by Wolfe Locke
Gray, unseeing eyes bore into him from sunken sockets, desperately trying to see even though they had stopped doing so long ago. It was bald except for a few strands of wispy gray hair that poked out from under its ragged hood. The monster looked ancient, its drooping skin sagging over a body that was mostly bones. No muscle or fat in sight. That skin was marred with scars, both old and new.
John waited as the monster in the human form began to look for him, long fingers outstretched looking for him. John knew if those fingers were to touch him, were to find him, it would be his doom. Even if I fight off this one, I can’t fight off all of them. He waited, still as a statue, his lungs crying for air. I can’t hold it anymore.
His rescue came in the form of a rat.
John didn’t know how the little creature had gotten in, but it scurried across the floor, its sharp claws grating against the stone.
The monsters were on it in an instant. They fell upon it like vultures. Those pale outstretched fingers ripping its flesh between them. They fought over the corpse, striking out at others of their kind with long yellowed nails that extended out of the fingers like blades. Those that won a morsel of meat slurped it down vigorously. They fought over the food like they had not eaten in months, and from the looks of their bodies, they hadn’t.
That could have been me. John thought as he stepped away from the entryway and headed further into the darkness away from the monsters.
All of them wore the same dirty rags, but though they were nothing but skin and bones, John knew they possessed monstrous strength. And a weakness, as far as I can tell, they’re also all blind. If they can’t hear me. I should be ok.
In the commotion, John was able to catch his breath. But as the sounds died down, John dared not move from his new spot. There were at least a dozen of the sunken humans around the kitchen. He might have been able to fight off a third of them, but they would eventually overwhelm him with sheer numbers.
No, it was better to stay still for now and weigh my options.
A new sound disturbed his thoughts, though none of the monsters seemed to react to it.
Whimpering. Human whimpering.
John cast his gaze around, searching for the source. Being careful not to draw any attention to himself by making noise. The source didn't seem to be any of the inhuman monsters. Not even those that had taken damage from the others in the skirmish for the rat remained silent.
No, this sound was coming from along the far wall of the kitchen. That area was bathed deepest in darkness. John tried to adjust his axes and aimed the dim light as best as he could. John thought he could see bars.
Those look like cells. Cages. Like the one the skeleton was in. Only this time, the occupant was alive.
Then, a voice boomed from all around. A new voice he had not yet heard.
These are the unworthy. Those who were tasked with bringing my name back into the world of men. They failed, and this shall be their eternal punishment.
At the sound of the voice, the unworthy all fell to the ground. Their long spoons and meat abandoned. They curled into the fetal position, while others crawled against the ground. Their hands clasped over their ears, trembling.
They toil and cook food for their gluttonous king. One who does nothing but sit and eat, while they are forced to live off of the dregs that this dungeon provides. They will not die, and they will never truly live again.
The kitchen once again faded to silence. Gradually, the unworthy began to rise. They picked up their spoons and their meat and began working once more.
The voice that had guided him so far spoke to John.
You have drawn his attention too...
I grant to you a quest. Free that which is hidden here and escape to the next floor. Find the key and move on, or meet the same fate as those that have come before you. Some of which still remain. But not for long.
Another whimper sounded from the cells on the back wall. One of the unworthy stuck at the bars with its long spoon. It brought a finger to its lips in a shushing gesture, and the whimpering stopped.
John obviously could not stay rooted in place forever. The god had told him that there was another key to be found if he wanted to move on from this place.
He was growing increasingly angry and wary of this place. If he got the chance to meet any of these old gods and their whispering voices face to face, he would make sure that one of his blessed axes would be embedded into its face.
With the utmost caution, John began to move. He took deep, shallow breaths, and calculated each step before he took it. The dim light of the kitchen as well as that of his axes played to his advantage. He was able to place his footing carefully, and skirt around any obstacles that would have otherwise given his position away.
Many of the obstacles were gruesome. Consisting mostly of yellowed bones. Some were the size of the rat skeleton that now lay just to John's right as he proceeded. The unworthy had picked the bones clean and split them open after to get at the marrow.
Other bones were bigger. Too big to be anything but human.
In that instant, John remembered the smell that he had encountered when he first reached the bottom of the staircase. The smell that made his stomach rumble with hunger.
A smell he had thought he would never forget in all of his days.
The smell of cooking human flesh.
Chapter 9: The Knight and The Maiden
* * *
People. The meat cooking in that pot is human flesh. John had been unfortunate enough to come across the scent of cooked flesh before. One of the more unsavory moments of his time as an adventurer during a deep expedition into the great forest. He had hoped to never come across it again. But here, in the bowels of the dungeon, the past revisited him.
John’s stomach churned with nausea. Slowly, methodically, John crept towards the cage. Though the going was slow, he was able to reach the bars without issue.
The glow from his blessed axes revealed that inside the cage, huddled in opposite corners, were people. Actual people.
They lay cowered, wrapped up in themselves as quiet sobs wracked their bodies. They must have heard that terrible voice speaking too. Unlike the unworthy, these people looked mostly healthy, albeit miserable. They couldn’t have been here long.
They wore high quality clothes instead of rags. The man appeared to be well-muscled, at least from what John could see, and the woman seemed to be lithe, but not thin. Between them on the cage floor, there was a smear of bright red blood in a trail that led towards the cell door. Similar, older stains adorned the cage, but this one was fresh. That explained the meat that I had seen before.
These people must have been the ones that the voice had spoken of. People like him who had not made it through this floor of the dungeon. I’d be in that cage if one of those unworthy had captured me. Now, they awaited their fate.
Neither of the occupants of the cage stirred when he came near. John imagined that they were hesitant to move at all. Any sound that they made would draw the attention of the unworthy, and though John knew the pair were in danger, they were not in immediate danger from the unworthy.
The cage was not locked. That spoke volumes as to the situation they were in. If these two had not tried to escape, then they must honestly think that it was not possible. The hinges of the door to the cage were rusty. If it were opened, the unworthy would know and be on them. John was reminded of something an old mentor of his used to say, “A cage without a lock, is a distraction from the real cage.”
But John knew he couldn’t simply leave those people there to die locked up like that. He had to try and help them. He had to let them know that there was hope, even though he wasn’t certain that he would be able to deliver on it. Besides, getting out of here is dependent on saving them, I’m sure of it.
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Carefully, John held up one of his blessed axes and began to wave it in from the cage, careful not to hit it against the metal bars. That would mean a swift and terrible retribution by the unworthy, and John knew he would be killed on the spot or tossed into the cage along with them.
At first, the prisoners didn’t react at all. But, as they realized that this new light was not something that they were used to, they slowly started to unfurl themselves from their defensive positions on the ground.
The woman saw John first. Her eyes went wide, and she almost cried out, but John hastily put a finger to his lips, and she restrained herself. That could have been the end of me right there.
The man was a bit slower, but when his gaze finally settled on John, his look was solemn. This man looked like he had seen too much in his life. Looking at him now, John could tell that he was a bit older. Seasoned. One brown eye staring at him while the other was a milky white with a scar across his brow. The man had a look of a Paladin about him. Whereas the woman was younger, closer to John’s age.
They both stared at him and the light of his axes like they were a beacon in the darkness. John supposed that they actually were. He didn’t risk trying to talk to them. That would draw the attention of the unworthy which is exactly what they did not want to do.
John had to resort to using his hands to communicate, carefully sheathing his blessed axes back at his sides. With a gesture, he pointed to the door of the cage, them he brought his hands flat together, side by side, and opened them apart.
Should I try opening the door? John mouthed and motioned.
The woman hastily shook her head no, pointing to the rusted hinges. It was as John feared. The sound of the cage opening would make noise, and noise was deadly.
John mimed throwing something to the far end of the kitchen. Maybe he could lure the unworthy away with a distraction and use the commotion to cover the sound of the cage opening.
The two occupants looked at each other. Then the man held out a hand and rotated his wrist, so it shook from side to side. Maybe.
“Risky.” The man mouthed soundlessly in case John didn’t understand.
John shrugged his shoulders. It was the best plan they had. Once they were free, it would be three on twelve. A much more manageable number, even if the prisoners were unarmed.
If anything, John could lend one of them an axe, and they could find a suitable weapon for the other. There had to be knives around for cutting up the meat at least.
They would cross that bridge when they got to it. For now, John had to put his plan into motion. He got the sense that he only had one shot at this. If he failed, it would end badly for him and his fellow adventurers.
Steeling himself, John crept back through the kitchen on silent feet to retrieve one of the discarded bones. Don't store this.
This plan has merits. Using the weakness of an enemy to obscure and distract is resourceful. Though I wonder if these abominations of my brethren will be content with mere bone when fresh meat is so close.
With the bone firmly in his grasp, John returned to the cage. The faces that peered back at him were desperate but hopeful. Just how long have they been here? Were they on the quest too?
John held up three fingers, indicating that he was about to cause the distraction and that they should get ready. Don’t let me down here.
Two fingers.
One finger. I hope they're ready.
John wound his arm back to throw, and just then, there was a booming voice came from slightly far off.
It was not the sound of the forgotten god. This one was more guttural. Higher pitched. It came from behind a set of large wooden doors that dominated the right side of the kitchen, one of which was cracked.
The voice only spoke one word.
“MOREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!”
He comes. The first of many to fail at a crossroad. Your fellows have made interesting additions to this dungeon.
Chapter 10: The Grisly Feast
* * *
With that one command, the unworthy descended upon the cage, and the two prisoners screamed. It was all John could do to get out of the way before the tide was upon him. The unworthy yanked open the cage, the rusted metal screaming in protest as the old hinges worked.
They fell upon the male prisoner with vicious ferocity. Yellowed claws on pale fingers slashed out at him. The man tried to fight them off but was largely unsuccessful. Instead, he was forced to cover his head as the blows rained down. Seeing the trouble he was in, the female prisoner shouted, “Leave him alone,” and rushed to his aid, trying to pull the unworthy off of him.
This is your chance. While the unworthy are preoccupied, you can slip away and leave these two to their fate. The door to the next floor will be open. I will open it for you. All you have to do is choose to let them die.
John ignored the newest voice. That’s not the kind of man I am. The commotion wasn’t the sort of distraction he had wanted, but the noise largely covered his movements. He lashed out with a vicious overhanded swing from one of his blessed axes. The weapon embedded in the head of the closest unworthy to him while the prisoners struggled to push back the horde that was upon them.
He could only hope the prisoners could last. Hold out for a minute. These unworthy seem to want to take you alive. The thought spurred him on.
The dying unworthy wasn’t the distraction that he had intended, but it was the one he would take.
The unworthy that John had killed fell to the floor, but as its body landed, another of the unworthy turned towards the sound and lashed out with a nailed talon that caught John square in the cheek.
That blow should have been next to nothing. It was delivered by a person who had no muscle what so ever, and who had been starving for gods knew how long, but it sent him flying and split his cheek open.
It didn’t come close to the strength of the minotaur, but it was still like being hit by a man of John’s own shape and size.
The woman had been similarly backhanded by another of the unworthy, and she now lay in an unconscious heap in the corner of the cage. The labored rise and fall of her chest allowed John to know she was still alive.
A small portion of the unworthy had broken off, no longer trying to drag the man out of the cage, and were now feasting on their fallen companion. There was barely any meat on the dead unworthy, but what they could devour, they did. They fell on the body just like they had the rat.
The man in the cage, for his part, didn’t give up. He fought tooth and nail against the unworthy with all of his might. He managed to send two of them tumbling away with blows to the face and body. But the damage that he was taking was starting to take its toll. Long scratches marred his face and arms where the wicked nails of the unworthy had raked his skin. He’s only lasted this long because of his training. My guess about him being a Paladin was probably right.
Bleeding as he was, tired as he was, and hurting as he was. The man soldiered on. Right up until the knife entered his chest and cut him open..
It hit him square in the heart. For a moment, the man still fought. His will was absolute, but he couldn’t overcome death. But it was too much, and he eventually went down under the sea of bodies. The knife was yanked out and plunged back in again and again until he lay unmoving.
You have failed to save my Paladin. You have lost my favor. I will not take the blessing I have bestowed upon you, not here, not in this place. But you will hear no more from me. I turn my back on you.
Only then did the unworthy take his body to the large chopping block next to the pot so that they could complete their grisly task.
John and the female prisoner lay forgotten in a stunned daze, the task of the unworthy to sate the hunger of their master taking precedent over everything else.
I need to move while I have the chance. John told himself as he forced his aching body to comply. He mo
ved quietly. If they remembered that he was here, they might try to take him as well. He still had someone to save. Just because he had lost one didn’t mean that he would forfeit the other.
Luckily, the unworthy had not thought to close the door to the cage once more. John stepped inside as quickly as he could without giving himself away and began to tug the woman out.
Only after he had taken the woman out of the cage did he realize that they had nowhere to go. The only door open to them was the one that lead to that booming voice, which John assumed was the Gluttonous King the voice had told him about.
Still, they could not stay there in the kitchen. It was only a matter of time before the king demanded more, and there was nowhere in the kitchen for the two of them to hide. They would be found eventually, and they would face the same fate as the man that John could not save.
For the moment, though, the unworthy appeared to be distracted by making their gruesome meal. Piles of meat were brought to the simmering pot and dropped inside. The only other sounds were the clattering of bones as the meat was stripped.
John watched as the heart of the man was dumped into the pot, followed by the other organs. It seemed that the king was not picky with his food choices. It all went into the pot to be consumed.
Eventually, large bowls were produced by the unworthy, which were filled to the brim with the stew from the pot. A line of them brought the king his supper, and for the next few moments, they listened as the king slurped his meal.
The two of them dared not move for now. The movements of the unworthy throughout the kitchen were too erratic. There was too much risk of bumping into one and then being discovered. So, for now, they pressed themselves to the wall, waiting for an opportunity to present itself.