by Hugo Huesca
“Supply storage,” Alder whispered when his own lamp added strength to Ed’s.
Ed nodded. It was a small room, made even smaller by a partial cave-in that had eaten up half the space. It was strewn with a bunch of rotten and broken matter that in another life had been grains, cloth, torches, and other things he could not identify.
The smell of rot was almost overpowering to him, to the point he had to avoid taking any deep breaths. But his companions seemed unaffected. Perhaps he was more used to city life than he had anticipated.
“Can the drones use this—” he gestured at the broken remains of the storage “—to build living quarters?”
“Dung and rot don’t have much market value,” Lavy pointed out. “Try asking for three straw beds; that should be easy enough to transmute.”
Ed nodded, but instead of putting both drones to the task he sent only one. He looked away when he realized the little creature ate the rot and the debris with the same glee it ate dirt. The other drone went helpfully to his side.
“I noticed you didn’t have a fire outside,” said Ed. He spoke to Alder, since he recalled it was the Bard who had a wilderness-related skill. “I don’t know much about the wilderness, but a campfire is a must have in my world. Are Ivalis’ monsters attracted to fire, or is there some other reason not to have one?”
Alder’s features weren’t helped by the lamp light. He looked gaunt and ghoulish, the lively glint of his eyes seeming to depend very much on sunlight. Perhaps he was just tired. “I was about to make one when the batblins attacked us. Some creatures are indeed attracted to fire, but usually they live deeper inside Hoia Forest. And many more creatures won’t go near a fire. In general, it is smart to have one.”
“Then, I’m going to send this drone to build it for us. Lavy, you said they can gather resources, right? I assume that includes firewood.”
To Ed, this was a crucial experiment, even if it didn’t look like it. If the drones—and by extension, his power—knew how to create things he did not, that would be a huge advantage. When his companions made no objections, his drone went barking out of view in the direction of the forest.
Without its partner to help, the remaining drone worked much slower at cleaning the room, but it still made faster progress than a human could have. Once it had finished eating about a third of the debris and the trash, it stopped, fixated its gaze to the floor, and began dancing.
“What’s it doing?” asked Ed.
“Transmutation,” said Lavy. She had her back against a wall opposite Ed and Alder, and looked bored. “A terribly complex spell that even Master spellcasters have trouble with. To a drone, it’s like breathing. I have no idea where all the dung it eats goes, but right now it’s being converted into straw.”
She was right. A loose pack of straw grew all at once, like a flower, in the spot the drone was dancing. There were no fireworks, nor any special magic symbols, just a bunch of matter being created out of nowhere.
Once it was done, the drone admired its handiwork for a moment, nodded in satisfaction, and went back to clearing the room.
The bed didn’t look particularly appealing. Ed walked over to it and inspected it. It was straw, alright, but it smelled of sulfur.
I’m going to need a blanket, he realized. And a coat. He had never expected Ivalis to be so cold. His character never complained when he walked through miles of snow dressed only in a silk robe.
But right now, Ed was very anxious for his drone to finish making that fire. Caves, as it turned out, were very cold.
What remained of the day went by like a blur. When the campfire was done, Ed, Lavy, and Alder ate what remained of their provisions next to the blaze. It was around that time that Ed discovered his drones sucked at making both blankets and shirts, but the itchy, sulfur-smelling, ill-fitted, ugly cloth was better than going around naked from the waist up.
Night arrived early, although he had no way of telling time except by the sun’s position. Without anyone being in the mood to talk, Ed finally was able to catch a rest.
The sheer magnitude of what had happened started to dawn when stars that he never had seen in his entire life blanketed the night well beyond what his sight could reach. Ivalis’ moon appeared bigger than Earth’s, although it was only half-full. If he squinted, he could see its surface scratched by craters. It seemed to him like the face of some ancient, scarred god looking down on him.
For all he knew, the moon could be exactly that. There was much he didn’t understand. For example, if said moon was really closer to Ivalis than to Earth, what did that do to the tides?
What did the ocean look like in this strange world?
He had been kidnapped by forces beyond his understanding and thrown into a world that wasn’t his own.
Even Alder and Lavy had told him they didn’t expect him to live long, even with the powers of a Dungeon Lord. He had much going against him. The forest that his campfire couldn’t reach was bathed in impenetrable darkness, and it was silent in the way a lurking beast is silent. If Ed closed his eyes and went beyond the crackle of the fire, he could hear insects and the occasional screech of a bird. And very far away, he picked up the faint howl of a lone wolf.
It was him against Ivalis. Perhaps, he’d have the help of a Witch, a Bard, and a batblin, but that was it. He owed allegiance to no one—there was no one above him to drag him down. Whatever happened next would be only because of the decisions he had made.
A faint smile crept on his face. For the first time in his life, he felt free.
10
Chapter Ten
Night Crawlers
Ioan hated the night. As a Ranger, he knew all too well that most creatures hungry for human flesh went out of their holes after the sunset, looking for prey.
The need to be safe against the night’s children had forced humanity to gather together in huts, then villages, then cities and kingdoms, to push back against the lurking monstrosities of the Vast Wetlands. Civilization developed of the constant struggle that humans fought against extinction.
He looked at the flimsy walls of Burrova, and shivered. What amounted to a big wooden fence could do little to save the village against the horrors of Starevos. As far as he was concerned, civilization was a lost cause. Mankind’s cities would only last until a big enough monster awoke from its slumber and made its way from the Wetlands into the world of man…and started feeding.
Luckily enough for him, he was a Ranger. He could survive on his own.
“Do you see anything?” asked his watch-partner, Gallio, a gaunt man of thirty with a tired gait. “The torches destroy my eyesight.”
“They’re here,” Ioan said, simply. He couldn’t see them, even with his Night Vision talent, but he was skilled in the way of the predator. All the signs were there, if you knew what to look for.
At the skirts of the forest, a branch broke. A bush trembled without breeze. The silence was too deep, too absolute.
“They are here, and they’re watching us,” he added laconically.
“Do you reckon they might try and climb the walls tonight?” Gallio’s breathing was heavy. He had always struck Ioan as a man used to pretending he wasn’t scared.
Ioan held little love for the broken man, even if Gallio was an integral part of Burrova’s survival—and thus, Ioan’s own, for the time being.
“They’re only scouts,” he told Gallio. “Babies. But they are many. Testing our defenses, no doubt. Looking for a breach. If they find it, they’ll strike.”
“Disgusting,” Gallio muttered. “Using their young as scouts and cannon-fodder…I’ve never seen a region so foul and so inclined to the Dark as Starevos.”
“Nothing to do with the Dark.” Ioan held little love for the Heiligian’s moralizing. The Ranger was a Starevos native. “The Queen culls her spiderlings of the weak by using them in this way. If she didn’t, her cluster would grow too big for Hoia to feed, and it would eat itself during the winter. This is nature, Sheriff, it has li
ttle to do with your Light and Dark.”
The outskirts of Hoia Forest were silent and immobile to the untrained eye. But they were watching the two men as they stood atop the walls of Burrova. Ioan had no doubts about it. The scouts—the spiderlings—would go back to their Queen and report about what they had seen.
“So you say, Ioan,” said Gallio. Ioan saw how the fingertips of the Sheriff caressed the old mace’s hilt at his waist, a tick he had when he was nervous. “But my homeland doesn’t have spiders as big as a grown man. You only find beings such as these the farther away we get from Alita’s blessed temples. I’m of half-a-mind to summon the watch, gather our torches, and burn these monsters out right now. Let them report that to their Queen.”
Ioan’s own hand closed in a fist. If they moved now, instead of tomorrow, it would be disastrous. He had to drown out the impulse to backhand Gallio and shove him out of the crude parapet, out of the wall’s safety and into the forest below. Depending on the way he fell, Gallio probably wouldn’t even have time to scream.
Cowardly little man!
Ioan took a deep breath, then another, until he calmed down. This wasn’t the wilderness, where it was every man for himself. This was civilization, while it lasted. He was not a savage.
“They are nightly creatures, these spiders,” he explained. He relaxed his fist and patted the Sheriff on the back in a friendly manner. “I know how you feel, Gallio, but it’s going to be safer for everyone to wait until the morrow. We’ll cull their numbers then, while they’re slow with sleep and their bellies are full.”
Gallio nodded. “You’re the expert, Ioan. Thank the Light Burrova can count on you. I can barely justify the bread I eat, as it is.”
That was too much. Too much! Ioan broke the deep silence of the forest with a clear, joyful, belly-laugh. He patted the Sheriff—Burrova’s broken Inquisitor—happily, and this time he meant it. “Come, Gallio, no sense in wasting away our energy staring at the enemy. Let’s enjoy a mug of Andreena’s brew before parting ways for the night. We’ll have trouble enough at sunrise.”
With that, both men left the palisade, Gallio just behind Ioan. The Sheriff glanced in the forest’s direction one last time before reaching for the wooden steps.
Hoia was silent. And it was watching.
Klek’s scream saved their lives.
Ed was pulled apart from deep sleep by the terrified screech, and before he had any idea what was going on, he jumped up from his straw bunk with a small yell of his own. “What? What’s going on?”
It was dark. Too dark. The city had never been so dark, the billboards, the street-posts, the malls that never closed made sure the night that filtered from his small window was never too deep.
This was different. The only light he had was the trembling, yellowish shine of an oil lamp almost empty. Besides the faint circle of light, he could see nothing. Klek’s scream echoed back at him, and it carried with it scratching noises, constant, hollow. They came from inside the walls.
Ed’s memory threw the events of the last day back at him. Ryan. Kharon. The pact. Ivalis. The campfire. Going to sleep feeling more tired than at any other point in his life.
Klek screamed again. “They’re coming!”
“Klek!” Ed yelled at the batblin. Where was he? Somewhere far from the lamplight circle. “Who is coming?”
Opposite of Ed’s bunk, Alder tried to jump up, missed his footing, slipped, and fell face-first into the ground. “Ouch! What’s going on?”
Ed could hear Lavy cursing the gods as she stumbled to her feet.
The scratching noise was closer now. As Ed’s eyes acclimated to the little light, he could see movement at the farthest wall of the cave. Tiny slivers of rock came loose and fell. Soon, cracks appeared on the surface. Small ones, but they were getting bigger by the second.
A tiny, hairy leg appeared in one of the cracks, casting an unnatural shadow in the yellow lamplight. It was followed by more legs—and a body the size of Ed’s fist. It was covered in coarse black hair, with a pointy horn atop dozens of tiny eyes, and a pair of moist mandibles that clicked at the air.
The spider didn’t come alone. Many more followed. Too many cracks to count, too many legs to count. Mandibles clicked here and there, the legs skittering around the walls in the dark far beyond Ed’s reach.
“Spiders!” Lavy helpfully pointed out. The young Witch rushed at the tunnel that connected their improvised quarters with the Seat chamber. “Don’t let them bite you!”
Ed could see the spiders dropping to the floor, click click click, rushing at the light. Alder screamed and ran, following Lavy’s footsteps.
Klek screamed again.
“Klek!” Ed yelled. The batblin’s voice came from somewhere at his right, away from the light. “Get out of here!”
Without thinking, Ed ran to the lamp in the middle of the room, just a few steps away from the nearest spiders, and tossed it into the upcoming cluster. The glass broke, and the oil spread, but failed to catch fire. A spider screamed in clear rage and pain. The blackness was absolute.
Could the spiders see in the dark?
Ed turned and ran back in a straight line at the tunnel’s entrance while calling to his drones with a desperate mental command—
“Klek!” he said aloud. “I’ll collapse the tunnel, get out!”
Something hard and hairy hit him as he ran, and Ed flew at the ground with a scared grunt. The spiders! They were going to surround him. He imagined the wet mandibles pinching his skin, feeding—
He had no idea where the tunnel’s entrance was. Alder and Lavy were screaming at him, but he could not focus.
A small hand closed around his ankle. Ed instinctively kicked at it, and struck at something. The hand went away, there was a whimper, and the hand returned.
“Sir!” It was Klek’s voice. “This way!”
Ed jumped up and fumbled around in the dark, but not for long. The batblin’s hand grabbed his and pulled him in a random direction. Ed followed, while he heard the click click click come closer and closer.
The screams of Alder and Lavy became clearer, and he could see the faint reflection of Alder’s lamp in the tunnel. Above Ed’s head, his drones were biting furiously at the tunnel’s roof.
Ed and Klek reached the Seat chamber followed by a wave of black creatures. The young Dungeon Lord caught a glimpse of Lavy looking for a weapon and Alder standing near the cave’s exit, gesturing at them wildly to follow him.
I can’t let them spread out of the tunnel, Ed thought with desperation. If he did so, they would just follow his group into the forest, and he wasn’t sure they could outrun the spiderlings in the dead of night.
“Keep going, Klek!” Ed shouted as he shook away the batblin’s hand and stood with his feet firmly planted right at the end of the tunnel. He turned toward the approaching spiders in time to see a boulder twice his size fall down near the middle of the tunnel and cover half of the available space.
The boulder crushed the closest spiders, and Ed was sure he imagined the dozens of little crunches more than he really heard them under the deafening boom of the rock as it fell. He had the faintest sensation of loss and was aware he was missing one of his drones.
He had just earned a bunch of experience.
You have gained 35 experience (spiderling swarm, lethal encounter). Your unused experience is 56 and your total experience is 156.
The remaining spiders started climbing over the boulder and across the walls, undeterred.
Work faster! Ed thought. He activated his Evil Eye, and the green light gave the fist-sized spiders a ghost-like aura.
Horned Spiderling. Exp: 1. Brawn: 1, Agility: 3, Spirit: 2, Endurance: 1, Mind and Charm: 1. Skills: Web-slinging: Basic (I), Pack Tactics: Improved (I)… Talents: Venom (Basic), Web (Basic), Spiderling.
The information blotted out Ed’s entire field of vision. He pushed it away with a grunt and fought down panic, trying to recall the feeling he’d had when summoning the drones.
The underground lines were right there at his feet…
“Edward, they’re poisonous!” Alder warned him all the way from his position at the entrance of the tunnel. “Get away from them!”
I can’t do that. It would be stupid. Their only shot was to stop them now.
“Sir!” Klek called somewhere behind him.
The spiders were almost upon him.
Ed used the only power he knew so far and threw a newly minted drone straight into their ranks. The drone came to life with a bark of glee, then realized his situation, turned to stare at Ed with betrayed eyes, and the spiders started to devour it.
Ed created a third drone next to the one at the ceiling. Bring it down! Now!
Working together, the drones freed another boulder. This one came down like the cave itself was collapsing. A tremor threatened to throw Ed off balance, into the feeding, frenzied spiderlings. He vaguely realized the critters were using their horns as much as their mandibles to break through the drone’s skin.
The boulder fell away from the first one, smacked against it, and bounced into a bunch of spiders at Ed’s side, making the half-eaten drone explode in mist in the process. A rain of smaller stones and dirt fell down on the tunnel, raising a cloud of dust that engulfed the surviving spiders, and Ed.
“Oh, shit,” Ed coughed. He stumbled backward, fell on his ass, scrambled back up. He was vaguely aware that he was not done fighting. But he was weaponless. He was unarmed. His drones were useless except as a distraction—
He jumped away from the tunnel. He had done all he could. The dust began to settle. He realized only a small number of spiders were left on his side of the cave-in. He could see their black shapes as they screamed with their little voices, jumping and shaking off the dust as it fell on their eyes. They were blind and stunned.
Ed turned to Alder. “Get here! Bring the lamp, quick!”
The Bard stared as if Ed had gone mad, but Ed’s frenzied gesturing made him react at last.