Lothar's Descension

by Dave Qymlore

  "This place is obviously trapped," he said with a dire tone. "I don't see why that would exclude magical traps. Let's just keep moving and hope we can lose them without getting forever lost down here ourselves." They had come to an enormous cavern that was filled with all sorts of strange flora. There was even some kind of natural waterway flowing into it. If he had not been so sure they were going to die, be recaptured, or get lost in some kind of underground network of dark tunnels, he would have stopped to appreciate how serene the cavern was.

  "Maybe we should ambush them here, where we have the advantage of being able to see them enter," said Selena.

  Ged stopped and properly took in the surroundings. There were plenty of raised areas they could stand on, and more than enough large rocks to use as weapons on the unsuspecting slavers. "That might be a good idea. I honestly don't like our chances of running randomly into this place in the dark and not getting lost forever. Many men have gotten lost and starved to death in smaller caves than this.

  "Okay, you heard him ladies," said Selena to the other women. The others had stopped talking or really responding. They moved like autonomous ghosts now, resigned to accepting whatever fate had in store for them. It was probably easier that way for women who had never had providence over their own lives.

  Suddenly a bright, white light appeared among them out of nowhere. It burned an extreme white just like it had last time, and then it was gone. In its place was a torch, which didn't glow from fire but with an eerie magic. And holding it was—"

  "Feyra?!" called Ged, his heart jumping as he realized how forlorn he had actually been after losing the beautiful woman. "Wait, who are you?"

  "I am Harmony, the last guardian of my master's dungeon. If you want to keep your lives and your freedom, do exactly as I tell you." This woman looked human in every way, apart from being so unflawed and beautiful that it was nearly impossible to accept. That was—also apart from the wings that protruded from her back, lovely shades of bright colors that were usually only seen in nature or in the clothes and household items owned by the obscenely wealthy. But she was wearing a common enough looking leather battle harnesses, and not much else at all. It looked to be of excellent quality. If the woman were to bend over slightly, it was almost certain her womanhood would have been on display for all to see. And that fact didn't seem to cause her to act with any modesty. The strange winged woman had the calm, casual disposition of someone who was taking a stroll on a quiet countryside road on a pleasant spring day.

  "Who are you?" asked Ged. "Is Feyra still alive?

  "It's a fairy," said one of the other women. That comment was met with sounds of awe from the others. Everyone had heard about fairies. Some had seen them.

  With a suspicious smirk that was almost as sharp as the short sword she brandished in the hand that wasn't holding the magical torch, the impossibly attractive woman calmly replied, "Do you mean the whelp my master just saved? Yes, it seems he is quite taking with her, luckily for all of you. And so, he had decided to save your lives. But you must do as I tell you, because this place is trapped and populated with monsters."

  Ged was elated to hear that Feyra was still alive. Although, he was having trouble thinking of anything with such a pristine beauty now in his field of vision.

  "Not to mention those bastard slavers behind us," Selena added, unafraid of the woman who'd only moments ago materialized out of nowhere. "I don't suppose those arrows of yours, or that sword, are magic like your pretty torch? Maybe you could help us out by killing the slaves so we can leave you alone?"

  The winged woman laughed as she turned away from them, waving her hand to get them to follow her. "Believe me, I would take much pleasure in doing that. However, their souls are earmarked for my master, and my making sport of them would be such a terrible waste. So, unless you plan to take them on with your bare hands, you'll need to follow me into the dungeon city and hole up there until things are a bit safer."

  "So you will allow us to leave after that?" asked Ged, having trouble taking his eyes off the gorgeous woman as they followed after her, and the way her long, luscious hair flowed behind her between where her wings sprouted from her firm, curvaceous back. He was particularly drawn a bit lower than her back though. With that level of distraction, he didn't realize there was a large stone jutting out from the passageway floor, and he stumbled over it.

  Selena elbowed him. "Try to watch your step instead of her ass." Some of the other women almost made sounds like laughter, the spirits of the group having lifted a little now that this seemingly miraculous savior had shown herself.

  17

  Lothar watched from the core chamber. The dirt and sweat encrusted, yet still alluring, young slave woman eagerly looked on by his side but was careful not to come to close or make eye contact with him.

  "Now that your friends are on their way to safety, we just have to wait for your enemies to die," he told her.

  "Good..."

  "Do you think you will take pleasure watching their deaths? I find that hard to believe."

  "Well ... I wouldn't go that far. I want them to die, but I don't think I could ever feel pleasure about anyone's suffering. It's for the best is all."

  "And the revenge part of it won't bring you any joy, I'm sure," Lothar replied. The thought of having her around was enticing, especially given that she wasn't magically bound to him and hence not obliged to agree with whatever he said. Still, he wasn't sure he could become her jailer. If he did that, what would make him better than these filthy slavers who he was going to enjoy watching be slaughtered?

  The slavers had made their way into the large cavern and were discussing what to do next. There were a dozen of the burly men, each of them clad in durable leather armor that was still comfortable to move in. They had evidently left any supplies they were carrying behind. Perhaps they had horses, which would make sense given how far in the middle of nowhere they were to someone going on foot. They weren't armed to go into battle, only having long knives with them, and each of them holding a lit torch in their off hand. They also had handcuffs on their belts that seemed to be a uniform item that had been given to all of them.

  "Well, I'm getting the feeling that I might enjoy this for the both of us then," said Lothar, quickly developing a distain for the group of heartless men who made their living off the suffering of innocent human beings. "Ah, look!"

  "What?" asked the young slave woman.

  "They're sending out some scouts to decide which way to go next."

  "What does that mean?"

  "Just watch," he replied with a grin about guessing right. Soon a horrific scream let out from on of the small tunnels. Lothar could see, sense, what was happening but brought it up on the looking glass so the slave woman could see too.

  "Oh my gods! What is that?" She looked on in horror as the giant ball of undulating, pink flesh wrapped itself around the unfortunate slaver's entire head. He swung his long knife around wildly to try to cut the thing off. He was doing some damage, but only flesh wounds really. There was no way for him to do any serious harm to a slime without being able to strike at its center. And doing so would result in stabbing himself in the head.

  "That is a slime. A pink slime to be more accurate. You wouldn't assume something like that could be so fast, with a short jump at least, or deadly, would you?"

  "No I wouldn't, but I would never go near something so bizarre either."

  "Well, it's dark even with a torch."

  The slaver began to dash around wildly, his lungs certainly beginning to cry out for much needed air. In a last-ditch attempt to keep himself from dying, he did something unexpected by smashing the flaming torch against the slime. It took the flame surprisingly well as the man held it against the pink mass. The fire began to spread around the slime as though it were a blob of tar.

  It was not a pretty sight. Feyra gasped and couldn't bring herself to look up. Until the very last moment of the man's death throws when he was mostly only twitching on
the stone floor of the passageway.

  The screams of pain from the man—before his head had been wrapped up in the slime—alerted the others that there was danger in the passageways. The other scouts went back to the large, green covered cavern to rejoin their comrades.

  They decided to continue moving together as one, although with the chosen scouts still bringing up the lead, and one of them in the rear. It wasn't certain if these men were actually chosen to look ahead because of their skills as scouts and trackers, or if they were just unlucky and lower ranking.

  "You're going to enjoy this," Lothar to Feyra. He was used to fighting and killing in battles he had no personal stakes in. He'd even fought people who were on the side of righteousness, looking at things from a subjective point of view. He didn't care. He felt bad about what happened and didn't enjoy killing for the pure sake of it. But these slavers were scum as far as Lothar was concerned. They lived on the suffering of others and did it in a cowardly way. Sure, the dungeon core felt the pang of inhumanity at causing pain and suffering, then death. But that was part of being a killer. Something he'd reconciled himself with when he was still just a fledging recruit, a mere boy.

  The group of slavers, around ten of them now, walked down the central exit from the cavern. This was the one that would lead them toward the large gathering area at the foot of the throne room that looked down upon it all. The gigantic stone steps that Lothar had fallen to his death down lead up from that gathering area to the throne area.

  Yes, the slavers were headed that way, but they were not going to live long enough to get their hands on any of the slaves, nor on the untold wealth that could have awaited them if they were better prepared to go dungeon diving.

  "Don't they realize where they are?" Lothar said to himself with a chuckle. "They're not equipped for this."

  "This is going to be a slaughter, isn't it?" Feyra asked. "Can't you just tell them to leave? Ward them off?"

  "Would you rather I spared their lives? Even if they were smart enough to listen and leave, they would go make more misery for other people like you." He knew he was right. Lothar had encountered plenty of slavers. The whole slave industry was common throughout the world, and the military was no different to other establishments.

  The main passage leading from the subterranean cavern ended in a long, wide room. This could have been some kind of stationing area for minions at some point. It wasn't shaped like a normal chamber, plus there were no doors. Lothar had positioned a creeper vine at the entrance. However, he'd placed it on the ceiling. Since the creeper vine was a slow moving minion that would wrap around its prey a while after being activated, this would hopefully work out just as he was hoping.

  The group of slavers were hesitant but also noticeably impatient. "Come on you lot, the longer we're in here, the more danger we could get into."

  Lothar knew they were going to be in serious trouble no matter what they did, but he was glad they didn't take their time standing in the opening to the long room. It was a lot wider than a passageway, probably around twenty feet wide.

  The group of men walked along and didn't even notice the vines above them. After all, humans didn't encounter these types of strange plants in their daily lives. Most would have never even heard of them. And those who had been told tales of them, well they would still need to look up to have a chance of identifying the crawling vines. They began to slowly slither down as the men cleared the opening and entered the larger area.

  "Scouts?" asked the man in charge.

  "It's safe, I think," said one of the two men who were leading the front. Lothar wondered if they were even qualified to be scouts, let alone hunt for traps in an ancient, underground dungeon.

  The man in charge snarled and stormed up to them. "What do you mean, you think? No one's payin' you to think, moron." He backhanded the scout who'd said it and then pushed him forward.

  "You'd bet your life on it, I'm sure? Go on then. Go show us how much you think there aren't any traps. I've lost enough to these fucking strays! You can pay with your life if any of us is gonna be next."

  The unwilling and shaking scout carefully walked forward. An arrow wizzed by his head, but it had been fired by the leader of their group. "That miss was on purpose. The next one won't be if you don't get your ass movin'!" he barked at his underling.

  "Yessir!" the scout shouted, now more afraid of what was behind him than in front apparently. He ran forward and seemed like he'd just won a huge prize when he realized there really were no traps ahead in the room. "It's all clear, sir!" he shouted back to the waiting slavers with a smile on his face.

  "You're a lucky fuck then, aren't you?" said the leader back to him as the group moved ahead. Just as they were coming up to the end of the long, tall room, there was as rustling from above them. It wasn't a trap. No, Lothar had placed a swarm of bats there. He knew there was no way he was going to be able to take the whole group head on with a fair fight against what few minions he could spare his lifeforce on.

  Roughly twenty regular bats swarmed down. They were just like any other bat that you would find in a cave. Only these ones were magically bound to Lothar's dungeon and would act to protect it. They would also stay where he placed them. They rushed at the group of slavers and began to swoop down upon them.

  "What the bloody fuck?!" screamed one of the slavers. The rest of the men looked up all too late. They were being swarmed by the appropriately named bat swarm. Little bites and scratches were the worst of the damage really. Gods knew what kind of diseases those things might have been carrying if they were anything like non magical bats around these lands.

  Lothar had seen men contract strange exotic diseases while campaigning abroad in the military. But that always came later, after the battle. These bats were a deterrent at best right now. And that's exactly what he was counting on.

  The scout who'd been forced to move first was actually left untouched. He was away from the rest of the group, and the bats all moved as one. They went for the greater threat at first. Lothar figured that it made sense. One or two bats separated from their swarm wouldn't be much use, and would most likely just be smacked into the nearest wall and taken out. He watched the rest of the group run back away from the bat swarm that clouded the areas just ten feet from the next chamber they wanted to get to. An arching doorway without a door separated the next area.

  "Don't let these blighters bite you or you'll be shittin' blood by tomorrow!" cried the leader. He seemed to be as familiar as Lothar with the nasty diseases small, biting creatures could transfer to men. The group ran back where they'd come from. But there waited the crawling vine, hanging fully down now and feeling around for whatever had activated it. The first man pushed through and kept running, for a few steps anyway.

  The men behind him didn't realize that he'd been grabbed by something. He kept moving, after all, until the vines holding him were pulled along to full length and yanked him back. His momentum from running at full speed caused him to fall backward and collide with the next man behind him. The vines were too numerous for them to push away or cut down with their long knives. They acted like groping snakes without heads, sensing without seeing, feeling what they could grab at. When something touched one of them, the rest of the thick green strands was made instantly aware. They acted independently, yet they were able to work as one sentient creature.

  They got a strangle hold on at least half of the fleeing slavers before the passageway back was too full of creeping vines and suffocating men for any more to stumble that way. The others hacked at them but found their two-foot long blades were not ideal for such coarse flora. "What the hell are these things?" one of the men shouted as he tried to cut his closest comrade free.

  One of the vines, a small one that had slinked down without notice, grabbed his wrist and dragged him upward. More of the vines came down from the top of the passageway's entrance. There was a large, podlike mass there, darker green than the vines were. It was gradually pulling it's tentacle-
like limbs toward itself. Eventually there was nothing but a tangles mass of human limbs, slowly crushing skulls and torsos, and muffles screams that were sure to give the survivors nightmares for the rest of their lives.

  Only, if Lothar had his way, they wouldn't live to sleep another night. "Perfect!" he shouted as he reveled in the destruction of his enemies, the execution of his plan. That's what I was hoping to happen."

  "That's sadistic..." said Feyra, but she wasn't looking away this time. And she wasn't cowering or shuddering either. "Impressive though, I have to admit."

  "See, you're starting to enjoy watching your tormentors get a taste of their own medicine, aren't you? These men don't deserve any pity from a beauty like you. I know their type, trust me."

  "I think I know their type a little better than you do," she shot back with some fire in her voice. It was good to see here getting more comfortable. Lothar wanted her to be very comfortable if she was going to be staying with him.

  There were only three of the slavers left now. The leader and only one other escaped from the vines. The scout who'd been spared by being ahead of the bats when they attacked had run over to meet the others near where they'd entered. The bats had flocked back up near the high ceiling of the room when no one was near their starting position any more.

  "We're fucked," said the scout.

  "That your professional opinion is it?" asked the leader. He'd lost most of his gumption and had a solemn look on his face. "This is a death trap. And since it looks like we may very well die together here, I'm gonna put it up to vote what we do next. Do we go back and try to get through them vines alive? Or do we run through these flying rats and do what we came 'ere to do?"

  "I'm not dying before those slave bitches get what they deserve," said the other slaver who was with them.