Chapter 09

Tosin: Healer; Level 13 Flagstaff

Alisander: Warrior; Level 45 Mace

Poppo: Rogue; Level 14 Stiletto Dagger

Marcian: Mage; Level 20 Ice Maiden

Clara: Warrior; Level 53 Warhammer

“The mouth of the dungeon should be at the end of this trail,” Alisander said.

He gave a quick nod to the trail marker as we passed it. The marker stood tall above the yellowed reeds of the marsh. The trail was marked where it forked. It read: A Cage of Stomach. Level 2.

“That’s the one,” Poppo said, flipping his stiletto with flair as he walked by me. His navy cloak billowed in his wake.

I was the last in line and shuffled through my bag for the hundredth time to make sure my potions were still there. I counted 10 health potions and 2 mana potions. They’d cost me 3 silver each and I’d had no choice but to buy them at that price—though the glass did seem thicker than what I’d gotten from the guild post at Magic & Lance.

Our marshland path dumped us out to a barren field. The marsh ended in a clean straight line to either side of us. Beyond the field lay the swamps. A black fog flanked the swamps. Their rolling clouds seemed to drip a tar-ish substance. Each drop fell like honey, leaving behind a filament of its origin.

“Guys,” Marcian said. “Check it out. What is that?”

We watched a monster speed across the field. One leg was longer than the other and bent like a grasshopper’s. The other one was locked straight. In place of a head, the monster had two enormous eyes that were ovoid and conjoined. No face. No ears. No neck.

It did have a mouth. The monster stopped running and turned to us. A flap opened from its chest where its clavicle would be. That flap formed the mouth. Cracked ribs took the place of teeth.

“It's feral,” Clara said.

“Feral?” I said.

“There must be a legendary dungeon nearby. Maybe a week's travel by horse,” Clara said. “When a dungeon becomes legendary, monsters are forced out and into the world. They’re feral. We’ll have to report this to the trading post as soon as we get back. Hopefully this is the only one we run into.”

With that, our two warriors walked calmly towards the monster in tandem. I swung my flagstaff out to the ready and the articles whooshed through air. Poppo and Marcian flowed their mana bars out wide. Mine followed promptly.

The monster began half leaping and half tumbling toward the warriors. Its mouth flapped and formed a grotesque frown of exposed muscle and tendon.

“A treat! A treat! A treat,” it said, and made a final leap towards Alisander and Clara.

Our warriors brandished their weapons.

Alisander was leaping forward to meet the fiend, holding his mace horizontal to break the thing’s momentum. Clara was rushing to the monster's side and skidding to a halt, bringing down her warhammer. Her muscles were bulging neath the weight of her brutal weapon.

The monster was grappling with Alisander and its eyes were roaming nonsensically. It was biting at the mace handle while Alisander was wrestling it back. Clara’s warhammer was finishing its descent and smashing the fiend’s eyes down into its chest, forcing the torso down to its abdomen, then forcing its crushed body down to a bent leg, and burying her warhammer the rest of the way through the fiend and well into the earth of the marsh.

Clara’s attack happened with a single loud crunch.

“Nice,” Poppo said. “That was sick.”

Clara gave a mighty grunt as she lifted her warhammer from the earth. Clumps of dirt came flying off the head and the marsh slurped at the metal as it came exhumed.

“Let’s go boys,” she said, and leaned the handle of her warhammer against her shoulder.

We crossed the field and came upon the dungeon mouth. I was the only one of us to look over my shoulder several times. The feral monster unnerved me. These guys might be used to this world of dungeons and monsters, but I knew I still had a lot to learn.

Deep pools of brackish water humidified the air. Grey trees perpetually dripped with sizzling liquid. Bramble and dead vines blockaded the swamps. Only the mouth remained open.

A bridge of layered roots kept us above water as we entered. Rotten logs were piled, cantilevered, in the shallow swamp. Ripples silently disturbed the mirrored surface of swamp water.

“Feels like I’m taking a bath,” Marcian said. His visage was bittered by the idea.

It was warm. It was wet. Vapors of actively decaying matter burned in my nostrils like invisible fire. It wasn’t sweat that ran from my brow.

“Who’s navigating?” Poppo said, prompting all of us to stop.

The rogue’s voice echoed a dozen times throughout the swamp. It did not stop. It seemed to have come undone, becoming disembodied. Poppo’s echoing words started darting around, manifesting in different directions, until jumbling the words into new discordant sentences.

We listened raptly and all of us flowed out our mana bars while equipping our weapons. We took on defensive stances and kept our backs to each other in a circle while peering into the swampland. Numerous ripples were made from popping bubbles all around us.

The black cloud that flanked the swamp rolled in. It swung down through greyed trees with clutching fingers. Vines swayed in the swing of the coming clouds. Fat droplets sizzled from overhead and fell into swamp water without splashing.

“Watch your heads guys,” Alisander said, head tilted up, watching for falling droplets.

Alisander’s voice did not echo and that sent a shiver up my spine. I saw Poppo shiver with me from the corner of my eye.

Several minutes had gone by before the swamp seemed to settle down again. It was clear that there was no immediate danger, so we holstered our weapons and continued forth. The only path that kept us above water was a treacherous one.

A series of lifted, intertwining roots led onward. Each one of us slipped half a dozen times. Marcian ended up slipping straight off the path into the water, and sunk down to his waist. He yelped, before Clara quickly hauled him back up with one hand.

The echoing phenomenon happened again. First Marcian’s yelp echoed in a few dozen different directions. Then the sound slowed down and morphed into a hissing laugh that ended in a terrifying rattle of bones.

An unsettling feeling took a seat in my gut and I asked everyone to pause for a moment while I checked on our health bars.

“Think something’s going on?” Poppo said.

I flowed my mana bar into a ring and our health bars promptly appeared. They were each the size of a fist, and above every single one was a garbled mess of letters. Each of the letters glowed and dimmed in random order.

“We’re afflicted,” I said.

“What’s the affliction,” Clara said.

I shrugged. I had no idea what was going on.

“What do you mean you don’t know,” Alisander said, with a bit of an edge in his voice. “You’re our healer. This is why we recruited you.”

“I—I’m sorry. I’m not good with afflictions—I have no idea what this is.”

Clara tossed her hands up in irritation and Marcian scoffed. Poppo shook his head and Alisander crossed his arms over his chest.

“Any guess what the affliction is?” Alisander said.

“Communication of some kind? These are jumbled letters, so maybe it has something to do with the weird echoes we’ve been hearing.”

A violent wind came in with sudden force, and we all crouched to hold fast to the roots at our feet. As quickly as the wind had come, it had gone.

“What in Felke was that?” Clara said.

Then a tormented whisper assailed our minds.

“Back to the mist and marsh.”

“Great,” Poppo drew out.

“Sorry guys,” I said. “I’m still learning. You guys must be too—you’re not too many levels off from me.”

“True,” Marcian said.

“Let’s just plow on ahead,” Alisander said, leading us forward once more.

The neverending bridge of roots continued on and began to curve between the trees. The whispers continued as well, occurring more often, the deeper we trekked.

“Lay for a rest, sleep sound and safe.”

The scenery began to change. A backdrop of white fog contrasted the black cloud that ominously hung above us. Those tar-ish drops of black fell from time to time, striking the swamp water silently without splashing. Only once had one dropped near us. I’d been the one to see it and warned our party.

“It’s sweeter here, I’ll keep it warm for you.”

Clara was most affected by the whispers. She’d begun to growl every time they crossed our minds.

“Just ignore it,” Alisander said

“Hard to,” she said.

I checked on our health bars once more. Clara’s affliction was worse than ours. The letters that lay jumbled over her health bar were glowing and dimming twice as fast as ours.

“You’re being affected by whatever the whispers are doing, more than the rest of us,” I said.

“You saying I’m weak!” Clara said, suddenly red in the face, and turning on me threateningly. There was a white film in her eyes, and it tumbled around like a rolling cloud.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Marcian said, rushing between us and extending his hands out to keep a distance between the warrior and I. “Calm down Clara. You’re not acting like yourself and you need to get a handle on things right now. We haven’t run into any enemies yet and you need to be right as rain when we do.”

Alisander put himself between the warrior and mage, and slammed his head against Clara’s. The rest of us grimaced in second hand agony. Poppo shook out his hand while biting the other.

“Are you crazy?” I said.

Worried about Clara’s health, I checked on it. She’d lost somewhere between 5 and 10 points—hard to say without knowing her true health total.

“Tosin, look,” Marcian said, looking through my mana ring from the other side and pointing at Clara’s health bar.

“Whoa,” I said. “Clara, you're not afflicted anymore.”

I looked up and yelped as Clara’s head came charging in.

Her visage was contorting in a wild thrill. Her face was coming closer and closer, and her forehead led her forward. Blond wiry hair was flailing about as she came closer and closer. I was trying to step back but it was too late.

Her forehead met mine with a splitting crack and I fell back into someone’s arms. Poppo’s arms. I felt his chest pulse with laughter.

“Looks like you're not afflicted anymore either,” Marcian said.

It took me a moment to orient myself, to see straight again, and to get my head straight. I had to lean down to hold onto roots so I wouldn’t fall over.

“You could have warned me,” I said.

“Serves you right for not being prepared,” Clara said. Her tone indicated a satisfaction at headbutting me.

As I got to my feet, moments later, I heard two cracks of skulls. Marcian and Poppo slammed down to the roots beneath our feet, and writhed in pain. Alisander and Clara were smiling from ear to ear. Red bumps throbbed on their foreheads. Clara laughed with delight, her mouth wide open and her eyes bulging. Was this fun for her?

“My turn! My turn!” Alisander said, and braced himself.

Clara grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed her face against his. A hollow crack scored the swamp and I felt my bones shrink in sympathy. I helped Marcian and Poppo up to their feet and we took a look at Alisander’s health bar. It had gone down a smidge, but he was still afflicted.

“Again! Again!” he said.

Another hollow crack rang through the swamp. He was still afflicted, and Clara was now rubbing her head. Her health was suffering too. After half a swig of one of my Pyrrhon’s potions, she headbutted Alisander again. Again. Again.

Finally, the garbled letters wavered out of existence and Alisander was no longer afflicted. His health was near half way, but two potions set him right again. Clara finished off the other half of her potion and we set off once more.