Burrows & Behemoths

by Lee Duckett

  Having said its peace there was the sound of wing beats as it flew out the hallway and away.

  “Um. . . . what just happened?” Fayne asked after a full minute, everyone looking at everyone else. Aria lost control of herself and started laughing uproariously. She slid down the wall, holding her sides, while the rest of the party looked at her in concern.

  “Honey, are you okay?” Badger asked, worried.

  She nodded, still laughing, wheezing out, “Draconic! Helvetian!” before losing it all over again.

  “Um. . . I’m gonna go get the potions,” offered Rurik, doing so at his father’s nod. Stating the password, he opened up the door and walked inside a very richly appointed bedroom.

  He returned with a small rack of them as Aria finally finished. “I’m sorry,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “It’s just. . . the stupid, evil little thing tried to wriggle out of its deal, and only managed to bind itself tighter!” She giggled, shaking her head. “Imps don’t normally speak Draconic, so it probably thought it was being clever.”

  “But why didn’t it just speak whatever it was when it was talking to itself?” Badger asked, “I didn’t understand any of it.”

  Aria just smiled, “but I did. It was talking to itself on how to try to get us killed. There’s another way out, but it didn’t say how or where, and it noticed me listening, not that I was trying to hide it. So it tries to trick us and ends up using a language we all know and then, and then,” she started giggling again, holding up a hand as she collected herself. She let out a sigh, unable to repress the wide grin across her face. “The Helvation islands. Oooh, that’s too good. It used to be a den of devil-worshipping pirates. The black ships of Helva would raid the Ciceron coast on the continent across the sea,” she explained.

  “Wait, used to?” Fayne asked. “I, well, Fayne’s heard about them, they’re still a thing!”

  Now it was Rurik’s turn to laugh. “You elves, always out of touch. I remember hearin’ about them. They tried to bring Moloch, god o’ devils, directly into this plane. If they’d succeeded it woulda either been hell on earth or woulda kicked off an interdivine war, which is kinda the same thing, so all the rest of Ciceron got together and crushed ‘em good. They killed all the evil wankers and resettled it with holy orders. Place I came from had a person go there, and they’ve got a stick shoved so far up their rear you can see it when they talk!”

  Aria smirked. “And by your agreement it’s going to end up in the place with the strictest standards of good in that hemisphere; where someone leaving would be seen as ‘abandoning the cause’ and thus not good!” She laughed again, smiling warmly. “Okay Fayne, if that’s how you make deals, then I approve.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Legacies Of The Lost

  With the imp gone, the party busied itself searching what they discovered was the overseer’s office. Fayne searched first for traps, disarming those she found (and they were numerous), clearing sections for the rest to search. Ransacking the room, they pooled the gold coins they found together in a pile in the middle of the floor. A couple healing potions were discovered stashed away, Rurik snagging two to replace the ones he’d used fighting the remnants.

  “Anyone know what this is?” Badger asked, holding up a vial filled with a light red fluid, not opaque or faintly glowing like most of the potions they’d found. “It’s not magical.”

  Aria held her hand out and he gave it to her. She examined it, opening the stopper and taking a sniff. “Smells. . . coppery? A little like blood.”

  Fayne, finished checking the desk and letting Rurik have at it, wandered over. Taking the vial, she smelled it, wafting it over to her instead of directly smelling it like Aria had. “Bloodleaf extract,” she identified. “Contact poison, nasty stuff. It stores incredibly well but only lasts a couple weeks after it’s applied before it’s useless, so we should be fine if it’s on something.”

  “But why would the overseer have it?” the cleric asked, frowning.

  The archer shrugged, “To stop someone from touching something? Why else would you have contact poison? If you wear gloves you’re fine, so. . . wait a sec.” She grabbed the lockbox the idol that had kept the imp bound to the room was in and examined it more closely. Taking her dagger, she ran it across the top and tiny red flakes separated from the black iron. “Thought so. It’s safe now, but he used it to keep anyone from taking control of the imp.”

  Badger looked around, “But I thought it couldn’t leave the room. What would taking the thing binding it do?”

  “Ya could control it, if ya knew the magic,” Rurik offered, shuffling through ancient papers, his points spent on knowledge about things from other planes of existence giving his words surety. “And while it couldn’t leave the room, ya could try ta turn the imp against its master. In a straight fight it wouldn’t matter a lick, but iffin the master din’t realize he was in danger. . .” he trailed off ominously.

  “What he said,” the elf shrugged, moving to the doorway. “I’ll have this down in a few minutes. Whatever this is, it’s complicated.”

  Ten minutes later the party reconvened, having finished searching the room. “I expected more,” the dwarf groused, “All we got were a couple handfuls of gold, some potions, a bit o’ poison, and a magic stick.”

  “It’s a wand, Rurik,” the party’s wizard groused, rolling his eyes at the samurai’s grin. “This ‘magic stick’ will let whoever uses it cast an illusion to make themselves look like someone else.”

  “So ya could pretend to be someone tall?” Rurik jibbed.

  “Says the dwarf,” Fayne pointed out.

  Badger nodded, “Yeah, but only a foot in either direction, and it’s not strong enough to change your race. This one’s only got eight charges left; I wonder why he had it?”

  “He’s the general manager, right?” Aria asked.

  “Overseer,” Rurik corrected, then nodded, “but pretty much, lass.”

  The cleric, who managed an office of nurses before she found herself in this world, nodded back. “So he uses it to go see if people are doing their jobs. He could ‘hire’ a part time administrative assistant, which is just himself in disguise. That way he could go out and see what his workers were doing when he wasn’t around. The ‘assistant’ would get the blame from the staff, and he could remain looking impartial.” The rest looked at her. “What? It’s what I’d do.”

  “I was just going to say he could use it to sneak out of work early, but that’s better,” Badger commented. “Fayne, did you disarm the door?”

  “About that. . .” the scout hedged, “So, it’s not the kind of thing I’m used to working with. I might be able to, but it also might explode, so. . . yeah.”

  Aria looked to the rest of the party, “Well, we know Rurik can lead us through it, why don’t we just do that?”

  “Because it’s better to disarm the trap than take the word of a devil,” Fayne shrugged, “Given how much you said that was a bad thing.”

  Aria frowned, “How likely is it to explode?”

  “Fifty-fifty,” Fayne told her, “I really don’t know how the magic works.”

  Rurik stood up from the chair he’d commandeered, “How ‘bout this then: since we be knowin’ the door works for me, I be takin’ the glowin’ lass with me, seein’ as how she’s tougher than the two of you. Iffin’ that works I just walk the other two in, one at a time. ‘Kay?”

  At the party’s nods he moved to the portal, speaking the password in Dwarven before opening the door, which had shut itself a few minutes after he’d opened it the first time to grab the six water breathing potions mentioned by the imp. The unassuming looking stone door swung open on silent hinges, and Rurik took Aria’s hand, leading her through the trapped portal. Nothing happened. Hesitantly letting go of her hand, the dwarf moved back to the office. Nothing happened. Rurik brought Fayne and Badger through with no problem, the party starting the whole process of searching all over again.

  Unlike the doo
r, Fayne was able to disarm the magical trap on the bed, which would’ve poisoned any non-dwarf that laid down on it with a slow acting-toxin that wouldn’t have killed until several days later. Badger found a hidden safe by the aura peeking out from behind an unassuming portion of stone floor. It yielded a great deal of now-useless blackmail material, along with a mithral dagger, more vials of poison, and a small bag of platinum coins, each one worth ten gold coins. A masterwork shortsword of dwarven make was placed in an easy to grab position, and after Fayne cleared the blade from the poison that covered the handle Rurik took it to replace the one he’d broken fighting the remnants.

  As they finished, Badger flagged them both over, Aria’s searching slowing as she badly hid her eavesdropping. “Rurik,” the wizard started, pausing to release a deep breath. “I’m, I’m sorry I took your sword. If you had it, you could’ve dealt with the undead without getting as hurt, and it wasn’t my place to do so.”

  The samurai started to say something, but stopped himself, considering his words. “No wee man, I wasn’t deserving o’ the blade. To turn it against one of me own. . .” he shook his head. “I dishonored me blade. I be thankful ye did so. While some back home would want ya killed for touching a noble’s sword, they be those place’s version of this overseer bastard, with his poison an’ ‘is blackmail. Ya did the right thing, and any who’d say otherwise be dumber than a bag o’ goblins.”

  “Thanks,” the gnome said, touched. “But for what’s coming, we need everyone as strong as possible, that means you need your sword.”

  “Wee man,” the dwarf responded, eyebrow raised, “Didn’t ya hear me? I’m not deservin’ of the blade.”

  “Then become deserving of it,” Badger pressed. “But you can’t get better if you’re dead.”

  Fayne obviously wanted to add something, but was holding back, trying to let this be a father-son thing. Rurik waved at her, “Come on lass, I know you can listen, tell ‘im he’s wrong.”

  She frowned, “Um, I agree with your dad. I get it what you’re saying, but he’s right.”

  “Ugh, ye be of no ‘help, lassie,” he groused.

  “You’re a samurai, 'duty is heavier than a mountain, death is lighter than feather’, but your death would weigh a lot more than a feather to us,” she tried to explain to him. Aria nodding behind his back, stopping when the elf glanced at her. “There’s gotta be a balance between ‘everyone follow me or else you’re jerks’ and ‘my life is worth nothing in the pursuit of my honor’. Yeah you’re Rurik Balderk, Dwarven Samurai, but you’re also Isaac, my kinda annoying but good-hearted cousin. Maybe try to take the best parts of both?”

  At his conflicted look, Fayne shrugged. “I know, easier said than done, but it’ll be a lot harder to earn your honor back if you’re not around to do it.” Reaching into Shino’s Bag of Holding, she pulled out the sheathed flaming katana and held it out to him, handle first. “Take it Isaac, please.”

  The teenage boy in the body of a bloodied warrior stared at the blade before letting out a very un-dwarf-like laugh, taking the sheathed blade and carefully attaching it to his belt. “I figured if being me wouldn’t work, I should be the character I was supposed to be,” he admitted, accent slipping. “But that’s not right either, is it?” He shook his head, “Well, I was wrong, comin’ an’ goin’,” he continued, brogue back and thicker than before, “So ye be right Fayne, I’ll try to take the best o’ both of me, and leave the rest for the vultures. Knowin’ me big bro the way I do, I’ll be needin’ that strength sooner rather than later.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Aria piped up, unable to continue pretending to not be listening in.

  “Ya din’t pay attention to the games he ran in ‘igh school, lassie?” Rurik asked incredulously. “They weren’t exactly bein’ small in scale: airship battles, ancient secrets, and armies o’ demons besiegin’ cities. He never kept things small if he could be helpin’ it. Just be lookin’ where we be, an abandoned dwarven settlement, filled to the brim with all sorts of nasties, includin’ things we ‘aven’t got a hope in ‘ell of defeatin’ straight on. ‘Outpost’ my ruddy arse, this thing be a fortress city or I’ll eat me helmet, though it be far too wrecked for us to be puttin’ to rights, and this be our second bloody adventure. Whatever that be waitin’ for us in the reservoir, it’s gonna be that bloody walkin’ tree all over again.”

  ◆◆◆

  Searching the room and disarming over a dozen traps, from hidden poison blades in a locked desk drawer to the wardrobe that would release knockout gas if you opened the wrong door first, the party finished tossing the place.

  “Why are there so many traps?” Aria complained as Fayne disarmed the last one on a hidden chest that would release a burst of fire if you didn’t unlock, relock, then unlock it again within a minute before opening it. Unlike the blackmail material, this one had been hidden from Badger’s ability to see magic, buried beneath a stone plate backed with lead. “This can’t be normal!”

  Rurik, sitting on the bed, shook his head, “Nah lassie, if this dwarf was the type to have a bound imp, he not be a trustin’ sort. That with the blackmail he be havin’,” he waved at the pile of now-useless documents, “then of course he’s gonna be prepared for thieves an’ assassins. The fact that they’re still deadly after all these years is just superior-”

  “-Dwarven engineering,” Fayne interrupted as she paused in her efforts to shoot the dwarf a dirty look. “Elves make things that last centuries too!”

  “Yeah, but ya be usin’ magic. That be cheatin’,” he dismissed.

  Fayne waved at the chest in exasperation, “This is a magical trap!”

  The dwarf just shrugged, “And this guy be cheatin’. Thought it woulda been obvious ‘cause of the blackmail. I thought scouts we’re supposed to be good at spottin’ things,” he smirked.

  The elf went back to disarming the trap, muttering imprecations as she did so. Finishing, she cracked the chest open revealing. . . more papers. “Ugh,” she groaned, “all that for nothing.” Brushing them aside and finding books, like ledgers, she grabbed one off the top and frowned, turning over page after page. “Or maybe not.”

  “What are they?” the wizard asked, grabbing another one, “Spellbooks?”

  The scout frowned, “No this one’s a primer for speaking Infernal. It’s written in Dwarvish, but I speak that now.”

  “And this one’s about how to act around dwarven nobility,” Badger added, having grabbed the book below it. “Why would he need that? Didn’t he have to be nobility to get an overseer job in the first place?”

  “Well that makes sense, for the first one at least. Since he wasn’t a member of the clergy, it’d looks suspicious if he started asking around on how to learn how to speak to devils,” Aria observed. She too walked over, pulling another book and revealing a number of other items hidden beneath.

  Fayne pocketed her book before carefully removing the hidden items and laying them out on floor. They didn’t seem particularly valuable, a small painting of a dwarven woman, a worn blanket embroidered with care, and a small lock box among them.

  Fayne grabbed the box, which opened in seconds under her dexterous fingers, revealing a marriage certificate. Frowning, she grabbed a paper off the desk, comparing the letterhead to this new document. “First name of the man is the same, but the last names aren’t,” she observed, showing the rest. “Rurik, you know dwarves, what’s going on here?”

  The samurai just shook his head, “Sorry lass, me character comes from an island in the middle of the bleedin’ ocean. I know things that all proper dwarves should know, like how ta work stone and where we were supposed ta come from, but I not be from around these parts. I be good for legends and general questions, but for anythin’ specific I’m prolly gonna draw a blank. Though,” he pointed at the marriage certificate, “that’s be a good couple decades before the paperwork I be seein’ in those offices. Given that he hid that better’n he ‘id the blackmail, I be thinkin’ he didn�
��t want it found more than anythin’.”

  Looking at the items laid out, the party fell silent, realizing how personal this treasure was. In terms of gold value, most of it wasn’t worth the effort it’d take to haul it back to civilization, except maybe the books. Defeating the orcs and troglodytes, they’d both had a handy pile o’ gold (™) for the party to grab and continue their delve deeper into the Lair, but moving through this section of ruins was. . . different.

  It was unquestionable that this overseer was evil, with the blackmail, bound devils, and deadly traps, but Fayne couldn’t ignore the feeling that maybe he’d had a reason to be that way. The bedroom was set up for the overseer and the overseer alone, so what had happened to his wife? Had she left him when he started doing anything for power? Had she died in an accident, and he lost his moral compass, doing things she never would have approved of? Had she been killed, and he was doing all of this to avenge her, either by getting to a position to have the power to make those pay, or had Dardenhaven itself been somehow responsible? Had he been the reason that this place fell?