Tired of Death - Dungeon

by Neil Hartley

  “Nothing,” she said, after casting her senses wide. “Nothing invisible in sight, if you see what I mean. And I would detect a manna residue from a powerful spell like teleport.”

  Harm drew a deep breath and his sword at the same time. “Fearie,” he started. “I would like to make a short sharp point…”

  “Sir! Something approaching,” one of his scouts interrupted the pending execution. “It’s big whatever it is.”

  “The Golem!” squeaked Smudge. “We’re undone! It will butcher us all.”

  “Quiet you,” said Harm. He looked around. “Battle formation. If this thing’s half as bad as I’ve heard, we’ll be lucky to escape with our lives should it think badly of us. I do the talking.” He cast another look at the Fearie, who nodded.

  The Drow spread out, swords drawn as heavy footsteps approached. Harm couldn’t see anything with his infravision, but the two dots of red light were hard to overlook.

  The Golem stopped in front of the elves and looked around. Its gaze came to rest on Harm, and it stepped closer. Bending down to face the Leader it spoke:

  “Where is Dreth?”

  “Honestly? I’ve no idea,” replied Harm coolly. “But it may interest you to know…” He was cut off as the Golem rumbled threateningly.

  “He’s been here recently, I can smell him. Tell me where he went.” The eyes pulsed.

  The Drow put out a hand in a calming gesture. “Look, I don’t know. However, my diminutive friend here,” he pointed at Smudge, “says a wizard has the item we’re searching for, and he is traveling with your friend. We’re both after the same group. You want this Dreth fellow, and we’re after the wizard. If you pat our backs, we’ll scratch yours.” Harm wondered what could actually scratch the animation. He made a mental note to confer with his mage later.

  The Golem stood upright again, towering over the Drow. After a moment of contemplation it looked at Harm. “What do you propose?”

  ~ * ~

  The cat-man turned another corner, and the group hurried to keep up.

  “Slow down there,” grumbled Percy.

  “Drop the dead elf,” said Dreth. “It’s just slowing us down.”

  “Bah, alright for you to say, with your bag of tasty body parts,” said Cuthbert.

  Dreth stopped suddenly and drew Darkblood. The zombies squealed and jumped backwards as he strode towards them. Raising the sword he hacked once, twice, four times. Sheathing the blade again he picked up the now severed legs and arms and put them in his sack before turning to the undead.

  “Now, leave the torso. You can have the limbs later, when we’ve arrived.”

  Cuthbert and Percy glared, but followed as he hurried off after their guide again.

  As they traveled along something occurred to Dreth. He motioned to Sprat. “Sprout, back in the Orc caves you said you found something with the box. What was it?”

  “Oh, just a lovely black marble uncle Dreth,” said the little zombie, fishing around in his rags and producing a shiny spherical object.

  Dreth plucked it out of his hands and examined it. It certainly did look like a marble. It was about the size of a large one, and made of some material which seemed to suck the light away. He showed it to Redthorne.

  “Wizard, what do you make of this?”

  The mage looked at it and squinted. “I don’t know. It has a powerful magical aura though, whatever it is.” He was distracted as the baby started to squirm. “Hush little one, are you hungry?” He made a gesture and produced another bottle of milk.

  Dreth examined the ‘marble’ again for a moment and then looked at Sprat. “Tell you what little Spug, Uncle Dreth will give you a lovely elf arm in return for this. What do you say?”

  “Oooh yes please uncle!” The little zombie beamed.

  “Hey! That’s our arm that is,” complained Cuthbert, as Dreth fished around in his bag.

  “Excuse me, who killed him exactly?” asked Dreth, glaring at the zombie as he presented the limb to Sprat, who cuddled it excitedly.

  “We carried it along with us though,” complained Cuthbert, but in a low voice.

  “I think we’ve arrived,” interrupted Redthorne.

  They looked forward, to see the cat-man pressing various parts of the wall in careful order. Sure enough a section slid away.

  Dreth stepped through cautiously. He found himself in a cavernous chamber, constructed from giant granite blocks. Grand columns rose majestically to a ceiling high above, hidden in the gloom. The walls he could see were draped with majestic, yet faded, tapestries depicting knights and wizards battling various dark creatures of the underworld. Low torches flickered in sconces set in regular intervals around the walls.

  “Cooo, look at this place,” said Percy.

  “Fancy!” Cuthbert remarked. “Hello!”

  “Hello, ello, lo…” came back the echoes.

  “Heh, let me try one,” Percy cupped his hands about his mouth, ready to shout.

  “Be quiet you two,” snapped Dreth. “Who knows what’s waiting for us here?”

  Percy dropped his hands quickly.

  The party moved forward cautiously, their footsteps bouncing off the walls, seeming very loud in the still air.

  “There,” whispered Redthorne, pointing ahead.

  Dreth squinted. A dais had been built in the center of the chamber. On the raised platform, facing away from them, was a large dusty throne, inset with gold and precious gems.

  “Come closer. Don’t be afraid.” The whispered voice cut through the air.

  “I’m Dreth, guardian of the undead way, I’m not afraid,” said Dreth.

  A dry chuckling ensued. “Oh, I know who you are; I know who you all are. I’ve been watching you. Come, come. Come around to where I can see you. It’s been some time since I had visitors.”

  The group looked at each other and Dreth shrugged.

  They did as they were bid, walking around to stand in front of the throne.

  “Welcome! Welcome my friends! Do you know of me?”

  Dreth pursed his lips. “Can’t say I do,” he said. “Can’t say I do…”

  The figure slumped in the throne sighed a ragged breath and waved a hand. “Well, it’s only to be expected I suppose. You may approach me, I don’t bite you know.”

  “No offence or anything, but you don’t exactly look well,” said Cuthbert.

  “Look who’s talking!” replied the man in the throne, as a maggot squirmed its way through the zombie’s neck and wiggled around in puzzlement.

  It was true though, he didn’t look wonderful. Dressed in what were probably once fine clothes, the man had seen better days. His skin was hanging off, one eyeball was all white, and his scalp had only a few ragged wisps of hair protruding. Teeth were black or rotten, and his visible flesh was an unhealthy yellow color, pot marked with scabs and sores.

  “You happen to catch me at a bad time is all,” he said, as the group looked at each other uncertainly. “Anyway, I didn’t bring you here to listen to you badmouth me. If you don’t want help then you’re welcome to go back to your friends in the tunnels. Things didn’t seem to be going so well out there.”

  Dreth put up a hand in a calming fashion. “Ignore Cuthbert, he’s an idiot. Of course we would welcome any help you can give.”

  “Mmf.” The ragged man snorted for a moment and glared at the zombies before carrying on. “My name is Harvey. Harvey Von McVon.”

  “Von McVon? What sort of name is that?” asked Percy.

  “My name!” roared Harvey. “Want to make something of it?”

  Percy made an ‘all right then’ face, but wisely, for once, said nothing.

  Von McVon resumed his dialogue. “I’ve heard of your quest, and I would like to help you.”

  Dreth nodded. “Call me cynical if you will, but what do you get out of this?”

  Harvey chuckled. “In return for my
assistance, I just need a small favor.”

  “Here it comes,” said Redthorne. “Pop over there and dispatch that demon for us would you?”

  “Nothing so drastic wizard,” said the ragged man. “I just need you to go and retrieve something for me. A simple operation.”

  “If it’s so simple, why don’t you do it, or your good cat-men friends?” asked Dreth, waving off in the direction they had come.

  “They prefer the term cat-people actually. Very correct folk they are.” He pulled himself sidewise, to lean on one of the arms of the throne. “No, they won’t help, at least to that extent. Ungrateful felines!” Harvey scowled. “As for me, I’m limited in where I can venture. Should I stray too far from this cursed throne,” he slapped the item in question,” I will perish.”

  “Doesn’t look like you’re far off now,” muttered Percy.

  Dreth made a face. “Mmm. So what’s this little quest of yours that’s so easy?”

  “I told you. Merely recover an item. It’s in a crypt down yonder way,” he waved towards the far end of the chamber, at a large stone door. “Crypts should be right down your alley I would have thought. Almost like a holiday.” He wheezed strangely, and it took Dreth a moment to realize he was laughing.

  “And what is this item? Last time we retrieved something for someone it didn’t turn out so well,” Dreth said, remembering the Runebox escapade.

  “I don’t know,” replied the man. He held up his hand to forestall the protest. “Look, I’ll come clean, alright?”

  “That would be a first,” muttered Redthorne.

  “I was once a powerful wizard, and no, before you ask, I can’t help your curse Dreth. Anyway, I was greedy, and I signed a deal with the Management here for eternal life.”

  “This all sounds very familiar,” said Percy. “You two should have a good chat about reading contracts before you sign them.” He pointed at Dreth and Harvey. Cuthbert sniggered.

  “Quiet,” said Dreth, irritated because the zombie had a point.

  “As your friend mentioned,” Harvey went on, “I didn’t read the small print. The spell bound me to this throne. It regenerates me, keeps me alive, although not in pristine condition admittedly. I’ve festered here for generations, trying to escape. In fact I was the one that created the cat-people. They were supposed to work for me, to be my army, but they refused. Now they live in the caverns nearby and ignore me for the most part. Though they do sometimes help me out when I request it.”

  “And this object, which you still haven’t told me about, will help you escape?” Dreth pondered the implications of such an item.

  Harvey shook his head. “I don’t know. This item is something that’s being kept there by the Management. I really don’t know what it is. All I know is that they think it’s important, so I want it to piss them off. That is why the cat-people won’t go there; they don’t want to rile the rulers of this forsaken hole. I’m past caring, and you’ve already annoyed them.” He slumped back in his throne. “There, the whole sordid story.”

  “You really don’t know what it is?” asked Percy.

  “I told you, no idea.”

  “And if we bring you this item, what do we get?” Dreth said.

  Von McVon leaned forward and poked a scabby finger at them. “I can tell you how to get to the treasure. That’s what you want isn’t it?”

  “Let me consult for a moment,” Dreth replied, and went into a huddle with the others a little distance away from the throne. “What do you think?”

  Percy shrugged. “Why not? We don’t exactly know where we’re going anyway. One way is as good as another.”

  “I don’t trust him,” said Redthorne.

  “You’re a wizard, you don’t trust anyone,” replied Cuthbert. “I don’t trust you, come to that.”

  “If we do find this item, maybe we can take it with us,” said Sprat, surprising everybody.

  Dreth looked down at the little zombie. “My thinking exactly Spurt. Glad one of us is on the ball. And if we can’t, then we bring it back here anyway, or discard it altogether.” He turned back to Harvey, his decision made.

  “We’ll do it, but no guarantees.”

  Von McVon wheezed his laugh again. “Excellent. I knew you were the ones.”

  Dreth let that comment pass. “Any hints? A bit of help? Perhaps a map?”

  “I can do one better.” He raised his voice and shouted. “Tom!”

  From the shadows one of the cat-men emerged, he was almost identical to the one from the tunnel, but had black fur.

  “This is Tom, my assistant. He can show you the way.”

  “I though the cat-men didn’t want to help?” asked Cuthbert, eyeing the newcomer uncertainly.

  “Cat-people,” corrected Tom with a low snarl, “is the correct term. We’re a society of equals unbiased as to gender.”

  “Tom is my assistant,” said Harvey. “He’s more curious than the others it seems. Or maybe he’s just spying on me for the rest of them. Eh Tom?” He squinted at the feline.

  The cat man ignored the comment and licked a paw.

  “Are you invisible?” asked Percy. “I mean, er…” He stopped, confused.

  “No. Only some of us have that trait,” said Tom. “I can still rip your throat out faster than you can blink though.” He flexed a hand stuffed with sharp claws.

  “Charming,” said Percy with a sniff.

  “Delightful as this little chat is, shall we get going?” asked Dreth.

  “Wait a minute,” said Redthorne. “I need to change the baby.”

  “Into lunch would be good,” said Cuthbert, but quietly so the wizard wouldn’t hear.

  ~ * ~

  “I just don’t like it. Why split up when we’re already so weak?” Xyth Greenfinger peered down the corridor.

  Vish sighed. She was tired of listening to Xyth complain. His moaning was beginning to distract her, and that could be fatal in this place. “Because,” she explained for the thousandth time, “Hammath has so commanded.”

  “But those invisible things are still around, we could end up like poor Rendath, newly married he was too.”

  “Our mage has cast spells on us. We should be able to see them now, as you well know. Anyway, if we can recover the baby we can all get out of here.”

  Greenfinger made a face. “None of us are going to get out of here. Hello? What’s this?” He paused, running a finger lightly over a section of wall. “Some mechanism. No doubt a trap that will maim and poison us.” He examined the stone carefully.

  Vish Woodstroker rolled her eyes, but waited patiently as the other elf brought out his tools. A moaner he was, but Xyth was bloody good at avoiding traps, as well as spotting hidden things. He had already disarmed several snares that she would have walked straight into. He’d also found the area they were now in, which seemed to be cut from a different rock than the maze that had been slowly killing them before. She hefted the tube Marrim Runecaster had given her. To be used against the wizard if they encountered him, she had said. Vish didn’t want to encounter anything.

  There was a click and Xyth stood up. A portion of the wall fell away to reveal a large and gloomy room beyond. “After you,” he said.

  Scowling, Vish drew her rapier and stepped carefully through the doorway. Mist crept atmospherically over the floor, and the temperature dropped rapidly.

  “Come on in,” she hissed moving forward slowly.

  Xyth crept in behind her and made a noise. “It’s cold!”

  “Shhh!” said Vish, looking around. “I think there’s something over that way.” She stalked through the mist towards several large caskets lined against the wall. “Oh crap. We’re in some sort of tomb, let’s get out of here.”

  She turned to go, but as she did so the fog erupted next to them, to reveal an enormous shape. “Hur hur! Gut gonna have me some elf!” it said in a loud voice, lungin
g at her with huge hands.

  Xyth screamed and danced backwards as Woodstroker ducked and stabbed at the monster with her blade. It struck home, but was merely a pin prick to the creature.

  “Aaahhh! Bad! Gut hurt! Gut bash!”

  Vish jumped high in the air to avoid the clumsy attack, but it had been a ruse. Another hand grabbed her, pinning her arms to her side. “Xyth!” she cried, but the other elf was nowhere to be seen.

  A horrendous visage drew close, crooked yellow teeth in a massive mouth loomed. Fetid breath washed over her as her captor examined its prize.

  “Let me go!” The elf struggled to speak.

  “No chance!” The hand squeezed.

  Vish opened her mouth, gasping for air. She felt her ribs crack, and her arms break as the giant tightened his grip. “Bastard…” she just about managed to croak, then the world faded…

  ~ * ~

  “This way, keep up please.” Tom scurried silently along as the others tried to match his pace.

  “Slow down, there could be traps,” complained Cuthbert, “Sprat can’t keep up and neither can I.”

  Dreth nodded. “The zombie makes a good point for once, about the traps I mean,” he said.

  Tom folded muscular arms. “I wouldn’t fall for any traps,” he said.

  “Well, I might,” said Dreth, “and if I get cut in half I’ll make sure you suffer the same fate.”

  The cat-man sneered, but slowed his pace.

  “How much further?” asked Percy. He peered around at the walls, which were almost black in color.

  “Not far now,” hissed their guide.

  “Are you sure this is wise?” asked Redthorne.

  “No, but then nothing I’ve done recently is wise,” replied Dreth. “Come to think of it, I wasn’t too wise getting into this whole mess in the first place. Percy was right about me not reading that contract.”

  “Told you so,” said the zombie, overhearing.

  “You can hardly talk can you?” said Cuthbert. “Bet you didn’t plan on being undead all your life did you?”

  “Oh, pot calling the cattle black!”

  “Kettle not cattle,” interrupted Dreth. “And be quiet you two, I think we’re here.”

  They drew up beside Tom, who was standing next to an archway. Peering through, Dreth could make out some narrow stairs heading down. “There’s no chance these stairs are trapped of course,” he said dryly to the cat-man.