Streams of light spiraled up near the dome, illumination of different colors spinning in the air and forming shapes when they touched one another. A web of brown light met green and together they formed a tree, while silver and black met and transformed into a giant sword hanging above us. It was as though they were alive and playful, and there was a real sense of glee in the way they swirled, formed, melded.
Galatee stood under the dome. She took a small marble from an unseen pocket on her liquid suit. The marble was transparent and small enough for her to pinch between her index finger and thumb. She held it to her chest, and the marble began to draw the suit from her, almost sucking it off her body until the marble became pure silver, and Galatee stood before us uncovered.
Still wearing clothes, obviously. It’s better that I point this out right now. These people weren’t naturists or something.
When I’d hypothesized about their tree/leaf structure and what it meant, I’d guessed that Galatee being a second-leaf meant she was of an older generation, with first-leaf presumable being the eldest.
Don’t you just love being right? Not to gloat. I mean, I’m often wrong. But this time, I’d hit the mark.
Galatee was a gnome. A tall gnome, but her gnomeness was clear in her face. Craggy, yet feminine. Wrinkled, with wide, shining blue eyes. So blue that I was certain she’d had the opportunity to swim in a mana spring at some point in her life. If that was true, she could be hundreds of years old, given what mana springs could do. Maybe there was one nearby, and that was why they settled underground beneath that hell hole of a surface.
“Bearers, you may leave for the moment,” she said. “Thank you, Warrane. First-leaf Godwin will be most impressed that you have begun such an important service.”
Warren blushed, then did a sort of awkward half-bow. Not really sure what he was trying, to be honest. It was strange.
“Honored, Second-leaf Godwin.”
He and Jahn’s bearer – was I starting to call them that now? – left, and now it was just Jahn, Galatee and I.
She focused on Jahn first. He’d gotten lucky guessing where her name came from, and she’d pegged him as the wiser of the two of us. Ah, well. I’d let him enjoy it.
“Core Jahn,” she said. “You have no doubt guessed why we have brought you here.”
“Yes…yes, quite,” said Jahn, using his sagest voice.
“Then you may like to clarify this to your friend. Perhaps an explanation from you, rather than me, will make him more at home.”
Jahn faced me. “Core Beno…it’s…it’s quite simple. Uh, these people-”
I really didn’t want to embarrass Jahn. “Let me try and guess,” I said. “I’m obviously the dumbest core here, but I won’t learn anything having things handed to me.”
“Ah. Failure is the first path to mastery, both in deeds and knowledge,” said Galatee.
I wanted to get this right. I don’t know why; I suppose having failed my first evaluation as a core, and seeing how much these people seemed to have invested in me, I didn’t want them to think they’d wasted their money. Which they probably had.
“If I had to make a guess,” I said, “You already know that a dungeon core can convert essence into physical objects and beings. You live underground, but maybe you’d like to spread to the surface. So, perhaps you believe that Jahn and I can use our abilities to transform the surface.”
She arched an eyebrow now, but said nothing. I sensed I was off the mark.
“Or, you wish to spread your underground civilization further. Maybe there are more tunnels to be made, more caves to be populated, and you see a dungeon core as a perfect fit for the task.”
Her eyebrow arched higher. Higher than I thought an eyebrow could go, really. That’s gnomes for you.
“Or that is what I would have guessed if I was trying to guess wrong. No, you bought us for another reason. You’ve mentioned a few times that we’re a salvation for you, and salvation implies a threat. There’s something down here that you believe a dungeon core can rid you of.”
“Three guesses,” said Galatee. “Three arrows missing their target and thudding into the dirt.”
Okay, now I was perplexed.
“They want us to kill things,” said Jahn, his voice back to its overeager self.
“Ah, Core Jahn understands, just as I thought.”
You kidding me? It’s that simple? They want us to kill something? Maybe there was a lesson for me here; don’t overcomplicate things. In fact, it was a lesson Overseer Winterroot had drummed into us again and again in his dungeon design class.
“Clever for a purpose is good,” he’d say. “Clever for clever’s sake can get you killed.”
Galatee sat down and sat with her legs crossed in a position that Overseer Tarnbuckle, who loved yoga, used to adopt in class.
“The reason I presented you to our people up on the surface, is because the surface is a hallowed ground for us. It was once our home, but as you can see, it isn’t home to even the toughest of weeds. Soon, if the Seekers have their way, the sanctuary you see before you will meet the same fate.”
CHAPTER 3
It was there, in that lightorium lit by the spectral glows of the dome above, that Galatee told us about her people, and why they had resorted to selling anything worth gold just to buy a couple of failed dungeon cores.
Her people were called the Wrotun. In a rather strange fashion, they were not a people of a single race, but instead were made up of several races all banding together. Each family was called a tree, and the generations were named leaves, gaining rank and authority the higher they climbed.
There was an orc tree, merkin tree, even a kobold tree. Though all trees had a say in community matters, the deciding vote was always cast by the Godwin tree, who were gnomes.
I found it fascinating. People in Xynnar were way too secular most of the time. I mean, obviously, the major cities like Westex and Guranhai had a mix of races living there, but almost every isolated community stuck to their own race.
The Wrotun lived as travelers for a long time, roaming Xynnar in their wagons and carts, staying by fresh springs and in forests full of game, never laying their hats for longer than a month at most. It was in their blood, to walk the plains and hills and mountains and forests of Xynnar as the seasons changed around them.
On one journey, they had the misfortune to make a series of false turns, and their wagons soon rolled over this horrible stretch of hell. Even back then, nothing grew here.
“It was strange,” said Galatee, staring at me. “We each checked our maps, and even with the false turns, we should have been nowhere like this. There was no sign of it on any map in our possession.”
“Could it be the maps were old and whatever blight fell on this place hadn’t happened when they were drawn?” I asked.
“Core Beno, it was two hundred years ago when we first rolled into this place.”
“What? Does it have a name? I’d have heard of a place like this if it had been this way for two hundred years.”
“The Valley of the Wrong Turn was what Saber, our joker of a bard named it. Saber was especially adept at spreading rumors, and soon this name stuck. People gradually shortened it, until it was known was Wrotun. This became the name we called ourselves, too.”
“Still never heard of it. If you loved traveling so much, why have you stayed here?”
“Perhaps Core Jahn has already guessed the reason for that. I would be surprised if he hadn’t.”
She looked at him expectantly now. I could tell how much Jahn was enjoying being known as the smart one, and how much he was struggling to answer this.
“I’m sure an answer will spring to Jahn’s mind,” I said.
“Yes, yes,” he said using his sage voice again. He really had no clue.
“Mysteries are like mana to Core Jahn,” I said. “They fill him with energy. They make him spring like a new lamb. Mana. Spring.”
Jahn coughed once. Then again. “I seem
to be getting a sore throat.”
“Cores can get maladies?” asked Galatee. “Should I fetch for honey and lemon?”
“It’s been a long trip, and it came straight after some strenuous dungeon building for us both,” I said. “Core Jahn will be back to his best soon. Until then, we would be grateful to hear the story from you.”
Galatee nodded. Her eyes looked sad now. “Risto, a first-leaf of the Redbar tree and a gifted illusionist, suspected there was more to this land than we could see. He said he could feel it. We agreed to stay for one night, just so Risto could explore this feeling. One night turned to two, then five, then ten, before finally, Risto found it. The door.”
“Like the one we used to come down here?”
“There are three such doors that we know of.”
“So you find the door, you come down and explore. Then what?” I said.
“Then we found the mana springs.”
If I could have jumped up and punched the air, I would have.
“I knew it!”
“Hmm?”
“I suspected you were hundreds of years old,” I explained.
She gave me a look that could have shattered a sword.
“I mean, your eyes. The way they shine so blue. That depth of color can only come from one who has ingested or been exposed to pure mana. And pure mana can extend a person’s life.”
“Ah, I see Core Jahn’s perception is rubbing off on you, Beno. You are right. All those years ago, we discovered mana springs here, deep underneath the wasteland above. Our people have bathed in them ever since, extending our lives beyond any mortal. But, with a gift, comes a price.”
“Mana addiction. I’ve heard of it.”
She nodded. “To leave this place, leave our springs behind, would mean walking away and facing mortality again.”
“So you settled here and built this place.”
“It is our home now, and has been for two hundred years. But we aren’t the only ones who have learned of the springs.”
“The seekers!” said Jahn, unbelievably excited to have guessed right.
“Yes, Jahn. We do not know where the Seekers live, only that they know of the springs. They have mages who can find the doors, just like Risto. Every so often, they send their best warriors here to take this place from us. No doubt you understand your purpose now, Core Jahn? Is it as you expected?”
I think I understood now, but I wondered if Jahn was still following. When he said nothing, I decided to spare him the embarrassment.
“There are three doors. The one we came through to get to your home, and two others. I’m guessing that the other doors lead to the mana springs.”
“Correct.”
“Core Jahn and I are to defend these doors for you.”
“A door is just a door. You need to defend the springs themselves. We aren’t ready to give up their gifts.”
“I understand.”
“I hope you do, but I fear you will need to meet the seekers in battle before you truly realize how much they thirst for our dearest treasure, for the very source that keeps our people alive. Every year they come in greater numbers, with stronger warriors. We can no longer defend against them ourselves. In their last attack, we lost every leaf on the Rischer tree. The leaves on this tree were our best fighters. Every time the seekers come, we are weakened.”
“And that’s why we’re your salvation.”
“I am glad you understand, Core Beno.”
I did, and that was the problem. I finally grasped just how important we were to these people, and how heavy a burden we were taking on. Building dungeons to defeat heroes was one thing…but this?
I started to feel a little anxious about it all. Because from what I’d seen so far, from the people I had met (rude orcs aside), I liked them.
The lightorium door flew open now, and a figure emerged in the doorway.
“Second-leaf,” boomed a voice. “Why aren’t the cores at work already?”
Galatee shot to her feet. A look of alarm crossed her face. It was the first time I had seen her lose her cool.
“First-leaf Godwin,” she said, her voice soft. “I thought you were meditating.”
“I had to come and see our saviors for myself,” he said, dripping a gallon of sarcasm on the word saviors.
CHAPTER 4
The first-leaf of the Godwin tree was a foreboding figure. I could tell that straight away, but not in his appearance. He was small even for a gnome, and he was so old he looked like a shriveled raisin. Pure mana might be able to extend life, but it isn’t a great beauty regimen.
I knew better than to speak this out loud. In fact, I had long ago learned it was wise to keep many of my thoughts to myself. I’m sure you are beginning to realize that about me.
First-leaf Godwin had this aura surrounding him. Not just in the way that Galatee, who had seemed so commanding, shied away. But in his stance, his expression, and in his eyes. These shone bright blue like Galatee’s, but the color seemed to swirl, as though inside his eyes was a raging sea. He wore a robe that trailed to the ground and walked with a staff that was curled at the top so it would wrap around his wrist.
It seemed to take an age for him to approach us, and when he finally did, Jahn turned to face him.
“First-leaf?” he said. “Pleased to meet you! I am Core Jahn.”
The first-leaf banged his staff on the ground. The noise was much louder than it should have been, and it rang out through the lightorium. Even the colors up in the dorm stopped swirling. All except two of them; black and red, great waves of it that swirled round and round.
“So these are the products of our fortune? Galatee, you have spent a king’s ransom on turnips.”
“Excuse me, first-leaf?”
“Look at them!”
“All cores look alike, first-leaf. I saw many of them in their academy. Different colors, different shapes, to be sure, but they are all gems like this.”
“Really? I can feel waves of imbecility come so strongly from this one that my brain is shrinking,” he said, pointing the bottom of his staff at Jahn. I felt a flicker of defensiveness toward my friend, but I held it in.
“And this one,” he said, pointing at me. Now I was really feeling prickled. “He thinks not of his service to us, but himself. Vanity seeps off him like steam from a fresh cowpat. Given enough time, he will think of a way to cross us.”
This was a little unfair. Vain? Sure, sometimes. I think everyone has a little vanity in them. One thing I would never do was to cross someone, nor act duplicitously.
Unless the duplicity was to murder a hero, of course. That was required, given the reason for my existence.
I sensed that our introduction to the first-leaf hadn’t gone as well as we could have hoped. I tried to think of something to say that didn’t make it worse, something that would let me exit this situation and go do what I love – making bloodthirsty creatures and constructing murderous traps.
Before I could speak, the first-leaf hobbled closer. I could see on his skin the battle of age versus the mana springs. It was written all over his body. The way his skin had shriveled so badly, how his limbs seemed to resist his attempts to move.
I wondered why Galatee feared him so much. It seemed to me that the first-leaf on any tree must always be the oldest, but not necessarily the strongest. What did she have to be scared of?
“Your minds are independent; I understand that,” he said. “I know it is that freedom of thought which makes your essence constructions possible. I cannot take that away, for I would be cutting off my foot to rid myself of a rotten toenail. What I can give you, cores, is a warning. The slightest hint of rebellion will mean the end of your pathetic second existences.”
That was an empty threat. As a core gem, Jahn and I were pretty hard to kill. Sure, if heroes busted their way into our dungeon, they might have a chance. Even then, they’d need the right weapons - legendary ones - and mages who knew the rare spells that could weaken our struc
ture. In the academy, only the Forgers who made us, could also unmake us.
So this gnome? He was all talk.
First-leaf Godwin raised his staff. The bottom of it glowed red, and spectral flames seeped from it and wrapped around the staff shaft.
I was a little worried now. You can tell the quality of a made by the clarity of light around him when he casts a spell. All mages manipulate mana the same way a core uses essence. Rookie mages waste most of theirs, and this shows in the dilution of their spell light.
If an apprentice mage and a master both drew the same amount of mana to power a spell, the apprentice’s light would be dim, like a lamp on a foggy night. The master’s would shine with blinding clarity, much the same way the first-leaf’s was shining now.
It was an attempt to intimidate Jahn and I.
“A light show to welcome us to our new home,” I said. “I would have preferred fireworks.”
He slammed the base of the staff on the ground.
Nothing happened.
But then…
Holy hells, I had never experienced anything like it. Agony flared inside me, not just in my inner core but somewhere deeper, a dark place within my gem that I hadn’t even known existed. The pain was worse than anything I could imagine, and I felt my consciousness warp, and the lights all the way above in the dome flashed black and red, black and red, and I heard only a screeching that drowned everything else out.
A piece of me flew off and hit the ground.
Yes, a piece of my almost-indestructible core cracked off me. I could hardly comprehend it.
It was only as the pain died and my senses began to return that I realized I had been shouting, and that a piece of Jahn was scattered on the floor too.
What kind of power did this crazy gnome have?
Galatee gave me a sympathetic look, while the first-leaf’s expression was murder. Right then, I believed he could rip me apart with a stare.
He was silent for a second. I looked longingly at the tiny sliver of myself on the ground, and for the first time since I had been resurrected, I became keenly aware of my mortality here.
Dungeon Core Academy: Books 1-7 (A LitRPG Series) Page 18