by DB King
“Let’s go down and create your first dungeon,” she suggested.
“What, right here? Right now?”
“Why not? This is the ideal spot for it. We’ll create it in the entranceway, just where we came in.” She gestured down, through the entrance to his little room and down toward the square entranceway where Hammer the dog was resting.
“All right, let’s do it!” Marcus said. He swung out on the rope and clambered down to the main entranceway, and Ella floated down next to him. Hammer sat up and watched them with interest.
“So, how do we do this?” Marcus said.
“Ok, so, you’re going to create an entrance to the dungeon right here,” she said, pointing to one blank wall.
“Wait a minute,” Marcus said. “Shouldn’t we create it somewhere else? Somewhere closer to the surface? It’s no good if we have to bring adventurers all the way down here before they can run the dungeon…”
“No, no,” Ella said, “you can move them. Once they’re up and running, you can pick them up and carry them about, and you can set them down in new places, creating new entrances wherever you want, so long as it’s underground. For now, it’s good that it’s all the way back here. It will take a little while for the dungeon to evolve at first, and it’s better if the entrance is somewhere out of the way.”
“I get it,” Marcus said, nodding. “So what do we do next?”
“Just like casting any other spell,” Ella replied. “Look at your spells, you’ll find you have a new one.”
Marcus let his breath out and turned his attention inward. He was taught the skill of viewing his own spells at the thieves guild, but it was tricky, and he’d never mastered it. Marcus took a quick breath and dropped into the required meditative state. He looked through his library of spells. Sure enough, here were his familiar old favorites, and they had been joined by something new.
Crucible Initiation
“Woah, is that it?” Marcus said. “Crucible initiation?”
“That’s it,” Ella replied. “Give it a go.”
Marcus took a deep breath and turned his attention to the blank wall in front of him. He dug deep, drawing on his magical abilities and channeling them through the courses of the new spell. Then, he spoke the words.
“Crucible Initiation,” he said, and the wall in front of him began to shift. It cracked, a rectangular shape beginning at the top and working its way down until there was the outline of a door. Light shone through the cracks as they appeared until, after a few moments had passed, a whole doorway was outlined in the stone.
Marcus stepped forward and pushed at the stone. It swung inward, revealing a bare, gray room. It was a perfect cube, with blank gray walls, floor, and ceiling. Marcus stepped in, followed by Hammer and Ella. Hammer raised his leg against the doorway, but Marcus shooed him off.
“Not in here, buddy,” he warned.
“Sorry,” said the dog. “Force of habit.”
The three of them explored the empty space together. Ella seemed very pleased, and Hammer sniffed suspiciously in the corners as if he expected something edible to be hiding there. Marcus gazed around the little space, feeling a bit disappointed.
“Is it… you know… is it meant to be so empty?” he said after a moment.
Ella laughed her light, sparking laugh. “Oh, yes, of course,” she said merrily. “This is just the start. The dungeon is a crucible, a place where new things can happen. You need to put something in the dungeon first, then you close the doors and leave it for a while. When you come back, something new will have happened.”
“Right…” Marcus said doubtfully. “And what do you suggest I put in first?”
The faerie flew down until she was at a level with his face. “Why, me, of course!”
“Wait… you?” Marcus said in astonishment. “Let me get this straight… you want me to leave you in the dungeon, close the door, and come back in a while to see what’s happened?”
“That’s right,” she said smiling. “You see, a dungeon consists of several chambers, but the first chamber—the entrance chamber—is never a combat zone. It sets the tone for the rest of the dungeon, so the elements you place in the entrance chamber are very important for the long-term progression of your dungeon. Most dungeons don’t get to have a faerie as their initial element, but since I’ve granted you the power of dungeon creation, it’s only right that you should use me to set the scene of your initial chamber.”
She was talking as if this were all the most obvious stuff in the world. It didn’t seem particularly obvious to Marcus, but he decided he would go with it. He looked around the little space, then back at the faerie. “All right, I’ll go with your advice here. How long do you want me to leave you?”
“Oh, a day should be plenty,” Ella replied. “Give me a day to rest up, then return to me. I promise you’ll like what you see.”
Marcus shrugged and smiled. “Whatever you say,” he said. “Come on, Hammer, let’s leave Ella to it.”
The faerie settled to the ground in the middle of the room and sat, folding her wings behind her back and closing her eyes. Marcus and Hammer stepped out of the room, and Marcus turned back to the door. He held up a hand, looking at his spells again.
Spell available: Begin Gestation Phase
Marcus enacted the spell. The door seemed to warp a little, then settle again. There was a bubbling noise like a stew simmering.
Spell available: Conceal Crucible
“That’ll do it,” he said, and sure enough as soon as he spoke the spell, the door vanished, becoming a blank expanse of gray wall again.
Crucible: Gestation phase initiated.
Spell Available: Reopen Crucible
“That’s for when I get back,” he said, feeling pleased with his new dungeon interaction spells. “Come on, Hammer, we’ll rest up for a bit then see about going to the docks to get some rumors.”
The dog looked doubtfully up at the rope that led to Marcus’s little room. “I can’t climb that,” he said.
“You could cling to my back while I climb?” Marcus suggested.
The dog agreed, but doubtfully. It was awkward, but in the end, it worked well enough. The big dog clung to Marcus’s back and breathed wetly in his ear as Marcus hauled both of them fifteen feet up the rope to the little room.
Hammer jumped off his back and landed in the room, then shook himself and explored the little space while Marcus drew up the rope.
“No pissing up here,” Marcus warned the dog sternly. “I’ll push you off the edge if you do.”
“Fair enough,” the dog said. “Any food?”
Marcus chuckled and rummaged in the little cupboard, pulling out some strips of dried meat. He tossed one to Hammer, who wolfed it down and settled himself in a spot by the stove and went to sleep.
Once he’d eaten a little himself, and drank some red wine from a skin, Marcus settled down on his bed and closed his eyes. It had been a long, weird night, but it had come out all right in the end. He had got the loot he’d been after, and an impressive haul of magic powder sat in his knapsack by the bed. There was enough powder there to get him a small fortune in gold.
He would be able to buy passage on a ship and set up a new life if he wanted to, as he had planned. Sure, Ella said that he would be able to become a powerful dungeon master here in Kraken City, but he had not seen any proof of that beyond the creation of the bare room where the faerie was now sleeping. Marcus was not a man to put all his eggs in one basket. No, he would go to the docks after he’d slept and trade some of his powders with his black-market contact. If there was some awesome development at the dungeon when he came back, well, he’d deal with that then. Until that happened, he wanted to keep his options open.
Marcus slept for longer than he’d intended, and when he woke, the fire had burned out to ashes. The dog slept on, laying on the rug, but he blinked, stood up, and stretched when Marcus got out of bed.
“Ready to go for a tramp, buddy?” Marcus asked
.
He shared out some more dried meat and ate some for himself too. Then Marcus packed a few things for the journey: a skin of fresh water, some candles, flint and tinder, some dried meat strips to chew on the way, and half of his magic powders. He didn’t want to take his whole stash of powders to his contact today. The man would probably not have enough money on hand to pay him, for one thing. Also, it made sense to keep some back because the docks were a rough and dangerous place. Robbery was not uncommon, and if he came off the wrong end of a fight, Marcus didn’t want to lose everything he’d gained from his daring robbery.
They made their way down the rope again, the same way as they’d come up the night before. Hammer jumped off Marcus’s back, shook, and then glared at him. “I don’t think I like that way of getting up and down,” he said, “but it’s worth it to be able to sleep in front of the fire.”
Marcus smiled and reached over to scratch the dog’s ears. “Come on, buddy,” he said. “We’ve got a long march ahead of us.”
He checked out the dungeon doorway before he set off. There was no sign of any door, but he felt his magic was available to open the doorway if he desired. Nodding thoughtfully to himself and wondering what would be revealed when he opened the door, he turned and headed off, Hammer at his heels.
They walked through the Gutter Rats’ encampment and saw Jonno again. This time, he was sitting eating at one of the trestle tables.
“Did you see Old Jay for me?” Marcus asked him.
“Oh, sure,” said Jonno. “He said come see him when you get the chance.”
“I’ll see him once I’m back. I’m going down the docks for the day, see a few people.”
“Ah, good luck down there, and watch your back,” said Jonno, winking his single eye at Marcus then returning to his meal.
Marcus and Hammer headed out into the tunnels. The Underway was cool and silent, and dark despite the few beams of faint light that found their way in through shafts and passages. Marcus was pleased to find that his newly acquired talent for seeing in the dark had not left him. As before, he found that there was no need to light a candle, and he made his way confidently through the winding tunnels and echoing chambers of the deserted Underway.
He led them to a place he knew well, a way up into the slum district that let them out in a cobbled courtyard behind a greasy tavern. As Marcus and Hammer scrambled up into the bright light of day, Marcus blinked, glanced up at the sun, and looked around. It was mid-morning. He must have slept the rest of yesterday through, and the night as well.
Must’ve been tired, he thought. It made sense. Learning new magic and rescuing faeries was tiring work, it turned out!
Marcus was acutely aware of the bounty, as he always was when out walking in the city. He flipped his cloak’s deep hood on to cover his face in shadow. Then he squeezed out between the side of the tavern wall and the building next to it. He emerged into the busy street of the slum.
Men lounged on the steps of the houses, enjoying the sun, while others hawked wares to passersby. This was the more respectable part of the slum district—it was nearer the docks, and the people here were a bit better off because of that. There were some inns here, and some people who had access to a boat of their own. These families—poor fisher folk, for the most part, and some of the less fortunate smugglers—lived in the ruinous, tightly packed buildings within easy walking distance of the docklands.
Nobody spoke to Marcus—the hood covering his face saw to that. You got all kinds here in the slums, he knew, and a mysterious-looking figure like him drew little attention. Most folks knew that it was better not to see a man who didn’t want to be seen.
Still, Marcus made his way quickly along the grimy, narrow streets. Hammer kept close behind him. Once they were on the docks themselves, the crowd would hide them.
Twenty minutes of swift walking brought him out onto the massive promenade above the upper dock. He pushed his hood back and looked out over the heads of the crowd, breathing deeply and taking it all in.
It was a marvelous sight.
Chapter 6
The docklands stretched out ahead.
The crowd swirled around Marcus, flooding from the cheap inns all over the slum district and through the narrow streets out onto the wide promenade. The space was huge, flat, and flagged with white stones. The wide curve of the bay was filled with ships packed as close as traders at a market stall.
A forest of black masts rose skyward from the countless massive trading ships that were tied up at the King’s Dock, the biggest dock in the docklands. The King’s Dock was side-by-side with the Queen’s Dock, which was only slightly smaller. On both sides of these two massive stone edifices, smaller wooden wharves and berths stretched out for miles. The effect was like the ragged hem of a cloak, extending all along the coast on either side of the massive central docks.
This was where worlds met. The iodine snap of the sea smell mixed with the smell of spices from the Isles of the Sun, of exotic roast meats brought overseas by orkish trading longboats from the Gronwold miles to the west, and of fresh frying fish on countless braziers up and down the docks. The smells went to Marcus’s head like wine, and he grinned, all his cares slipping away from him as if they had never been. Hammer sat next to him, taking in the air and scratching at a newly acquired docklands flea.
To hell with the bounty! It had been months. The chances were that the bounty request had been forgotten anyway. Few people kept up with bounty requests, and after a few months, it lost most of its value. Any self-respecting bounty hunter would do better to look for fresher prizes. A bounty on Marcus’s head would be subject to a big decrease in value because it had been so long since it was set. Suddenly, he made the decision—he would not live in fear, and nor would he slink away from Kraken City as if he were ashamed of himself.
No, if it were possible at all, he would stay. The sudden resolution caught him off guard, but he realized it was true. This smell, this crowd, the forest of masts, and the babble of the traders along the wharfs—this was home. If he could keep it, he would.
Smiling, Marcus stepped down onto the wide promenade. Hammer started at the sudden movement, but then stood, shook his coat out, and followed. They joined the milling crowd. There were people of all sorts here. He passed tall elves from the southlands of Myresh, dwarves from the mountains in the far north of Doran, and orkish folk, richly clad in furs with the sun gleaming on their dark green skins. There were men and women from Doran here, too, tall, beautiful red-haired women, and weather-beaten men in chainmail and boiled leather.
Kraken City natives—slum-dwellers, people from Merchants’ Town, nobles—all mingled on the docklands, unlike anywhere else in the city. Here on the docks, everyone walked the same promenade, side-by-side.
Marcus looked at all the people with interest. The high nobles lived in the Tower District of Kraken City, in the soaring metropolis of tall glass and steel towers that occupied the highest slopes of the city. None of the high nobles themselves would ever come down as far to the lower levels of the city, but their servants were out in force on the docks today, marching purposefully from place to place with trailing groups of scribes and bodyguards in tow.
The servants of the high nobles were men, for the most part, though here and there a richly dressed lady servant could be seen viewing goods or bartering with a ship’s captain. The noble’s servants were all dressed in the finest green and purple linens, and they wore sandals with jeweled straps and rings of gold and silver on fat fingers.
And there were sailors everywhere.
Marcus liked the sailors, and deliberately took himself down to the edge of the wharf so that he could be closer to them and further from the noble servants and the traders. Nearer the water, gangs of men loaded and unloaded an endless stream of casks and chests and bales of cloth and the countless other trade goods that flooded through Kraken City’s docks every day.
Trade was the lifeblood of Kraken City, and right here on the edge of th
e wharf was its beating heart.
Marcus took his time, strolling along and taking it all in. After a while, his mind came back to the task in hand. There was a particular inn—the Ragged Sail—where a man whose face was known could get a fair price for just about anything, no questions asked.
Glancing around, he found that he still had some way to go, so he upped his pace. He passed the end of the King’s Dock and the Queen’s Dock, and then began to pass the smaller wharves that served the less respectable—and less wealthy—seafarers. There was Fisher’s Dock, Crabber’s Dock, Shepherd’s Dock, Tanner’s Dock, and countless others. Some were significant in size and reached out into the water on great wooden pilings. Others were small, only little wooden moorings that you would hardly notice if you didn’t know your way about.
The Flea Dock, the Shrimp Dock, the Rag Dock, and the Bonemeal Dock were all tiny and named more in mockery of the folk who moored there than because of any product they specialized in. Some were so small that they only tied up one or two boats, and these bore the names of the men or the families who had built them and who tied their boats there.
Down at this end of the docklands, the promenade was smaller and the ground rougher, and there were no more nobles to be seen. Shifty figures huddled in shadowed doorways despite the bright sun of the day. Beggars roamed freely on the docks, and hulking mercenary guardsmen were very much in evidence.
Here, the docklands were backed by a long line of the worst kind of inn you could think of. The beer was bad, the food was worse, and the clientele were the worst of all. Marcus smiled to himself at that, and cast his hood back up.
He did not go unnoticed. Greedy eyes tracked him on all sides as he made his way through the rough crowd to the door of the Ragged Sail tavern. That didn’t bother him. He was used to it. He had his iron dagger on his belt, and the jeweled blade that he’d stolen from Xeron’s guard in a holder inside his boot. That was all he needed for protection.