Adventure (Dragons & Magic Book 2)

by Dave Higgins

  “Eight?” Edmond turned back. “What could that be? And why does no one know how to see these outside the dungeon?”

  “Oh, you can’t see any of it,” Pettigrew said. “At least, not unless you stare really hard for almost an hour. Most people don’t stare at anything for that long.”

  Edmond coughed. “So, we’ve no magic, other than a light spell. Is there any way to defeat five pig skeletons without it?”

  “Why fight them all at once?” Daffodil asked. “The door closes again. Couldn’t we fight them one at a time?”

  Edmond beamed at her. “That’s a great idea. We’ll let one out and then close the door behind it.”

  Pettigrew pressed against the wall and clutched the chain. “I can handle the door, if you two fight them.”

  Edmond held out the light scroll. “Deal with the light as well. You need to build your mana up.”

  Pettigrew grabbed the scroll and studied it. Grinning, he danced around the room until a blazing light appeared over his head. His movements appeared far more graceful than Edmond imagined his own had been. Despite Pettigrew’s spindly limbs, he could dance well.

  “All right.” Pettigrew returned to his position next to the chain. “Are you ready?” When Edmond and Daffodil nodded, he pulled the chain down.

  With a grinding sound, the door rose and the skeleton pigs turned to face them. The pigs jerked toward them, bony trotters clattering against the stone floor. They should have looked silly, but Edmond couldn’t take his eyes off the long tusks.

  The first pig ran through the door, another close on its heels.

  Pettigrew pulled on the handle and the door slowly descended again. Edmond realised at once Pettigrew had misjudged the timing; all the pigs were going to get in. He moved closer to Daffodil. “Stand back to back.”

  Daffodil brought her sword crashing down onto the nearest skeleton, metal shattering the bones. Despite the damage, though, the pig struggled onward, its tusks scraping along Daffodil’s greaves.

  Edmond had no time to worry about her, though, as the second pig charged at him. He swung his club, but missed the pig entirely. The momentum threw him off balance.

  The pig rushed in on his right, its tusks scraping Edmond’s thigh.

  Cursing, he stepped back and grabbed his leg. His palm came away bloody. When he looked back, he saw Daffodil had finished off two of the pigs. A top half of another jutted from beneath the now-closed door. Edmond’s opponent, blood dripping down its tusks, shuffled around for a new charge. The last skeleton lined up beside it, preparing to attack Daffodil at the same time.

  Edmond stepped beside her. Pulling out his axe with his left hand, he threw the weapon at the pig opposite him. The axe spun through the air before thudding into the skeleton’s head. Limbs flailing and clattering, the pig shook the axe loose and charged, its companion only a step behind. Edmond threw his arms wide, ready but not confident in his abilities.

  As the skeletons drew close, he swiped with his club and cracked it against the pig’s head. The club shattered against monster’s skull, driving the skeleton to the floor.

  Edmond stared at the useless handle for a breath, before throwing it aside and jumping on the pig’s back. Wrenching hard, he pulled its legs off and cast them aside, then yanked off the skull and raised it above his head. As he leapt up, Daffodil cut the final pig’s head from its body.

  With a crash of thunder, all the bones disappeared, replaced by random objects. Edmond spotted a sword, shield, and potion. Before he could check the rest, a second roll of thunder sounded and Daffodil and Edmond glowed green.

  Edmond looked around the room. “Where’s Pettigrew?”

  Daffodil waved with her sword toward the secret room they’d found him in.

  Edmond hammered on the wall. “They’re gone, Pettigrew. You can come out now.”

  “Are we sure we want him to? He’s useless.”

  Pettigrew crept out, gaze flicking around the room, a green glow wrapped around him.

  “How did he level up?” Daffodil asked. “He didn’t do anything.”

  “I’m in the party,” Pettigrew said. “We all level up at the same time.”

  “That doesn’t seem fair,” Daffodil said.

  “Forget it,” Edmond said. “What did we get?”

  Pettigrew squinted. “Daffodil got Dexterity and Wisdom. You got Strength and Luck.”

  “Of course.” Edmond wondered if he’d ever not get luck. He squinted at Pettigrew. “You got Wisdom and Willpower.”

  “Wisdom and Willpower?” Daffodil asked. “Is running away the wisest choice?”

  “Probably,” Edmond said. “Let’s have a look what we got.”

  “First, you should do something about your leg,” Pettigrew said, pointing.

  When Edmond looked down at the blood running down his leg, he felt it sting. It was almost as if he hadn’t noticed it until he checked; the deep cut throbbed now he had, though.

  “A healing potion.” Pettigrew fetched the potion Edmond had noticed earlier. “Drink it and the cut will heal.”

  Edmond removed the stopper, then paused. “Will this heal anything?”

  “Sure,” Pettigrew said.

  Edmond replaced the top. “Then let’s save it for something worse than a little cut.”

  “It’s not just a little cut,” Daffodil said. “But you’re right. You won’t die from that and we might need the potion later.”

  Pettigrew gathered the other items, while Daffodil bound Edmond’s leg with a strip of cloth. Once he was bandaged, they examined their loot. There was a sword, a wooden shield, two scrolls, and a black leather jerkin.

  “These look like simple fire spells,” Pettigrew said. “One makes a campfire, the other gives someone hot-touch.”

  “Hot-touch?” Edmond asked.

  “Whatever they touch is very badly burnt,” Pettigrew tucked the scrolls into his belt pouch.

  “You take the sword and shield,” Daffodil said to Edmond. “You might not be the greatest warrior, but you won’t hide at the first sign of a fight.”

  Pettigrew’s face turned pink.

  Edmond strapped on the sword and shield, along with his axe. Despite his lack of skill, he felt more like a hero now. At least his Strength had increased, so it wasn’t as difficult to carry everything.

  “That leaves the jerkin,” Daffodil said. “Edmond, you could change your goblin armour for it. It would cover more of you, but offer less protection. It’s a toss up which is better.”

  Edmond shook his head. “You take it, Pettigrew. You’re only wearing a blouse on under that cloak.”

  “It’s a singlet.” Pettigrew took the jerkin anyway and put it on.

  “All right,” Edmond said. “Let’s find out what the dungeon has in store for us next.”

  Chapter 6

  Hidden

  Edmond went first with Daffodil and Pettigrew a step behind. After a hundred paces, the corridor opened out into a room that seemed featureless except for two archways on the far side.

  “We should check,” Pettigrew said. “In my experience, there aren’t any empty rooms in a dungeon.”

  “In your experience…” Daffodil snorted.

  Edmond took the left of the room, trailing his fingertips along the wall and looked up and down. Then he spotted something at the bottom of the wall. A tiny piece of cloth protruded. Crouching, Edmond tugged at it, but the cloth was stuck. “There’s something over here.”

  “There must be a switch,” Pettigrew said. They fanned out again, examining the walls.

  Nothing seemed out of place. After five minutes, Edmond shook his head. “This is pointless. We’re never going to find it. If one of us had a higher Perception score, we might.”

  Pettigrew peered at the cloth again. “Keep looking.”

  “Whatever’s back there, is it really this important?” Edmond asked. “We need to get to Melinda as quickly as we can.”

  “You don’t understand dungeons at all,” Petti
grew said. “Open every chest and search every room. If you don’t get it all, you’ll have the wrong armour or weapon when you get lower.”

  “But Melinda’s in danger,” Edmond said.

  “You don’t even know the basics. It’s no wonder you lost her.”

  Edmond shoved Pettigrew in the shoulder. “I know enough to know you’re a jerk!”

  Pettigrew shoved Edmond back. “And you’re stupid. Did two village idiots breed to make you?”

  Edmond’s shoved Pettigrew as hard as he could. Pettigrew caught his foot on the hem of his cloak and fell back. His head struck the wall with a sickening thud and he collapsed to the floor.

  “I’m sorry.” Edmond’s anger fizzled beneath a wave of guilt. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Pettigrew clambered to his feet, teeth gritted and tears in his eyes.

  “Guys,” Daffodil said.

  Edmond stared at his boots. “I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard.”

  “No, you shouldn’t,” Pettigrew said. “You’re much older than us. Grown-ups aren’t meant to fight kids.”

  “Guys, the wall opened,” Daffodil said.

  Edmond looked up. Light shone from a narrow gap in the wall. Pettigrew’s head had obviously hit some kind of button. Edmond knew his Luck had to be responsible. Another trickle of guilt joined the pool in his stomach, along with a sense of confusion. If his Luck kept getting higher, would he even be in charge of his life at all? It seemed to keep arranging things for him to succeed, even if it meant other people got hurt.

  “Well?” Daffodil asked. “Are we going to have a look inside?”

  Edmond took out his sword and shield. Something nearby smelt of fruit; but not real fruit, fake fruit like someone might use in a trap. “Be ready, though. We’ve no idea what’s inside. Pettigrew, you open it and Daffodil and I will face it.”

  Pettigrew placed his fingers on the edge of the crack. When Edmond nodded, he yanked hard, dragging the section of wall aside.

  Revealing a broom closet. The narrow area held a broom, two small pots marked grease, some burlap sacks, several battered boxes, a series of random containers brimming with nails and screws, and other non-threatening stuff.

  Edmond put his weapon and shield away, then walked into the closet. Examining several shelves, he found a pile of used parchment, small bags of bolts, bars of rough grey soap, and half a dozen unlit torches. “What is this?”

  “More importantly, what is this?” Pettigrew pointed at a thin pole near the door. It was as long as Pettigrew himself.

  “It’s a wooden pole,” Daffodil said. “You use it to poke things.”

  “I don’t think we were meant to find this.” Pettigrew stroked his chin. Without even a spindly almost-beard to caress, it lacked the air of cunning he sought.

  “What do you mean?” Edmond said. “You said we needed to find the hiding places.”

  “Some of them,” Pettigrew said. “They have obvious buttons and things. This one didn’t.”

  Edmond frowned at Pettigrew.

  Pettigrew drew himself up and extended one arm like a statue. “I guess I’ll spell it out for the two village idiots. This is a maintenance closet.”

  “And?” Edmond said.

  “What’s your point?” Daffodil asked.

  “Where did you think all the torches on the walls come from? I’ve wondered since I got here. This explains it.”

  “It does?” Edmond asked.

  “Someone is maintaining the dungeon,” Pettigrew said.

  “Who? Reg?” Edmond asked.

  “Reg has never set foot inside.” Daffodil tilted her head. “...as far as I know.”

  “The dungeon’s huge,” Edmond said. “He couldn’t clean all this on his own.”

  “It’s not Reg,” Daffodil said. “Which means someone inside the dungeon is maintaining it.”

  Pettigrew nodded slowly at them while grinning.

  “Who?” Daffodil asked.

  “I don’t know yet,” Pettigrew said. “Whoever it is, is hiding loot to help adventurers. Maybe they don’t like the dragon either.”

  “We’ve been here long enough,” Edmond said. “Is there anything in this closet we need?”

  “The parchment seems to be part of a higher level spell.” Pettigrew stuffed them into his pack. “I’ll take the pole in case I need to poke someone... I mean something. And the sacks might be useful for all the treasure we find.”

  “All right. Now let’s keep moving.” Edmond led the way though the right exit and along a twisty corridor until he came to an open door on the right. Inside, chests lined the walls and a large pile of gold filled the space between.

  “Did we just find the non-existent gold?” Daffodil asked.

  “It looks real.” Pettigrew poked the floor with his pole. When nothing happened, he skipped into the room. Scooping up gold with both hands, he let it trickle through. “It feels real too.”

  After a moment, Edmond stepped through the door, followed by a more reluctant Daffodil. The door slammed shut behind them.

  With a shimmer, the gold and chests vanished, replaced by bleached human bones. Pettigrew stared at the handful of finger bones he was grasping, before flicking them away and leaping back.

  Water splashed through grates where the chests had been, quickly covering the floor.

  Daffodil splashed to the door and pulled at it, then charged it, but it didn’t even shake. Rubbing her shoulder, she pointed above the door. “What’s that say?”

  Edmond hurried closer. “T N E S S F F T T.”

  Pettigrew thrust his pole at the door. “T’nez Sphootut!”

  Nothing happened.

  “Tea ness foot!” Pettigrew tried spinning around the pole, but couldn’t keep it upright. “Ton ess foof toot!”

  “I don’t think they’re words.” Edmond struggled to recall anything similar he’d read. The clammy sensation creeping up his trousers didn’t help.

  Pettigrew shrugged. “It was worth a try.”

  The water reached Edmond’s calves. “There must be a button or something.”

  They spread out and examined the walls, looking for anything out of place. Edmond tried not to panic as the water got to his thighs. Unless it stopped, he’d be underwater soon; and the others were shorter than he was.

  He poked at a suspicious crack with his axe. A section of the wall peeled away, splashing water over his chest. “The wall is soft. We might be able to dig through it.”

  Daffodil pulled out her sword and sheared off a chunk. She swiped again and more fell off.

  “Look over here!” Pettigrew waved his pole at the wall.

  Edmond stopped chopping and looked where Pettigrew was pointing, at a ragged, person-sized alcove. “Good job. How did you do that?”

  “I didn’t.” Pettigrew pointed at the skeleton bobbing in the waist-high water. “I think he did.”

  Another section of wall fell away without their help. Cutting the wall away wasn’t the answer.

  “I spotted something else,” Pettigrew said. “There’s a space above the door. There’s a blank spot where there should be another letter.”

  Edmond studied the lintel. Pettigrew was right: the letters were off-centre. “Well spotted. So, soft walls, a missing letter, rising water, and a locked door. What do we do?”

  Pettigrew rolled his eyes. “Daffodil lifts me up and I figure out the puzzle.”

  Daffodil didn’t argue; she waded through the water lapping around her chest and heaved Pettigrew onto her shoulders.

  Pettigrew poked the free space with his stick; it was as soft as the rest of the wall.

  Edmond peered up, seeking a pattern in the letters. He jumped as something slithered around his leg. “There are creatures in the water.”

  Something silver flickered through the murk. On closer inspection, several somethings.

  “Oh!” Daffodil said.

  “Maybe.” Pettigrew stroked his chin again. It was as poor at expressing wisdom as cu
nning. “You’re right!”

  He poked with the end of the pole, drawing a crude ‘O’ in the free space. With a whoosh, the water drained from the room, leaving them sodden but unharmed. Pettigrew clambered from Daffodil’s shoulders, boot catching her in the stomach.

  “Ow,” Daffodil said.

  “Sorry.” Pettigrew raised an eyebrow. “How did you realise it was ‘O’, though?”

  “I didn’t,” Daffodil said. “An eel slithered up my trousers.”

  “Ah.” Pettigrew’s face returned to its usual arrogance.

  Edmond upended one boot. “Why don’t you tell us what the puzzle was?”

  “They’re the first letters of each number from ten down,” Pettigrew said. “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two becomes T N E S S F F T T. The next in the list is one, or ‘O’.”

  “Oh.” Edmond knew he’d have been floating lifeless long before he figured that out.

  “You know, maybe you’re not completely useless, Pettigrew,” Daffodil said, surprising Edmond with her generosity.

  “Thanks.” For a moment, Pettigrew looked happy.

  Emptying his other boot, Edmond realised another door had appeared opposite the first. Had it always been there, invisible to them? Or had grown out of the wall somehow? Easing it open, he discovered another empty corridor. This uniformity was making pig-herding seem an interesting visual experience. Which was ironic as the room at the far end contained more skeleton pigs.

  This time, Pettigrew got the timing right on the door and they dispatched them easily. As they finished the last one, there was a new flash of thunder and they glowed green again.

  Edmond peered at Daffodil. “You went up in Charisma and Dexterity. Pettigrew, you got Charisma and Intelligence.”

  Daffodil swallowed, then stared at the floor.

  “Err…” Pettigrew looked sheepish. “You got Luck.”

  “What else?”

  “Nothing else,” Pettigrew said. “Double Luck. Your Luck is fourteen.”

  “What?” Edmond asked. “How is that possible? I’ve been fighting those pigs, just like Daffodil. I tried to help solve the puzzle.”

  “Hey, Luck’s useful,” Pettigrew said. “It found that hidden compartment.”

  “Exactly,” Edmond said. “It found the compartment, not me. Luck is… it’s not a real attribute. It’s like someone else is doing it all for me.”