The chamber couldn’t have been anything other than a throne room. A massive stone dais stood at the rear of the room, and parts of a truly huge snake person skeleton rested upon it. Decay surrounded all four walls of the room, perhaps once the piles of mold had been tapestries, or chests full of treasure. Now, large mounds of dirt sported mushrooms.
I hesitantly moved into the room, my sense of unease growing. The still air seemed to shout that I should not be in this place. I stiffened my spine and flipped my hair before taking one solid step after another. The dead were the dead. I would not be ruled by fear.
After making a complete circle of the dais, or the throne, I was beginning to feel worried. I didn’t see anything obvious that would help me open the huge stone door and proceed deeper into the dungeon. Walking through the throne room gave me a better appreciation of how dangerous the place would have been for adventurers before, though. This area had to be the spot! I had to be missing something!
Fortunately, I happened to look down while sighing. I noticed something glinting through a hole in the side of the dais. Bending down, I examined the area closely, and after poking around, I discovered a hidden drawer.
Within was not only what I had been looking for, a massive stone key, but also a beautiful sheathed knife, probably spared from the ravages of time by being locked within the dais. I withdrew the blade from its dark sheath, and my breath caught. Blessed steel! I smiled and put the weapon in my belt.
The dark was still frightening and oppressive, but for the first time since I’d found myself trapped in an elite dungeon, I allowed myself to feel a little bit of optimism. Maybe I could escape after all!
Thank you, Creator, I silently prayed as I left as quickly as possible. I was trying to be strong, but the remains of the dungeon were creepy as hell, and I would be glad to be gone.
On the way out, I touched my new knife again and grinned. I’d never owned any blessed steel before, and I’d found a knife! I was one hell of a lucky woman!
Creeping Danger
How can I be so unlucky? I almost groaned, but the overwhelming hush of the dead ruins kept me silent. I frowned as I examined my ruined pack.
On the way back through the ancient buildings, my pack had snagged on a sharp stone corner and ripped open, scattering all of my meager belongings across the floor. The thick fabric had been tough, but apparently could still tear.
I grumbled under my breath and replaced everything, then held it closed, hurrying back to my little pool of light back in the tunnel. The fire was almost dead when I arrived, and I quickly found a few small things that would burn. I wasn’t choosey and didn’t look too closely at what I was grabbing. I kind of didn’t want to know what some of it was.
With my backup light no longer in danger, I turned off my magic torch to save the m-stone and set about fixing my pack in the dim light. At least the rip had been fairly clean.
I gritted my teeth and removed one of my two rags from my pack. It would need to be sacrificed for the greater good. The bronze knife Gonzo had given me had been destroyed, but at least I’d found a knife in the ancient throne room. The alternative would have been trying to use my short sword, which would not have been ideal.
Even in the flickering light of my campfire, my blessed steel knife was beautiful. Before holding a Dolos orb, I’d never even seen, much less held anything so valuable. The knife gleamed, even in the meager glow I had to work with. It had a gently curving blade and was large enough to be used as a fighting knife.
The rear edge was not sharpened except for the last inch or two; a fact I knew would not change. I didn’t know much about blessed steel blades, but I did know they’d resist growing dull, and also reject new sharpening attempts and such, just reverting back within a day or two.
The handle was made of blessed steel just like the blade and was decorated with scrollwork and floral patterns. The knife had some weight to it, and the pommel balanced the entire weapon nicely in my hand.
The sheath looked like darkened bone or horn or something. I briefly wondered how it had been preserved through the years, but then I remembered the area I’d found it in. It had probably been sealed up for a long time.
I took hold of my new knife and stared critically at the tear in my pack again. I needed something to bind it. I didn’t have any string or cord long enough, so I would need to make some, hence why my rag was doomed. Out of habit, I activated my vib-blade ability to save the edge of my knife, and moved to cut the rag.
The lilting, female voice appeared out of nowhere, startling me so badly I stumbled backwards, dropping the knife and springing back to draw my sword.
I looked around wildly, staring into the darkness. Damn, I’d left my magic torch lying on the ground next to the fire. I stayed very still for seemingly endless moments, slowly calming my beating heart, straining my hearing to the utmost. I even used my Vibration abilities to focus my hearing.
Nothing.
Finally, slowly I relaxed and sheathed my sword. My mind had been playing tricks on me, but I gave myself a pass. I was trapped in a dark, dead, elite dungeon that might still kill me.
I headed back toward my dwindling fire and plunked down on the ground, grabbed my knife, and began fixing my pack again. It took some time in the bad light, but I carefully punched a few holes near the tear in my pack. Then I cut the rag into a long, thin strip of cloth. I used this new, improvised binding to tie shut the tear.
The repair job was crude, but it would work.
That finished, I grabbed all the nearby burnable material I could and heaped it onto my fire. Despite my regained calm, I was still feeling uneasy, wondering if the voice would come back. The shadows seemed even more ominous as I worked, and I reflexively strained my ears to hear every imagined noise and echo through the dungeon.
By the time I got the campfire properly blazing for the first time, I was stressed and exhausted. Fatigue set in on me, and I gingerly lowered myself to sit with my back against the tunnel wall. I had only been meaning to take a quick break, but before I knew it, I’d nodded off to sleep.
***
I awoke in the weirdest, most disturbing way possible. A woman’s yell echoed in my head,
I blearily opened my eyes, my mind in a swirl of profound confusion. It took a second to remember where I was, especially since my fire had burned down to a few cinders. It took a couple more startled seconds to realize that I was hearing the voice in my head again, and that it was definitely talking to me. But then I heard new noises. A scritch-scritch sound was coming from down the tunnel.
The noise touched on something primal in me, making my stomach drop.
Thankfully, the phantom voice wasn’t screaming at me anymore, which was good since my frayed nerves might not have handled it well. I slowly reached for my magic torch on the ground, and as soon as my fingers touched it, I continued to listen and tensed to move.
I heard the noises again, closer this time. This was real; it wasn’t my imagination. I clicked on the magic torch, and my dilated eyes easily penetrated the newly illuminated gloom.
The tunnel was full of monsters. They walked across the ground, even clung to the walls and ceiling. Each monster had a black carapace and stood as tall as a man. They looked a lot like centipedes with longer legs, the first half of their body curving up to form a torso of sorts. Their long, front legs were held like the front legs of a mantis, and each creature had multifaceted eyes above huge mandibles, their jaws dripping with venom.
When the light came on, the creatures all rushed forward, and I didn’t have any time to think. Like countless other times in my life, I had a choice. I could run, but that would mean turning my back to almost certain death.
I chose to fight.
I drew my sword and sprang forward, activating my vib-blade ability and cutting off a surprised
monster’s head before it had time to react. Even using all my strength and my vib-blade ability at maximum power, I still felt resistance while cutting through the creature’s tough armor. The insectoid demon’s many limbs spasmed as it died, and I leaped back so it wouldn’t rip me apart in death.
The monsters nearest the thrashing creature sprang onto their headless comrade, jamming their limbs into the hole of its neck and ripping it apart. As the rear ranks skittered forward, they near-silently joined in with the other cannibals, devouring their own kin. I used the opportunity to grab my pack and retreat, blanching at the sheer savagery of what I’d just witnessed.
The next few moments were a nightmare of flashing chitin, clicking mandibles, and the feeling of my bronze blade chopping through monsters limbs. Without my air skating ability, I would have been buried under a murderous pile of ravenous demons almost immediately. As it was, I barely held back the hoard of cutting, snapping nightmares as they darted forward and scuttled up the walls.
I kept the magic torch in my off hand, using its wide light configuration. Even with the light, I could still barely see the hoard pouring out of the darkness. It was like they were trying to move around the light and catch me unawares. I didn’t have time to really ponder the implications of that, but I knew if I let the creatures box me in, I was as good as dead.
After another retreat, I darted forward, severing an armored claw, and suddenly remembered what the creatures were. I’d read about them in my old books, and if I was right, they were called stony skinned beetle headed carrion eating many legged wall creeper demons.
Creeper demons were extremely dangerous. They were almost blind, but their other senses were incredibly sharp. With thick, natural armor that would stop even blessed steel blades, natural resistance to most magical attacks, and the strength to penetrate bronze armor like tin, they were not usually encountered in Berber. These demons were usually only in more difficult dungeons in other continents.
Wonderful. If I hadn’t been orb-Bonded, I would have had no chance against the creepers. In fact, if I’d been a standard strength and toughness type ‘Bonded, I still would have already been dead. My Vibration power was proving handy, but still, it might not be enough.
Knowing what the creepers were didn’t really help my situation much, either. I fought my growing panic, riding my anger for strength so I wouldn’t crack while fighting. I stayed alive by giving ground steadily, but getting a cut in here and there. It was a deadly dance, and one misstep would mean my death. I screamed in challenge, and I thought I saw a few of the nearest horrors twitch.
As I retreated, one particularly aggressive creeper had moved ahead of its fellows and got close even after I air skated back. Too close. If I hit a rock or tripped in any way, I was going to go down hard, and these things would be all over me in a heartbeat.
I snarled and howled, my battlecry a savage, “Hazard! Hazard!” This time I definitely saw the nearest creepers flinch when I screamed. I ducked underneath one of the nearest monster’s wicked claws and managed to land a solid blow to its midsection, my short sword describing a wicked arc with viscous ichor and pieces of chitin.
The creeper was mortally wounded and hissed as it fell back. Then just like when I’d beheaded the first monster, the other creepers fell on it, holding its limbs and jamming their claws into the wound I’d just made to rip it open, then gleefully burying their heads in its entrails.
I screamed my war cry and took advantage of the lull to dart forward, delivering another savage cut to one creature’s segmented back. The creeper curled back, hissing, and several of its fellows grabbed hold of the stricken demon, preparing to devour it.
With what I could see further down the tunnel, the creepers’ cannibalistic nature was not going to save me. There were just too many of them. The realization made my heart drop, but I didn’t let despair take me. I survived the streets of Bittertown as a little girl, and I would survive this too, or at least go down spitting defiance at my enemies.
I screamed my warcry, “Hazard!” as I gave ground, and saw a creature flinch again. This gave me an idea. I remembered the Vibration enhanced scream ability that I hadn’t tried yet.
Since I was about to die, I figured this was as good of a time as ever. I gathered air in my lungs, then drew on my Vibration power, directing it to my throat. I screamed.
If I hadn’t been somewhat protected from my own power, the result would have destroyed my eardrums and probably would have knocked me unconscious. Fortunately for me, I was just left with a ringing head. The creepers hadn’t been similarly sheltered.
My magic-enhanced scream was amplified by the tunnel, bouncing off the walls, and scythed through all the creepers in sight. All of the monsters in my pool of light dropped to the ground, thrashing and hissing, digging great furrows into the stone floor with their deadly, scythe-like claws.
The nearest creepers had been so deeply affected, they weren’t even moving. Almost instantly, some of the rear ranks of monsters rushed up, jumping on the others that were convulsing on the ground. I watched in sick fascination and realized that some of the debilitated creatures had injured each other as they writhed in pain. This had all begun another sick feeding frenzy among the monsters.
In the dim light of my magic torch, the carnage was surreal, terrifying, and disgusting. I distantly registered pain in my throat for a while before I really realized how badly I’d hurt myself with my sonic scream. My vocal cords were so raw that I could only quietly croak, “Hazard!” as I attacked, using the chaos to my advantage.
Some of my old rage, carefully held in check since adulthood began to stain my composure. These creatures were trying to kill me. They must be DESTROYED! “Hazard!” I croak-screamed, jumping on the back of a feasting creeper. I slammed my sword into its back. Then I used my Flight ability to feather-jump backward, narrowly avoiding the limbs of several other creepers as they tackled the one I’d just mortally wounded.
I snarled, my eyes wild as I chopped through limbs, using a complicated series of strikes to maintain momentum, the vib-blade-enhanced bronze sword in my hand like an extension of my body.
More creepers were arriving out of darkness, focused on me despite the surrounding chaos. One dropped from the ceiling overhead, and I almost didn’t notice in time to dodge. The creepers’ black carapaces made them difficult to see outside the direct light of my magic torch. I desperately hoped the m-stone wouldn’t give out, but that worry, like everything else, was muted in the wake of my indignant rage.
My enemies must die! How dare they try to harm me! I tasted blood as I continued to warble my battle cry past shredded vocal cords. My throat was too damaged for another sonic scream, but I desperately wished I could hurl another at these rotting bugs again.
Eyes flashing, I bared my teeth and cut down two creepers in quick succession, sentencing them to be eaten alive. I laughed, the sound coming out like a tortured gurgle. I further showed my anger and disdain with slashes of cold bronze.
Lisa had treated me poorly, had mixed me up, had used me, and had ultimately betrayed me, but she’d taught me how to fight. She’d also taught me how to use my anger, drawing power from it. I had learned a better way to fight as an adult, or so I’d thought, but I was tired of thinking.
I just wanted to live. I wanted to hurt those that wanted to hurt me. How dare they?
“Hazard!” I choked, lunging, my sword punching through the carapace of another feasting creature. I hissed and wondered how many of the bitches I could kill before they took me down.
The voice cut through my thoughts like winter wind from an open window. “Huh?” I managed, almost getting caught by a creeper in my distracted state.
The voice screamed in my mind,
My mouth soundlessly worked for a moment b
efore I turned on one heel and sprinted for the end of the tunnel. Death had been all but certain a moment ago, but the voice had reminded me about the key, forgotten amidst the stress and terror of the creeper demons attacking.
Using air skating when I could, I made it to the door without the creepers snapping at my heels...yet. It felt like every movement I made was glacially slow as I fished around my pack for the key, and slammed it into the matching hole. As soon as the key was inserted, the door rumbled and began to rise.
As soon as the door was high enough, I slid my pack through, then began scooting through myself. The feeling of the thick, heavy stone on top of me was a sensation I knew I would never forget. Even though the door was rising, thoughts of being crushed would have made me pause if I hadn’t been fleeing from a horde of insatiable, carnivorous monsters.
Once I was through to the other side, the door continued to rise, coming up to my knees. Even through the rumbling and scraping of the massive stone slab, I could hear scrabbling claws of the approaching creepers.
Oh yeah, I’d forgotten that part. I could feel the approaching monsters through the ground as I frantically searched for a lever. I must have activated some sort of low-level tremble-sense ability, my stress and panic having an effect on my magic.
Finally, after what felt like an age, I found the lever to one side of the doorway. I quickly grabbed hold and threw my strength into the effort, barely managing to pull the bar down. After the lever was down, the rumbling sound changed, and the creepers surged forward faster in reaction. The door was halted, open up to my chest.
With my magic torch, I spotted the dim light glinting off creeper carapaces as they scuttled forward, some of them clicking their mandibles. There were more of them now. I recognized my approaching death.
Mitigating Risk Page 13