She shrugged him off. “I’ve never felt better!”
Eric took a little fold of canvas from his bag. He shook it just once, and the canvas arranged itself into a tent.
“Get under there, little wolf,” he said. “Give yourself a break from the sun.”
“I don’t need a break.”
“I know you don’t,” he said, an infuriating friendly tone. “It’ll make me feel better. Seeing you with all that fur…by the axe, it makes me feel like I’m boiling up meself!”
“Well, if it helps you…”
Shadow got into the tent and sat in the mouth so she could still see out from it. It gave her a welcome break from the sun. Sitting there, she couldn’t believe it, but she was missing the dungeon. She was missing it a lot, with its darkness and its gloriously cool breeze that whistled through the chambers like the kiss of snow.
“Why did you bring a tent? Seems like a stupid thing to bring to a place like this,” she said, but the venom she tried to put into her words felt forced.
“I bought it before we set out. Visited one of the shops in Yondersun. When Beno told me I was taking you across the wasteland, I took one look at you and thought that little wolf is going to fry to a crisp. So, thought it best to pick somethin’ up for yer.”
The barbarian had spent his own gold on buying something for Shadow? That was such an unusual gesture that she didn’t know what to say. Was it…a gift? Only Tomlin had ever bought her gifts before.
“Thank you, Eric Barbarian,” she said.
“Just Eric, little wolf. Feel better?”
“It’s cooler in here.”
Eric took his shirt off and poured oil from a jar and spread it over himself.
“What in Xynnar are you doing?”
“Oh, this? It ain’t for me. It might look like vanity, like I’m trying to get a nice lookin’ suntan, but it’s just good sense. My name is blacker than a sheep’s snout in some of the colder parts of Xynnar, which means I’ve got to ply my trade out ‘ere in the heat. Towns in the hotter parts of the world don’t trust pasty pale barbarians. Pale skin marks you as other out here. I found that out after losing a dozen jobs to folks who couldn’t even pick up my axe, but looked like they’d spent their life in the sun. Gettin’ your sun rings, they call it. They say that a person-at-arms has got to have his sun rings, or he won’t get jobs. You know, like when you cut down a tree a see all the rings inside and you can count its age? By the axe, it’s a bloody stupid custom, but they don’t trust you around ‘ere if you haven’t burned your skin to a crisp.”
Eric spread his shirt on the ground, lay on it, and closed his eyes. “Twenty minutes,” he said. “Then we’ll set off again. Need to get to Hogsfeate by nightfall tonight, otherwise we gotta wait until nightfall tomorrow, and that means skulking around to pass the time. And that, my whiskered friend, means trouble. My Da always said that trouble is an unwanted visitor. Invite it in and you’ll regret it, so best to close the curtains and pretend you’re not home.”
“That doesn’t sound very barbarian of you.”
“I’m in a line of work where making gold and living and staying alive aren’t mutually ‘sclusive. Now, have a rest and then we’ll set out.”
“Sounds good. And thank you again for the tent.”
“No problem, little wolf.”
“Let me ask you a question, Eric.”
“I’m, all ears,” he said, flicking his right ear that had a piece missing.
“What is it like having no master to serve?”
“In my line of work, you mean? Just because nobody gives me orders, doesn’t mean I don’t have a master. Finding the means of existence is my master. By the axe, I have more masters than most people. I need to eat, to drink, to sleep somewhere safe just like the rest of you. Except, if I don’t find a job, or if I get commissioned to kill some ugly monster and I fail, then I don’t get paid. I don’t have some master who might keep me fed when I fail and just tell me to work harder tomorrow.”
“Seems like you have freedom.”
“It’s got its perks, little wolf. Once, I killed a giant silver basilisk and earned more gold than I could spend. Had so much saved up that I took a little time for meself. Spent the best part of a year climbing the Windblast mountain range. Reached the peak, looked out on the best view in all of Xynnar, a sight few have seen. An’ if I had a master, I doubt I could do that. One day, I’ll kill a gold basilisk an’ get enough gold to put my axe down for good. Buy a nice tavern or a farm, or learn how to bake and set me up a nice little bakery. Who knows? Mebbe even in Yondersun, unless I wear out my welcome there like everywhere else. Why do you ask?”
Shadow thought about the dungeon and Core Beno. She thought Tomlin, all the other monsters who were part of the dungeon clan who served their master.
“No reason,” she said. “Hearing you prattle on breaks the tedium.”
“Being alone is nice in dollops,” said Eric. “I’ve been part of a group, and I’ve spent time alone. When you’re in a group, you’ve got people to watch yer back. People to tell yer feelings to. Let me tell you, I’ve spent nights alone under canvas, in the middle of a forest with wolves and bugger-knows-what-else howling, and I wished to all the heavens I had someone with me. There’s a lot to be said for being part of a group.”
Shadow found it difficult to imagine how being alone could be anything but brilliant. The sense of freedom, the power to go anywhere you wanted, do anything. No orders from grouchy dungeon cores…
Then again, she’d never had freedom, had she? Why should she suppose it was any better than what she had now? It was like that damned scribe always said; a person always looks over their neighbor’s fence and gets jealous that they have a bigger dragon.
“How are you feeling about tonight, little wolf?” said Eric.
“I can’t say I have any emotions about it either way.”
“Not scared?”
Shadow scoffed. “I’m no coward.”
Eric sat up now, skin glistening. “Nothing brave about hiding your fear. The brave thing is doing what you need to do even when you feel like you’re gonna piss yourself. An’ trust me; I’ve done that. By the axe, have I done that. The silver basilisk that I killed? Did it with a soaking wet loincloth. Embarrassing as buggery, it was, but being brave on its own gets you killed. Bravery with a nice dollop of fear encourages you to use some sense.”
Shadow laughed. Eric the barbarian really was a ridiculous oaf, but he had a habit of saying things like that, and she usually found herself laughing against her will. Not at him, either, like she did with some of her dungeon mates. But with him.
He had this disarmingly simple manner to him. Honest, earnest, perhaps too much so. Shadow would never have been so blunt with someone about her emotions. Then again, Eric seemed so much happier than her, so perhaps there was something to it.
“I feel a little…nervous, I suppose.”
“Well, you’re going to kill the leader of a town. Only right that you should have moths in your belly. Even the most loathsome of folks deserves their assassin to feel apprehensive about it. The core must trust you a lot to send you to do it.”
“I don’t think he trusts me. I think he has no choice. Nobody else has my…uh…abilities.”
“He could choose not to do this at all. The fact he went ahead with it and sent you, shows he trusts you.”
Shadow hadn’t thought about it like that. Beno trusted her, huh?
When the sun finally set, she supposed she would get the chance to repay that.
“Fire! Fire!”
Shadow heard the cries of panic coming from the other side of town. Even far away from the flames, hugging the shadows of the town walls to pass through Hogsfeate unseen, she could smell the fire in the air. Glancing to her right, she could saw flames towering above the town walls, waving in the wind like giant fiery hands. Townsfolk were rushing from houses and shops with buckets, pans, and even wheelbarrows filled with water.
&nbs
p; The town guards were caught between grabbing a bucket themselves and keeping order. When one man bumped into a guard and drenched his trousers with water, the guard glared at him. Rather than bow to his authority, the town resident snarled. “Grab a bucket and help, you useless lump. That’s your mana-oil burning up too!”
The whole scene of panic was amusing enough that Shadow felt strangely relaxed as she stole through the streets. She passed a statue of a man holding a sword, who could only have been Dullbright, and then crept by a mage tower. Coming to a steep hill, she climbed it as quickly as she could, noting how the houses all increased in size and splendor the higher she got.
Finally, she reached the largest, grandest house at the peak of the hill. A ridiculously fancy abode of whitewashed stone, with an exquisitely carved façade and big pillars that just seemed plain unnecessary.
Give me the dungeon any day, she found herself thinking, to her surprise.
With all of Hogsfeate in a state of panic, there was just one guard outside, and he was too busy staring at the flames on the outskirts of town to notice Shadow creeping by him. Using her sneak ability, she slinked across the foyer of the house, through a dining room with a table laden with half-eaten plates of fancy food, and then to a set of spiral stairs.
Reaching the top, she found a room with the door ajar. A man was inside, staring out of the window with his back to her.
Dullbright. The same as the statue, but fatter. Seems like the governor eats well.
Shadow took her bag from her shoulder and opened it. A mimic jumped out, landing on the marble floor with a barely audible splat.
Drawing her blade, she inched across the room. Carefully. Silently. Every step carefully controlled to make not the slightest tap.
Almost there…
She was a foot away from Dullbright. Close enough to smell the booze wafting from him.
She tensed her dagger in her hand.
“Sir Dullbright!” shouted a voice.
Dullbright turned around and saw Shadow behind him.
“What in the name of the gods?”
“Stand back, Sir!”
Shadow spun around, saw the guard standing in the doorway. She threw her dagger, seeing it spin through the air on a course for the guard, turning and turning and turning…and hitting the door plinth above his head and clattering to the floor.
The sound of two swords being drawn made Shadow keenly aware that she was sandwiched between Dullbright and the guard.
She drew two more daggers from her belt.
“Take the little rat alive,” said Dullbright. “We must find out who sent it. It’ll be that damned Mage Hardere, no doubt. Hurt it, by all means, but make sure it can still speak.”
Shadow stepped away from Dullbright, putting herself further between them both, giving herself some room. Her pulse pounded. She felt a fear that she hadn’t felt in a while now, not since she had been trapped in a dungeon chamber with three hero werewolves in what seemed like so long ago.
But this time, there was no Core Beno to help her. She was alone, and she was in a fight entirely unsuited to her. She worked from the shadows, she plunged daggers into backs. Her skills didn’t lie in looking a person in the eyes as she killed them.
The guard advanced a step, sword held high. “Right, you little rat. Time for yer to squeal…”
A man appeared in the doorway.
An axe blade appeared through a newly-made hole in the guard’s chest.
A look of fear appeared on the newly-dead guard’s face. He cried out, fell to his knees, and coughed blood onto his chest.
Eric the barbarian wrenched his axe free and let the guard crash face-first to the floor, dirtying the perfect marble with a spray of blood.
“She’s not a rat,” said Eric. “She’s a wolf. Or a kobold, if yer want to use the correct term.”
“Who sent you?” said Dullbright. “Whatever they paid, I’ll pay double. Triple. Name your price.”
Shadow, both daggers gripped tight in her palms, advanced on Dullbright. “Seems to me that we don’t need you to pay us anything, you tub of lard. We’ll take what we like while your corpse festers.”
“Then I suppose you have me,” Dullbright said, dropping his sword. “I see that. Can you at least allow a man a minute to contemplate his last breath?”
“No,” said Shadow.
“I didn’t think you would.”
Dullbright lurched toward the window, desperately trying to reach the sill. Shadow was on him before he had a chance. Two quick stabs and Dullbright went limp, sprawled across the floor with one hand on the windowsill.
“Fantastic work, little wolf!” said Eric. “That’s how it’s done, you see? Never let a man have any last words before you kill him. I’ve never understood why people do that, yer know. Allow someone to speak before killing ‘em. They almost always try to run or pull a surprise on yer. What now?”
Shadow nodded at the blob of goo on the floor. “You know what Core Beno said to do next.”
As the mimic began to change its form, Shadow sat on the bed. A strange feeling built inside her, one that felt like the adrenaline pumping in her veins, but different at the same time, almost like a sibling to that wonderful concoction of fear and excitement.
It was a power, she realized.
Whenever she helped Beno kill heroes, the very act of slaughter made her stronger, and sometimes it even gave her new skills.
What had Dullbright’s murder earned her?
She didn’t know. She could sense the growth of power inside her, but she couldn’t tell exactly what it was. Only Beno would know, she supposed. Once he told her what it was, all she had to do was practice with it.
“By the axe, that’s a creepy sight,” said Eric, watching the mimic transform.
Now, just minutes after his murder, Dullbright was alive again.
Eric chopped Dullbright’s and the guard’s bodies to pieces with the speed and practice of a man who’d had to butcher his own kills plenty of times. He put them in a bag that Core Beno provided him, magically artificed to easily hold half a dozen corpses if needed, and slung it around his shoulder.
“I’ll go dispose of our friend. You’ll be alright, little wolf?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Yer lookin’ mighty pale.”
“I’m absolutely fine. Never better.”
“What about when his lordship’s guards come back?”
Shadow nodded at the mimic version of Dullbright. “When the guards come back, get into the bed. Tell them that you’re ill, and that you want peace. You are not to be disturbed for any reason, and you do not want any guards posted inside the house. Got it?”
“Clear as the purest crystal,” said Mimic Dullbright. Shadow was amazed at how incredible a copy he was of the dead governor, in all ways except one. It seemed that Eric had noticed that one difference too.
“What’s with the smell?” he said. “I’ve met dung trolls with a better fragrance.”
“Core Beno said that all mimics have a tell. Usually an aroma they give off. The longer the mimic spends as Dullbright the better he’ll get at mimicking him, and the weaker the tell will get. As well, he’ll be able to spend longer in his mimicked form.”
“So he can’t stay lookin’ like that forever? Might get tricky if any guards burst in and see him in his little blobby form.”
“He’ll have to take breaks from being Dullbright and let his power recover. It’s easily dealt with. He can just tell the guards he doesn’t want to be disturbed, and lock the door from the inside and change into a mimic.”
“Seems you’ve got everything covered. I’ll dispose of this mess and then make sure I’m seen helping out with the fire. You need to get rid of the blood in here. Just in case.”
Shadow patted her satchel. “Core Beno gave me an alchemical solution. Thank you, Eric. Good luck.”
“Good luck? Them’s parting words, Little Wolf. I’m friends with the governor now,” he said, grinning a
t the mimic. “I expect I’ll be getting lots more invites to this palace.”
With Eric gone, Shadow took a jar out of her bag. Inside it was little shavings of crystal, no more than half an inch long and barely millimeters thick. Strange to think that these were pieces of the Dark Lord.
So now it was time to tell him that Dullbright was dead. Beno had promised not to try and initiate communication with her, in case he interrupted her during the job and caused her to lose concentration. She needed to speak to him first and let him know that it was done.
Now that it was time, she found herself staring at the core shavings. She found herself wondering things.
What if she just disposed of the jar of shavings? What if she hid it on one of the trader wagons outside of town and let the horses carry it far away? Without the shavings to amplify his core voice, the Dark Lord couldn’t talk to her over this distance.
If he couldn’t talk to her, could he issue orders? Could he command her to do anything at all?
She put the jar back in the bag and stood up, her heart pounding so fast that she felt dizzy.
“Are you going to speak to the Dark Lord?” asked Mimic Dullbright.
“The job isn’t finished. I said I wouldn’t contact him until it is done.”
“I was there when he issued orders. You were to kill Dullbright and let me mimic him. That was all.”
“There were other things he asked me to do, you blob of snot. Now stay here and let me do them in peace.”
The first thing she needed to do was to leave Dullbright’s bedroom and go down the spiral stairs. After checking that no guards had returned, she entered the dining room. There, she decided, Core Beno had ordered her to dispose of all the half-eaten food.
She carried the food back up to the bedroom and gorged herself on garlic fried potatoes, fried pork chops, honey glazed carrots and parsnips. It was a change from the dungeon shrooms and grubs that Beno provided. At first, the tastes exploded on her tongue so strongly she thought her brain was having a turn. Soon, though, her belly ached.
To remedy this, the next order she decided that Core Beno had issued her was to lie on the governor’s incredibly soft bed until she felt better. This she did, flopping backward onto it while Mimic Dullbright watched. She spread her arms out and let herself melt into the bed.
Dungeon Core Academy: Books 1-7 (A LitRPG Series) Page 81