by Zac Gorman
“It’s big. I’ll give you that,” said Iphigenia as they walked by a claw the size of a horse. “Does it do anything besides sleep?”
Roquat stared at her blankly. All day he’d been pushed to his limit trying to please her, and all day he’d fallen short. The Princess stared back at him, daring him to make the next move. Much to her surprise, he burst into laughter.
“Does it do anything besides sleep?” Roquat wheezed, fighting back his uncontrollable laughing fit. He clasped one of her guards on the shoulder in order to prevent himself from doubling over with laughter and waved a hand toward the Princess. “Does it do anything besides sleep, she says!”
Iphigenia glowered at him as he stumbled around guffawing like an idiot, trying to catch his breath. The tarasque stirred in its sleep, and everyone but Roquat took a step back. Roquat slapped his knee and continued to roar with laughter. Iphigenia turned red.
“Stop it!” she commanded.
A switch flipped in Roquat’s brain, and his expression dropped at once into an eerie blank stare. He walked toward the Princess, moving like a puppet being dragged across the stage by his strings. He got as close as her guards would allow, and they watched him with a nervous energy, their hands wrapped tightly around their weapons.
“Lemme tell you what it does besides sleep,” he said. “It destroys. It destroys people. It destroys villages. It destroys kingdoms. You think you’re safe in your little castle. Safe on your little throne. You think this whole place is some sort of game, because that’s what it’s been turned into. A tourist attraction for royals and idiots with swords who want to play adventurer, but you have no idea of the power that dwells within this mountain. Let alone below it. You have no idea what’s coming, do you? Lemme ask you a question . . . Have you ever seen the Eyes in the Dark?”
“Enough!” shouted Ingo.
He stepped between Roquat and his sister. Roquat scanned him, his eyes darting back and forth across Ingo’s face, waiting for his next move. Ingo nodded at him curtly and then turned to his sister.
“We should go, Iphigenia,” he said.
Iphigenia nodded.
Before they could take more than two steps, a horrible screeching note emitted from Roquat’s direction. Thisby looked down to see him blowing on some sort of strange flute until he was red in the face.
Everybody froze.
Everybody except the tarasque.
Chapter 8
With a terrible roar that shook the entire cavern, the tarasque awoke.
The forum trembled as the tarasque rose to its feet, the dust from its years-long slumber stirring up around it. Thisby looked down to see Iphigenia and her guards looking confused and panicked. Roquat and the Prince were nowhere to be found.
“He took him! He took him!” screamed Iphigenia.
In the middle of the forum, Iphigenia and her guards had begun to flee back the way they’d come. The tarasque whirled around. Its tail smashed into the side of the amphitheater, violently shaking the entire forum. Thisby regained her footing and ducked back the way she’d come as well, racing toward the exit, trying to outrun what she expected to be a rapidly collapsing building. Mingus slid back and forth wildly in his lantern as she ran.
A collapsing column barely missed them as Thisby and Mingus dashed through an exit and out into the city streets. Behind her, the tarasque was trying to exit the forum the hard way, smashing through the walls rather than climbing over them, and Thisby was thankful for the time it would buy her. A rush of fleeing monsters scurried past her as they scrambled to get out of the way of the angry tarasque, and Thisby caught her first break.
“Come on!” she shouted to Mingus—as if he had a choice—and followed after them.
Following the monsters seemed to be the only logical choice. For one, they definitely knew the city better than she did, and also, it didn’t hurt to have a lot of moving targets around in the likely scenario that the tarasque caught up with them and decided he wanted a snack.
Iphigenia and her crew had a different idea. Thisby watched as the Princess and her guards ducked into a building to hide, and she let out a frustrated groan.
Thisby had never claimed to know everything. She was the first one to admit that. But she knew enough to realize that hiding in a building directly in the path of a rampaging monster capable of stepping on buildings and turning them into dust . . . well, wasn’t a great idea.
With a terrible roar that shook the entire cavern, the tarasque awoke.
“Princess?” Thisby called as she rushed into the darkened building.
“We need to keep moving!” yelled Mingus.
“I can’t leave here without her!” snapped Thisby.
Despite not being capable of crying, Mingus sounded as if he were on the verge of tears, “What good is it if we die, too, Thisby?”
Thisby ignored him. The dungeon belonged to the Master, but the lives of the creatures inside it were her responsibility. All of them. From the lowliest mindworm to the adventurers who came in search of treasure to the Crown Princess herself, the moment something set foot inside the dungeon, it was her job to make certain it was cared for to the best of her ability. If anything happened to any of the inhabitants of the dungeon, it was her fault—and that much she was certain even the Master would be quick to agree to.
Thisby ran through the building until she heard voices from the next room.
“Princess?” she called again, running toward them.
Iphigenia watched as a mousy little girl wearing a backpack at least three time her size stepped out from the shadows. They stared at each other. The two of them couldn’t have been more different: Thisby in her ragged canvas tunic and patchwork leggings, with her dirty chin-length hair that stuck straight out to the sides, and Iphigenia with her resplendent emerald dress and her tightly woven braids. Where Iphigenia’s face was soft, Thisby’s was sharp, and vice versa. They were only a few years apart in age, born in the same kingdom, and yet they could’ve been from two different planets.
THOOOOOM!
The room shook as the tarasque let out a tremendous roar.
“We need to go!” Thisby shouted.
Iphigenia’s nostrils flared.
“Who are you to speak to me like that!” she screeched.
THOOOOOM! The building shook violently again.
“I’m the only person here who’s going to keep you alive,” replied the gamekeeper, reaching an outstretched hand toward the Princess. The guards who’d been pointing their swords in the girl’s general direction—on the off chance that this was some sort of extraordinarily circuitous assassination attempt—lowered their swords and muttered among themselves.
KRAKA-THOOOOOOOM!
The forum wall gave way at the exact same moment as Iphigenia’s dignity. She grabbed the girl’s filthy, outstretched hand and the two of them were off and running, the guards following close behind.
They spilled out onto the city streets in time to see the last remains of the forum crumbling to the earth. A cloud of dust rose in its wake and swept toward them, expanding through the darkened cavern like a tidal wave. Through the yellow-gray dust they could barely see the towering silhouette of the tarasque as it trumpeted its victory loud enough for the entire dungeon to hear.
Before the girls could even find their footing, the tarasque charged.
No matter how fast they ran, Iphigenia knew it wouldn’t be fast enough. The tarasque’s legs were so long that it would overtake them in mere strides. Just as it was about to reach them, the strange girl screamed, “TURN!”
Only Iphigenia was quick enough. Her guards vanished with an awful squishing sound in a storm of footsteps. The next thing Iphigenia knew, the mousy girl, now freshly coated with powdery, gray dust, was helping her to her feet and they were running again. They ducked and hid behind buildings, Iphigenia following as best she could. She took the girl’s hand when it was offered. Everything around them blurred with dust that made it impossible to take a deep bre
ath without choking.
The world was chaos. In the darkness, buildings fell around her. She could no longer hear anything but distant ringing, but she didn’t need to hear to know the tarasque was near. With each step the monster took, the entire cavern quaked.
Occasionally, in the darkness and the dust, Iphigenia encountered other creatures fleeing from the tarasque. She nearly stepped on a family of rats who’d fled their nest in the confusion, and once a ghostly white bat the size of an eagle flew so low she could feel the beating of its wings. She even saw several injured kobolds limping along, who locked eyes with her for a moment before hurrying on. When things got too hectic, Iphigenia looked for the glow of the girl’s lantern. At times it was the only thing she could see.
The last thing Iphigenia could recall with any certainty from that night was the strange girl standing over her, asking if she was okay. Moments later, she succumbed to exhaustion and collapsed from the waking world.
Chapter 9
The Princess awoke, surprised to find she wasn’t in her usual bed. Her pillow wasn’t nearly as soft as it should’ve been, either. She rolled over onto her side, annoyed that she had to call for her personal pillow servants this early in the morning, and found herself face to face with a long scaly snout and two beady black eyes.
“Kopi,” it said.
Iphigenia sat upright and assessed her situation. Then reassessed it. She was in the middle of re-reassessing it when a small, filthy girl with a giant backpack walked in and everything from last night came flooding back. None of this, however, explained why she was sharing a bed with a kobold.
“I see you two’ve met!” said Thisby brightly.
“What—” started Iphigenia.
“Oh! Well, we had to stay the night here because you weren’t in any state to head back, and quite frankly, you’re heavier than you look or else I would’ve carried you.”
“EXCUSE ME?” said the Princess.
“It wouldn’t have been a problem most of the way, sure, it’s just getting up the ladders and stuff like that. That would’ve been next to impossible!”
The Princess stood up and began to indignantly smooth out the folds of her dress. Her mind reeled as she tried to figure out which thing happening to her was the most insulting.
Thisby continued, “And of course, Ralk here would’ve helped, too, if he didn’t have a bum leg! Which is why he’s here, of course! I was helping fix him up while we waited. Figured you two wouldn’t mind sharing a cot.”
BINGO.
“OF COURSE I MIND!” screeched Iphigenia, loud enough that all the air was sucked out of the room. It was a talent she’d honed to perfection over the years.
Thisby and Ralk stared blankly at the Princess.
“DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?” she continued. “I am Princess Iphigenia Larkspur, Heir to the Throne of Nth, and you will treat me with the dignity of my position or I will personally see to it that you are banished from my realm under penalty of death!
“My brother, Prince Ingo Larkspur, Second-in-Line, has been taken captive by one of your men, and if he is not returned immediately, my father will march his entire army on this horrid place and burn it to the ground with every one of you still inside. Now, if you have any hope of getting out of this situation alive, you will do exactly as I say. You will reunite me with my brother this instant, you will escort us out of this godforsaken dungeon, and you will pray for our mercy . . . which I cannot guarantee!”
Thisby knew what the Princess said was true, even though she didn’t particularly care for the way in which she’d said it. All night, Thisby had been going over in her mind why Roquat would possibly do something so stupid as awaken the tarasque, but had he really taken Ingo, too? Thisby had lost track of them in the dust, so anything was possible, but it was hard to imagine why Roquat would do such a thing—not that he was incapable of it.
“Are you sure Roquat took your bro— the Prince?” she corrected herself.
“I’m quite sure! I saw him take my brother by the arm and then they vanished!”
Thisby considered it. But why would he kidnap the Prince? Thisby had seen him awaken the tarasque intentionally, so she agreed that whatever was going on, Roquat was definitely involved. The problem was that Roquat had always struck her as too stupid to plan something this elaborate by himself. If she could get to the Master, maybe Thisby could get some answers. Unless, of course, the Master was behind the whole thing, although that didn’t seem to add up, either. The Master had a reputation for being cruel, not stupid. Roquat, on the other hand, was certainly both.
The answer wouldn’t come. There were too many pieces still missing from the puzzle. In the meantime, Thisby knew it was her job to keep the Princess safe at all costs. The only thing worse than one royal dying in your dungeon was two royals dying in your dungeon.1
“Look—uh—Your Highness?” Thisby wasn’t quite familiar with the protocols of addressing royalty. “We need to get your brother, His Highness, back safely, and we need to get you both, Your Highnesses, out of here, but right now we have no way of knowing where your brother is, or if—”
“The blackdoor machine thingy,” said Iphigenia, sounding awfully confident for someone who had just said the word thingy. “It had crystal balls that your Master uses to spy on his dungeon. We can use them to find my brother.”
Thisby was frankly shocked she hadn’t thought of it first. The Princess was cleverer than she looked.
“That’s a great idea, Princess! Shoot! I mean, Your Highness! Sorry!” said Thisby, catching herself. She hated coming off rude, despite the fact that the Princess had just threatened to burn her alive. Most people would take offense to something like that, but it was nothing compared to the threats Thisby heard every day in the Black Mountain for far more minor transgressions. Just last week, a bugbear had threatened to “use her liver as a sock puppet” because she’d accidentally served him horse meat instead of his usual donkey.
Iphigenia seemed taken aback by the compliment.
“Yes, well. We should go,” said Iphigenia.
Thisby leaned over and helped the injured kobold to his feet. He looked like a cross between a lizard and a greyhound, with long, ratlike whiskers protruding off his snout. He was only a few inches taller than Thisby, who handed him a walking stick as he braced himself on her shoulder.
“Take it easy for a few days,” said Thisby.
The kobold dug around in his pocket for a moment until he produced a nubby little candle. He thrust it toward her. Thisby refused at first, but the kobold persisted until she took it. She rolled it over in her hand, not exactly sure what to make of it. For all intents and purposes, it looked like a regular candle. She vaguely remembered Grunda once telling her something about kobold magic and candles—but she’d have to look it up later. She smiled at him.
“Mara’wak kombeh,” he said, smiling back.
The kobold nodded and gave an awkward little bow and hobbled off, back toward the City of Night. The devastation seemed to be done for the time being. The tarasque had returned to its place of rest in the ruins of the forum—what little of it still remained—and life had begun to trickle back into the city after the long night of destruction.
Thisby thought of all the monsters that suffered due to the tarasque’s rampage. She couldn’t make sense of what Roquat was up to, but she knew what she had seen. Waking the tarasque was clearly intentional, even planned. And if he’d really taken Ingo . . .
Nothing about it felt right.
“I suppose . . . ,” said Iphigenia, letting her words hang in the air until she had Thisby’s full, undivided attention.
Thisby turned toward the Princess, who looked as if she were holding something bitter and unpleasant in her mouth.
“. . . I should learn your name. If you cross me, I’d like to know who to execute,” she finished.
“Thisby Thestoop, Your Highness. I’m the gamekeeper here in the Black Mountain.”
“Very well, Thisby. I
will allow you to guide me back to Castle Grimstone. Please be quick about it. I don’t intend to spend another night in this wretched place.”
Thisby scratched her head idly. “Uh, well, Your Highness, about that . . . I was just out scouting the area, and, well, the main passages around here, they’ve all, um, collapsed.”
“And?” asked Iphigenia sourly.
“And what should be a day’s journey up through the mountain from here to the castle could easily take us three or four. We’re gonna have to kinda zigzag, you see?”
Iphigenia’s arms were crossed so tightly that she began to lose circulation to them.
“On the plus side,” added Thisby, “you’ll get to see some pretty neat stuff along the scenic route!”
Iphigenia sighed. This was just her luck. She hadn’t even wanted to come on this stupid Inspection to begin with, but her brother had insisted on it. He’d practically begged her father to let them go, and of course, whatever Ingo wanted, Ingo got. It was always that way with her father. Now here she was, the future Queen of Nth, being dragged around a dungeon by some filthy girl . . . and what seemed to be a talking ball of glowing mucus? Iphigenia was still figuring that one out.
“Very well,” she said. “But I’m not sharing a bed with any more monsters.”
Thisby nodded, wondering when the best time would be to tell the Princess that she only had the one bedroll. By the shape of Iphigenia’s scowl, she decided it would probably be best to wait.
And with that, they were off.
Chapter 10
Gregory had been walking for a day and a half and hadn’t seen any stupid ladder. Maybe the girl with the backpack had tricked him. He knew it was equally likely that he’d just taken a wrong turn. He tended to take a lot of wrong turns. He was pretty sure he’d gone left at the fork but it was possible he’d gone right. Which one was left again? He held out both his thumbs and index fingers to see which one made a proper L and which one made a backward one, but couldn’t remember if the trick was supposed to work with your palms facing in or your palms facing out.