Chapter 1: The Only Way Out Is Down

-Martin-

 

“Dammit tree, if you step on my heels one more time, I’ll make sure my arrow finds its way into you tonight after you’ve closed those beady eyes of yours.”

A harsh scoff brushed through her lips, “heh, you’d would like that, wouldn’t you, little man? But your arrow is pretty small, ya know? Prolly won’t even feel it.”

He scoffed back at her, “any arrow would be small to you, tree.”

“Wanna run that one past me again, stump?”

 

“Alright children, enough with the games. Gods, I’m getting a headache just listening,” I finally had to call out to them. Behind my back I could feel Orri and Dargo glare at each other once more before returning to silence. It honestly did sometimes feel like I was working with a band of children.

My band and I had just set out that morning, yet these two were already going at it. One would have thought a week of booze and sleeping would have sapped their ability to bicker. Still, we had bigger fish to fry and hit the road at first light. There were rumors of a new dungeon somewhere in this forest, and we were bound to find it. No, we had to find it. We were tired of always getting seconds after other adventurers picked these places clean, so now we were going in before the dungeon went public. I wanted us to finally make a name for ourselves, and opportunities like this were becoming increasingly rare as fewer and fewer new dungeons were being found. Besides that, the descendants of those who built the ruins often have sharp words and sharper swords if you try stomping all over their property. Given how this one was left to rot in the forest – I doubt anyone would mind. I led my group deeper through the woods, the sun shining her rays down between the breaks in the canopy every so often.

As I led the pack, it made me wonder again why in the hell I was chosen as the group leader, or captain as the orc insists. Martin Exetal! All hail! no one in the world bothers to call. While I consider myself proficient enough with my sword and shield and rarely does my plate armor take any hits, by no means am I a master of anything. Although I can hardly call myself ancient, I do have the most years of adventuring, swordplay, and travel under my belt. Seniority rules, at least in this case. Hell, something tells me I was promoted to the lead role just because everyone else knows the leader takes responsibility for everything. That would make the most sense – all these kids behind me would be lost if it weren’t for my leadership; none of them are the responsible type.

 

For example, let’s start with the arguing pair. Dargo was the resident dwarf. Hailing from some underground dwarven city I could not even beg my tongue to pronounce the name of, he joined Canton and I a decade back, having ceded from his dark metropolis and heading out until the above-ground world. Although he barely came up to the belly of any man, those who tried their hand at him still found themselves flat on their ass. And while I’m speaking of bellies – Dargo’s would dwarf anyone’s. Man could eat like nothing I have ever seen, but then again, most dwarves lived and died at the dinner table.

His long red hair and beard obscured most of his face, but left his mouth flawlessly unmolested. Despite what his pudgy stomach might insinuate, he had horrific strength in his arms and legs. Dargo would outrun or outgun people thrice his size. Case in point – he could maneuver during battle like he was carried by the wind, and he used a massive crossbow nearly the size of himself slung across his back. The thing was a marvel of dwarven engineering, and although I’ve tried countless times to nock it, the rope would always end up nearly taking my fingers off. Yet he still manages to fire it off no slower than a trained longbowman. As such, having him at our backs in any situation was critical.

His thick skin was nearly as impenetrable as the chainmail he always wore and loudly clacked with each step. There were enough snarky comments rolling out of his maw to represent every hair in his beard, and he usually could be found delivering each one with an accompanying arrow for his enemies. Having him in your blind spot was a fantastic feeling – like eyes in the back of your head.

My eyes came off the little man and upwards towards the canopy. We were still walking along, the sunlight peeping through every so often, threatening us with its summer heat. I glanced back down at the crudely-drawn map I had paid far too much for in a tavern the previous night. Bloke was drunk off his rocker, blabbering off about some dungeon his band found and was going to raid it in the coming days. Too bad for them, I swindled the details through his drunken stupor and snagged a map. We were going to be first, and that was final.

I looked up from the map and back across my shoulder to the next member of the group, although she was protecting our rear. Her fangs glinted as she smiled down at me. Even if it were a friendly gesture, my skin still crawled. She always had that effect.

Orri. An absolute mountain of a woman – and even for an orc, too damn big. I once asked if her father was an ogre, which she stanchly denied. Not only was she enormous, but every inch of her was intimidating. There was likely more raw strength in one of her ten fingers than my entire body. It showed, too – her leathery armor barely fit across her midsection while most of her legs and entire arms went bare. She was laced to high heaven with scars and cuts and bruises yet refused to wear more than what was necessary for her own decency. I doubt she even needed it; her muscled form was armor enough.

She continued snickering as I looked up at her. Way up. I’ve hardly met a man that comes any higher than her chest aside from other orcs, who still sometimes look puny when Orri was present. Every inch of her was this deep, unreproducible shade of green that made her blend into the shaded forest behind her. If it weren’t for the two razor-like, white-as-snow fangs sticking out of her lower gums and those beady black eyes of hers, she could easily escape amongst the foliage. Even her coal-black hair which bounced in its ponytail behind her framed her face as if staring into some kind of demon. But, if I am being honest, I think her appearance alone gets us out of a lot of fights. Some seem to turn tail and run at just the sight of her. We don’t complain.

We had first met her maybe six or seven years ago. Dargo, Canton, and myself were in a tavern surrounding a job board when we picked up one that called for an ogre extermination. As I handed it into the barkeep it was immediately snatched out of my hand by one far larger and greener than my own. The three of us were pale as ghosts as that gigantic creature studied the paper she now held before handing it back. I’ll never forget the way she grinned sadistically, nor the nonchalant way she calmly said,

“This job looks cool. I’m coming with.”

To which, we immediately and wholeheartedly agreed. We were too scared shitless to deny her. After the job ended she stuck around and, again – we were to petrified to ask when she was leaving. We still haven’t asked.

Out of the two weapons she carried, I wasn’t sure which was more dangerous. The first was her charming wit and level head, somehow being the calmest out of all of us by a wide margin. Never, not once, have any of us seen her frustrated or upset with anything. She had never even raised her voice against us nor anything else, opting to instead smile and charm her way through everything as if violence and bloodshed were nothing more than a game. The second tool at her disposal was the monstrous broadsword slung across her back, nearly as long as she was tall, a feat into itself. Ironwood handle and a blade so black it turns night to day, I get chills whenever she puts it in her hands, which was surprisingly rare. Most threats hardly warranted its use. I tried to pick it up more than once without success, yet she lifts it with barely just her pinky.

Finally, her name is not actually Orri – that is just what she has non-orcs call her. Her real name was some way-too-long orc title. Orgbal-gal-toldrinri… or maybe it was Orban-malak-shadranri? Fuck me, I can never remember. We all forgot years ago, and somehow she hasn’t noticed. I also know that we all value our lives and choose not to ask her.

But enough about the woman of stature. Walking in front of Orri and besides Dargo was Canton. Besides myself he was the only other human in our group and, given the chance – our deadliest weapon. Our fathers were the best of friends in our home village and would always force us to play together as children. At first we hated each other, despised even. We would fight over everything and be bloodying each other’s noses almost daily. Other boys in our town would either rally to my team or his – and no in-between. But as we grew into young men and the world outside our home looked ever more tempting to explore, our hatred grew into friendship and finally love. He was the little brother I never had.

His armor was far lighter than mine yet covered more than the orc’s. The dark brown leather was brighter once, but darkened with time. According to his own testaments, ‘the blood of my enemies has stained it beyond recognition,’ or whatever other stories he uses to win over maidens at each town we visit. His natural attractiveness with a firm, unbreakable jawline, the longest, blondest hair rolling off his scalp nearly to his waist, and the silvery tongue in his mouth has caused countless women to fall at his feet – or backwards onto his bed. If nothing else, Canton was a serious womanizer.

But by no means is that the reason he was in our band. The lightning-fast and sharp as obsidian blades at his belt will take the hand or head off anyone who steps too close. As a bar trick, he can cut a playing card in half without the untrained eye even noticing the dagger had left its hilt. As children I would often travel around with my father during his job as a merchant while Canton’s father, an alchemist by trade, forced his son to study potions and ancient writings while the other kids our age were barely adding numbers higher than our fingers. He hated it then – yet it was overwhelmingly useful in our field. I smiled for a moment, remember the good old days when it was just us men. With myself playing center field, Dargo in the rear, and Canton flanking the sidelines – there was rarely a threat we couldn’t eliminate before adding the orc. After Orri, there was no threat, ever.

 

Then after the orc, we only had one last member to add. Our newest and most unorthodox member of the family. As my eyes rolled from the blonde man to that unmistakable, cloudish bob of hair, I felt my lips tighten remembering where she came from.

Even as an elf, Aiana stood out. Her chocolatey dark skin contrasted heavily with her greyish-white hair, bobbing above her head, but in reality, it resembled a ball of cotton, or genuinely a cloud. Talk about having a stormcloud over one’s head – this little lady made it a reality. She wore bright green mage’s robes, befitting a mage such as herself, with gold leafy trim and a knapsack at her waist. She walked along directly in the center of the group for protection, with all us other members surrounding her like a wall. That twisted, wooden staff she clutched so tightly her dark knuckles went white was drove into the ground in front of her with each step, as if she were checking for a cliff she was about to walk off.

I can still picture the day we met her, clear as… day. Our band was passing through the Myrrid forest back then when we ran into a problem – that is, unless you don’t count a horrendous, monolithic forest fire as a problem. As big as they ever came, it stretched off into the distance in either direction as far as the eye could see. It was as if one of the gods themselves drew it into existence with the tip of their finger upon the world. Its heat was so intense that horses that were pulling carriages or carrying riders simply through off their cargo and scattered from whence they came. Us intelligent beings almost did the same; it was as if our skins were melting off. My eyes still hurt from just remembering the pain it took to look at the flames as they rose into the sky.

We were so distracted with the blaze, hell, the hundreds of people around us were too distraught or panicked to notice anything besides it – yet Orri still put her hand on my shoulder and pointed to something in the distance. At first, I thought the forest had come alive and some dark creature was stalking towards us. As my vision honed in, instead I saw a dark-skinned woman, naked as the day she was born and bleeding from her head profusely, walked cross-legged from the tree line yet collapsed after only a few steps. We scrambled over to her, and Orri and Canton held her in place while Dargo and I tried our best to perform first aid. There was so much blood pouring out of her she shouldn’t be alive now, yet the girl’s will overpowered it and she persevered.

There was one moment of that day I’ll never forget with a passion. As her blue eyes looked up at us through the layers of bandages, they suddenly bugged out in fear. Looking to the sky, I now noticed that the clouds had become incredibly dark instantaneously, and without warning, dropped a flood of water down upon us, killing the fire within moments. Orri used her size to shield the dark elf from this, but the rest of us got walloped by the torrent. Most people and horses were knocked clean off their feet or hooves by the flood, as if the clouds decided to drop their entire load in only moments. Strangest thing I have ever seen, especially as the clouds left quickly as they came. The gods work in mysterious ways.

After all that madness, we rushed back to a city and paid out everything in our possession for doctors to fix her up. She was still bedridden for weeks before finally being conscious enough to talk. The four of us surrounded her and, of course, the first question we asked was her name. She opened her mouth to answer, yet immediately became distraught when she couldn’t remember.

We asked where she was from. She couldn’t remember.

We asked what happened to her. She couldn’t remember.

We asked if she had anyone we could take her to, family, friends, her bandmates, even. She had no idea in the world.

 

We then had to face reality – whoever this young woman was, someone or something had beaten her to the point where all her memories were destroyed. Even now it pains me to remember how she held her own head, sobbing, and tried to force her thoughts to come back without success. Without anything else to call her, we took the name the other elves at the hospital had been calling her in their native tongue – aiana, meaning “found.”

 

Aiana Wildfire. She was overjoyed to the point she jumped into our arms when we gave her that name. The hospital staff tried getting her into a church or shelter, yet every time we tried separating her from us, she begged us not to leave her. After much deliberation, we reluctantly agreed she could join us for our journeys. That childlike, whimsical look on her face when we agreed made it all worth it. For the first few weeks, she did little more than help carry supplies, set up camp, cook, and anything else we needed done. She smiled every minute of it and always seemed frustrated she couldn’t do any more to be of use. That was, until one night.

Canton had just taken an arrow to the thigh during battle. After we dispatched the remaining bandits, we retreated back to camp and yanked the arrowhead out, with the blonde barely holding back the scream he wanted to let loose. Yet afterwards it continued bleeding profusely, to the point he was going pale. We asked Aiana to hold down the bandages over his wound while we heated up a blade to cauterize it. Yet behind our backs, the elf began chanting quietly.

Then someone joined her.

Then someone else joined.

Then more. And more.

By the time we came back to them, Aiana had not one, but dozens of voices coming out of her mouth at once while green light was flooding from her hands and coating Canton’s wound. Even her eyes glowed in the same way, all the while that bonechilling chorus kept singing in some unknown language. Even the blonde couldn’t translate it. Slowly, those voices built up as the light grew, then slowly receded, the voices disappearing one by one until it was just the elf’s, and the light faded from her eyes and hands. She slumped back, pouring with sweat. Yet as she let go of Canton’s bandages – that seeping wound underneath was completely gone. His skin was cleaner than the day he was born.

 

Aiana was a healing mage, and an extravagant one at that. And to think we tried leaving her behind!

 

She still has no idea how she could do that, yet using the magic came naturally to her, as it does to only a select few. It took her a year or two before she could do it on command, and we outfitted her with mage robes and a staff to better channel her abilities. The elf could have easily left our group and made enough gold in a year than the rest of us would see in our lifetimes with her skill – yet she chose to stay with us. We all love her to death.

 

And that about rounds up our little club. We are certainly one of the weirdest bands you will ever encounter. While our skills may be well-rounded, and hell if you ask me, we are one of the more skilled bands as well, our makeup is unusual. Most bands are made up of one race, maybe two at times, but for there to be four races among a five-member group is unique. I still love them all like family, and as much as they bicker and argue like children (mainly our largest and smallest members, who are never truly angry with each other but love to act like it), I know they would gladly die for one another. I would be willing to do the same, no questions asked. That is, after all – my duty as captain.

 

 

-Dargo-

 

What the hell is he looking at?

 

Martin has been acting weird for a while now. Keeps studying that map like the secrets of the universe were carved upon its surface, but then he looks at us as if we were a figment of his imagination, just tailing him like apparitions. Even when I raised up my eyebrow he didn’t seem to catch my expression; he was too damn involved with that scrap of parchment.

“Martin! The hell you keep doing that for,” I finally had to call.

He looked at me and stopped in place, “doing what?”

“You keep looking like you’ve never seen us before, what’s up? Gettin’ spooked? Wanna head back to town?”

The human laughed to himself, “just want to make sure none of you wandered off! Maybe the excitement is getting to you, scaring you away, Dargo? Afraid those tavern girls gonna go cold tonight without you?”

I scoffed at him, “not in your life! Those ladies are…”

 

Something bumped me from behind then, making me fall face first into the dirt. I sputtered moss and pebbles out of my mouth yet some still stuck to my beard.

 

“Damn you, tree! Watch where you’re going!”

Orri let out a deep, gruff chuckle at that, “you shouldn’t stop so suddenly, then – you’re so close to the ground I can’t see you.”

I stood back up and was about ready to give her another piece of my mind when she stared down at me, trademark grin in tow. Those shiny eyes and teeth of hers told me she wouldn’t even bother listening to anything I had to say. In one ear and out the other with this overgrown monstrosity. I relented and started walking again, with a bit faster gait to get some distance between us.

You are reading story Object of Desire at novel35.com

The human went back to his map and tuned out everything around him. I know Martin had been excited about this “new” dungeon he heard about but… was it really worth all this trouble? He wants to make himself known, that much is certain. He’s not famous by any means, but he’s not unknown, either. Sometimes ego alone seems to drive him. As for me, I never cared much for fame. Just the thrill of adventure and a plate of hot food each night is more than enough for me. The ladies serving me that hot food was just an added bonus. They always seem drawn in to glittering coins like moths into flame.

I looked over to Canton, given he had been silent this whole time. He had always been quiet, only speaking whenever he thought something was important. A far cry from Martin, always running his mouth to whoever would listen. Blondie looked down at me with those dark eyes of his, and we nodded upon eye contact. Even without words we both knew we were just going along with Martin’s flow.

On that note we kept walking. Glancing up the sun kept threatening to break through the canopy and bake us alive. My teeth ground a bit; dwarves had always been at odds with the sun. Most of us live mainly underground, and of those – there exist some who have never even seen the sky. Ancient dwarves with beards that scrape the cave floors come running back underground like little girls after seeing the sun for the first time. I chuckled, remembering one man who had to be carried back underground, afraid he was going to be yanked up into the sky with how open it was.

A few birds whistled through the air above our heads as I looked up. The moment made me smile, no matter what we were heading into, this moment of peace set me at ease. Still, should it last too long we would all start getting restless. I wish we could just be at that dungeon already so Martin would get over this business. But if he wants to let it out of his system, so be it. I’m just here for a good time.

 

-Aiana-

 

I wished Orri and Dargo would stop fighting already. Every time the dwarf raises his voice it just makes the green girl laugh. They just seem to be playing, but I still hate seeing them argue. For the time being they seem to have stopped and Dargo was studying the sky. I looked up too and had to hold back a squeak when birds surprised me, bounding around with such speed I thought they were arrows, ready to pierce. The moment made me glance around, studying the bushes for anything that might be ready to jump out. My fingers wound tighter around my staff as if I would use it to hit something. Sure, everyone around me served as a barrier so I’d be safe, but what would I do if I had to fight, anyway? Could I hit someone? I just do not want to. I would feel so bad. How everyone else can just kill and shred and maim without a second thought makes my heart sink.

Martin told me it would just be a quick walk through the woods before we found those ruins. But we’ve been out here all day now; how much further do we have to go? Martin has that map he said he bought off someone, but there’s no distances on it. I started worrying he might be lost and doesn’t want to admit it – or worse, this whole setup is a trap we’re walking straight into. Though I tried my best to hide it, I still mewled at the idea. No one else seemed to notice my ministrations and we kept moving forward. Yet the further we went, the more convinced I was the piece of parchment was just a farce. It just consists of landmarks, anyway. Turn left at this rock. Turn right at this tree. Even if this wasn’t a trap, it could have just been a straight lie. What if there is no new dungeon after all? How can it even be “new” if it is hundreds or thousands of years old, built by people who aren’t even recorded in history?

Martin turned to look at us then, surveying his band as he had multiple times already. He seemed concerned about losing us and kept doing headcounts. He glanced around everyone else before his blue eyes came to rest in mine. My face grew hot and I couldn’t stand to look at him. My head lowered so he couldn’t see how red I had become. Even as my hand came up to check my temperature, I couldn’t help but smile.

 

Whenever he looks at me, I start melting. He’s just so handsome it makes my legs weak.

 

A seed of courage bloomed in my heart and I worked myself up to smile back at him. This was my chance! I was finally going to take it! But by the time I raised my head, he was back to studying that map. That courage recessed back inside me, and my smile faded. Today wouldn’t be the day I told him how I feel, either. We kept walking, and I lowered my head back down to study the ground as we went.

Around the time the sun went away, he suddenly stopped. With my head down I couldn’t see him in time and bumped into his back. I squeaked a bit and retreated, yet he made no motion he even felt me. My face burned again as I glanced around at everyone else. Canton was always so sneaky, even when walking, and he made no noise regardless of he was standing or moving. Dargo stopped beside him, but the orc pretended not to see our small friend and knocked him over. I wish she would be more careful about him, but she still laughed. He called Orri a name again.

Picking himself up off the ground, Dargo called out, “what’s going on? We stopping for the night? The sun’s still out some; now’s a good a time as any to set up camp.”

 

Martin did not respond. I looked between Dargo and him.

“Martin? You in there?”

“I think we’ve been going in circles.”

 

Dargo and I blinked heavily at his words, the realization setting in quickly. We both glanced around at the forest around us, but there were hardly any identifying features we could use to gauge our location. Even the trees looked familiar. Orri and Canton seemed suspiciously quiet.

“The hell you mean? How can we have been going in circles all day?”

“Look here,” he answered, showing the map to us, “the instructions say that when we find a large tree with a V shape sprouting from its trunk, we should see a pair of trees nearby, their branches growing together to form an arch. Once we do, we walk in a straight line through that arch. But before any of that, there should be a massive, mossy boulder which tells us we’re in the right area. All seems straight-forward, yeah?” he nodded as if asking our approval.

Dargo folded his arms and looked around, “so what’s the problem, then? There’s a mossy boulder right there,” he pointed his thick arm at the rock, “so we’re in the right area, yeah? There shouldn’t be any problem, then.”

“That rock is the problem,” he grumbled.

“And why is that?”

Unexpectedly, Martin twisted his face and crumpled the map in his hands, throwing it down in a furious ball to the floor and kicking it as far as it would go. We all watched it sail a distance through the air. By the time it landed, he had stomped over to the boulder and began kicking at it with his metal boot.

“Because this is the third time today I’ve seen this stupid fucking rock! That goddamn map is useless!” his harsh voice made my ears ache. “You know how much I paid for that thing!? It was my entire share from our last raid! Every coin I got from that went into that useless piece of paper!” he said as he kicked the rock again. “I’m going to kill that asshole the next time I see him! There’s no tree with a v-shape anywhere around here! I’m going to tear his head off for wasting my time and money!” he continued kicking the rock with ever-increasing force. How any of this was the rock’s fault was beyond me.

Dargo huffed, shaking his head in disapproval. He meandered over to the captain and put his arm on his side, talking him down from the ledge. He had stopped kicking the rock yet still kept his hands in fists, as if the piece of stone would stand up and fight back any moment. My feet shuffled nervously under me; I wish I had the courage to run over and calm him down, myself. Instead, I stepped back as emotions flared. Accidentally I walked backwards into Orri, who looked down at me from her mountainous height with curiosity.

Then her vision went to the side, and she simply mumbled, “hmm,” before wandering away. Canton and I watched her go over and retrieve the map Martin had thrown, uncrumpling it and smoothing it out to its former glory. It looked tiny in her hands, yet she still studied it intently. Orri? Reading? I thought I’d never see the day! She held the map up close to her face as if she needed glasses to read it. After a few moments her eyes squinted, and I knew her orcish mind was working hard.

As she seemed busy and Dargo and Martin were still conversing, I looked to Canton. He met my vision and quietly said, “I knew we were going in circles but didn’t want to ruin Martin’s moment. It’s a really nice walk, anyway.”

“Oh…” was my only answer, nodding in understanding. I looked over to see Dargo had calmed Martin down enough that he was now sitting on the boulder, yet he still kept his hands on his face. His flesh was red, but whether it was embarrassment or frustration, I wasn’t sure. I smiled anyway; seeing him vulnerable like that made me feel so light. That seed bloomed again, and now was my chance to…

 

“Hmm…”

 

Canton and I perked up as the orc suddenly made a noise. Her nose was nearly buried in that map, but I could still see her eyes crushed as she magnified her vision upon it. Finally, she sighed loudly as something became apparent to her, and she peaked over the parchment at the captain. He was still oblivious to everything around him.

“Yo, captain.”

Dargo and Martin did not seem to respond and continued their conversation. They seemed to be discussing whether to set up camp here, or try and work our way back to town for the night. I was about to clear my throat to get their attention when the orc spoke again.

“Ayo, cap’n!”

Although they were a distance away, Martin could be heard making threats to the man who sold him that map. He slammed his fist into his opposing palm and I could see the red in his eyes. My teeth gnashed, worried how serious he was about going through with those threats. Thankfully, Orri stopped him in his tracks, huffing loudly at how Martin seemed ignorant of her. Canton and I watched her lean back, filling her lungs with so much air her already-strained armor creaked loudly.

 

“CAAAPPPTTAAAIIIINNNN!!”

 

Her voice carried for miles around, even though she did not shout in anger. If anything, she sung his name out for the whole world to hear, even hitting some impressive notes with her voice. I had already figured her to be an actress in a previous life, yet I now wondered if she was a singer in another one. Still, the entire forest shook around her booming voice, causing trees to vibrate with all the wildlife running as fast as they could away from us. Straining my ears enough, I could hear it echoing for a long while after she had shut her mouth. But most importantly, Dargo and Martin stared at her with interest.  

“You said a large, v-shaped tree followed by a pair of trees forming an archway, yeah?”

Martin’s eyes wandered around as if he had just been dropped out of a cloud, but he answered, “y-yeah?”

Orri raised an eyebrow at him, “what if the archway of trees came first, then the v-shaped tree?”

Again, he had a look on his face as if someone had dropped him on his head and was still dazed, “what about it?”

“Because that archway looks miiiiiighty interesting to me,” she stated sarcastically, bringing her log-sized arm outwards, pointing to something in the distance. We all looked, seeing a pair of trees intertwined together, forming an archway. Canton sniffled a laugh.

 

-Martin-

 

I felt my face cooking with embarrassment, and I already knew they’d be cracking jokes on me about this for weeks to come. As we dredged over to the archway I could already hear Dargo snickering under his breath. Orri held her head high after cracking the code. Likely, in his drunkenness, the man who wrote that map for me got the order wrong. Hell, we should be so lucky he correctly cartographed as much as he did. Canton ignored Dargo’s jabs as he tried getting the blonde man to heckle me as well, but he stayed silent. Then there was Aiana, treading closely behind me yet keeping the laughter to a minimum. I glanced over my shoulder at her and she looked away from me. She’d been doing that a lot, lately. A smile graced my lips as I looked forward again. Aiana was too sweet of a blessing for us heathens. She’d never join in on our insults, even as we joked among ourselves.

I led them onward towards the archway and then passed through it, slowing momentarily to read the map again. As the sun was setting and this area had a particularly thick canopy, I leaned in closely to see the words and mumbled under my breath. “Alright… archway… so if the v-shaped tree was supposed to be a hundred yards from the archway, it must be the same way in reverse. We ought to be close.”

“How can you tell the distance if it’s just a map drawn in someone’s drunken rambling?” asked Dargo cheekily. “It could all be baloney after all.”

“Well, so far his landmarks have borne fruit, so I can’t say we can give up hope yet. Besides, I know what I’m doing this time. Orri just kicked me in the right direction, is all.”

“Huh? You want me to kick you, cap’n? Why didn’t you ask earlier?” the orc interrupted, cleaning out an ear with her fingertip as if she couldn’t hear me straight.

“He wasn’t talking to you, tree,” Dargo defended me.

“And I wasn’t talking to you, stump,” she prodded him on. As the pair started bickering again, I tuned them out and kept leading everyone on.

We walked for a bit in silence until the prophesied tree materialized. There was no mistaking it. The organism looked cursed, twisted, like lightning struck it, charring it black and then leaving it to rot. Calling it v-shaped was generous at best, it was more of a machination or mutation of what a v-shaped tree ­should be. Still, it was blossoming with life, despite its otherwise cryptic design.

“There’s the tree… so by my estimates… the dungeon should be… right about… there!” I said triumphantly, pointing to our left.

Completely out of place for an otherwise gnarled, overgrown forest stood a mossy stone wall so foreign, it looked as if someone had plucked it up and dropped it there. It was a dozen feet tall and went a few dozen more feet in either direction before submerging back into the ground slowly. A hole in the wall, vaguely in the shape of a door, adorned its center, aged with time and worn, but still, it was apparently an entrance. I beamed with satisfaction.

I hurried over to the wall, nearly breaking myself against it as I placed my hands upon it, just basking in its glow. My fingers danced along its edges as if I were playing a piano. The notes were borderline audible, yet the taps on my fingertips were music enough. My team struggled to keep up, Dargo and Aiana rushing but Canton and Orri taking their sweet time. Yet it didn’t matter how long we took.

 

We were here. This was real. This was ours.

 

To be continued.

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