Dungeon Lord: Abominable Creatures (The Wraith's Haunt Book 3)

by Hugo Huesca

  “Lord Edward!” Klek exclaimed, his eyes wide and his ears pulled flat against his head in fear. “The Heroes are on their way, we must run—” the batblin caught a glance of the clearing “—what happened here?”

  “Family reunion,” Ed said quietly. Behind Klek, the spider warriors were pulling the remains of a heavy-laded cart through the ramp. They seemed cranky. “Let me help you guys with that,” he said, reaching for one of the web strands. At least the cart seemed in condition to move, but he realized that the lid of the web-covered coffin had gotten cracked slightly during the impact.

  I hope that Lavy didn’t exaggerate the vampire’s resilience, Ed thought. If the coffin worked anything like a cocoon, the creature inside wouldn’t be able to survive even that small amount of damage. But there was nothing Ed could do about it, except cross his fingers.

  A batblin with dark fur and a pointy nose peeked from the cart’s tarp at Alvedhra’s sleeping body. “Ooh, shiny!” he cooed. “Come, Lily, let’s hold on to those trinkets!” He gave Ed a guilty grin. “For the Haunt, of course.”

  They hauled the coffin that had started all this mess atop the cart. The family crest drawn on its lid was some mythical creature with many barbed heads and a huge body. Possibly a hairy variant of a hydra. I hope you’re worth it, vampire. It’d be a shame to have to kill the monster inside after going to all this trouble for it.

  Kaga jumped atop the cart and grabbed at the reins. He convinced the hell chickens to move by a combination of threats, pull of the reins, screams, and pleads. Scar turned his long neck at one point and snapped at the kaftar, but Lavy clicked her tongue and the mount froze in place. One by one, the hell chickens moved, dragging the cart along with them. Slowly, as they tested the limits of their strength, they gained speed. Kaga guided them. When they left the underbrush behind, they began to gallop. Ed took a deep breath and ran after them.

  He wasn’t even winded when one of the Monster Hunters reached his side. “Dungeon Lord, we’re being chased,” the kaftar told him. “A single rider is ahead of all the rest by several minutes. It seems like he knows the forest better than the other Inquisitors. He’ll catch up unless we intercept him. Shall we take care of it?”

  Ed thought it over. An Inquisitor that knew the forest better than the others, and with Alvedhra in the same group. It wasn’t hard to do the math. “I think that’s an old friend.”

  He wasn’t keen on meeting Gallio—the man certainly wouldn’t be happy about tonight. But if Ed didn’t, Gallio would overtake the cart and probably try to stop them. Then it’d come to violence, and one of them would likely die.

  Gallio wasn’t a bad man. Ed had seen him risk his life during the attack on Burrova. They’d fought side by side—that had to count for something. Perhaps, he owed the Inquisitor an explanation.

  “I’ll go with you,” he told the kaftar. “Alder, you’ve two utterances left, right? Let’s nimble feet to speed things along.” He quickly organized the travel. Kes, Lavy, and Klek would stay behind to guard the cart. Ed and Alder would take Kaga’s kaftars and either catch up or meet them back at the Haunt.

  “Be careful,” Kes told him. She didn’t insist on coming along, which said volumes about her state of mind.

  It wasn’t long until they met with Gallio—all Ed had to do was slow down to a stroll and soon enough the sounds of a horse’s gallop through the undergrowth reached his ears. The Dungeon Lord waited with the kaftars and Alder guarding his sides.

  Gallio came into view seconds later, riding bareback atop a chocolate gelding. He had changed little since last time they met. Tanned and short, with a strong build and pale blond hair now kept down to a stubble. A fever burned in his eyes, and his shirt was wet with grime. And his character sheet had his attributes a couple ranks higher.

  When he saw Ed, he urged his horse forward. “That’s the second time you leave Alvedhra behind in that state,” he told Ed matter-of-factly.

  “That’s far enough, Gallio,” Ed said, raising an arm. He’d seen the Inquisitor’s sunwave in action once, and once had been enough to know it was better to stay out of its radius. “She’ll be fine, the draught only put her to sleep. It’s better than what she intended to do to Kes, in any case.”

  “Of course.” Gallio closed his eyes and sighed. “You’ve gone too far, Edward. Attacking the Inquisition, stealing our prisoner? I knew this would happen. You went from a well-intentioned young man into a Dungeon Lord bold enough to oppose the Light’s will directly.”

  “Well, perhaps if the Light hadn’t filled the countryside with murderous… I don’t even know what to call those things, but they sure as hell aren’t Heroes… then maybe we wouldn’t be forced to defend ourselves!” Despite himself, Ed felt anger bubble in his blood. He attempted to keep his temper in check, but dealing with the Inquisition was like trying to reason with a bully who kept hitting you and then ran screaming to an adult the second you hit back.

  Gallio shook his head. “That’s not how it works. You chose to become a Dungeon Lord. By that decision, you became the Dark’s servant. You are an enemy combatant in the middle of a war zone. You can die or you can surrender, but you can’t ask that we leave you alone. And don’t give me that look. I know full well you aren’t as innocent as you claim. Or have you forgotten the wraith you tried to raise to sentience?”

  Alder smacked his forehead. “Here we go again.”

  “Gallio. You, of all people, should know that things are more than what they look like,” Ed said.

  “And yet, most of the time, they end up being exactly what they insist they aren’t.”

  “We KILLED that wraith while the Inquisition twiddled their thumbs!” Ed’s eyes flashed green for an instant. He clenched his teeth and repressed the outburst. “Ioan wasn’t acting alone, Gallio. Whoever gave him the Bane’s egg wanted that wraith out there spreading chaos. I’ve prisoners that can tell you the same. Their leader, the real culprit, had dealings with a rich Lotian spellcaster. That’s about as much as they know, but it means that whoever was behind Burrova’s attack is still out there! We can’t waste time fighting among ourselves, we need to be looking for him!”

  The Inquisitor’s expression was inscrutable. Discreetly, a kaftar nudged Ed’s shoulder. They’d wasted too much time already. It was time to end the negotiations—one way or the other.

  And it seemed that Gallio had reached the same conclusion. “You can get a prisoner to swear on anything you want. I know this.” He raised his sword in challenge. “But if what you’re saying is true, then come with me willingly. We tried it your way before, and it led us nowhere. It’s time to trust the Light. It’s harsh, but only because it must be. Come with me and tell this story to the Inquisition, Edward. Submit to Alita’s judgment.”

  “Have you gone nuts?” Alder asked. “You’re asking him to go die horribly!”

  “No. I’m giving him the chance to redeem himself.”

  “Enough,” Ed said. He spoke in a whisper that dripped cold anger. “We’re leaving now, Gallio. I advise you don’t try to follow. The Haunt will take care of the Lotian. I just thought you ought to know.” He nodded to Alder. The Bard fumbled for his flute and lifted it to his lips.

  “Nimble feet!”

  Gallio scowled and aimed his sword at Ed. “I’m afraid I cannot let you leave. I’m a sworn Inquisitor, Edward. Last time we met, I told you it’d be this way. My duty is to apprehend you or die trying. And no offense, but you don’t have enough minions with you to stop me.”

  Ed’s kaftar raised their fanged scimitars and blowpipes and barked a challenge. “We’ll see about that!” one of them exclaimed.

  Gallio charged.

  Ed’s eyes burned green as he turned his anger into raw will. He still had all his spells, and his chat with the former Burrova’s Sheriff had left him itching to use them. His body tingled with magic as he poured his power into a minor order. “Stand,” he said, his voice charged with Mind-altering power.

  It all happened
too fast to see. Triumph shone in Gallio’s grin—Ed had tried to use minor order on a seasoned Inquisitor who was all but immune to that kind of magic. Raw surprise replaced the Inquisitor’s grin as his horse rose on its hind legs suddenly, its eyes as confused as Gallio’s.

  Ed watched as Alita’s warrior smacked the ground butt-first. Terrified, his horse hurried away. To his credit, Gallio was already surging to his feet, unbridled rage marring his face.

  “And that’s our cue,” Alder said. “Now hurry up, you don’t want me entering combat and ending nimble’s effect.”

  “Indeed,” Ed told the Bard. As one, they indulged in one of the Dark’s greatest tradition: the honorable tactical retreat.

  With Alder’s music powering their legs, they quickly put some distance between them and the Inquisitor.

  Ed was beginning to think they’d gotten away with it when he heard the scream.

  “You cannot run from fate, Edward! SUNWAVE!”

  We’re safe. We’re well out of range, Ed’s brain instantly announced, as he activated both improved reflexes and his aura to squeeze a few extra inches out of his stride.

  Behind him, day replaced the night for a single instant. He had been right. He kept running, with the kaftars and Alder screaming for their lives as they went.

  Then the heat reached him.

  It took him entirely by surprise. His left hand began to heat up under his gauntlet. Nothing worse than a sunburn, at first. But the sensation grew. And grew. In seconds, Ed’s entire hand was burning as if white hot—without the relief of nerve death. In an instant, it was as if the sun itself was shooting up his veins and into his heart, burning all the way. It was like being cooked alive. Ed screamed and fell, his mind and body unable to handle the sudden, absolute, overbearing agony.

  The pain reached its zenith. Ed blacked out.

  You have gained 25 experience for leading a successful raid.

  Your attributes have increased. Spirit +1.

  Your skills have increased: Athletics +1. Leadership +2. Your aura’s energy expenditure has been reduced.

  There are new talent advancement options for you.

  There are new Dungeon Upgrades available for research.

  You have a Condition: Curse: Weakness to Holy magic.

  10

  Chapter Ten

  Customer Satisfaction

  Hazy neon light bathed the store. A long time ago, there had been a smoke machine, but it was broken now. Probably for the best. Smoke machines and delicate computer parts didn’t mix in the slightest, but good luck convincing corporate of that. A snazzy vaporwave playlist came from the speakers, and the acrid smell of tobacco traveled through the unending rows of electronics like an invisible cloud.

  The playlist was Lisa’s. It was very much her aesthetic, and bringing it to work with her was a way to help forget that her life was only $7.25 hourly above slavery. The tobacco smell was Miss Olesinska’s, and it was probably her aesthetic too. All of Miss Olesinska’s many layers of clothing smelled of tobacco, her remaining teeth were stained yellow, and her tongue was one shade away from black. She was eighty-nine years old, and had driven herself to the Lasershark store carrying her Dell Dimension XPS R400 in the backseat, cables trailing behind like snakes. Time had yellowed the white case, just like it had done its owner.

  “The Facebook is slow, I worry it may have the virus. My grandson is a computer guy, but he told me to bring it to you this time, dear. Better safe than sorry, he said, so here I am,” Miss Olesinska was saying as Lisa hooked the Dimension to the oldest monitor around and booted it up. After the BIOS was done running, Windows 95’s cloudy sky greeted her. It was a logo she hadn’t seen in a long time.

  This computer is older than me, Lisa realized. She was in the presence of history itself.

  “He’s such a handsome young man, my grandson. I should introduce you two, you know? He’s a hard worker, graduated first of his class last year—how old are you again, honey?—doesn’t matter, meet him anyway.” Miss Olesinska kept on like that, listing off the heroic deeds of her grandson.

  Lisa opened the explorer and found the problem. A host of search bars inundated the screen, leaving only a few sad lines of space available for any actual exploring. Half of those bars belonged companies that no longer existed. Sweet dreams, you bastards, Lisa thought. It was like stumbling into bloatware’s version of an elephant graveyard. Killing them would be a cyber-archaeologist nightmare, like stomping on a fossil. Perhaps she could figure out a way to transplant them into a virtual environment so they could live on. It’d be like having her own retro malware retirement home. The exact kind of meaningless gesture that gave her pleasure.

  “Can you fix it?”

  “Don’t you worry,” she told Miss Olesinska. “Here at Lasershark we thrive on customer satisfaction. We take care of the problem one hundred percent of the time or you get your money back, guaranteed.” What she really wanted to say was, Don’t you worry, my fair lady. I shall guard this elder artifact with my life. Then again, corporate didn’t like it when someone deviated from the standard speech.

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Miss Olesinska said, all kindness and smiles. She paid Lisa and promised one last time to introduce Lisa to her grandson.

  Lisa watched her walk very slowly to her car and fumble for the keys for about five minutes. Miss Olesinska drove off in a way that begot both awe and horror. Lisa unhooked the R400 and carried it into the back, which lacked the store’s carefully constructed image. The walls were plain white, flaking in spots, and the lighting came from cheap bulbs. There was a water cooler in a corner. The cooling feature was turned off to skim cents off the power bill.

  Mark sat in front of an IKEA table strewn with disassembled computer parts. He was eating a sandwich and gestured a greeting at Lisa as she came by and searched the table for enough space to set down her beautiful charge.

  “Holy balls, is that what I think it is?” Mark managed through a mouthful of sandwich.

  “Yup. Kneel, Guardian, for you stand in front of ancient royalty. This baby rocks a Pentium II killing machine and hasn’t seen a USB port before.”

  Mark set his sandwich away. He bent over the case and took a long sniff. “Ah, old plastic and a hint of cigarettes. They don’t make them like this anymore,” he said. “Do you think it can run Doom?”

  “Bitch, it can run the shit out of Doom,” Lisa said, crossing her arms.

  “I think the valiant Cleric of Aucrath misunderstands. I already know it runs it. My question was an attempt to introduce the real issue. Are we going to install Doom on this old computer and play it after work? And yes, we could play it on any other computer, probably including the fridge’s. But this is the authentic experience, Lisa.”

  “Ah,” said Lisa. She grinned. “Interesting.” She sucked at first-person shooters, but so did Mark, and a chance like this was scarce. Most of the old computers that came into the store were non-functional, after all.

  Someone behind her gave a shy cough. Lisa turned—Mark and she were supposed to be the only ones at the back. The owner of the cough was a kid sitting on a plastic chair, right next to the water cooler. He was somewhere between sixteen and eighteen years old and had brown hair, a dollar haircut, faded jeans, battered sneakers, and a carefully ironed dress shirt. A yellow folder rested on his lap, and he gripped it compulsively with both hands.

  “Who are you?” Lisa asked. Because she was surprised at having missed the kid, the question came out harsher than she’d intended. He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable.

  “He’s here for the job posting,” Mark explained.

  “Yeah,” the kid said, looking down.

  Lisa turned to Mark. “So, Ryan’s finally getting around to replacing Ed?” She didn’t even remember how long it had been since she and Mark had carried the workload of three by themselves at no extra pay. Any time now, Ryan would say whenever someone dared bring up the issue. And get back to work, it isn’t break time!

&
nbsp; Mark showed her his open hands. “Don’t think it’s by the goodness of his heart. I hear corporate is coming by in a few weeks, and he needs the opening filled to fit the guidelines.”

  “I see,” Lisa said.

  Ryan’s office was upstairs. The faint afterglow of his new monitor shone through the windows. A heavy electronic locket guarded the aluminum door. Lisa knew she should be happy her workload would ease up soon, but she couldn’t avoid a frown that drew deep lines across her forehead. Her sister, Diana, liked to tell her she shouldn’t frown like that because it’d give her wrinkles in a few years.

  She strolled toward the kid and extended a friendly hand. “Hi, I’m Lisa, and this one over here is Mark.”

  “Omar.” The kid accepted the handshake with a sweaty palm.

  “Omar, how did you find about the store?” she asked.

  He got a white A4 sheet out from his folder. “There was an ad with an URL in Woodside’s cafeteria.” Woodside was the local community college. “It brought me here.” Lisa grabbed the A4 and saw that Omar had printed the job listing from the Lasershark page.

  Now that’s something I haven’t seen in a long time. It hadn’t changed since she’d used it herself.

  She realized that she wanted to warn the kid, despite her common sense telling her she should let the matter drop. After all, something had to pay the bills. And what could she tell him, anyway? That the listing was grossly exaggerated?

  “We have a young, fun, dynamic environment,” Lisa read aloud. That means you’ll be working long hours, the foosball table is broken, and that the pay is shit. Omar nodded.

  It wasn’t as if she hadn’t looked for another job. She had, many times, and found none that could count as an improvement in any meaningful way.