Anna stepped toward me, wearing a cheeky look.
“You know, it really wasn’t me this time. I didn’t touch the kobold’s mind. But I could fix her for you. For a price.”
“Price?”
“Just tell me that I’m stronger than you,” she said.
“Excuse me?”
“In front of all your monsters, and in front of Bolton here, tell me that my powers are better than yours, that I’m cleverer than you, and that when it comes down to it, you’re not as special as you think you are. Oh, and that I have better hair and a much nicer singing voice. Wait, you don’t have hair. Okay, just the voice part.”
She waited.
I felt everyone staring at me. I knew what they were all thinking. They wanted me to say the words so that Anna would help Shadow. They were willing me to admit that she was better than me in every way.
Right then, just for a split second, I wanted to destroy the whole damn lot of them.
But Gull was hurt, Warrane was worse, and Shadow had lost her mind again. There was no time for pride. Shadow still hadn’t recovered from the last time this happened. The longer I let her stay in that state, lashing out at everyone, the more damage she’d do to herself and others. There was a chance she’d never, ever forgive herself.
Gods, I hated Anna. I truly, truly wanted to grind her into a paste and then feed it to the hounds.
“Your powers…” I began.
I tried to swallow the words, but they were like poison.
I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let her reduce me to that in front of everyone.
I summoned some of my last remaining essence from my core. I focused it, and then cast it out.
Trap Created: Axe of ebbing doom
An axe appeared above Anna’s head. It looked sharp enough to cleave her skull in two. In front of her were thin tendrils of spider webbing.
“Anna…” said Utta, pointing.
Anna looked up. Saw the axe.
She smiled. “Ooh, an axe! Looks sharp.”
“I know you aren’t scared,” I said. “Fear requires emotion, and you just don’t have it.”
“And don’t you forget it!”
“But I know that you can think logically. The axe above your head is quite sharp, yes. You are incredibly observant. However, the webs surrounding you are quite fragile. The two go hand in hand.”
“What’s all this?” said Bolton.
“It’s called a trap,” I told him. “The webs are the trigger. If Anna breaks one, she’ll get a sudden case of split personality.”
“I know what a damned axe of ebbing doom trap is! I invented it, Beno! I’m asking why you have just constructed it around my dau…around Anna.”
“Because I want her to tell me that my powers are better than hers, that I’m cleverer than her, and that when it comes down to it, she’s not as special as she thinks she is.”
Bolton shook his head. “You two are no better than each other.”
“Dark Lord,” said Tomlin. It was the sharpest tone of voice I’d ever heard from him. “Stop messing around! This is Shadow! Not a game!”
He was right.
I was letting Anna get to me. She was really, really good at that. I’d promised Death and Kill that I’d put my dungeon mates first, but right now, I was feeding my own ego.
“Fine. Just help Shadow. Remove whatever it is that’s controlling her mind.”
Anna closed her eyes.
She opened them.
“Done. But it wasn’t me who did that to her. I’d tell you if it was.”
“Now remove the trap, Beno,” said Bolton.
“Done.”
“Are you three going to tell me what you’re doing here?” I asked.
Bolton folded his arms. “We were passing through the wasteland, when-”
“Anna!” cried a voice.
It was Shadow.
Newly recovered, and with her ropes cut.
She stared at the girl with a look of intense hatred.
Shadow picked up a sharp rock from the ground and then sprinted at Anna, covering the distance in seconds.
Before anyone could react, she smashed the rock on Anna’s head.
The girl fell onto her back. Shadow was on her instantly. She raised the rock.
Just one blow, and it would be finished.
But then she lowered it.
Utta held his hands in the air, readying a spell.
Shadow fixed Anna a look of disgust and climbed off her.
“You forced me to kill,” she said, staring at Anna. “But I chose not to kill you. Remember that. I’m stronger than you ever will be.”
Anna, blood trickling from her temple, looked around. Dazed. She fixed her gaze on Bolton. She didn’t say anything but seemed to be asking for something.
Bolton kneeled next to her and hugged her tight.
CHAPTER 19
“It’s bad, Beno. He looks really bad.”
“Dying, bad? That sort of bad?”
Cynthia didn’t answer.
She had managed to stop the bleeding on Warrane’s neck. There was a lot of it, but the wound looked worse than it was.
Gulliver was the one who was in trouble. Shadow had cut his thigh, severing his femoral vein. Maginhart had used a powder to seal it, but Gull had already lost a lot of blood.
When I looked at my friend’s ashen face, I felt a knife twisting deep inside me. I felt furious with Shadow, but I told myself it wasn’t her fault. In fact, Shadow was slumped against a wall now, staring into space. Tomlin was sitting on one side of her, Eric on the other. He was still clutching his ear in pain, but it was clear he bore Shadow no malice. He knew it wasn’t her fault, and he’d forgiven her instantly. Theirs was a true friendship. Shadow’s pups had braved getting closer and were now lying by her feet. It was like she didn’t know any of them were there.
Next, I directed my anger to Anna, but that was misplaced, too. I knew it wasn’t her. And how did I know? Because she’d told me.
Most people would have cautioned me not to take the words of a psyche-mage as gospel, but this was Anna. A girl entirely lacking in scruples or conscience. If it was her, she wouldn’t lie. She’d tell me to my face, and then she’d laugh.
So it could only have been one person.
I floated over to Anna.
“When you were removing the spell from Shadow’s mind,” I said, “Did you see who planted it?”
“Get lost, core. Go float up a dragon’s bum.”
“Anna, I need to know. So just grow up and-”
Bolton stood up. Walked past me and expected me to follow. That was his way. Overseer Bolton walked, and cores trailed behind.
This wasn’t the academy anymore. I no longer idolized him.
“Beno,” said Bolton, without turning around. “Either put your pride to one side or shove it up your gemmy arse. Whatever you do, get rid of it. There’s more at stake.”
Utta, sitting with his arm around Anna, fixed me a stare of pure hate. “I’d listen to the old geezer if I were you.”
“Oh, and you’ll do what? Summon the wind and tickle me with a breeze? Suck dew drops from the walls and give me a bath? I kill little boys like you before breakfast.”
Anna perked up. “You kill little boys? Ooh, scary core.”
“And I’m fifteen!” said Utta.
“Beno!” shouted Bolton.
“I’m done with this. I have a little more maturity,” I said. “You stupid idiots.”
“Stupid idiot? Ooh, I’m hurt! What was the alternative? Clever idiot?”
Bolton and I went to the other side of the chamber. Jahn’s sheet of steel was above us. Some of the insects were on top of the parts he’d constructed before Bolton turned up. They were docile and under Anna’s spell. The others were around us, on the ground. The goo balls had dosed them enough that they wouldn’t wake for a good while yet.
Bolton stopped walking. He leaned one hand against the wall. Took his boot off, and tried to fish a stone out
of it.
His boots, I couldn’t help noticing, were very fancy. Bolton had always been a skinflint. Never changing his academy robes, never buying new clothes. Lately, though, he’d begun spending all the gold he’d saved. Buying frivolous things.
“What was all that, Beno?” he asked.
“All what?”
“With Anna.”
“I’d ask you the same thing. Better yet, I want to know why you’re here.”
Bolton looked at me like it was the stupidest question in the world. “The same reason as you.”
“Riston?”
“Who the bloody hell is Riston? I’m here for the core, Beno. This is a dungeon, and the core is still here.”
“I’d worked that out. The loot chamber, the essence vines. It makes sense. The only question is the insects.”
“Obvious. The core is making them.”
“It’s not quite so straight forward,” I said.
I told him about Riston, Gary, the townsfolk. I only changed one tiny detail.
After all, it’s not as if I ever pretended I was perfect. I’ve never said that.
And it wasn’t such a big deal that I told Bolton that Riston hadn’t chased me out of my dungeon. I told him that I had decided to come here, to the caverns. That was why I had left the dungeon. On a quest to find out what was happening.
I knew it was wrong to lie. It was uncore-like.
Well, damn me if I’m not a bag of flaws. Floating there, speaking to my old mentor, I just couldn’t admit how badly I had messed up.
“It makes sense,” said Bolton.
“It does?”
“It’s obvious, no?”
“What is?”
“Riston and the core are working together.”
“We haven’t even met this core. How can we assume that?”
“The core is making the insects. Riston is using his mind spells to control them. Together, he and the core are using the insects to make wraiths. The question is, why?”
I thought about it. It made a lot of sense, actually. There wasn’t much doubt I could throw on it.
“I suppose we better go talk to this core, then,” I said.
“No.”
“What?”
“We go away, Beno. We strategize, and then we come back, prepared.”
“Nope. We go find it right now.”
“That isn’t very core like of you, Beno. I taught you better. I taught all you cores the same; fail to plan…”
“Plan to fail. I know a certain barbarian’s grandfather who says the same thing. But you think it’s uncore-like for me to want to hit this insect-spawning bastard right now? That’s where you’re wrong, Bolton. Your humanity is showing.”
“Excuse me?”
“I know cores better than anyone. And I know that this core is out of essence. It’s not a threat to us while its insects are sleeping and it has no essence. If we wait, its essence will regenerate.”
“That’s a lot to assume. Assuming makes-”
“Makes an arse out of you. Yep, I know a trader who says the same thing.”
“You seem to know a lot of sayings these days, Beno.”
“What can I tell you? I became a people person. I started to listen.”
“And now your humanity is showing.”
I gave a grim laugh. “It was. Almost too much, and then not enough. Now? I might be somewhere in between, I don’t know and I don’t care. All I know is that we’re in this core’s loot chamber, and he’s doing nothing. That means he’s out of essence. He’s not holding back, he’s not plotting. When enemies reach a core’s loot chamber, he throws everything at them. Right now, after we’ve dealt with his insects, this core’s doing nothing but sitting on his core arse.”
Bolton chewed his lip and nodded vigorously, deep in thought.
Finally, he said, “Perhaps it’s been too long since I was a core. Maybe you are right, Beno. We should go visit this core. It will be in its chamber, no doubt.”
CHAPTER 20
There are thousands of ways a core can set out his dungeon. A trap here. A puzzle room there. Plenty of variations, but most conform to a few general layouts. Kind of like chess strategies; though different individual moves can be made, there is an overall tactic to follow. Unless you’re a crummy player, of course. As indeed, there are crummy cores.
As an ex-student of the dungeon core academy, I knew all the layouts. I was certain that leading out from this core’s loot chamber, there would be a tunnel that’d eventually take us to the core chamber. And there, we’d meet the lovely person who owned this place.
Bolton and the two annoying Chosen One gits had joined us in the loot chamber via a false door. It stood to reason that there were other hidden doors. We spent a while trying to find them all until we had uncovered three.
“Three doors,” said Eric. “And one of these will lead to the bore chamber?”
“Core chamber. Yes.”
“And the other doors will take us to places full of swinging scythes, falling lava, and hungry monsters, no doubt.”
“Your barbarian instincts are beyond reproach.”
“So what’s the scoop?” said Gulliver. “Do we split up and each try and different route?”
Eric shook his head. “Stupidest thing you can do in a tomb is to split up. Trust me. It’s up there with slapping a bull’s arse in terms of moronic things. In fact, there’s a book I once read that mentioned splitting up. 50 Stupid Things to Do in a Dungeon.”
“I wrote that!” said Gulliver.
I was pleased to see Gull looking well. He’d been on death’s door when Shadow cut him. Now, he wasn’t exactly in peak condition. But he was maybe a few paces away from death’s front stoop. As long as he didn’t take a step forward, that was good. Besides, death’s house was messy and overcrowded. And I heard he served biscuits that were harder than bricks.
Maginhart had managed to seal Gulliver’s leg wound, and it seemed that he hadn’t lost as much blood as we’d feared. I was beyond relieved. As a core, I never thought I’d feel that way about a human in a dungeon. After all, it was my job to slaughter them.
Cynthia had given him a tincture to perk him up. Now, he was walking, but he needed support. Since Eric was the strongest of us all, he had the job. He wasn’t all too happy about it, given their recent differences.
“What? Come off it,” said Eric. “You didn’t write that book.”
“Seriously, I did! Bloody hell, that was years ago. I’d barely finished my apprenticeship.”
“Why’d you suggest splitting up, then? Splitting up is number 16 in the list of stupidest things to do. Don’t you read your own stuff, you hack?”
“It was a ghost-writing job. An old hero paid me to write it.”
I glared at Gulliver. Though I don’t have eyes, people can often sense when I’m staring at them with anger or some other emotion. It’s an aura I give off.
Gulliver shrugged at me. “What do you want me to say? I was young. I hadn’t earned my reputation as the greatest scribe in Xynnar. A job’s a job, Beno.”
“But working for a hero? Come off it.”
“I’d never met a core before. I thought the same as everyone else; that you are evil beings who murder indiscriminately.”
“We discriminate all too much in who we do and don’t murder,” I said. “More’s the pity.”
“Well, I needed the money, and the hero needed a ghostwriter.”
Eric looked perplexed. “You…had a ghost write the book for you? How does that work? Did the hero tell you what to write, and then you tell the ghost?”
“No, Eric. The hero told me a general idea of what to write and I…never mind.”
“Well, ghost or not, you did a fine job. I can’t believe it was you. Back when I went out on my first solo barbarian expedition, and I found myself alone in a haunted forest with hundreds of spectral hounds hunting me, I read your book by candlelight. It gave me a little comfort, you know? Reading the words…it
was like I had a friend there with me. When you’re alone and surrounded by flesh-eating phantom beasts, that’s a good thing to have. Oh, to be seven years old again.”
“You were out doing barbarian stuff when you were seven?”
“I was a late bloomer. Anyway, never thought I’d meet the bugger who wrote the book. I suppose I owe you my thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” said Gulliver. He was trying to appear casual, but Eric’s praise had clearly affected him.
“Let’s focus,” I said. “Eric is right: we shouldn’t split up. I just have to figure out which route to take.”
Overseer Bolton approached me. He spoke in a quiet voice. “You don’t need to figure anything, Beno. Figuring it out is what a human would have to do. This is a dungeon, and you’re a core. Your instincts will tell you. You need to start listening to them.”
And I did. I stopped talking, stopped thinking, and I listened to what my core gut was telling me.
“This way,” I said.
We walked through miles of tunnels. Eric, desperate to show us how tough he was, wanted to lead the way, but supporting Gulliver meant he had to walk slowly. To his credit, he didn’t moan about it. Shadow walked alongside them, not wanting to be too far away from Eric.
I spearheaded the group. Cynthia and Maginhart walked behind, holding oddly-shaped stones that glowed bright yellow and lit the way.
Next came Bolton, Anna, and Utta. Behind them were the kobolds. Making up the rearguard were Death, Kill, and the hounds.
Soon, we came to a chamber.
“Is this it?” asked Eric.
“I’m not sure. I might be.”
Stepping inside, I was disappointed to see no sign of a core.
And then disappointment turned to horror.
There were almost fifty dead bodies on the ground. They were just piled there. Humans, orcs, gnomes. Men, women, children. Some of them wore thin, sweat-stained garb of the Yondersunians. Clothes suited for wasteland life. Others were dressed for cooler climates. Travelers, perhaps. Traders passing through who hadn’t prepared for the heat.
“So this is where they’ve been going,” said Anna. “All those missing people. Kidnapped by the insects, killed, and then piled up here. Huh. Really makes you think, seeing so much death piled up like this.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Oh well, let’s get moving.”
Dungeon Core Academy: Books 1-7 (A LitRPG Series) Page 126