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

by Hugo Huesca

  “Just so you know, going the advanced route will slow down your basic spell grinding,” Lavy pointed out. “That’s why I’m waiting a bit before buying it.”

  “I plan to wait a bit as well,” Ed said. “But not too much. Advanced will let me pick two spells without a spellbook, right? Those could really come in handy.”

  “So, no power strike,” said Kes. “Well, it’s your funeral. Don’t complain when someone sticks you inside an anti-magic field and you have nothing to hit them with.”

  “Ah, luckily for me, I’ve a Marshal who can hold her ground in that case,” Ed told her with a grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll take power strike eventually, along with wraith step and dungeon vision. They all fit my build, and since they’re activated, they won’t strain my body.” He planned to get the aura upgrade, but first he’d need to raise both his Endurance and his leadership skill, which had the side-effect of reducing the aura’s energy cost.

  With that said, he bought the veil piercing and the pledge of muted armor upgrades, leaving him with just enough experience points to buy advanced spellcasting once he was done grinding basic spells.

  He nodded with satisfaction as his character sheet updated itself to reflect the upgrades. He had a vague physical awareness that he was now stronger than he’d been an instant ago. The sensation was like waking from a good night’s sleep and finding his favorite breakfast already waiting for him.

  He decided to try the improved Evil Eye right now. He turned it on, feeling the familiar heat spread across his face as the eldritch green flames drew shadows across the walls. “Any difference?”

  “I think…” Lavy said, squinting at him. “If you look carefully, there’s a sort of blue sparkling at the end of the flames. Nothing too dramatic, so I would’ve missed it if I hadn’t looked for it.”

  “Sparks, then.” Ed turned off his Evil Eye, feeling a bit dejected. Magical talents could sometimes have very dramatic effects, and others you wouldn’t know they were there without reading the character sheet. Guess not all Dungeon Lords can go into combat covered in magical flames. Perhaps, if he really wanted to, Alder and he could figure a way to imitate the effect using illusions…

  Ah, but that would be vanity, he thought sadly.

  “Well, do you see anything different?” Kes asked. “Any hidden enchantments, maybe?”

  Klek turned around as if expecting an unseen attack. His ears gyrated like radar dishes, ready to follow any suspicious sound.

  Ed took a careful look around. “No, I don’t think so. Everything looks normal to me, but that doesn’t mean we’re safe. The upgrade doesn’t detect Legendary magic or higher.”

  “If there is a Legendary illusion or mind-control effect in place,” Kes told him, “we’re screwed anyway, whether or not we could see it.”

  “That’s reassuring,” said Alder. He didn’t look very reassured. “I’ve a bit of experience saved up, too, so I’ll run it your way later, guys. I’m wondering just how far I can push my own illusion magic. I want to make it a part of my performances, you know? Like some kind of… special effect, like the ones in that vision I had.”

  To Ed’s surprise, the chapel was in use when he and his friends entered. Two dozen villagers dressed in their best suits either sat respectfully in the rough wooden benches or chatted among themselves near the back. More than a few of them wore shoddy necklaces with bits of silver, and sometimes an entire head of garlic.

  Ed raised an eyebrow. He had built the chapel as a mean to get holy water and blessed weapons. As far as he was aware, the villagers from Burrova prayed to neutral local deities, like Hogbus, and spirits in charge of fertility and harvest and death. Oynnes, a Light-aligned god of commerce, shouldn’t have gotten any attention from them. Yet here they were.

  Unable to ignore his curiosity, he stopped near the entrance. The magical torches were set to a low glow, and incense burned in a brass lamp set over the altar at the end. A female batblin wearing a white dress stood next to the altar and played a few notes on a lute. Some villagers had their eyes closed and their hands crossed as if in prayer, while others knelt over small baskets set in lines before the altar. The baskets’ insides glinted in the low light. Ed squinted and realized they were filled with coins. Aureus cents of bronze and steel, Vyfara cents with a tiny gemstone fragment engraved, but mostly the dull, multi-colored rings of small-denomination Balts, the local currency before Heiliges conquered Starevos.

  Ed and Lavy exchanged an alarmed glance. Did we start this? he mouthed at her. The chapel was dedicated to Oynnes. The god of commerce. The villagers had lost their places of worship in Burrova’s destruction, so now they had taken to this one instead.

  Lavy bit her lip and raised her shoulders. Maybe, she mouthed back.

  It was another cultural difference that marked Ed as a stranger from another world. Back on Earth, religion was a complex matter that involved tradition, culture, laws, family, and individual consideration. Ivalis was similar… except that the gods answered the prayers and were aggressively interested in getting people’s worship. Even better if they stole their enemies’ worshipers.

  On one hand, the average Ivalian farmer family could influence the local weather during harvest by performing the adequate sacrifices. On the other hand, however, they could just as well get kidnapped and sacrificed by crazed cultists who wanted to convince their multi-tentacled deity not to eat them for that night’s dessert.

  Ed wasn’t sure which world had the best system.

  A group of four by the back caught sight of him and his companions and their chat halted. Ed recognized a few of them as they approached. Bryne was there, his eye-patch making him instantly recognizable. He had showered today, which was an improvement. Darla was next to him—she was the local gossip, a woman with both the attitude and odor of curled milk. The other two were recent additions to the Haunt, a candle-maker and a hatter that had left their towns to join their families in the Haunt. They’d both taken minionship recently.

  “Dungeon Lord, what a pleasure to see you out and triumphant,” Darla half-sang. She had a garlic medallion dangling from her neck. Next to Ed, Kes stared daggers at the woman. “It was said on the grapevine that you had fallen during the raid—that a terrible spell had cursed you to an unending sleep, and that the curse could only be broken by true love’s kiss. Hell, there was a line of brave damsels about to form, eager to save our handsome, unmarried Dungeon Lord. I’m happily married myself, of course, but I would’ve gladly sent my daughters to do their duty for the Haunt.”

  Ed’s eye twitched. “Well, I’m glad to put those rumors at rest.” He didn’t mind the teasing as he knew—hoped, actually—that most of it wasn’t serious, but he wasn’t yet used to rebuking it gracefully from his position as their Dungeon Lord.

  “Ah, don’t mind her,” Bryne said. “She started those rumors herself, I reckon.” He grasped his bonnet in both hands, nervously. “We didn’t mean to bother you or your companions, Lord Edward. We just wanted to say we’re glad the quest came out right, is all. Everyone saw the Quest Screen update itself with our victory against those accursed Inquisitors, but we had no news beyond that… I figured we could get the kaftars drunk later tonight and make them spill the beans, but until then we came here to thank Oynnes for his part in the Haunt’s success.”

  “Sharing the news is my job,” Alder said, full of hurt feelings. “I was getting to it! Making sure the tale is properly glorious takes time, you know.”

  Ed massaged his chin. “Thanks for worrying, Bryne,” he said. The man perked up at the mention of his name, which surprised Ed. Did that small gesture really mean that much? “I’m sure that between Alder and the kaftar’s version of the tale, you’ll hear all about it soon enough. In the meantime… do you mind answering a small question? What exactly are you praying for when you come here?”

  “Oh, I thought you already knew, given that you gave us the chapel in the first place. We kinda figured you meant for us to use it, and to be h
onest, it was a good call.” The villager seemed eager to help. It was strange how things changed. Not long ago, Bryne had tried to lead a small rebellion to escape the Haunt. “Oynnes is an easy fellow to understand, my Lord. He likes the good stuff. Gold, I reckon, but any cold, hard coin will do in a pinch. The bigger the favor, the more he wants. So we barter with him. For a few cents, he helped Long Lurk here—” he pointed at the hatter next to him, a man who looked the part of his nickname “—find his favorite hammer. It appeared inside one of those baskets, just like that. I gave him three Balts, and in exchange he made one of my cows recover from the runs. Things like that. Oynnes enjoys when we make money, so we can give him a part. Kind of like Brett’s taxes in Burrova, only Oynnes is actually useful.”

  “I see,” Ed said. From that perspective, the practice seemed harmless enough… although he wondered what would happen if the villagers began bribing Oynnes to mess with their business rivals, and then those answered in kind. A divine-enhanced price war couldn’t end well at all. And there were also the Starevosi deities to worry about. “Won’t your previous deities get mad that you’re now praying to a Light god?” he asked Bryne.

  “I reckon they will,” said Bryne, smiling from ear to ear. “Serves them right. The lazy rascals didn’t help much while our livelihood burned to ash, so a bit of pressure is exactly what they need to step their act up. I’ll bet you a red Balt that during this year’s Spriveska they’ll be all cozy and charming. Perhaps even Hogbus’ avatar will stop by for appearance’s sake.”

  Thanks to his Mantle’s sixth sense, Ed knew that standing there with his mouth wide open would be an unseemly thing for a Dungeon Lord, so he caught himself in time. Barely. A god’s avatar showing up for a small community’s Spriveska? Bryne had to be exaggerating.

  He was about to ask, but Darla spoke first. “Speaking of the Spriveska,” she said eagerly. “There’ll be one this year, right? I don’t mean to offend! The grapevine, is all, they wonder… seeing that you come from another world, they wonder if you’ll really care for our festivals and traditions. Obviously, I told them all to pound dung with that attitude—” Ed noted how she didn’t mention at any point who “they” were “—but still, people are wondering. They would listen to me better if I could tell them my reassurances came straight from your mouth, my Lord.”

  Ed didn’t need his Mantle to know the only possible response to that kind of set-up. “Of course there’ll be a Spriveska this year,” he said, with a tone of incredulity that earned him a pride-filled glance from Alder. “I’d never even dream of not having one.” I’m appalled that I even have to say it aloud, his quasi-offended tone said.

  He hadn’t the faintest idea what a Spriveska was.

  The villagers exchanged bright smiles. “I’ll let everyone know,” chirped Darla. “The entire Haunt shall know I was right!”

  Ed nodded and inwardly wondered just how much trouble had his mouth gotten him into. He made a mental note to ask Kes later what the hell was he supposed to do. The Marshal’s face was inscrutable… although he could swear she had been repressing laughter just before he looked.

  It’s probably my imagination, he hoped.

  Time to change topics. “Bryne,” he said aloud, putting on a serious expression, “let me get this straight. You guys are playing an incredibly dangerous game of setting deity against deity, just to force them to give you better stuff when the Spriveska arrives?”

  Bryne saw his face and his smile dropped, but then Ed clasped the man’s shoulder. “Good man! That’s a very proper attitude for a Haunt citizen. No, really, I mean it. When the world and the gods want to play games with us, the Haunt plays back, and we play for keeps. Remember that.” Ed winked at the villagers and took his leave.

  As he walked off, he heard Bryne mutter to himself, “A Haunt citizen,” with his voice full of amazement.

  Kes matched his pace. “Ed?” she whispered at him. “Are you trying to transform the Haunt’s entire population into danger-loving rule-abusers like you? Because that’s what you’ll get if you keep praising their silly little games like that.”

  Ed’s smile grew an inch. “See,” he told his friend, “I was thinking that my mouth probably already got me into a bit of trouble with that Spriveska comment, and you know what people say. In for a penny…”

  He tossed a quarter-Aureus into one of the baskets.

  13

  Chapter Thirteen

  Friendly Negotiations

  There was a small door to the right of the altar that led to a passageway that split in three. One path went to Zachary’s private quarters, another to the cemetery, and the last one to a grim, humid chamber with a low vaulted ceiling and naked slabs of granite as floor that served as a chamber to prepare the corpses for burial. Today, the black tables strewn across the chamber were thankfully empty, except for the one with old coffin, set straight into the middle of the room. Zachary and Governor Brett watched it under the protection of three of Kaga’s kaftar, armed to the teeth with rows of silver-tipped stakes and vials of holy water.

  “Ah, Lord Edward,” said Zachary as Ed and the others approached. “Glad to see the grapevine was wrong about your injury. I knew that a devoted follower of the Light like you, even though unjustly exiled from the flock, couldn’t possibly have fallen prey to a Holy attack.” He puffed his chest up and gave Brett a slanted “I-told-you-so” look. The Governor, and one of the kaftar, rolled their eyes when Zachary wasn’t looking.

  The fact that an “unjustly exiled member of the Light’s flock” had been the one directly striking at the Inquisition this time around never seemed to cross Zachary’s mind. It was interesting, the lengths that people could go to maintain their personal worldview, so long as it was convenient for them to have it.

  Ed wondered if there was a way for him to know when he did the same thing. But wasn’t that, by definition, impossible?

  “Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, Zachary,” he said aloud. “I’m eager to see what you did to protect us from our… guest. Lavy here told me that you and Governor Brett outdid yourselves.”

  Now it was Brett’s turn to puff out his chest. “Master Lavina would be right, if I may say so myself.” He made an ample gesture toward the coffin with his arm, like a chef presenting a perfect dish. “Right this way, Lord Edward, Master Kessih, Master Alder, Master Lavina.”

  He guided them in a way that resembled a proud museum guide, with Zachary tagging along—looking vaguely resentful at Brett hogging the spotlight. “The crux of the quest that Lord Edward wisely entrusted to us was dual in nature. How to protect ourselves from our guest and keep him from escaping, while at the same time protecting it from true destruction. Our solution was, I hope, both clever and simple.”

  Brett pointed at the floor around the table, which had a magical circle drawn with a mixture of silver dust, salt, and a tar-like substance to make it stick to the slabs of rock. He then pointed at the ceiling where a similar circle was drawn exactly above the first. Ed nodded in approval—the two circles were similar to the ones in his room. The Haunt was getting good at making them.

  “This is to keep the creature out,” said Brett. “A simple measure. Even a child could’ve thought of it—” Zachary raised an offended eyebrow at that “—what makes it truly clever is the fact that almost every section of this chamber has been heavily sanctified, except the area inside the circle. The kaftar wanted us to warn you about it, but obviously their fear was misplaced, since you’re clearly unhurt and the rumors were wrong, anyway.”

  Ah, shit. Ed almost expected to burst into holy flames right then and there, like a cartoon coyote that stepped into thin air but only fell when he remembered how gravity worked. He opened his mouth to speak, but someone had already beat him to it.

  “Brett,” Kes said with a dangerously sweet voice. “You forgot to mention this when you showed us the room.” Her smile was full of teeth. “It’s true that Lord Edward wasn’t hurt, but keeping the information to your
self was not your call to make. In the future, please inform me—the head of Security, remember?—of all potentially dangerous adjustments you make, especially if there’s magic involved.”

  Brett paled at the rebuke. “I mean, I didn’t—we didn’t—”

  “Actually, it’s the Head Researcher who should be informed of any dangerous magic,” Lavy pointed out, calmly picking a fingernail.

  “Both of us, then,” Kes said.

  “Make it three,” Alder said. “I’d like to be close enough to see the fireworks go off once someone messes up.”

  “Klek will probably want to know as well,” Lavy said while Brett stammered apologies. “If only because the crazy little guy would try to slap the holy flames off Ed if it came to it.”

  Ed took a deep breath. He suspected that he knew the reason why so many Dungeon Lords had unavoidably gone raving mad after a few decades.

  “Look,” he said. “It was a mistake. It happens. No harm was done, just simply be more careful next time.” Besides, the blessings had came from Oynnes, and the greedy deity was friendly to anyone willing to barter with him. Hell, respecting one’s own business arrangements was one of Oynnes’ core tenets for his faithful. Surely Ed was safe from him. Or as safe as he could expect to be, at least.

  “Your Brutalness is most kind,” Brett said, bowing.

  Ed pointed at the coffin. “What other measures are in place?”

  “We made sure the people are well protected in case of an escape, unlikely as it is. All our guards were equipped with Monster Hunter silver-tipped stakes, and the captains got a vial of holy water. In addition, we’ve fashioned necklaces with a bit of silver in them, and everyone that enters the chapel must wear one. It’s a small layer of protection that will hinder the vampire’s feeding. Just a way to buy time for our forces to capture him while he’s weak.” Brett raised both eyebrows as if surprised by his own cleverness. “The villagers took over the idea and made their own necklaces, though, using garlic and other small charms that may or may not slow the creature down. It’s hard to distinguish between real magic and local superstition, even for me after all the years I’ve spent among them.”