Pendrackon

by Aaron Oster

  “If we make it through this mission without killing him, I think we’ll deserve a fucking medal,” Sam muttered as he sat back against a tree.

  “We really need to buy better camping gear,” Emma muttered, seemingly too tired to talk about the idiot knight. “We seem to spend an inordinate number of nights not sleeping in beds, and as much as I love walking on it, the ground is not exactly designed for sleeping.”

  “As much as I enjoy a nice bed, I honestly see no problem with sleeping on the ground,” Gordon said as he curled up next to her. “It is just as the Overlord intended.”

  “All of you are a bunch of fucking wimps,” Barry called down. “Always needing to sleep lying down. A real bird only needs a branch and nothing else.”

  Sam fired a Mana Shot into the trees, eliciting a squawk of anger.

  “None of us are birds, genius,” he called as the bird fluttered over to settle on a different branch.

  Sam agreed with Emma about the sleeping on the ground bit. They were too often forced to sleep outside, though he figured this should be expected in a medieval fantasy world. Then again, they had a version of guns here, so maybe they had some sort of decent camping equipment too?

  He was also getting seriously tired of walking everywhere and wanted nothing more than a freaking car or similar mode of transportation. No horses, though. Sam didn’t like horses. He’d tried horseback riding once when he was younger, and it had not been a pleasant experience. He could feel his eyes drifting shut, but right before he fell asleep, he made sure to check up the rule of the next day, hoping it wouldn’t be something terrible.

  RULE OF THE DAY

  Free a Kingdom

  Well, shit. That complicates things.

  ***

  “Are you serious?” Sam asked, not sure whether to be furious, unsurprised, or a mixture of both.

  “Yes,” Emma said, rubbing at her temples. “It looks like we both got the same rule somehow.”

  “It is a sign from the Overlord,” Gordon said, gnawing on a bone. “He wishes one of his kingdoms to be freed from oppression, and seeing as we are standing right outside the capital of one such city, it is fate!”

  “Fuck that guy,” Sam muttered.

  The Overlord always needed to overcomplicate things. Sam just didn’t understand why.

  “A good morrow to you all! I have scouted the gates of yonder city and have discovered it swarming with the minions of evil. Thus, I have concluded that we must enter the castle directly through the catacombs!”

  Sam and Emma’s shoulders slumped as Sir Dickwad strode into their makeshift camp, looking chipper as ever.

  “Catacombs?” Sam asked.

  “But of course! There is a secret passage outside the city connecting to the palace’s catacombs. From there, we can climb into the castle proper and save the king!”

  “I don’t get why these morons would build a secret passage right into their palace where just anyone could find it,” Sam muttered.

  “That’s tropes one-oh-one,” Emma replied with a grin. “Every palace, enemy stronghold, or secret underground lair always has a back door.”

  “Guess you’ve got a point,” Sam said, dropping his canteen into the overstuffed pack. “This world is one single gigantic trope, so it only makes sense.”

  “Whatever are you talking about?” Spearlittle asked, seemingly confused.

  “Nothing for you to worry about,” Sam replied, waving him off. “Just show us this secret passage. We only have until midnight to save the kingdom.”

  “I admire thine grit, young adventurer!” Spearlittle boomed.

  “Not an adventurer,” Sam replied. “Just some college kid sucked into this hellhole.”

  “What was that?” Spearlittle asked, clearly not paying attention.

  Sam didn’t even dignify the moron with a response, instead slinging his pack over his shoulder and marching out into the road.

  “Where art thou going?” Spearlittle called out.

  “To the city?” Sam answered, phrasing it as more of a question than an answer.

  “But the secret passage is this way,” the knight replied, gesturing in the opposite direction with his lance.

  “Of course, it is,” Sam muttered, ignoring the small shoulder people that had suddenly popped up.

  “Come on, you know you wanna just kick that guy. I know he probably won’t feel it, but if you aim for the nuts, he just might.”

  “Violence only begets violence. Oh, my poor Samuel, whatever will become of you? Do not fall to this miscreant’s wiles. Resist the evil within your heart, and your soul will be forever grateful!”

  Sam ignored the shoulder people as they once again began bickering over the morality of kicking Spearlittle in the family jewels.

  Why does this stupid crap keep happening?

  “So, how far is the entrance?” he heard Emma ask.

  “Oh, just a bit farther into the forest, my dear lady,” Spearlittle replied. “Did I tell you the story of…”

  Emma was suddenly standing beside Sam, grabbing his arm and laughing very loudly for some reason.

  “What are you doing?” Sam asked, trying to ignore the shoulder devil, who’d stopped arguing with the angel and was now making lewd gestures in Emma’s direction.

  “Getting away from that moron before he starts on one of his stories,” Emma replied.

  “Hound! Have you yet heard of the tale of Sir Spearlittle and the Brave Dungeon Rescue?”

  Gordon was suddenly walking beside them as well, looking fearfully back at the idiot knight who once again found himself alone.

  “I must apologize, but if that man tells me one more story, I may just attack him, and I so abhor those who lose their temper.”

  “Bird!” Spearlittle tried, “Have you…ack! Fiend! Devil! Rouge! Thou shalt not get away with this, foul cretin!”

  Sam peeked back over his shoulder to see Barry flying around the knight’s head, cackling loudly as he took swipes at him with his lance. The reason why the knight was so upset was evident by the big wad of bird poop splattered across the side of Spearlittle’s helm.

  “Well, at least Barry will keep Sir Talksalot busy for a few minutes,” Emma said. “So, I guess that bird’s good for something.”

  “You mind letting go of me now?” Sam asked. “You’re kind of crushing my arm.”

  Emma looked down and saw that she had Sam’s arm in a vice grip and was indeed holding it tighter than she’d intended.

  “Sorry,” she replied, loosening her grip. “I keep forgetting about the whole high Strength thing.”

  “Ri-i-ight,” Sam replied. While Emma had loosened her grip, she hadn’t released him.

  He tried to ignore his surroundings and instead focused on his latest project — creating a new ability. Up until now, he’d simply taken what had been given to him, but after Gordon’s explanation, he knew that he could create his own abilities. Skills would come by repeating certain actions, but abilities would need to be consciously tried out.

  Right now, he had no control over his mana, so he couldn’t really do anything. The first thing he had to do was try and get a mana manipulation skill. Something like that would help him in the creation of abilities. But how did one even go about doing that? He’d never even gotten so much as a hint of where his mana came from, only that he would think about using an ability and it would work.

  “Hey, Emma, I’m going to try something, so don’t freak out,” Sam said, then, without further warning, raised his hand and used Mana Shot.

  He didn’t really aim at anything, simply letting the attack go wild. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t focusing. Instead of watching where the attack went, Sam tried to focus inward, to see where the attack was coming from. He was vaguely aware of his attack hitting something, but he ignored it and continued focusing inward.

  Nothing happened on the first try, but that didn’t discourage him. This was a fantasy trope world, after all, so he knew it would take three tries. Her
e, everything happened in threes for no reason whatsoever. Sure enough, his second try gave him nothing, while the third try finally netted a result.

  As his Mana Shot was leaving his body, Sam saw, in his mind’s eye, a flash of blue trailing through his fingertips.

  Well, that was easy enough, Sam thought, using Mana Shot again.

  It took him a few more tries to follow it back to its source, and sure enough, he found a small orb of blue light floating in the center of his chest. There was no possible way it should be there, smack in the middle of his chest. There were a whole bunch of vital organs in that area, yet somehow, a ball of blue light existed there as well.

  Fantasy tropes. Don’t leave home without them.

  Sam chuckled to himself as he attempted to seize control of his mana and make it do something. As soon as he tried this, he felt a sharp pain in his chest, and a notification flashed into view.

  CONGRATULATIONS!

  Due to your internal meddling, you have gained a new skill!

  Mana Control: You always have to be the one in control. Wonder how that will affect your nonexistent love life.

  Level: Novice 1 (0%)

  Effect: You now have basic control over your mana

  Sam was happy to have gotten the skill, though once again, the system made it sound as though he were some sort of creep. He didn’t understand why every skill needed to come with a tag labeling him as a stalker or sexual predator. All he wanted was a mana manipulation skill, and the system had made even that sound creepy and condescending. What the hell did his love life even have to do with mana control?

  “Hey! Dumbass! If you’re done randomly popping off at innocent trees, I figured I’d let you know we’re here.”

  Sam’s eyes fluttered open to find that they were now much deeper into the forest. It seemed that Emma had continued guiding him, though, by the looks of it, she wasn’t happy at the damage he’d caused. Looking back, he could see why. A path of destruction lay behind them, smoldering trees were lying on their sides, and scorch marks covered the forest floor.

  “Um…oops?” Sam said sheepishly.

  Emma just rolled her eyes at that, gesturing ahead of them to where Spearlittle was shoving an oversized boulder out of the way.

  “Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” Sam exclaimed, finally understanding why Emma was so annoyed.

  “Yeah. Tell me about it.”

  36

  “Who in their right mind marks a secret entrance with the words ‘Secret Entrance’ right over the fucking spot?” Sam demanded as Spearlittle finished moving the boulder.

  “Why, that would be me, of course!” Spearlittle said with a wide grin. “Knights that are as clever as I am, never forget where their secret entrances are. However, I always make contingencies, just in case! Huzzah!”

  “Fucking hell, we’re all going to die,” Sam muttered. “Maybe we’d be better off leaving this crackpot here.”

  “Yeah, I think it’s too late for that,” Emma replied, motioning to the knight in question as he strutted into the tunnel.

  “Yup, we don’t really have much choice,” he said with a sigh.

  “Onward and forward, just as the knight said,” Gordon said, padding after the walking mound of idiot. “We shall save the princess and free the kingdom. Then, we shall be rewarded with sticks and good food!”

  “He seems awfully excited about this,” Sam observed as he followed the dog into the tunnel.

  “Yeah, that might be my fault,” Emma said. “He wasn’t too keen on the idea of storming a castle, so I had to convince him it would be worth it.”

  “What did you promise him?” Sam asked, already fearing the answer.

  “Nothing much,” Emma said innocently. “Just that you would buy him a few things when this quest was over.”

  “You know what I hate more than people asking for favors?” Sam asked, taking her completely off guard.

  “No?”

  “People who make promises for me and expect me to deliver! My buddy Greg was like that. Back when we were in college, he’d volunteer me for all sorts of dumb shit, like protesting the weather, or demanding that all holidays be banned because they were interrupting our education! You know who goes to protest things like that?”

  “Um, no?”

  “ME! Because of people like Greg!” Sam yelled.

  Emma started laughing at that, while Sam silently fumed. The fact that Emma had made a promise on his behalf had very forcefully reminded him of all the dumb shit Greg had gotten him into. That guy was a total asshole. Imagine being woken up at seven on a Saturday to go protest Saturdays. Who the fuck didn’t want Saturdays?!

  The problem with people like that was that once they had you, they’d never let you go. They never give you a moment of peace until you just cave and do what they want. Sam had found himself protesting one idiotic thing after the next, further cementing him as a weirdo and a pariah. After all, who wanted to be friends with the nutjob who wanted to ban sunlight, because it only furthered the causes of the sunglasses industry?

  “Sorry,” Emma said, still laughing. “I didn’t realize this was such a sore spot for you.”

  “Yeah, well, when you spend your Saturdays protesting the invention of carpeting, or the mixing of peanut butter and chocolate as unnatural, come back and talk to me.”

  “Holy crap!” Emma exclaimed, her laughter renewing. “Did you really do that back when you were in school?”

  “That and about a million other protests. Believe it or not, those were some of the tamer ones. Greg once roped me into protesting the idea of protesting.”

  “How would that even work?”

  “I have no idea,” Sam replied, remembering the day well.

  Greg had, of course, shown up to video him walking around and screaming about the idiocies of protesting. In all honesty, it was probably the protest he’d liked the most.

  “Sounds like you miss this friend of yours.”

  “Yeah, sometimes,” he said wistfully. “Sure, he was a total dick, but he always looked out for me.”

  “Did you…have any other friends back home? Anyone you were…really close with?”

  Sam wasn’t an idiot, and he knew where Emma was steering this conversation. He’d already told her he viewed her as a friend, albeit a very, very attractive one, and that he had no romantic interest in her. Yet she kept on trying and he didn’t understand why. He wasn’t good-looking, his personality was shit, and he had a serious problem keeping his temper. There were plenty of good-looking guys in this world, so why didn’t she just go for one of them?

  Before he could voice his question, something at the end of the tunnel caught his attention. Until now, they’d been walking through a dugout dirt tunnel, but just thirty yards away, he spotted a carved stone archway.

  “What is that?” Sam asked, pointing ahead.

  “That,” Gordon answered, “is the entrance to a Temporary Dungeon.”

  “What’s the difference between that and a Special Dungeon?” Emma asked, seemingly content with resuming their conversation another time.

  “A Special Dungeon and Temporary Dungeon share a few similarities,” Gordon said. “They both draw their power from the Boss monster and will both vanish upon said Boss’s death. However, where the Special Dungeon offers increased experience gain, the Temporary Dungeon does not. The Temporary Dungeon can also appear in civilized areas, turning the people within its influence into monsters under the control of the Boss.”

  “You know, it would have been useful to know all of this, like back when we first got the damn quest!” Sam exclaimed, annoyed that the dog would keep something like this from him.

  “I knowest what you mean, good sir,” Spearlittle cut in. “Had I known that my dear Willow would be abducted, I never would have left her alone! Those fiends took her without warning and spirited her away into the castle, never to be seen again!”

  “You know, you’ve got a very interesting and selective memory there, pal,
” Sam said, rounding on the knight.

  “Why, whatever dost thou meanest?” Spearlittle asked, looking genuinely confused.

  “Don’t you have almost 300 points in Intelligence?” Emma asked as Sam facepalmed.

  “Why, yes! How did thou knowest this information?”

  “Um…by using the Inspect skill?” Emma replied.

  “Witchcraft! What is this Inspect skill of which thou speakest-est?”

  “You know what? Never mind. I see that your brain clearly stopped developing at the age of three, so having a boosted Intelligence means absolutely nothing.”

  “Alas! `Tis a curse placed on me by yonder witch!” Spearlittle moaned.

  “You know, your story keeps changing like every five minutes,” Sam said. “I am so confused by now that I have no clue what happened when this enchantress took over. Were you even there?”

  “But of course! I spotted this enchantresses’ foul witchery from the moment I set eyes on her. Why, I stood up, brandished my mighty sword and said, ‘huzzah! Thine witchery shall not befoul the name of…’ Hey, where art thou going?”

  “Away from you,” Sam replied, heading toward the stone archway.

  “But I have not yet finished my tale of valor,” Spearlittle said.

  “Save it for someone as stupid and gullible as you,” Emma replied, equally as annoyed.

  “Wench! How darest thee calleth me stupid? Why, I shall cleave thine head from thine shoulders and allow the crows to feast on thine corpse!”

  “Great, you do that. Let me know when you’re done,” Emma called back.

  Spearlittle stood there in shock for a few moments before rushing after the group.

  “Fiend! Wench! Harlot! Thou shalt not cause one so noble as I to falter on my righteous path! Why, when I was but a lad…”

  “You know, once we reach level 50, it might be worth it to come back here just to kill that moron,” Emma said.

  “Don’t call him that,” Sam replied. “It’s an insult to morons. I never thought I’d meet a person as screwed up in the head as him for as long as I lived. It’s the kind of stupidity you only find in fantasy worlds. It makes you wonder how this guy is still alive.”