by M B Reid
Logan came through the passageway after me, holding a torch high in one hand while aiming his wand with the other. As he stepped into the room his circle of torchlight danced across the earthen walls, revealing absolutely nothing. As we’d suspected after throwing the first torch, the room was empty. Still, paranoia was a good thing in a situation like this. I crept toward the torch in the centre of the room. As I reached it I sheathed my scimitar and picked up the burning wood. If we were going to be attacked, surely now would be the moment to do it.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding. It was weird how that happened. I didn’t actually need to breath, our little swimming expedition had proved that, but I still did it naturally. Which led to silly things like holding my breath in anticipation, or panting in panic. Nothing about this undead race made any sense to me, but until someone assembled all of the stones I was stuck like this.
With the torch in one hand, and the shield hanging heavily off my other arm, I made my way across the room to where the seal had been. The torchlight illuminated the last few corners of the room, though I’d already known they were empty. Whatever had attacked Logan was gone now. The only place it could come from was the open seal. Curiosity pulled me closer to the dangerous opening. The seal on the wall had been a perfect circle meshed with the rough earth wall of the room. Now that it had gone, a circular tunnel stood in its place. The walls were impossibly smooth, and the tunnel looked to be a perfectly uniform width for as far as I could see.
There was no way the tunnel had formed naturally, nor could I think of any way that tools might have made it. It was altogether too flawless for anything short of magic. It was also empty.
“Looks like they left” I said over my shoulder to Logan. He still hadn’t strayed far from the entryway, and I honestly couldn’t really blame him. He’d almost died fighting god knows how many ratkin by himself, and this ratman sounded a lot larger than what I had fought. Unless this was like a fisherman's tale, an exercise in exaggeration. Logan wasn’t the kind of guy to make up a story though, not on something this serious. His fear could have clouded his reasoning, but still - if he said there was a giant ratman I was going to take him at his word.
“What do you see?” He asked, his voice echoing across the room.
“Nothing. Long empty tunnel, can’t see where it leads. Seems to go straight though.” I paused, trying to get my bearings. If the staircase leading down from the clearing had been straight, and the tunnels between the rooms seemed to come off at sensible angles…
“I think it’s leading toward town” I announced. Logan seemed to think on that for a moment before replying.
“Yeah, I guess it might. Should we barricade it?”
“Hell yeah. Space out some spikes in here, and you’ll be able to snipe anyone coming well before they’re a threat.” I glanced back at him and thought I saw a hint of a smile at that. Maybe, just maybe, he was going to be alright.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
“We should really explore further” I said as we dragged the third spiked barricade into position in the middle of the tunnel. Because of the curvature of the walls we could fit three barricades across, with the edge ones angled slightly forward. The roof was low enough that it would be impossible to jump the barricades but there was enough room that someone could slowly edge their way past either end. Anyone trying to come this way would be easy pickings for Logan and his wand.
“No I-I don’t think that’d be a good idea” Logan stammered, hurrying back up the tunnel towards our dungeon. I followed along at a more leisurely pace.
“These barricades will stop anyone, but they’re only useful if you’re standing watch up there. Besides, what kind of necromancer doesn’t want to score a few more corpses to animate?” I joked, trying to lighten the mood.
Logan stopped dead in his tracks and turned very slowly to look at me.
“Is this a joke to you?” He asked. Before I could respond he was speaking again, using one skeletal finger to point at me with emphasis.
“You only have one life. I only have one life. If we go running off down that tunnel we could actually die, don’t you get that? This isn’t like every other game. One wrong move and we’re gone forever.” He stepped closer. He was shorter than me but something in his manner made me feel small and insignificant.
“I’m trying to secure this god damned dungeon so we have somewhere to live. The townsfolk would kill us. Whatever is down that tunnel will kill us. You’re running all over the place trying your best to get yourself killed. Why aren’t you here helping me make this place safe?” He paused, and I realised it wasn’t a rhetorical question.
“Dude, we’re in a beginner area. We can gear up here. If we do that we’re less likely to -”
“So you’re planning to avoid dying by actively seeking out fights?” His tone was so damn cynical that I felt my blood begin to warm up. Not anger, not yet, but definite annoyance.
“I’m trying to get strong enough that we don’t need to worry about fights.” Why couldn’t he see that hiding wasn’t a solution to these problems? We needed to be strong enough that we could take on any noob mobs we found. After that I’d be more than happy to help fortify this dingy, dark, shitty dungeon.
“We won’t need to fight anything if we have a secure dungeon” He snapped, and his wand hand twitched.
“I don’t want to secure this shitty, damp, dark little dungeon. We could be out there, living a decent life in Whiteridge. If you’d had the balls to go there you’d see. They’re not bad people, and it’s way more comfortable there than it is here” I stepped closer to him, my anger burning fully now. It was his wand hand that had done it. Whether he’d meant it or not, that was a threat. And I didn’t take kindly to threats.
“Go then, go to your precious town. See if they’ll take you in like a little orphan. Just don’t come running to me when they come after you with pitchforks. I’ve actually got something to live for.” Logan turned his back on me then, and stomped over toward the next barricade. A small part of me itched to stomp up behind and clock him. His words had cut me to the bone. Aside from my parents and brother, I didn’t have anyone to return to. He had a kid that was dependant on him, a wife who wanted to spend her life with him. That was all true, but it sure as hell didn’t give him the right to act like his life was more important than mine.
“Fuck you” I swore, swallowing down my anger. Going after Logan would only make things worse, I needed to get away from here. I made my way back through the dungeon to the front room and gathered my pack. The few belongings I had were still in it waiting for me. I pulled out the last of the food - two loaves of bread, some hard cheese, and a slab of cured meat - and stacked them onto the shelf next to Logan's gear. As much as he was pissing me off right now, I kind of understood his fear. We were in a truly messed up situation and I couldn’t see any good way out of it.
I glanced back toward the backroom, half hoping to see Logan in the doorway. The anger had all but left me now, and I knew I should go and apologise. There was nothing wrong with trying to fortify this place. Hell, my plan was to let some other fool be the hero. It’d be pretty damn hypocritical of me to hold that against Logan.
I took a half step toward the back room. Then I stopped. Screw it, he had just as much to apologise for, and he hadn’t come out here. I turned my back on the dungeon and made my way toward the stairs. Maybe Waylan would know something about the tunnel.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
In hindsight, I was an idiot.
I came to this realisation once the river gate came back into view. My little argument with Logan had been unavoidable. The way I’d handled big nose and the whole “gates are locked until further notice” situation also hadn’t been ideal. My problem now was simple; the gates were locked, and I had no way over the wall.
And somehow, with everything else that had been going on, I hadn’t realised that would be a thing. To make matters worse the sun was starting to dis
appear behind the mountains in the distance. If I weren’t facing the prospect of sleeping in the open it would have been beautiful. The fading light painted everything in reds, and pinks, there was even a dash of purple in the distance. Red sky at night, shepherds' delight.
I debated my options as I got nearer to the city. On one hand I could camp out here, and hope that the town gates would be opened again in the morning. On the other I could approach the gate now and hope that big nose had rotated off his shift. Maybe pray that the man hadn’t told anyone else about his failure to catch me. All of which seemed incredibly unlikely. Knowing my luck right now, it was probably big nose up on the wall watching me approach the town.
I’d jumped a fence during a lock-down. It wasn’t exactly a capital crime, but given how much they’d shouted while I was doing it I didn’t relish the thought of being captured by the city guard. I also didn’t like the idea of camping. Not when the town could be attacked by kobolds again at any moment.
Maybe I should go back and apologise to Logan.
“Ho there!” The guard atop the gate shouted, blowing that idea out of my head.
“Hello” I shouted back, unsure of the appropriate greeting when approaching a fortified city from the outside.
“Gates are closed” The second guard shouted. It was hard to tell from this distance, but there might have been enough of a nasal twang to the words to indicate big nose. Perhaps he had family in the guards.
“I’m looking to weather the night”
“Gates are closed” The second guard repeated.
I continued to approach the gates, silently praying that there weren’t any trigger happy guards. I could see the second guard had nocked an arrow, but he made no move to draw the bow. Maybe, just maybe, this could work.
“I’m travelling alone, carrying only enough to defend myself. These are dangerous lands. I’d rather not sleep in the open.” I was close enough to use a more conversational voice now, just projected as loudly as I could manage.
The first guard said something to the other that I didn’t catch. The second guard shook his head violently.
“Sorry traveller, the gates are closed.” The first guard sounded apologetic.
“Can I camp by the gates?”
The two shared another hushed discussion. I was almost on the bridge now, but still not near enough to hear distinct words.
“I don’t see -” The first guard began, but the second guard cut him off.
“You’re the one that ran away this morning!” He accused, apparently recognising me.
I stopped, just one foot on the bridge. I wasn’t exactly sure how to play this, and if I made a wrong move it could go bad. Like end of my life bad.
“So he is. Open the gates!” The first guard shouted. I took another tentative step forward, then stopped. Could this be a trap? Could it be anything other than a trap? I’d just been recognised as the guy who jumped over the wall and escaped. The guy that had been labelled a traitor by the pursuing guards. There was no way going through those gates was going to end well.
I took half a step backwards.
“Don’t” The second guard shouted, and I saw that he’d already taken aim at me. I’d shot bows in my youth, and I knew that you never drew an arrow back until you were ready to make a shot - holding a bow at full draw was exhausting. He hadn’t drawn the bowstring back, but he was definitely lining me up. He’d be able to shoot me before I made a dozen steps.
As I took all of that in the left gate swung open. Big nose and his two gormless companions stood behind it. I definitely didn’t have any options. I put my hands up and started walking forwards. One mad thought occurred to me, the only other possibility. I could either walk into the town, to a very uncertain future, or jump over the bridge. The river ran swiftly below me. If I turned invisible I could jump into it before the archer hit me. I wouldn’t drown, but god knows where I’d wind up.
I couldn’t see anything resembling safety downstream. Just grassland painted pink in the setting sunlight. I guess I didn’t have a choice after all. Keeping my hands up in the air I walked across the bridge and through the gate.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
As it turns out, Whiteridge doesn’t have a jail. Their solution to criminals was simple. If the crime was of sufficient merit they would relieve the perpetrator of their head. Otherwise they'd exile the criminal beyond the walls. Ironically, my crime was attempting to go beyond the city walls. It would be kind of funny, were I not sat in the centre of the street surrounded grumpy looking guards.
I’d been sitting painfully still for about twenty minutes. Terrified that if I moved a trigger happy guard would decide to skewer me. Finally the procession of nobles arrived. The few onlookers that were leering at me bowed to them in respect. I still didn’t understand that, but I had bigger problems at the moment. The murderous woman was walking beside the mayor, and she wore a most dangerous smile.
The procession came to a halt behind the guards, and big nose flashed them a crisp salute before speaking.
“Your Honor, we have captured the traitor that tried to flee from the city this morning” He drawled.
The mayor nodded, then came a few steps closer to me. He made a point of keeping at least one guard between us, and the look of distaste on his face was clear. Perhaps he was displeased at having to interrupt his evening routine to come and deal to the likes of me.
“That’s him!” The murderous woman shouted, her voice cracking. Was that fear I heard?
“He’s the monster that killed Darius, I know it is.”
“Is this true?” The mayor asked big nose, and the large guard blushed.
"I'm unsure, sir" He stammered.
“It’s him, I know it is!” the murderous woman crowed.
The mayor looked me in the eye before speaking.
“Miss Voria Lancaster has accused you of being an undead beast and murdering her companion. What say you?” He demanded.
Murder? Was this the closest I was going to get to a trial? Panic gripped me. This was not going to be easy.
“I’m innocent your honour, on both counts. This is a case of mistaken identity.” I said, trying to keep my voice neutral.
“Sir, if I may, this man fled after the attack this morning. Those are the actions of a traitor.” Big nose interjected before the murderous woman - Voria - could cry something else.
“I did that.” I started, before the mayor could lay the charge against me.
“I have a friend living beyond the walls, and I felt it my duty to check on his health. I fought for Whiteridge during the assault this morning, those that were in the church can attest to that.” I looked around, hoping to spot a familiar face in the crowd beyond the guards. I only recognised one woman, and she shrank away from me as our eyes met. No-one here would vouch for me.
“He lies! A lying undead monster!” Voria screeched, and then covered her mouth with one hand as if the words had come unbidden.
In that moment, I had a bit of a plan. My mana was still full. I activated my latest ability, then reached up and pulled back my hood.
Gasps rippled through the crowd as my hood fell back to my shoulders, bathing my face in torchlight. If the spell had worked as intended I should have pale white skin with a large scar running both my cheeks and the bridge of my nose. It should be a sickening sight. Judging by the crowds reaction it had achieved its goal.
“I hide myself because of my scars, they bring me great shame.” I said, scarcely more than a whisper. A few in the crowd nodded empathetically.
“I am not an undead monster, I’m a man accused of crimes he did not commit. I have never seen that woman before. And I know nothing of this murder she accuses me of.” I pointed to Voria for the barest moment, not wanting it to appear accusatory.
“The only crime I committed was leaving the city while the gates were sealed. That was to check on the welfare of a friend. I returned tonight to help fight the threat of the ratkin. I wish to help this city.
” I could see that I had swayed the crowd, they seemed to be supporting me now, some nodding along with what I had to say.
The mayor looked unsure. How long had Voria been whispering poisonous words into his ears? He was the one I needed to sway, and one of the least friendly faces around. Aside from big nose and, of course, Voria. This wasn’t a good time to remain silent and let him ruminate on his thoughts.
“Were the ratkin working with the kobolds?” I asked, directing my question to big nose rather than the mayor. As much as the guy might hate me, he seemed to take his job seriously. I hoped he would be looking into the attack from this morning. The big guard looked at the mayor for a long moment, as if seeking permission to respond. The mayor gave no answer either way.
“We think they were, yes.” Big nose answered finally.
“I’m a decent fighter. If you think I’ve violated the laws of Whiteridge, please, let me work off my crimes by helping defend this place.” I could see more nods coming from the crowd. A few even murmured in agreement. The woman from the church was among them. The mayor stroked his chin for a long moment. He was refusing to look at Voria, who was trying her hardest to get his attention without saying anything.
“Yes, that is reasonable. You will also pay a fine of one thousand gold into the town coffers. For your crime of disobeying the orders of the guard you are to work in the service of this city until your debts are paid. You will report to Rudy, Duncan here will take you to him.” He motioned to big nose.
“Until it's paid, we will deduct a portion from your wages. Have you any questions?”
A one thousand gold fine was ridiculous, but I bit back my urge to argue. This was the best outcome I could have hoped for. A small vindictive part of me was taking great joy from the look of pure shock spread across Voria’s face. Besides, I’d made a hundred gold in a day fighting a kobold tribe. My debt could be cleared in a few weeks.