The Dungeoneers

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The Dungeoneers Page 21

by Jeffery Russell


  “Thud,” it said, through its sinister grin.

  “Alaham,” he hissed back.

  “Right here,” it said, and held up an egg.

  Thud blinked.

  “Wot?”

  “He’s in this egg.”

  “He’s…wot?”

  Durham laughed again.

  “Miss Cluck saved us. She laid this egg. I dropped it in the phlyactery.” Durham held the egg up. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce to you the new and mighty form of Alaham the Necromancer, Alaham the Lich, Alaham the King…” he paused and gestured grandly, holding the egg high. “Alaham the mighty egg.”

  “Ha!” Thud said, then tried again. “HA!”

  And then he roared with laughter. The dwarves around him were laughing and crying. Gong dropped Ruby in the process but she was laughing hard enough that she didn’t seem to mind.

  Durham staggered and Thud rushed forward to grab him in a mighty hug, then regretted it instantly on account of the height difference and Durham’s lack of pants.

  -21-

  Thud knelt next to Cardamon and gave his shoulder a shake.

  “Nrg,” Cardamon said.

  “How alive are you?”

  Cardamon opened one eye, squinting against the light.

  “Well, you don’t look like anything I’d wanna find in me afterlife so I’m guessing I’m alive enough.” He tried to sit and winced, falling back. “Think me ribs may be subdivided a bit. And me arm.” He lifted his head and glanced around. “Managed to win without me, eh? Musta been an easy fight.”

  “Now you knows why I got you on trap team ‘stead o’ vanguard, eh?” Thud said. “S’posed to take hits like that on yer shield.”

  “Next time someone swings a giant bone arm at me I’ll keep that in mind.” He closed his eyes. “This is the part where I go back to sleep so’s I can wake up in a soft bed somewheres.”

  Leery chose that moment to appear at the edge of the dais, arriving via an elegant forward walkover. “Sorry I’m late,” she said. “Had to jump back and forth between walls then hand over hand along a ledge then…”

  “You’re most able at the moment,” Thud interrupted. “That walkway o’er there leads all the way out. Bring in the support teams. Tell ‘em bring some stretchers too an’ tell Doc to bring ‘is field kit. I want you hurryin’. No flippin’, rollin’ or climbin’ along the way, eh?”

  She nodded and took off at a run.

  Thud went over to Ruby. She was sitting against the altar, Mungo crouched next to her examining her wound through his loupe. His beard was completely gone now. Thud glanced around and saw it on the ground nearby. Miss Cluck seemed to have taken up residence on it.

  “How is she?” he asked.

  Mungo shrugged. “She has a fragment of phylactery in her shoulder but I can’t objectively determine the particular level of…”

  “How are you?” Thud tried again, addressing Ruby directly.

  She winked at him. “Gonna have a new scar to scare the boys. I’ll be haunting your dreams in no time. Could use some clean bandages though. Everyone here looks like they were dipped in a latrine.”

  Thud grinned. “On their way. You hurt, Mungo?”

  “Negative.”

  “Ginny?”

  “Cuts and scrapes. I’ll live.”

  “Gong?”

  “Just some fresh scratches in me breastplate.”

  “An’ Durham? Don’t think I’d forget ye, lad. I’ve thought you were a dead ‘un two or three times this trip.”

  “Still have my heart so I think I came out ahead. And you?”

  “Fine, fine, thanks for asking.” He pulled out a bent and wrinkled cigar, struck a match and sent out a contented ring of smoke. “Gots lots o’ questions, though. First one on me mind is why’d all them skeletons fall apart?”

  “The crown,” Ruby said. “It’s what he was using to give them all life. As soon as I pulled it off of his head he lost them.” She fixed him with a penetrating stare. “This is my serious face, Thud. We are going to have a long talk about that crown. In the meantime, don’t touch it. Pick it up with a stick and drop it in a bag.”

  Thud nodded. “All right, I can live with that. Mungo, about that mace…”

  “I hypothesized that using it would be of more intrinsic value than contract completion. I anticipated a more significant result, however.”

  “Well, seems maybe the contract don’t exactly exist so good call. An’ the boom was big enough. Slowed him down just long enough.”

  “Wait,” Gong said. “What was that you said about the contract?”

  “Seems it was a sham. Ploy by Alaham to get us to bring Durham here.”

  “So we ain’t getting paid for this? And what’d he want with Durham? No offense meant,”

  “None taken,” Durham said.

  “Needed him for that spell he was tryin’ to do,” Thud said. “Seems Durham here is the last of Alaham’s line…” Thud paused thoughtfully. “Which makes you his heir, don’t it?”

  “I suppose,” Durham said. “He seemed to think so, anyway.” He waved his arm, indicating the great, dark, stinking cave full of bones. “All this can be mine.”

  “Yer missin’ the bigger picture, lad,” Thud said. “Alaham ruled Tanahael. That ruined city up top and all the land surrounding it is likely yours as well. You inherited an entire kingdom. Might be it’s a bit fallen apart, looted, deserted and overgrown but it’s still a kingdom however scruffy it might be.”

  “Ermmm…”

  “Better than that knighthood you was wantin’, eh? Let that sink in your nog a bit and we’ll talk about that more later too. Tell me about that egg.”

  Durham gave a slight shake of his head, clearing away the thought of a kingdom. “I remembered you saying that any living bit would do for a phylactery. I don’t know that there’s much life inside an egg but I guess it was alive enough to count. I didn’t have much else in the way of options. Surprised it worked, actually. Glad it did. I’d have hated for my last living act to have been dramatically dropping a useless egg in a vase.” He held the egg up. Everyone was silent. “Should I break it?”

  “Well, let’s not be hasty. Satisfying as it might be to watch Alaham’n’eggs go sliding down a wall I’m feared that might just release him again. Figure he ain’t got lips in there so he’s probably not much in the way of reciting spells or anything. ‘Til he hatches at least. Keep it safe, we’ll do more figgerin’ on that later also.”

  A procession of dwarves appeared from the hallway and started across the bridge. The Dungeoneers were back to their usual crisp efficiency. Cardamon and Ruby were loaded onto stretchers and bustled off with Doc trotting along beside them. Nibbly began directing the members of the looting team around the cave. Gryngo began disassembling the ballista. Thud clapped Durham on the shoulder.

  “I‘m heading back to camp and yer back on me shadow duty. First order is to find you some pants. Also, got a bottle o’ spirits back there I’m gonna need some help with.”

  Durham’s gastrointestinal track winced.

  “Bring the chicken,” Thud added.

  ᴥᴥᴥ

  Walking back through the dungeon was an eye-opening experience for Durham. It bore little resemblance to what it had been when they’d come through the other way. The furnishings were gone, the walls stripped of their tapestries, the statue pedestals empty. The rugs had been rolled up and removed. The whole place was taking on the feel of an empty house. They ascended through the catacombs, crossed the graveyard and made their way back through the temple. The wagons were lined up in front of it, sagging with the weight of their loads. Left over trap barrels and empty coops were piled to the side, unloaded to make more room for the haul. It was early evening, the sun deep and orange over the edge of the ruins. The smell of roasting mole hung in the air.

  “Want me to roast ‘er up for ya?” Gammi asked, meeting them at the edge of camp and looking pointedly at Miss Cluck.

  “No
, not this one,” Durham said.

  “Saved us all, this chicken,” Thud said. “She’s our official mascot now. Corporal Cluck. Gave her a promotion.”

  “Outranked by me own fowl,” Gammi said, shaking his head. “I’ll get one of the other ones cookin’ for ya.”

  ᴥᴥᴥ

  Dinner was lively. Thud ordered that they needed to empty all of the alcohol to make room on the wagons and the dwarves performed their duty with enthusiasm. Ruby had a pot of water boiling on the fire and was sipping at her tea but Durham knew for a fact that she’d been adding brandy to each cup. Mungo had salvaged his beard, now adorned with a few chicken feathers.

  “Mission success!” he said as he walked past Durham and gave him a wink.

  They spent hours around the fire that night, relating their various versions of what had transpired in the Crypt of Alaham. The story of the egg was a popular one and silence fell at the end of it when Durham held it up for everyone to see.

  “I think,” he said. “I have an idea of what to do with it that should solve all of the potential problems with it.” There was an expectant silence from his audience. Durham stood, walked over and dropped the egg into Ruby’s boiling tea water. Ruby looked slightly annoyed but the dwarves cheered. Later on Dadger and Gong produced a banjo and a drum. Ruby seemed annoyed by that as well.

  ᴥᴥᴥ

  Durham awoke to the green glow of bright sunlight through tent walls. He sat up. It felt like his brain was moving about two seconds behind his skull. The smell of coffee was enough to persuade him to stagger out of the tent. The dwarves had a blessedly shady canopy set up. There were only a few in the camp, a number more bustling about the wagons. Durham guessed that the others might be back underground, working, clearing and hauling.

  “Behold the King of Tanahael,” Ruby said. She patted the bench at her side.

  Durham rolled his eyes. Thud held out a cup of coffee. Durham took it and sat.

  Ruby held up a large, dusty book, the cover faded and cracked with age.

  “Like it or not it’s all in here. They recovered this from Alaham’s collection. Book of lineages.”

  “That book looks older than I am. How could it have me in it?” He took a sip of the coffee and wheezed. Thud was apparently a subscriber to the “hair of the dog” cure. The dwarf grinned at him and winked, raising his own mug in a silent toast.

  “It is,” Ruby said. “This book traces the lines of Tanahael up to a century or so ago. This one, however,” she said, holding up a comparatively newer book, “is much more recent. And you’re in it. Between the two it’s pretty clear.”

  Durham was a little shocked to discover that his name had been put in a book without his knowing about it. He was a lot shocked at being king of something.

  “I have no interest in being king of anything,” Durham said. “No one knows. Can’t we just keep this quiet?”

  “I can see how kingin’ about might put a damper on yer career guarding the sheep gate,” Thud said. “On the other hand, big parcel of land with no one livin’ on it and likely there’s enough from your share in the dungeon haul to put a nice little house out here.”

  “Wouldn’t me being king and Alaham’s heir mean that all of the dungeon loot is mine anyway?”

  Thud frowned. “Not sure you want ter play that card, son. If ya do…well, we’d leave you with a big pile of statues, rugs and books in the field out here, minus our expenses for clearing a dungeon in your kingdom which we’d take in the form of the small valuables. Then we’d send you our bill for services rendered. Since Alaham made the contract you inherit responsibility for that as well.”

  “I…uh…was just speculating.”

  “On the other hand,” Thud went on, “I want ter do right by ya. We could sell the loot as planned, subtract our costs and fee, give you your fair share of the rest and I could bring out a Dwarven construction team to build a nice big manor house. You could sublet the land for farming, build yerself a nice little steady income and live a life of ease. You could even still be a gaurd if’n ya wanted, either back in Karthor or we could build you yer own sheep gate out here that you could stand next to.”

  “A manor house?”

  “You saved the team. Barring any more idle speculation about who owns the dungeon haul you’re in me good graces. Plenty of worked stone laying around out here so materials cost would be mighty low and I got plenty enough credit with the dwarves for a work crew. So them’s your options as I see ‘em. Seems a pretty clear choice of shaft to me but it’s yer call to make.”

  “There’s a little more to being a king than living in a big house,” Ruby said. “Both Karthor and Iskae probably think they have some claim to this area even though they’re not using it. Claiming it as your kingdom might annoy them enough to send a few men out to conquer you and take it back. Should you bring them evidence of the claim they’ll likely counter-offer to declare it a fiefdom and assign it to you and your descendants. Then you’d be responsible for collecting taxes and raising troops if necessary. Complicated business, being king. More coffee?”

  “Found a friend for ya,” Thud said. He whistled.

  Squitters came bounding from between the tents moments later. He ran to Durham and began bouncing his front legs up and down, making ghostly grunting noises. Durham reached out and scratched his bony head.

  “How is he still alive?” Durham said. “Err…animated?”

  “I can only guess that there’s still a trickle of power in that egg,” Ruby said. “Just enough for Alaham’s first construct to keep going.”

  “’Spect he don’t eat much so there’s that,” Thud said. “Thinkin’ he comes with the kingdom.”

  Gryngo and Giblets came strolling up. Squitters barked enthusiastically at them. “Beggin’ me pardons but everything’s all set, Thud” Gryngo said.

  “Hope yer don’t mind a lake in the middle of yer kingdom,” Thud said to Durham.

  “Where would a lake come from?”

  “Lakes don’t really show up so much as they take the place of somethin’ else that went missin’. Least that’s the case here.”

  “Cave’s buggered,” Giblets said. “Ceilin’s cracked as grandmudder teefs. One column holdin’ the whole thing. Big column, yeh, but solo.”

  “We got it rigged up to bring it down,” Gryngo said. “Better now than as a surprise later.”

  “Not to mention it bein’ the biggest mass grave I ever heard of,” Thud added. “Only right. Gonna leave one helluva hole. River that made the cave’s gonna fill it in no time. And you get to name it, what with it being your kingdom and your lake. Tanahael Lake? Alaham Lake?”

  “Lake Dungeoneer,” Durham said.

  Thud’s face lit up and he gave Durham a silent nod.

  “The crown,” Ruby said, “Does not come with the kingdom.”

  Thud arched an eyebrow “So tell me ‘bout this crown.”

  Ruby sipped at her tea, considering.

  “Based on what Alaham was able to do with it, this can only be the Crown of the Bonebin, which makes it one of the most dangerous items in existence.”

  Thud nodded. “Kinda suspected as such. I reckon you already got a notion of what you want me to do with it.”

  “My notion is that you don’t do anything at all with it. It needs to be taken directly to the Widow and handed over.”

  “What widow’s that?” Thud asked.

  “She’s one of the Hermits of Grimm. She’s the one that directed the gray Hermits in the making of the artifacts. She needs to know that the crown was removed from where it had been hidden and it needs to be back in the Hermit’s care. The fact that Alaham had it may have deeper implications on the safety of all of the other bone artifacts. Trust me, Thud, when I say that any one of them in the wrong hands could bring another war, larger than the Daemonwars. The crown needs to be taken straight to the Godspires and delivered to the Widow in the monastery of Grimm.”

  Thud sucked thoughtfully on his cigar. “I i
magine she’d be pretty happy to have that back, eh? Might even bestow some sot of reward…”

  “The crown is going back to her even if we have to pay her to take it,” Ruby said. “But yes, I imagine that having a Hermit grateful to you will have some sort of substantial benefit.”

  “Well, alright then,” Thud said. “We’ll make for the Godspires. We’ll have a little chat with Farmer Radish ‘bout who he chooses to associate with then we’ll stop by Karthor along the way and Durham can claim either his kingdom or his guard post. Might even turn out this Widow lady has some other artifacts she needs recoverin’, eh?”

  “Who was her husband?” Durham asked.

  Ruby looked somber. “The man they raised as the Avatar of Grimm. Bonebin. His name before that is known only to the Widow. He was laid to rest with the rest of them, to wait. They both knew going in that it would be the end result. He sacrificed himself and his own wife had to perform the ritual that did it to him. The elves wrote a song about it.”

  “’Course they did,” Thud said with a snort.

  ᴥᴥᴥ

  The wagons were loaded, the camp packed and the oxbears harnessed. Durham had made himself a spot in the back of the lead wagon on a roll of musty carpets. Corporal Cluck was at his feet, chewing at a louse. Squitters next to her, looking like he wanted to chew on Corporal Cluck. Ruby sat on Durham’s left, writing steadily in her journal. Durham imagined she had a lot to record. Thud turned to her from the front bench.

  “Either of you want to say a few words to lay them folks to rest?”

  Ruby stood and looked out over the ruins of Tanahael. She thought for a moment.

  “You were at rest until torn from your slumber. Be at peace again.” She sat back down.

  “…and know that your kingdom will live again,” added Durham. Thud gave him a proud smile and a satisfied nod then waved his hand in the air. Gryngo, a few hundred yards away, waved back. He stooped to the ground briefly then came toward them at a run. There was a long, anticipatory wait; long enough for Gryngo to reach them and swing up into his seat on the last wagon.

 

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