A Soldier's Life

Chapter 141: The Shimmering Labyrinth

Castile stood next to Scholar Favian as he continued to clean the door. His robes, hands, and arms were quickly covered in dirt as he frenziedly cleared away the centuries of dust, searching for more script.

“Does this mean the dungeon is above ground?” Castile asked the filthy but excited Scholar.

Scholar Favian paused, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. “The translation is something like, 'Guardians of Access to the Labyrinth.' The Elven King who ruled Caelora kept the Adventurer’s Guild from accessing the dungeon and maintained his own guards for the entrance. The entrance could be at the top of these stairs,” he said excitedly. He looked down the passage, “Or it could be close, just down there. We are in the right place at any rate, Mage Castile.”

Adrian looked skeptical. “We should not go up to the city unless we are sure. It could trigger a flood of specters to our position, and we would be quickly overrun.”

Castile looked out over the men in the corridor. It was clear we were on our last legs. She looked at me, expecting some wisdom, but I remained silent, with nothing to offer. Finally, Castile gave a command, “Let’s clear a room nearby and rest. Eryk, find a suitable room. After we rest, I will lead a team up the stairs to explore.”

Adrian was clearly not happy with the answer but nodded. It felt strange being part of the decision-making process. The mystique of leadership appeared to be mostly a guessing game.

We found a storeroom with rotted crates and set up camp. I was tasked with watching Lirkin cook and prepare the meager food allocation. After the meal, I sat with Maveith, who was fondling his new hammer in a less-than-flattering way. “You like playing with it?” I asked, preparing to lead into a joke.

Maveith nodded. “Killing is not its intended purpose, but it is still a runic weapon. It makes me feel strong and confident.”His voice echoed in the room. He was making a lead-in joke too easy, but I resisted.

“You are taking down twice as many specters as the next man in the company, even Konstantin,” I said, and he beamed at the praise. I left the joke about his fascination with playing with his hammer unspoken; I was not feeling it today, and Maveith would have probably taken a few minutes to puzzle it out anyway, ruining the delivery.

We rested against the wall and sipped on watered-down wine. Both our stomachs protested loudly at the inadequacy of the offering. Maveith spoke uncharacteristically softly after a time, “Eryk, I think I am going to go home and tell my father.” I knew Maveith was referring to the reason he ran away from Stone Mountain Island. He had seen his sister cut down by orc slavers and ran away in fear and shame at not trying to help.

I had been hoping Maveith would stick around for a while. He did grow on you after some time. “I think that is sensible, Maveith. He will be happy to see you are alive.” Maveith did not say anything else, and a few hours later, Castile took Konstantin, Adrian, Flavius, and Brutus up the stairs to search the building above.

It was only a few minutes before we could hear the echoes of fighting up above. Benito and I guarded the base of the stairs. The muffled sounds rang down to us, but we could not determine what was happening. It was almost an hour before Brutus descended the steps. He looked cold and exhausted. “One wight, but Castile restrained it with shadow chains. Also, some twenty specters so far. Specters keep coming from the city, but only one or two at a time. Benito is to head up and replace me for now. Eryk, you are to replace Flavius.”

I directed a few of the men to take our places guarding the stairway. With my glowstone out, I climbed the stairs with Benito. I counted forty-one steps to reach the landing, and each step brought colder and colder air. Entering the room beyond, I was momentarily confused as one of the windows was letting in light from the very top. It was a blindingly bright white light after so long underground, where the only light came from the soft glowstones that lit the rooms and halls. The rays of the sun felt almost foreign to my skin.

Konstantin was sitting on a stone table with Adrian. Castile was walking slowly around the room. A desiccated corpse in armor was sprawled across the floor, and other scattered skeletons dotted the room. I tore my eyes from the wight, and the room looked like an intact tavern trapped in time. The windows were also intact, but the deep snow encased the building. Flavius studied me for a moment before he headed down the stairs to get some rest with the company.

As I was figuring out the large open room, a specter walked through a wall near a window, and Konstantin slid off the table and hacked it down in a flurry of sparks. Castile did not use the kettle immediately as she circled the room,entranced. Seeing Castile thinking, Adrian asked, “What is it, Castile?”

“The stone walls have runic weaves in them. This entire building has been artificed like the library to preserve it,” she said while running her hands along the stone wall.

“To what purpose?” Konstantin asked while keeping watch over where the specter had dissipated. Castile paused her exploration and used the kettle on the remnants, collecting the purple smoke so Konstantin could sit down again.

“Defense. Protection,” Castile said, bemused and shrugging as, in the end, it didn’t matter how it had stood for nearly fifteen hundred years. “It is just like the library and seems like a huge waste of resources, but maybe it is just how the ancient elves built their buildings. These runes are something I would expect to find defending the walls of the city, not every building within the city. I could probably break the weaves as they are weak, but…” Castile went silent in thought.

After a long silence, I interrupted Castile’s musings, “So the dungeon is not here?”

Castile turned and considered. “We think it is through that door,” she pointed to the large door at the back of the tavern. I did not understand why the others were not more excited at the prospect—the goal of over a month of searching. I approached the heavy door and knocked on it. It was solid and didn’t sound like wood.

Konstantin laughed at my efforts. “It is petrified wood. Wood turned to stone, like everything else in here.”

Castile approached the door and stood next to me. “We are going to need Maveith’s hammer to break it down. Whatever magic petrified the wood has sealed the door in place. We already tried opening it. We will check and clear the upper floors first. I am guessing this is the elven version of an Adventurer’s Guild Hall. Do you think we should have the company join us up here?” Her question was directed at me. I sensed it was a test.

I thought about it, “No. If the specters can come through the walls, we might get rushed and be unable to retreat to the undercity before being overrun. It is also much colder up here,” I said as I watched the cloud of my breath expand and dissipate.

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Castile nodded and smirked. She addressed Adrian, “Told you he could think and offer something.” Adrian just shrugged,either at my answer or Castile’s compliment of me. Adrian had said the same thing I had before we climbed the stairs, so I essentially agreed with him.

Only one stairway led up near a large fireplace, and we all made our way up the petrified steps. Our footfalls scraped on the stone as we reached the next floor. The stairs wrapped around, indicating even more floors. The hallway was lined with sealed stone doors. It was as if all the wood in the building had been turned to stone. We managed to break through one of the thin doors. The noise brought five specters, but the fight was over quickly.

Konstantin had us remain perfectly silent after the short fight so we could listen for any wights. We didn’t hear any movement, but everyone was on edge. Inside the room was a bedroom with all the furniture turned to stone. Castile studied a chest and bed before tapping the stone bed frame, “I think a powerful mage did this before he died. It must have happened when the Legion poisoned the city. The mage lashed out blindly while dying from the poison, petrifying all the wood in his spell’s range. But that is just my best guess.”

We called Maveith after we got to the first room. Maveith was willing to use his new hammer to bash down door after door. We worked through the second and third floors with a few preserved skeletons and fewer specters. Two more elven runic blades were found and passed to men in the company. Only Scholar Favian, Castile, and two legionnaires now had no runic weapon to use against the specters.

Looking out on the city from the higher floors showed us to be in the shadow of the massive hearth tree. Adrian offered conspiratorially, “If those giant eagles are still alive, perhaps we can lure one down to join us for dinner.”

Castile shook her head, “If we did, it would reveal to the Summoner where we are. We need to get into the dungeon unnoticed.”

With the upper floors cleared, we turned our attention to the large door at the back of the building that possibly led to the dungeon entrance. We encircled the door as Maveith swung his hammer, and his first strike caused spidering cracks to form. His second strike caused a chunk of stone to free itself, thudding onto the floor. His third strike had the door crumbling inward, revealing a small pile of snow walled behind it.

Our celebration was short-lived as a wight burst out of the snow and launched itself at Maveith. The mummified elf bit into Maveith’s arm, and he flung it into the center of the room, sending it crashing into and shattering a stone table.

Castile yelled, “I will restrain it! Someone take its head!” Another wight burst out in a cloud of white snow, targeting Maveith again. He was ready this time, and his hammer came down on its head, slamming its body into the floor.

Shadow chains raced from Castile’s fingers and encircled the first wight. Konstantin started to engage it, but I was more concerned with the translucent specters coming from the snow with it. Adrian cursed, “It is a fucking rush! We should retreat!”

Castile was fumbling with the kettle while trying to maintain her shadow chains. “No! Eryk!” Castile tossed the kettle in my direction to focus on restraining the wight for Konstantin. I nestled the kettle and channeled my aether to consume the wight Maveith had struck. The tug-o-war with its undead soul left a cold, unnatural feeling spreading through me. I used my black blade to hold off a specter with my free arm as I backpedaled.

A third wight tore out of the snow. Benito had engaged it, but the creature was immensely strong and in silvery plate mail. Benito was thrown back hard by the creature’s silvery broadsword striking his own. Benito crashed hard into a stone table, losing his weapon. “Eryk, kettle this one!” Konstantin yelled as he went to protect Benito. The first wight was beheaded, and I raced to use the kettle on it. It seemed to take forever as the rich purple smoke flowed slowly from the severed head and neck into the kettle.

Castile’s shadow chains encompassed the wight with the massive runic broadsword. They couldn’t contain it, though, as it crossed swords with Konstantin. Konstantin grunted as he tried to block a heavy overhead swing. The wight’s sword cut into his pauldron and drove him to his knees. Maveith was swinging wildly and grunted with effort at the stream of specters coming from the snow, trying to get them all before they entered the room.

Adrian targeted the specters that slipped past Maveith. It was complete chaos. Benito was moaning in pain, Konstantin was in serious trouble, and Castile was drawing more shadow chains to slow the wight. Should I continue with the kettle or help Konstantin? Maveith howled in pain as a specter got past his windmilling hammer.

I made a decision and raced to help Konstantin, leaving the kettle spinning on a table within easy reach of Castile. I rushed the creature in plate armor, swinging its nearly four-foot sword to behead Konstantin. I layered air shields in the path of the killing blow. The sword destroyed both air shields but slowed the blade enough for me to parry the large blade and pull Konstantin back.

The old scout did not look good, with blood oozing from his shoulder. I could tell from the wound that his clavicle was broken. I barked at him, trying to motivate him, “Konstantin, are you telling me it only took one swing to bring you down?”

Castile was layering her shadow chains, and the large wight was struggling but almost under control. Konstantin grunted something I couldn’t make out and tried to stand. My black blade was trying to get past the armored wight, but it was still foiling me. With Castile’s shadows weighing down the wight, it was a somewhat even contest. I was soon sweating in the frigid air and focused on my combat. I finally got the advantage by ducking a horizontal swing and placing air shields so the undead creature could not swing back. My blade darted out, striking into its throat.

The creature just grabbed my blade and extracted it. While it was focused on me, Adrian came from the side and hacked into its neck. This gave me some control over my own blade, and with Adrian’s help, we removed the creature’s head. I ran over, picking up the kettle once more, quick to use it on the creature. I gritted my teeth against the pain that was evident on my face as I overcame the creature’s resistance to being permanently ended. Castile nodded weakly in my direction, drained from using her chains to hinder the wight. The violent violet smoke seemed almost substantial as it flowed from the creature into the kettle.

Maveith was still holding back the tide of specters, and Adrian moved to help him. I stumbled for a second but also joined him once my task was complete, just hoping no more wights entered the tavern. Konstantin even stood with us, weakly wielding his runic blade. Benito was not able to stand, his arm clearly broken and his leg at an odd angle. Fortunately, the tide of specters slowed and eventually stopped. Castile must have used the kettle nearly a hundred times in less than thirty minutes. The bronze artifact was almost completely full from her efforts.

Benito was on the floor, wincing and trying to get his dislocated hip in a comfortable position. Konstantin was trying to remove his armor to check on his shoulder. Maveith was inhaling deep breaths and still guarding the shattered stone door. White and black blotches were all over his skin from where the wight and specters had struck him. I stood next to Adrian, and we were both steaming as our sweat vaporized in the freezing air.

Castile’s fingers were white with frostbite as she put the kettle of souls down once she was sure she had contained all the remaining specters. No one spoke for a long time as the realization that we had won slowly sank in. Maveith was the first to speak, “What does a dungeon entrance look like?”

Castile answered him, “It would appear as a black door with an oily appearance.”

Maveith nodded, “I think the dungeon is there, then.” We all rushed to see where he was pointing. The snow blocked the majority of the doorway, and it was still extremely deep, but about thirty feet away, the top of a stone archway was visible above the snow, and a black oily surface was just below the stone arch. We all stood there and studied the obvious dungeon entrance tantalizingly close. The sun was setting outside, and soon, it would be hidden by the dark. But we were all certain we had found the entrance to the Shimmering Labyrinth.

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