Dungeon corps maze of me.., p.1
Dungeon Corps: Maze of Menos, page 1
Dungeon Corps
Maze of Menos
Jaxon Reed
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Copyright
Dungeon Corps: Crypts of Phanos
Copyright © 2020 by Jaxon Reed
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover by Jacqueline Sweet Design
Editing and formatting by edbok.com
patreon.com/jaxonreed
Dedication
Many thanks to author Jada Ryker and other Patreon subscribers as always. The ongoing support and encouragement is wonderful.
1
“I’m tellin’ y’ Esdmond, she likes me!”
“And I’m telling you, you slimy tunnel poo, she likes me!”
“Yer both daft,” Seymour said. “It’s obvious the fair lass favors a more sophisticated suitor such as myself.”
The first two dwarves turned and stared dagger eyes at the third.
Esdmond Druthers, bald and red-bearded with a temper to match the fiery color of his whiskers, turned his anger on Egger Seymour.
He snarled, “I’m the leader. Womenfolk always go for the leader!”
Enton Balt said, “You ain’t no leader here in the land of yumans.”
He had a full head of hair, all black, and a much shorter beard that only fell down to his chest.
Druthers stopped walking, making everyone in the party stop along with him since he was in front and the crypt’s tunnel was relatively narrow at this point.
“I’m the leader of us dwarves, you pond scum! I’m not talking about the bigger geography. Of course we’re in the land of yumans!”
“Clearly both of you are unsophisticated in the ways of yuman women,” Seymour interjected.
He stood a little straighter, and a couple inches taller than the other two. In contrast to Druthers’ red and Balt’s black, Seymour sported a rich brown beard and neatly coifed matching hair. His beard fell down to his stomach, festooned with white silk ribbons.
The other dwarves glared at him.
“Iffen the yuman woman chooses one of us, she’ll be choosin’ me. The leader,” Druthers stated, quite loudly. His hand slowly moved to the hilt of the short sword on his belt.
Balt’s hands jumped to the daggers on either side of his waist while Seymour pulled out the battle axe strapped to his back. It seemed grossly out of proportion in size, made for a man three times his height, but he held it with deadly intent.
Behind them, one of the two larger people in their party politely cleared his throat.
“You know, the lady in question might decide to spend a lovely evening with a vampire later tonight. After supper at Headquarters, of course.”
All three dwarves turned and glared up at Choster, who happened to be a vampire. He smiled, a hint of fangs flashing from bloodless red lips.
Esmerelda, the only woman in the group and the subject of the current disagreement, smiled too. She looked young and was dressed in a dark purple outfit covering her from the neck to her wrists and down to her ankles, with long slits to the thighs so her legs could move freely.
She said, “While I appreciate being the center of so much attention, I assure you that I’m only interested in humans.”
She glanced at Choster and said, “Living humans. Men. About my age.”
She looked back to the dwarves and smiled.
“And height, no offense.”
The three dwarves stared back, sullenly. Druthers’ eyes narrowed to slits, anger bubbling up. He opened his mouth to say something.
Esmerelda cut him off before he could speak.
“But I’m sure all three of you have your choice of dwarven maidens back home. No doubt you had to fight them off with a stick, before you left. And when you return with your good fortunes, you will have your choice from dozens . . . hundreds . . . of beautiful girls, all clamoring to be the lucky ones who get to marry you.”
Druthers’ anger settled down at her soothing words, and his hand left his sword hilt.
He rubbed his red beard and said, “Well, it’s true I was known as quite the rapscallion back home. I imagine Gravely’s daughter and several others shed a few tears at my departure.”
“I passed up three betrothals before leaving,” Balt said. “I told their fathers it wouldn’t be right to marry them with no gold under me belt.”
Seymour sniffed and said, “Naturally I have known many of the fairer sex in my time. Doubtless far more than either of you two will ever dream of.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Druthers snapped, his face turning the same shade of red as his beard.
He half pulled his sword out when Choster poofed into a dark cloud.
He rematerialized 30 feet down the corridor. He stared through the darkness, beyond Esmerelda’s floating Globe of Light, and listened.
The others watched him, their argument forgotten. He glanced back at them and poofed out of sight again, reappearing where he stood moments before.
He said, “Something’s coming. All this time you have spent arguing has attracted unwanted attention. I hope this is a lesson to you.”
Druthers’ upper lip curled. He said, “’I hope this is a lesson to you,’” in a high-pitched, mocking tone.
Down the corridor, as if in response, something growled.
“What was that?” Balt said, pulling out his daggers.
“If I may hazard a guess,” Seymour said, “that sounded like a cave bear.”
“Good,” Druthers said, drawing his short sword. “It’s about time we got to face something other than alpha rats.”
They were, in fact, fairly deep in the Crypts of Phanos, having discovered a portion of a wall that had caved in on a standard upper level patrol. The breach connected a separate passage leading deeper into the crypts, and had allowed unfettered access from the lower levels for an indeterminate amount of time.
After making temporary repairs with stones, dirt, and magic, Choster led the young group on a round of the nearby tunnels to make sure nothing dangerous had escaped from the newly sealed area.
Unfortunately, the dwarves’ incessant arguing had attracted something. And if Choster’s guess was right, it was not a typical denizen of the upper levels but rather something that made its way through the breach from the lower crypts.
They heard the pounding of paws along with grunts, growls and heavy breaths.
“Positions, everyone,” Choster said.
The three dwarves took point, easily covering the space between the tunnel’s walls. All were armed and they stared intently into the gloom at the light’s edge.
Esmerelda stood beside Choster, tense. She had both hands up in front of her, preparing to cast Fireball.
Choster nodded in approval. A fireball would be a good first spell against a charging cave bear.
For his part, he did not worry about preparing anything. In fact, Choster could handle a cave bear by himself, if needed. More likely, if he were soloing the dungeon, he would simply slip by most such dangers undetected either by using Shadow Invisibility, or as a bat, or as mist.
But this was a patrol run, designed to eliminate monsters who managed to find their way here from the lower levels. So, threats like cave bears and alpha rats, stray zombies and anything else were hunted down and exterminated before they could cause problems elsewhere.
The good people of Phanos slept soundly at night because Dungeon Corps kept the creatures of night at bay.
That was the idea, anyway, he thought. And right now, one of the newest Dungeon Corps teams had yet to fully gel into a cohesive unit. They were so unlike the last team Choster served on.
He put aside those thoughts as flickers of light sparkled in the darkness, growing brighter as the bear sounds grew louder.
It roared in rage, lighting up the far end of the tunnel. Arcs of lightning streaked off a bear the color of night, flickering and flashing as it raced down the tunnel toward them.
Choster said, “Astéri árktos. A lightning bear. Very rare, and very dangerous. Anything metal will get zapped. Drop your weapons, boys. Find something else to hit it with. Esmer, do your thing.”
Druthers frowned at the command to drop his weapon, which seemed counterintuitive. Then a flicker of lightning reached out and grounded ten feet away with a loud Zap!
He threw his short sword down in disgust and raised his tiny fists.
Balt tossed his daggers down and popped his neck, then assumed a fighting stance.
Seymour sighed and leaned his battle axe against the crypt’s wall, carefully. Then he reached inside his rucksack and pulled out a crossbow. It was cocked already, the firing mechanism taut. He placed a quarrel in the weapon’s grooved slot and aimed at the bear. Choster nodded, approving the measure.
Esmerelda focused on her Fireball spell, the globe steadily growing larger betwee
She collapsed to one knee, the spell draining her.
PHOOM!
The black bear roared in pain and stopped, fur burning. Lightning bolts shot out from its body in erratic patterns, grounding on the floor, walls, and ceiling.
Thwup!
Seymour’s quarrel shot out from the crossbow and flew down the passage, thunking into the bear’s eye. It roared in pain, blood trickling down its face.
“Good shot!” Choster said.
Seymour beamed in pride and began the laborious process of cocking the weapon by cranking the handle.
Clickata-clickata-clickata-clickata . . .
Druthers and Balt screamed and raced down the passageway barehanded. As they drew closer they screamed louder, in part to boost their courage and in part to intimidate their foe.
The bear roared in response to the challenge and rose on its hind legs, head brushing the ceiling.
The dwarves jumped, launching themselves at close range. The bear swiped with a paw. Balt was on the side with its good eye, and the paw caught him midair, slashing and throwing him down to the ground.
Druthers made it to the bear’s neck. He screamed in the creature’s ear and pummeled its nose. Then he grabbed the quarrel out of its eye and began using it as a dagger, stabbing the beast’s face.
The bear roared and six huge bolts of lightning sprouted from its front. One grounded on the bolt and shocked Druthers with sudden force.
Poom!
The impact threw him off and he flew back, landing on the floor smoking.
The bear roared again and charged down the cave, galumphing awkwardly with only one eye.
Choster looked at the two fallen dwarves, then at Seymour, still cranking desperately on the crossbow to his right. On his left, Esmerelda stood, shaking and breathing hard, recovering from her spell.
Clickata-clickata-clickata-clickata . . .
The vampire sighed and jumped into high speed, flashing forward to meet the bear with a dagger.
To Choster, time seemed to slow. Everyone else, including the bear, moved as if swimming through syrup.
Cli . . .
He easily dodged a lightning bolt branching toward him, and he stabbed the bear’s other eye.
. . . ckata . . .
Before the animal could scream its rage, he stabbed it in the neck three times, then ran back out of the way as it began to fall.
Cli . . .
When he popped back into normal speed, the bear collapsed on the ground, the last flickers of energy shorting out along with its life.
. . . ckata . . .
Dust settled as the bear’s body lay still.
Choster looked at the others and said, “Hm. Healing potions for those two. Esmer, drink a mana potion.”
Clickata-Clickata-Clink!
Seymour shouted, “Aha!” in triumph. “Now, where did I put me bolts?”
He scrounged in the bag, looking for more ammunition.
Choster sighed.
-+-
The team straggled into Headquarters later in the day. Esmerelda and the dwarves looked exhausted. They were dirty and stained with bear blood.
“Go on and eat,” Choster said, “and I’ll turn in our items.”
The dwarves were so tired, they did not even argue. And money was something they normally kept a hawk’s eye on, he thought.
Nevertheless, there was no reason for him to cheat or hold back on his team members, and the young woman and three dwarves made their way to the empty food line without protest.
Choster rang the bell at the counter and waited patiently, ignoring the urge to poof into a cloud of mist and go looking for the absent quartermaster.
Finally, after several minutes Dankers popped his head out the door behind the counter.
He said, “Ah! Thought I heard that bell. What can I do for the vampire?”
Choster opened his magic bag, and struggled to pull out the giant black hide he had the dwarves cut from the carcass.
He said, “Lightning bear pelt.”
Dankers’ eyebrows jumped. He said, “I haven’t seen one of those in a long time. Didn’t know we had anything like that in the crypts.”
Choster shrugged and said, “There was a breach. It must have come from the lower depths.”
“How’d your team take it down? You’ve got one of the green groups, don’t you?”
“Well, you know . . . I had to help. They lived through it, though, so it was a good experience.”
They were distracted by a howl of outrage from the dining area, followed by Druthers yelling.
“Y’took the last piece of pie, y’ mangy cur!”
Balt said, “I ain’t no cur!”
“Yer mother was a cur! And her mother’s mother!”
“You take that back!”
The sound of drawn blades echoed through the empty space before they heard Esmerelda’s voice.
“Boys! Enough! Druthers, you can have my slice of pie, I don’t want it.”
Eventually the tension died down and the four commenced to eating again.
“How do you keep them all together without killing each other?” Dankers said.
Choster smiled, keeping his fangs hidden.
He said, “Truth to tell, I think they’re a little intimidated by me. And, it helps when we find something to fight. All that energy can be turned against whatever is coming at us. I must say, I think we’ve exterminated every rat and alpha rat under Phanos. Certainly every one we could find. It may be a while before their population recovers. The dwarves are quite vicious at eliminating the pests. And they’re fearless facing anything down there.
“They don’t listen to instructions well, and they ignore their own safety and the safety of others. But if they can kill whatever they’re fighting, they’ll do it.”
“Mm. I don’t doubt you. Alright, this particular pelt is quite valuable. It’s actually resistant to lightning spells, and some magical tailors will pay dearly for it as a liner in a cloak or some such. I’ll credit your team’s account 500 gold and we’ll put it up at the local auction and adjust accordingly after it sells. Most likely you’ll get more than that for it.”
“Sounds good,” Choster said, handing over a much smaller bag full of coins looted from rats, pack rats, and alpha rats to add to the team’s account.
“Is there anything your people need that we might have in inventory?”
Choster thought about it for a moment. He said, “The tallest one refuses to give up his crossbow. He’s got good aim. Shot that bear in the eye from 40 paces. But it takes him far too long to reload.”
Dankers nodded knowingly. “That’s the great drawback, if you’ll pardon the pun, with crossbows. I suppose he’d like a magical one? Unfortunately those are very expensive. They’re typically an engineered item, and hundreds of gold to begin with. You get a mage who takes the time to enchant one so it’s always cocked and loaded, and you’re getting into several thousand gold territory.”
The vampire frowned and his shoulders slumped. But he knew this was the likely answer he would receive, even before he made the inquiry.
“However,” Dankers said, “I do have some magic quarrels somebody found on a run last month. Nobody else uses a crossbow, so they’ve been sitting here all this time. I’ll let you have them for the smaller bag of loot, say 20 gold altogether?”
“Alright. How many magic quarrels are we talking about, and what do they do?”
“Ten. They multiply once shot. So, each shot is really ten quarrels at once. You’re getting in effect 100 quarrels but only buying ten. You see—“
“I get it. Thanks, we’ll take it. And hold onto any other magic quarrels for us that cross your counter. Or anything else three angry dwarves might be able to make use of.”
