by J. T. Wright
Dreq, obeying the rule that Dogs should be seen and not heard speaking common, said nothing. All eyes turned to Kerry.
“I was great out there!” Kerry pulled off his helm and leaned back, placing his fingers behind his head. “You all should be grateful I'm here.”
Trent had almost finished Harvesting the Guardian and the party was collecting their loot before anyone would speak to Kerry again.
Chapter Forty
Archery Level 10 (max)
Archery has become Basic Archery Level 1
Skill Triple Shot Level 1 learned
Trent lowered his short bow as three arrows with steel heads took the life of the winged horror flying above him. The fourth floor had been one long hall. Spiders and Beetles had come in waves, always from the front. The insects were problematic, but the Bats, half the size of a man with flat scrunched faces and protruding fangs, challenged them the most.
The Bat’s sonic attacks left the Adventurers dizzy and at the mercy of the Trial’s ground forces. The Bats also came from both directions at odd intervals. Several times Kerry and Dreq had been forced to fight the insects on their own while Trent and Felicia picked the Bats out of the air with Spells and arrows.
Trent stored his short bow and took the longer battle bow from where it hung on his shoulder. He had alternated between the two weapons for the Fourth floor. The practice of using the short bow as long as his Mana held out and switching to the recurve bow, which had its own Mana supply when his was low, paid off. He had learned the last Skill the short bow had to offer and pushed his Archery into the Basic rank.
Like he had found with the spear, it was all about movement. A common-ranked Skill leveled quickly when you combined the simple with the intricate. His accuracy had increased with practice, but it was learning to shoot and move from various positions that had pushed Archery to the next rank.
There was no need for Trent to join the mopping-up effort going on in front of him. Felicia burned the webs that the Spider threw to ensnare the group. Dreq’s Paralyzing Howl kept the Beasts from sweeping over the top of the three, and Kerry’s flail was a constant whirl of bug smashing metal. At some point during the fourth floor, the team had become a cohesive unit, working together to achieve what they couldn’t alone.
For Trent, it was a bittersweet thing to see. It was exciting to work with the others. It was good to see Kerry and Felicia fighting above their Levels with only minimal complaints. Trent enjoyed having people to converse with. He did not want it to end. He would be happiest if the long tunnel stretched on forever, and they could stay like this, watching out for one another and growing.
It would end, though, and soon. The glow of a Safe Zone lay ahead, not forty feet from where he stood. The light only he could see promised a place where they could let down their guard and relax completely. It should have been a welcome sight. If they had been at the beginning of the fourth floor, it would have been.
The rewards were two Return Scrolls and a gold piece from each Guardian on the previous floors. Those floors had also held rewards that were far more than they deserved around every corner. Rewards only Trent could reach: An iron deposit, ore he needed to complete Guild Quests, that only opened when you pulled a sword-marked lever. A path he alone could dig. The signs were all there.
Those signs had disappeared on the fourth floor. Trial Beasts had gone back to dropping two or three coppers. There were no secret rooms or obstacles. The Trial had given all it meant to. It was time to pay the price.
Trent set to work cleaning the corpses his friends had left behind. Wings from Beetles and Bats, silk and legs from Spiders, they all went into Storage. He picked up the drops, admiring the unique pieces like spools of thread and a doll with a painted face while carelessly collecting the bits that the others would find valuable.
Kerry’s flail cracked against the stone floor as he drove the ball through his last opponent. The bug he had struck vanished, leaving behind a handful of coppers. Kerry looked around with a guilty expression. He had destroyed the Harvestable parts with that strike. Trent wouldn’t like that. He might not say anything, but his disapproval would hang in the air like a bad smell if he noticed.
“That’s the last of them,” Kerry said, clearing his throat and bending down to pick up the coins that were evidence of his overly aggressive blow. “How long till the next wave do you think?”
“No more waves.” Trent made no mention of the three copper coins that were dropped into Kerry’s satchel as he walked by. “We've reached a Safe Zone.”
“That can’t be right,” Kerry started to argue. “Safe Zones only show up at the start of a…”
There was a feel to a Safe Zone. It was a calming effect that dulled exhaustion and eased pain. There was no mistaking it. It poured over you, soothing like a balm on a wound. You might not notice it at the beginning of a Trial, but as time went on, as your strength and energy flagged, stepping into a Safe Zone was a warm blanket that wrapped around you.
“This shouldn’t be here,” Felicia said, echoing Kerry’s thoughts as they both entered the sheltering space.
Trent glanced at her. The Mage’s voice was tired, her robes torn in several places. Kerry was much the same. His breastplate was intact, but no other piece of his armor was spared the scars of battle. Self-Clean had removed the blood that had stained their clothing, though you could still smell it if you tried. They had gone as far as they could, farther than they should have.
Most of the Health potions had been used, and they were out of Mana restorative except for one that Trent had stashed away for an emergency. A reasonable party would call it a day. They had what they came for. Trent wouldn’t ask any more of them.
Calling Dreq over, Trent dropped a Wolf fang on the ground for the Dog to chew on. “Should we rest before we start back?”
“Is there any need for that? We have the Return Scrolls. The Guildhall isn’t that far from the Dungeon; we could rest there.” Felicia’s eyes narrowed as she spoke. The Safe Zone wasn’t large, just a few square yards. Trent stood at the far end in front of a door carved from stone to look like wood. The door was closed and out of place in the cave environment. A sword was embossed on its surface, and beneath the sword, a flail and wand were stamped. The symbols Trent took to represent Kerry and Felicia were recognizable despite the way they had been crossed out and scribbled over.
“She has a point, Trent,” Kerry added. “You aren’t going to make us walk back to the entrance, are you?”
“No, you can use the Scrolls.” Trent’s hand closed around a bronze-colored doorknob. He didn’t look back and kept his body angled to shield his actions as he said, “Who has one handy?”
Their eyes left him as they instinctively looked to where they both had Scrolls tucked away. It was the briefest of glances, but when they lifted their heads again, Trent had already pushed the door open and was stepping through.
“I'll be right back. I just want to have a look,” he reassured them. Kerry started forward, clawing at his flail and bringing up his shield. Felicia was right behind him, and Dreq dropped his prize to surge towards the open doorway.
They were too late. The door swung closed with an ominous bang. Kerry reached for the doorknob and then jerked his hand back with a cry. The bronze doorknob melted and, instead of dropping to the floor, flowed outwards to seal the cracks between door and wall. They had been left behind with no way to follow.
Beyond the door, Trent paused. He leaned back on the stone wall. His ears worked to catch the sound of Dreq howling, of Kerry pounding on the door while Felicia shouted. He could picture them doing just that, although no sound drifted to his ears in confirmation.
He was making the right decision. He knew it! He just wished he could explain it to the others in a way they could understand. The Trials were more than resources to be exploited. They had their own wants and objectives. It was plain to Trent, although to Adventurers, who called the Trials, Dungeons, it would be nonsense.
His sword was in hand as he stepped into the Guardian’s chamber alone. The chamber was circular, and jagged stalagmites grew from the cave floor. Trent’s grip tightened as he imagined the spikes of stone coming to life like the Beetle Guardian on the previous floor.
He had run that battle through his mind a dozen times. It was an anomaly in what he thought the Trial was asking of him. His weapons and skills were inadequate for fighting such a Beast. Without Kerry and Felicia, he might not have been able to beat it. If this Guardian was similar, he had made a serious mistake.
Trent’s feet brought him to the center of the chamber. He adjusted his grip on his sword, his head turning from right to left. There was no movement from the stalagmites, and no Beast stepped from their shadows to pounce at him. He looked up.
Eyes and legs descended towards him. Trent threw himself into a roll to avoid the tan Spider that dropped from above. The Guardian chirped an incongruous war cry at him as Trent found his feet and turned to face it. The arachnid's front legs pierced towards him like spears. Trent slashed to parry one and spun to avoid a second that curved, seeking to wrap around him and draw him closer to the creature’s maw.
Trent thought of the black ring that hung on Kerry’s finger as his left hand drew Strife, and he flung himself forward to attack. He should have found some excuse to reclaim his shield from the Warrior. His sword felt like an extension on his arm, and while the Clever Hands Skill made the grip he had on his weapons secure, there was still a disconnected feel between him and the knife in his left hand. A shield would have firmed his defenses considerably.
The razor-sharp tip of the Spider’s leg ripped through the leather covering his right shoulder, splitting the flesh beneath, and Trent twisted to avoid a follow-up stab. He lunged for the Beast’s eyes and was forced to hastily step back, swiping desperately to block the venom the Guardian spit at him.
Dodge and Dash had been activated before the fight even began, but Trent was at the edge of abilities blocking the Beast’s attacks. Fortunately, the Spider was only able to thrust with its front two legs. Had all eight legs been brought into play, Trent would have had no way to resist.
Trent was forced back until he was pressed up against a stalagmite. A leg stabbed towards his face, and Trent jerked his head to the side. Splinters of stone struck the back of his cowl as the Spider’s appendage sunk into the natural column. A second leg cut towards his injured shoulder, and Trent made no move to block it.
Accepting a second cut in exchange for the freedom to move, Trent surged towards the Guardian. He cut at the Spider’s gruesome face, his blade clanging on fangs, and then leaped upwards. He landed on the Guardian’s back and slashed for all he was worth. The bright red that spurted from the open wound caused Trent to shout out with excitement. The lingering fear that he would be incapable of damaging the Beast, the fear that the last Guardian had instilled in him, vanished.
Trent’s sword cut two more furrows into the Spider’s back as the creature whirled beneath him. While not as deep as he would like to see, Trent was at least glad to pay the Beast back for his own wounds. The Spider’s blood flew into the air, splattering on his armor and mixing with his own to run down his arm.
He felt the Spider’s body tremble beneath him. Trent could see the end of the fight approaching. Then he could see the stone floor beneath him. The Beast had vanished, and he was falling. Arm raised to hack at the tan hide of the Beast, Trent landed badly, his legs collapsing under him as he struck the floor. His knees ached as he pushed himself upright, his head twisting from side to side.
The Guardian was nowhere to be seen. Trent’s gaze shot upwards, and the ceiling stared back at him, blank and empty. The blood trickling down his arm called for him to drink a Health potion. Trent ignored it. He would have to sheath a weapon to heal himself, and the Guardian was not finished.
His eyes were drawn to a stalagmite twenty feet to his right. Trent looked in time to see the Spider launch itself off the stone spire, spitting venom. He dodged the spray and lashed out, scoring a glancing blow to the Spider’s belly as it passed overhead. A string of silk trailed from the creature’s rear as it landed on a second stalagmite and scurried out of sight.
Trent, focused on his own attack, did not notice the web until it had already wrapped around his hand, coating the blade of Strife. The silk was nearly invisible, and Trent’s first clue that the Spider had a second mode of attack came when he was wrenched off his feet. With his arm outstretched in front of him, Trent was dragged along the ground towards the unseen, waiting Spider.
Strife was trapped in his hand. Trent returned his sword to ring form and slapped at the ground, searching for anything to hold on to. The ground was smooth to the touch and the stalagmites were out of reach. Twisting around, Trent tried to brace himself with his feet. He activated Steady Footing when his boots failed to gain traction. The Skill slowed him somewhat, but the Spider’s pull continued.
A surge of Mana brought his sword back out. He slashed at the silk that held him as the Guardian reappeared. His blade bounced off the thread without breaking it as the Spider reeled him in, closer and closer to biting fangs and stabbing legs.
Trent struggled to his feet, using the Spider’s own pulling motion to aid him. Leaning back, he hacked at the string again as his feet slid along the floor. The Spider chirped mockingly at him, raising its front legs in unison, preparing to attack. Trent was almost within its reach. His shoulders sagged as he stopped resisting, his sword tip dropping to the ground.
Embracing his forward momentum, he rushed ahead, plunging his sword into the Spider’s mouth, rolling over its head and back onto its body. He left his blade behind and drew Sorrow. Bloodletting caused the blade of the knife to glow as he stabbed wildly into any bit of the Spider he could reach. Eyes, or body, it made no difference.
His sprint forward created slack in the line that bound him, and Trent maneuvered his way onto the Spider’s flat, hairy body. When the pulling on his left arm began again, Trent plunged Sorrow as deeply into the Guardian as he possibly could. He did not fight the tugging; each jerk carved a longer groove into the Guardian, and Trent was content to allow the Beast to continue injuring itself.
Even with his concentration set on maintaining a hold on Sorrow, Trent managed to notice the tremble in the Spider’s body. This time he recognized it for what it was. Not the sign of victory that he had thought, but the Beast preparing to use a Skill. A Skill that would drop him to the floor and put the Spider in a position to ambush him again. He gritted his teeth and prepared for the fall. He refused to be caught off guard this time by the Skill or the Beast’s subsequent assault.
Trent’s stomach lurched and his vision swam as space folded around him. A moment of darkness and then the Spider was stepping through a void; its Skill taking it to a dark corner of the room. It was probably as surprised as Trent was when its foe came along for the ride.
Trent looked at the silk that was wrapped around his hand. Presumably, the other end was still attached to the Spider. Was that the reason he was able to travel with the Beast, because they were connected? There was some slack on the line again, and Trent took advantage of the Guardian’s bewilderment to scramble further up onto its back before sinking Sorrow back in to anchor himself.
The Spider skittered and chirped as it spun in place, trying to dislodge its passenger. This motion only caused Sorrow to tear more. As Trent grimly held on, the Spider stopped. The Beast’s wounds bled freely. Trent’s had already clotted. It was just a matter of time before the Guardian bled out. Not exactly a glorious victory, but Trent would take it.
However, the Guardian was not so willing to accept its fate. The tiny hairs that covered its body stood up straight, then exploded into the air, creating a cloud of tan particles around the creature. The hair drifted down, falling on the gaps in Trent’s armor and settling in. When the hair came in contact with his skin, his wounds burned and itched. Trent’s eyes watered, and his nose clogged with snot
as the hair was drawn beneath his mask by his own breathing, and that breathing became very painful as his lungs started to tighten and contract.
There would be no waiting for the Guardian to die. Trent struggled to draw air into his burdened lungs, and the hair that landed on his wounded shoulder reopened the cuts there. He released his hold on Sorrow and tried to summon his sword, forgetting in his panic that he had left the blade stuck in the Beast’s mouth.
He opened Storage and searched through it until he found an Elwire blade. His eyes swelling shut, Trent took the wooden sword out, holding it awkwardly as he came to his feet.
Settling the tip of the blade into the groove that Sorrow had cut, Trent fell forward to push the sword as deeply into the Spider as it would go. With one arm stretched towards the Spider’s head and his sight dimming, falling was the best he could do.
Two feet of the wooden sword plunged into the Guardian’s back. Trent held on gamely as the Beast rocked and spun beneath him. The Elwire sword, crafted by amateur hands, was not the best weapon for handling giant arachnids, but no one would be happy to have two feet of wood jammed into their body. Trent threw his torso back and forth; the Spider’s whirling widened the hole in the creature’s back and pushing the sword further in.
The sword was buried up to the hilt, and Trent was sprawled in a pool of blood and hair, when life finally left the Guardian. Dazed, blind, and choking, it took Trent several minutes to realize he had won. Flipping on to his back, Trent fumbled at his belt until he found his water skin. He pushed up his mask and poured water onto his face, spluttering as the lukewarm liquid washed his eyes clean.
His vision was still blurry but partially restored. Sitting up, Trent hacked and coughed atop the corpse of the Spider, trying to clear his lungs. It was ten minutes before he could draw a full breath. The exploding hair was a dirty trick with long-lasting effects that Trent wished he could learn.