Chapter 2: Raining Red

-Canton-

 

“Still think it was best to go in, instead of setting up camp?” Dargo called. He nocked another arrow from his quiver, his voice just barely audible above the shouting, scurrying, and screaming coating the stone walls around us. Another one slammed into Martin’s shield again, knocking him back before he stabbed it dead.

“Just keep shooting!” Martin responded, shoving forward while keeping his guard up. The crowd in front of him separating momentarily before ganging back up on him. The chattering of their countless teeth played out like an orchestra, signaling our deaths.

 

-Earlier-

 

Martin thinks himself the leader of this group, but he’s far from the most mature member. Even if he is my senior brother in arms, sometimes he barely qualifies more respect from me than a toddler waving a wooden sword around.

 

Take today for example. He wanted to find the dungeon as fast as possible, and he succeeded. That should have been enough satisfaction for him, yet he wanted to press on. Rather than making camp right at the dungeon’s mouth, he wanted to work through the night and ransack the place before morning. What could he be worried about? Others finding this shithole, too? We’d be right there to guard it, but I guess he didn’t want to take the risk of sharing the prize.

 

Suit yourself, I thought back then. Now I wish we had made him wait.

 

Barely a dozen feet inside the ruin’s mouth he nearly had his foot taken off by a trap. What would be little more than a slightly raised stone to anyone else was clearly a pressure plate to me. I spotted it in time of course, but the man is careless as he is bold. We all rolled our eyes as he joked he was only waiting for me to spot the trap before he stepped on it, but the sweat rolling down his face was enough evidence for me. I took point and we kept walking through the impermeable darkness, only lessened slightly by the torches Martin and Orri carried.

As we went along I couldn’t help but study our surroundings. The walls of the dungeon were pure stone, carved by some civilization that time forgot. It mattered little; they all blended together by the time you explored dozens or even hundreds of the things. Yet if one studied closely enough, small intricacies became apparent as if the architect had invisibly signed his name into each rock. Moss and plant life broke up the stone brickwork occasionally, and an uncomfortable squish would come from under your boot periodically if you didn’t watch your steps.

Those who wore armored boots, Martin, Dargo, and Orri, caused an avalanche of echoes off the walls with each step. Boom. Boom. Boom. It never stopped. Occasionally you might feel like the sound might break up, but the echoes would fill the void between steps. My ears started whining from such a cacophonous chorus. You could hardly hear yourself breathe, and anyone who was watching out for us could certainly hear us coming, less they were deaf. Just when I started imagining things in the corner of my eye from the headache I was getting, a cry of pain broke the bubble.

 

“Ah!”

 

We all stopped in place immediately and swung around, weapons at the ready and Dargo had already aimed his crossbow behind us. Orri had collapsed down to her knees and was rubbing her head harshly.

“What happened?” our captain called, his blade pointed at the orc and his head swishing around for whatever enemy lay in the shadows. How he did not see the obvious made me groan.

“Hah… it’s nothing… just hit my head,” chuckled the immense orc.

Martin and Dargo sighed in disappointment and relaxed themselves. Both sheathed their weapons, disappointed there was nothing to fight. Yet one member was immediately excited at this turn of events.

“A-ah! Let me see! Show me!” Aiana rushed in, taking the orc’s head between her hands and rapidly studying her reddening flesh.

“I’m fine, dollface, just a little bump. There’s no need to worry,” Orri laughed again as she stood up, right out of Aiana’s reach.

The elf, not to be deterred, bounced on her heels to try and grab her head again. “N-no! Let me look! It could be serious! Let me help!”

“I think I’ll just bleed out on my own, but thanks anyway. I guess it’s my time to go, now…” she faked fainting, which only stressed the elf more.

“She’s only trying to help, tree,” Dargo growled with disapproval. “There’s no need to make her worry. Watch your damn head next time before you poke your eye out on something.”

“Too bad you don’t have the same problem, stump.”

“Dammit, woman! Enough with that!” Dargo spun around and glared. Martin laughed and Aiana retreated from the conflict. The dwarf argued with Orri for a bit, gaining the center of attention.

 

But while everyone else was too busy having fun to notice, something in the very corner of my senses caught my attention. Sharp, repetitive taps were becoming more audible by the second. If we hadn’t been detected before, Orri banging her head and making a ruckus certainly let our presence be known, now. Something was slithering in the far distance, with the gap closing rapidly.

 

“Something’s coming,” I called in a normal volume.

 

The group immediately formed their ranks. Dargo had his crossbow back out while Martin held his shield up, sword at the ready. I remained out in front of them as the first line of defense. Orri, too stubborn to bring a weapon small enough to swing around in the cramped environment, readied her fists instead. Aiana retreated to the rear, hiding behind the orc for support.

I stepped forward, my ears tuned into that sound which continued approaching. No one else seemed adept enough to hear it, yet that scurrying sound continued bearing down upon us. Martin handed me his torch and I marched a few dozen steps forward, keeping my sensitivity at maximum. There was a crossroads between me now, three branching paths not including the fourth one behind me, where my team laid in wait. I looked left and right, but nothing seemed to emanate out of the darkness. Forward was much of the same. The meager torch cast shadows on rocks adorning the floor but there was nothing of value. That sound was almost upon us now, yet I couldn’t tell which direction. It was bouncing off the walls too many times to find its origin.

 

“Well, blondie? The hell we facing?” Dargo called out. I spun around to answer him, a rookie mistake.

 

Suddenly the walls began to shake with the stampede’s approach. The cavern echoed with small, fervent footsteps. No, each of them was too light to be footsteps, but they came so rapidly that they appeared to belong to either a quadrupedal or a pack of beings. As I soon discovered, it was both.

I spun back around and pulled back to the rest of my team, forming a semi-circle as the creatures approached. Faster and faster, they raced out of the darkness, their footsteps multiplying as their screams gained in volume as well. Glinting eyes appeared, created by the torchlight that I handed to Aiana. What the hell were they? Too small to be ogres and too quick to be goblins. If we were lucky, they would just be giant spiders. At first, the sound they made seemed familiar yet I couldn’t place it. Yet a chill ran up my spine as a familiar squeaking sound was heard. Followed by another. And another.

The grey hairy things charged at us, large as 50-pound dogs and screaming their heads off.

 

Rats.

Huge. Rats.

 

I screamed.

 

-Orri-

 

“Having fun, Canton?”

“No, no, get them away from me!” he called back, his arms around my waist as his legs wrapped my thigh. I tried to hold the torch so it would not touch him, me, or the ceiling, but my options were limited. This damn cave was too small, how could they not think to accommodate orcs? Typical ancient builders, always trying to save a coin whenever they could.

“Still think it was best to go in, instead of setting up camp?” Dargo called. He knocked another arrow from his quiver, his voice just barely audible above the shouting, scurrying, and screaming coating the stone walls around us. Another one slammed into Martin’s shield again, knocking him back before he stabbed it dead.

“Just keep shooting!” Martin responded, shoving forward while keeping his guard up. The crowd in front of him separating momentarily before ganging back up on him. The chattering of their countless teeth played out like an orchestra, signaling our deaths.

 

Pfft. As if.

 

My attention was pulled away from the frightened man glued to my side. Dargo was in front of me, flinging arrows into the pack of furry beasts as they approached. Martin was to his right, fending them off with his sword. Some of them backed away, only to be pushed forward as their brethren came in from behind. A rat avalanche – what a way to go.

As they piled in, they continued being held back by the captain’s shield while his right arm would stab the beasts from over top of it. It was a winning tactic, something I had seen him use many times. Martin was so proficient with his work the blade became a blur in his hand, suturing the rats like a loom on fabric.

The dwarf held the middle flank, a wall of arrows ensuring no rat made it past him. On occasion he would have to fire at nearly point-blank as their numbers increased, but he seemed to enjoy himself. Much like Martin’s blade, his arrows flew with such speed they nearly rained. Watching stump go to his quiver over and over made my head spin.

Then to his left, finishing out the defensive line was… huh?

Wait, why is no one defending the left?

 

Ah, whoops, that should be me… I figured out, rubbing my own head as congratulations and smiling.

 

“Orri!” called our captain, “quit slacking!”

“I’m not slacking, I have a barnacle that won’t come off!” I laughed, but he had no time to turn around to see Canton still glued to my side. Even with my hands trying to undo his own as they wrapped my midsection, he refused to let go and continued shivering. Poor baby.

“Ay blondie, hop off unless you want to pay the fare. Riding me isn’t free, ya know?” I questioned to the rogue. He did not seem to listen, especially given how he tried hiding his ears against my side. My lips pursed; of course Canton would be useless in this situation. Rats. Fearless of everything else, Canton folds at the sight or mention of the little devils. Said it was a phobia that followed him since childhood but never told any of us why. They’re not super common for us to encounter, yet the fact remains that this grown man can’t stomach trying to fight them.

Nor could I fight them with him still attached. Even a more forceful shove on the head failed to dislodge him. As the rats continued building in number, their carcasses served as sandbags for the newcomers. They actually began to attack right at Martin’s face with how high up they were. Should this continue, they would be overwhelmed.

 

Luckily for them, momma was here. I persuasively peeled Canton off with one hand and shoved him into Aiana’s arms.

 

“Watch him,” I said to Aiana, nearly frozen in fear as much as the blonde man. Still, she nodded.

Going forward, I came up to Dargo’s left, finally filling the gap in our defenses. I knew my sword would not be swingable in the cramped dungeon, but with rats, they did not deserve the blade anyway. My head cranked to one side and a satisfying crack in my neck made my legs weak with pleasure.

One of the beasts lunged at me, already as high as my waist with fangs almost as sharp as mine. Its beady eyes were locked on my own, so it failed to see my fist coming from its side. That satisfying crunch as its skull was pulverized by my fist was exhilarating. Its dead body flung into the wall besides us before flopping to the ground. Two more tried rushing at my feet, believing me to be distracted – yet their ribs shattering under my toes told them they were severely mistaken. More vile hellspawn rushed me, and despite the situation I was starting to get into a rhythm. Either they would be smashed under my soles or against my palms as I danced around.

Although no one else could hear me, I began humming a song to entertain myself. Dying rats sung on backup. My feet carried me forward, further along the stage as I took the spotlight, swinging my legs out and catching three of the gnarled bastards in one stroke. The rest tried launching from the pile of dead carcasses yet me hands smacked them away. The best part would be when I was able to make the rats up front crash into the ones further back, which took some weight off Martin and Dargo. They kept shooting or stabbing whatever came their way.

One of the nasty little things got lucky though, and it managed to sneak up onto my thigh before I noticed it. He had already bitten into my leather armor but its teeth were too short to cut my skin. My hand yanked it off and I held it up to my face, its endless teeth barred at me, howling its throat to shreds. Black beady eyes like balls of death stared at me over its pointy nose. I grinned broadly, my own manic look causing its face to lock up.

In one swift motion I chucked him at the ceiling, where it turned to paste against a few sharp edges. Martin had no time to dodge the gore and some got onto his shield, making him curse at me. Captain can be such a meanie sometimes. The stump screamed, “goddammit tree! Watch where you’re throwing that,” as rat guts fell over him. I laughed with enough force I had to hold myself up by my knees.

 

“AAAHHHH!”

 

It took me a minute to wipe the tears from my eyes before I could look at the blondie. He must have gotten some rat in his precious, perfect locks. He’d be glaring at me for days before he would be able to get it all out. Finally, I glanced over Martin and Dargo at him, “C’mon blondie, it’s just some dead…” I had to stop as my jaw locked in place. Both Canton and Aiana’s eyes were terrifyingly wide as they looked down at something.

 

A rat had snuck by us and had its fangs buried into Canton’s thigh, blood pouring out of it like a river.

 

-Dargo-

 

“Dammit!” I called, “Orri, stop fucking around and kill these rats! Give me that torch!”

The tree genuinely looked apologetic for her actions, and she handed me her torch. Martin moved to the center of the tunnel to protect us while Orri redoubled her efforts to kill anything that moved. I backed away from the carnage so I could get a good look at Canton. That bastard of a rat was still gnashing into him, screaming with such force his fur vibrated. I took a knife down at my waist and jabbed him in his ribs. He gnashed harder, so I cut his neck for good measure. He held on for a few moments more before his body slid off the blondie and to the ground. I kicked it aside and held my torch close to inspect the wound. Canton was already pale from having to deal with rats, but he was ghostly now. The elf was shaking him, begging him to speak but he just heaved in her arms.

“How bad… is it!?” Martin shouted over his shoulder, followed by another satisfying squelch as a rat dropped to his feet.

“D-deep! I think it’s deep! H-he needs to be fixed up, now! G-give me time!” called our healer. She and I began to lie him down on his back.

“Wait until these rats are dead! If another slips by, you’ll be defenseless,” Martin commanded. But the way the blondie was looking, I doubt we had the time to wait.

“This can’t wait, Martin! He’s looking worse by the second,” I barked as I undid the rogue’s armor around his thigh. More blood poured out with the lack of pressure, but I knew Aiana needed direct skin contact for her magic to function. Canton continued to pant even with his life flooding around him like a puddle.

“I’ll cover you the best I can, but you need to work fast! These assholes won’t stop coming!” I ordered Aiana. She nodded and prepared herself.

I put my back to them and faced the rats again. Within my beard my teeth gnashed as I worked with renewed spirits. My arrows flew with the speed of lightning, nearly tearing straight through their grey fur like it was not even there. Instead of acting off, Orri took her role seriously and began killing rats as fast as she could. Honestly she managed to get most of them, yet the courageous (or just idiotic) ones managed to slip by her. Arrows went out to meet them, and the ones who managed to get through that were met by Martin. Yet as the flow never wavered and the bastards kept coming out of the woodwork, I knew the captain’s strength was waning – as was the arrows in my reserves. Orri could keep going and going but she couldn’t do everything alone. With Aiana chanting that chorus of voices behind us, I could only pray we’d suffer no more casualties today.

…

You are reading story Object of Desire at novel35.com

The monsoon eventually lost its fervor, falling to a rain, a drizzle, then finally nothing at all. Blood and guts covered my beard and I had to spit some out of my mouth. Martin was mainly unscathed, given the shield he hid behind. Besides that, everything I could see was covered black and red – the walls, the floors, even the orc was barely recognizable as she heaved, standing atop the mountain of bodies she made. But enough about the sight – the revolting stench made my stomach churn loudly. Lunch made its way back up my throat but I choked it down. In the heat of battle, I had neglected to notice it.

Orri and Martin went around cleaning up the survivors, but I went to check on Canton. Aiana was still working her magic – literally and figuratively – and I could only stand by and watch. Her staff glowed brightly in one hand while that same green light coated Canton’s wound, given how it came out of the elf’s other palm. From her chocolately face came a chorus of voices so otherworldly, you’d be pained to even describe it, let alone reproduce it yourself. Even Aiana was unable to recall the words, and her tongue went into knots trying to speak it normally. Yet here, with her eyes burning green, she let the crowd sing and sing.

Under that light, the punctures on blondie’s skin were shrinking before my very eyes; I could literally see the holes on Canton’s leg grow smaller, as if his natural healing speed were multiplied a million times over. No matter how many times this sight graces my eyes, I’ll never get used to what the elf is capable of. Hell, that’s including all the times I’ve seen her mend broken bones, suture shut nearly-severed arms, and fix eyeballs virtually popped like balloons; whatever healing magic this was, it goes beyond simple natural healing. His skin creaked as it healed, stretching back into its natural shape. What was a fatal wound minutes ago was barely a scratch now, and in a few more moments it’ll be nothing at all.

She never ceases to amaze me, I thought. Aiana is a blessing that has saved us innumerable times. The overwhelming majority of travelling bands often run themselves silly back to town, clogging up hospitals with their wounded or nearly-dead. Having a travelling healer is borderline unheard of – they are worth their weight in gold, and the blokes know it too. Those lucky enough to be born with innate healing magic often grow old and die incredibly wealthy on their services. The elf before me now knows this, too - she could make more money in a year using her abilities than what I could imagine in a lifetime. Yet she still chose to travel the lands with us. This magical, timid, frightful little elf with a big enough heart to fit the world into.

 

And to think we tried to leave her behind!

 

The wound finally closed, and Canton seemed to relax on the ground. He was still pale with the lack of blood but was able to thank the elf for helping him. Yet she did not respond, given how that chorus continued to fill her mouth.

 

-Martin-

 

“That should be,” I had to pause for air, “all of them… good work everyone,” I had to drop my sword and lean on my shield as my lungs hungered. I glanced around to see how everyone was doing. Aiana was finishing up with Canton and Dargo was in the same position as myself, huffing and puffing after shooting too many arrows.

“Sure thing, dad,” Dargo called in his snarkiest voice. “Glad I could make you proud,” he finished with a chuckle. I glared at him, but couldn’t help but chuckle alongside. I genuinely was impressed with them, if that only meant Orri and Dargo while Canton panicked. His bite seemed to be the only detriment to come from this battle, but it looked as if Aiana was almost done. The green light stopped flowing from her staff as her chanting got quieter, the voices decreasing in number to just hers. She sighed loudly, rubbing her forehead of sweat and coughing from exhaustion; this heal really seemed to drain her. Canton patted her shoulder in thanks and blew into the air above him.

“Take five to break, then we move deeper,” I called to the group. The dwarf grumbled while the elf and human stayed quiet.

 

“I need ten,” came a voice from behind me.

 

I spun too quickly for my own good and nearly landed on my ass. In the torchlight Orri was more red than green, fur and intestines hanging off her as if she had been dumped in a bucket of the stuff. Fangs and claws and eyeballs and organs slopped off her loudly, forming a growing pile at her feet almost as gargantuan as the dead rat mountain we had made. Even with the torch in my hand, I couldn’t help but shiver from the cold. A grin tore across her face, pleased that she managed to frighten me. The putrid stench hanging off her was revolting; how she was not doubled over wheezing was beyond me.

 

“Sure, t-ten’s fine,” I conceded, but really, I now needed fifteen.

 

…

 

We sat around for a while as Dargo collected his arrows from the bodies, then he took a quick rest for himself. After everyone had collected themselves, we set out again with Canton leaned up against Orri for a bit. While Aiana was a miracle worker, the process left both healer and healed completely fatigued. Given the life-threatening nature of Canton’s wound, he had to hobble along for an hour before he was able to stand on his own again. He would still need a good night or two of bedrest, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me from the prize this dungeon held. About the time he was feeling himself again we encountered another pack of rats albeit they were far less numerable than before. Additionally, we knew what to expect, so we were able to dispatch them rapidly now. With Aiana in the rear and Canton still pissing himself each time a rat approached, we had the two of them mark each corner and turn we took with chalk so we could find our way out. Yet, one could just as easily follow the carcasses.

 

Two hours deep into this rat-infested cesspool we came to an abrupt stop. Endless hallways and unnavigable intersections started to make our heads spin. That, coupled with the fatigue we were getting from rat-slaying and exploration in general was wearing us out. Was this how new dungeons always were? They’ve always been half-explored by the time we entered one, with markings and signs and no enemies to face. Even this air felt ancient as it scraped my lungs. After this, I’ve gained new respect for those brave souls. As we came to a stop I leaned up against the wall to catch my breath, yet the dwarf trapped my attention.

“Well… this sure looks important,” Dargo commented in a mildly sarcastic tone.

“What looks important, stump?”

 

“This damn door, tree! I’d say that’s as important as anything!” the dwarf answered in his most sarcastic tone.

Regardless of their arguments, we all drew our attention to the door which capped off the hallway we were in. Up until now there had been endless hallways which would inevitable circle back onto themselves or just end with nothing. Whoever the hell built this place certainly did not construct it for function – wherever we were, it was a maze designed to hide something. Few other reasons anyone would go through the trouble. Even this “door” was hidden; it was scraped into the wall in an arch shape and then painted over. Compared to the otherwise flat cobbled walls we had seen until now, this was an excellent sign our venture was about to pay off.

Whatever it was, it certainly reeked with importance. Yet why someone would go through the trouble of hiding this spot so well, only to mark it with a fake door was perplexing. Bringing my torch up and studying it further, there was writing which flowed along the door’s inner edge in some language I didn’t recognize. But even stranger was what was in the door’s center.

 

“What the hell is this symbol?” I asked aloud, my fingers tracing it.

 

It seemed to be either a sun, a fire, or some other form of power and chaos. It was a circle which contained a dozen or so lines which bisected the circle, as if they were lines of a clocktower which ran the full diameter. Even as I studied it, my eyes felt drawn within as if staring down a bottomless pit.

 

“Dunno, never seen it,” the dwarf scoffed. He moved in to study the door himself.

“Me neither, probably something really boring, anyway,” Orri huffed with disinterest. Such a brute – she’d never care if we found immortality itself, if it weren’t something she could smash or rip in half.

 

“Fire shall… set hearts ablaze…”

 

At first I thought this place was haunted with how otherworldly that voice sounded, travelling through my head between each ear. Yet we all turned around when we realized it was just Canton. His little eyes were intently studying the word around the door’s edge. I had almost forgotten about them with how magnetic the symbol was. He moved closer and we stepped back so he could focus. As he traced the words I could see the scholarly knowledge his father forced upon him churning behind his eyes.

“What the hell’s it say, blondie?” Dargo asked.

If it were any other day, Canton would have it deciphered before one could blink. Yet today, he shook his head in disbelief. “I recognize most of it, yet there’s something about the dialect that’s foreign to me. Whatever it is, it is certainly elven, but not any direct language I could name. Likely, this predates anything I’ve ever seen… maybe even older than most people today could speak of.”

“Elven, huh? So, what’s it say, dollface?” Orri rubbed the top of Aiana’s head, making her mewl.

“H-hey! Stop that! Why would I know?” she complained. “Ow!” she yelped as the orc began tugging at her pointy tips.

“That should be fairly obvious why I’m asking. C’mon, use that brain of yours and figure it out already! Ask those voice always making you glow or something!”

 

With those two clowning about, us men ignored them and I glanced back to Canton. “Just translate what you can, then. Fill in the rest with what you think it is.” He took a few moments, running his eyes back and forth with an additional piece of the puzzle clicking in place on each repetition. Finally, he seemed content enough to give us an answer.

 

“Fire shall set hearts ablaze, growing ever brighter as the world plunges… into… n-need…”

 

Dargo and I squinted at him as if he were crazy. Orri was too busy teasing the elf to notice and Aiana kept squirming in her arms behind us. Canton glanced over the words a few more times until he nodded with approval. This seemed to be the best translation he could offer.

“What’s up with the ending there?” Dargo nudged the blonde.

“As I said, some of the words don’t recognize and I had to fill in what I could. The last bit says something about needing or wanting or...”

 

“…desiring?” came a little voice behind us. Aiana was finally released from the orc’s clutches and she seemed to be able to piece together our conversation.

 

“What do you mean?” I asked her.

“W-well.. you said ‘needing’ or ‘wanting’ but I think desiring sounds better… o-or just ‘desire…’ because that would rhyme with ‘brighter…” she shifted nervously.

“I doubt it was supposed to rhyme, but ‘desire’ sounds great to me,” Canton gave his seal of approval. Aiana perked up a bit from the praise.

“But how does that help us get inside? What does it mean? What does it all mean, really?” the orc pondered out loud, rubbing her chin in a scholarly fashion. Orri can be, at once, both a box of rocks and a sage rolled into one body, depending on the situation at hand.

“I doubt it functions as a key. Maybe some sort of remembrance,” Canton answered.

“Or a warning. Who knows what kind of shit they have hidden through here,” Dargo approached the wall and pounded on it. There was a solid resonance, yet it was just a tad hollower than the other walls around here. “There’s definitely something on the other side, but how the hell are we supposed to get in? Shit’s solid. You’d have to blast your way in, or…”

 

All at once, the entire group cranked their necks to focus on the orc. She stopped rubbing her chin and scrolled our eyes across us. Orri cheekily grinned before shrugging exaggeratively. “What would you ever do without me?”

 

She approached the wall, laying her own hands on it for the first time. Now that she was up against the door, it seemed tiny – then I remembered the writing. Elven writing equals short elven door. Orri stretched her arms and shoulders, even taking the time to crack her knuckles and neck before taking a position with her dominant hand to slam her fist into the stone. Her entire form tensed head to toe, her armor crying out for mercy. She flexed with enough force her veins bulged in the torchlight. We all stepped back for the impending shockwave.

“H-hang on, Orri,” the elf chimed, “whatever is on the other side of that wall…”

 

“…is dead and not a threat,” she interrupted, before throwing her closed first into the wall, the impact throwing us all into the air slightly. The thunderous crash resonated down the hall, shaking loose a few stones and vines that had grown overhead. Half of the centuries-old dust came crashing down, caking us and the floor. We had to shake it off in chunks, even as the dungeon around us continued to rumble as if the planet had shattered.

 

Yet despite all the pomp and circumstance, there wasn’t even a dent in the stone when Orri pulled her hand back. She blinked at it, and though she tried her best to hide it – she was rattled with how ineffective her punch was. Her other hand touched stones along the door in disbelief, as if her eyes were lying to her. Orri then glanced at her bleeding fist with an unfamiliar jammer in her jaw. If nothing else in the world, Orri despises, despises when her indominable strength was put into question, as if being weak were a curse. A hushed gasp escaped her lips, as much as she tried hiding it.

Dargo saw his opportunity and whistled loudly, “damn, tree – looks like we finally found something too strong for even you!” he laughed wildly as only a dwarf could. He clutched his boulder belly as it shook, his voice carrying through the ruins.

Orri spun slowly to look at him, and although I couldn’t see her eyes – there must have been a look in them that scarred Dargo shitless, given how he shut his mouth so rapidly. Yet what terrified the rest of us is how the orc reached over her shoulder and grabbed her blade.

Every fiber of Dargo’s blood red beard shook, “n-now w-wait a second, t-tree, y-ya know I was just joking, r-right?” he stammered, even as that blade longer than the rest of us were tall came off Orri’s back. Her eyes refused to move.

“G-goddamnit it was a joke, just a joke,” he took a step back as that blade came around front. Her head moved to follow him.

“M-Martin, get her to s-stop… come on, man…” he took a few more steps back into Canton and I, but we moved out of the way. I wasn’t interested in dying, as well. Orri took a step after him.

 

“T-tree, please, I’m really sor…” he was interrupted as that blade came down on him. But she didn’t swing it at the dwarf. She threw it straight into his arms.

 

“Hold this for a sec,” the orc bristled, not even affording to look at any of us before wandering back down the hallway from whence we came. We all watched her go until the darkness swallowed her whole. Canton and I turned back around to see Dargo, white as a sheet and holding that monstrous weapon in both hands while half its weight rested on the ground – and even then, he was struggling with it.

I looked back to the direction Orri disappeared off to but could see nothing, so my attention went back to Canton. “So I guess this place was designed to repel brute force. What else did you see on the door? Tips? Tricks? Secret levers? Maybe the door is protected by magic?”

He shook his head, “I told you what I read; you know what I know.”

My arm flapped against my side in frustration, “well, how in the gods are we supposed to…?”

 

“MOVE!”

 

We hardly had time to do so before Orri barreled out of the darkness, slamming her weight into the wall and passing straight through it. Around us, the dungeon shook as if it had been broken off the planet and was floating through space. Dust immediately flooded the chamber, kicked up by the hole in the wall’s creation and knocked loose by the tremors. Our feet came out from under us and my vision spun for a few blinks. The other half of the centuries old dust crushed us there in the hallway, forcing us to kick it off and sputter just to breathe.

I laid there, dumbfounded and heart pounding while sweat washed my face clean. Dargo was pressed sharply into the wall, holding onto the orc’s weapon for dear life. He had just barely dodged the force of nature as it barreled past, and had he been one step further out – the tip of his nose would have been taken off.

“D-damn woman,” he growled in the orc’s direction, “give us some warning next time!”

“Technically she did,” said Canton, standing slowly and hobbling towards the hole. Although he tried his best to keep his cool, I still saw a bead of sweat rolling down his temple.

“Fuck you, blondie, you probably heard her coming, didn’t you?” asked the dwarf. The corner of Canton’s mouth went up a bit, although Dargo never saw.

To be continued.

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