a step backwards, only to stop. He felt something press into his back pushing him to the middle of the room.”
The force threw Clayde to the floor. Branlin landed alongside him. The man grunted and attempted to get to his feet.
A ball of fire appeared from the corner where Voriatz had been hiding. It floated slowly through the cottage until it landed on Branlin’s head. The flames caused Branlin’s hair to burst into flames. The man’s mouth opened up, but the flames poured down his throat. A moment later the now dead body fell to the floor as a nasty smell filled the air.
“What?” Clayde said as he tried to crawl away from the body of his friend.
“I see you never considered what might happen should your theft succeed. Now, you and your dead friend stole something from the Academy,” the voice said.
“What?” Voriatz asked. “You told me.”
“What you needed to know” the hidden voice interrupted him. “The Academy wanted to find your friends, and was willing to work with you. But you have outlived your purpose. In truth, you haven’t been alive since the wall of the guildhall fell on you. Our magics kept you alive while you helped us find the two thieves who stole important magical artifacts. Your body is too damaged to be of use as a zombie or skeletal servitor. I should banish you, but that is a waste of magic. Begone spirit,” the voice said in a tone dripping with malice.
Clayde watched as Voriatz’s body slowly sank to the floor. He thought he saw mist rising from the body’s neck as the shadows in the room grew darker.