Dragon Mage 094 - Arena Champion (Patreon)

374 days until the Arkon Shield falls

8 hours until Dungeon Purge

We traversed the dungeon in reverse, slipping past disarmed traps and dead creature champions. As we walked, I mused over the dungeon dive. The hidden dungeon hadn’t been what I expected, and it had differed vastly from the Primal Keep in design, yet I couldn’t complain about the rewards I’d received. I hadn’t gained the Trait I desired, but what I got was just as good and better in some ways.

And besides, I thought, fingering the four champion cores in my pocket, I now have a means of advancing my Attributes without depending on a Trait.

We reached the exit portal without mishap, and without further delay, Jain opened the rift for the party to slip through.

You have entered a dungeon rift. Exiting the Champions’ Arena. Updating dungeon data…

Status: deconstructing instance. Availability: offline.

Transfer will be completed in 5 seconds.

4…

3…

2…

1…

✽✽✽

Transfer completed.

We reappeared in the same wet and moldy underground cave, with one startling difference: the obelisk covered in silver sigils was gone. Confirmation, if we needed it, that the dungeon was closed for good.

“Nice work, people,” Jain said to the party. “That went—” He broke off. “What’s that?” he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper.

Following the direction of the rogue’s gaze, I saw he was staring at the opening of the narrow tunnel leading into the cave from above. My brows drew down. No light penetrated through the entrance, and there was nothing there to be seen. So why is Jain—

Voices floated down.

My breath caught. The sounds coming from outside were too indistinct to make out the words, but they contained the unmistakable pattern of speech.

Motioning for everyone to be quiet, Jain and Pierre slipped up to the cave entrance and listened intently. The rest of us remained where we were, hands on blades and waiting in tense silence.

Who could it be? I wondered. No one knew we were here. No one except the orcs.

My fingers tightened around my staff. Could the orcs be looking for Jain’s party? It was little more than a day since I’d freed the group. Surely the orcs couldn’t have mobilized a search already?

The rogue and ranger returned from the tunnel mouth a moment later, frowns marring their faces, and I braced myself for the worst.

“They’re humans,” Jain said.

“Humans?” Cedric murmured. “Where did they come from?”

Jain’s gaze drifted to me. “Maybe Jamie knows.”

I was just as surprised by the rogue’s revelation as the others, but if there really were humans above, it was more than likely that they were from Sierra. What would they be doing out here, though? “You’re sure it’s not orcs out there?”

Pierre nodded. “We only managed to catch one word in five, but they’re speaking English, no doubt about it.”

“We should sneak out and capture them,” Liyanda suggested.

“No, don’t do that!” I hissed. The others turned my way. “Jain’s right,” I said reluctantly. “I might know who they are. Let me go out and check.” I met Jain’s gaze. “Alone.”

The rogue weighed my response for a moment, then jerked his head in agreement. “Go.”

I wasted no time in complying and slipped into the tunnel leading to the world outside.

✽✽✽

With some judicious tugging and wriggling, I navigated the small tunnel and, only a little later, spilled out of the cranny into the gorge itself. Rising cautiously to my feet, I took in my surroundings.

The night was well advanced, and no stars shone. No one was near the exit, but a campfire was roaring merrily less than ten yards away. Seated around it were nearly two dozen figures, instantly recognizable by their gear.

Spearmen and scouts.

The last of the tension drained out of me. Friendlies had come to meet us—or me. Concealed as I was by the night’s darkness, the soldiers hadn’t spotted me yet. “Ho, the camp!” I called out.

The figures at the campfire surged to their feet with cries of alarm and shouts of distress. Remaining unmoving by the cranny, I waited for their approach.

They rushed towards me in a disciplined line. With night vision, I easily picked out individuals and spotted Cass amongst them. The Sierra soldiers, though, could not see me as clearly. “Identify yourself,” one demanded.

“It’s Jamie,” I replied.

Still suspicious, the spearmen didn’t lower their weapons. A sergeant looked to Cass, and the redhead advanced closer on her own. “It is him!” she called over her shoulder, and the soldiers relaxed. “Are you okay?” she asked, turning back to me.

I studied Cass for a moment. Deep lines of grief were etched into her face, and her eyes looked weary. But despite this, she appeared calm and in control. She’s coping, I thought, deciding not to inquire on how she was doing. Best to let her manage her grief as she saw fit.

“I’m fine,” I assured her. I gestured to the tunnel. “The others are still in there. I’m going to call them out now.”

While Cass hurried back to inform the Sierra soldiers, I beckoned the party out. “It’s safe,” I yelled into the hole. “You can come out now.”

The party exited the cave warily, their faces closed and guarded as they eyed the two squads of soldiers around them. Cass and the sergeant-in-charge rejoined me. “Did it go well?” the scout asked, ignoring Jain’s people.

I nodded. “We’ve completed the dungeon.” I raised my hand as I saw her eyes widen and another question on the tip of her tongue. “Later. I’ll tell you all about it later, but first, I’d appreciate a hot supper.” I glanced at Jain. “As I’m sure would my companions.”

✽✽✽

Supper was a noisy affair.

Both Cass and the spearmen sergeant were full of questions, curious about the dungeon and what we’d encountered. The pair quizzed me at length but did not share any of their own news about Woodspire or Sierra. Nor did I question them on such matters. I was sure Jain and the others noticed our decidedly one-sided exchange, but they did not remark on it.

There was something else peculiar about our conversation. I sensed a hidden tension in Cass. I would have written it off as grief at her sister’s passing, but the sergeant, too, was on edge. From the constant glances the pair darted in the direction of my companions, I guessed they had something to share but couldn’t in the presence of strangers.

After supper, the spearman returned to their posts, some to stand watch, others to rest. Jain’s people went to their beds, too, but the rogue stayed behind. Cass looked at me questioningly when it became clear he wasn’t going to leave, but I waved her away. Jain looked like he had something to say, and I wanted him to speak freely.

“So,” he began when we were alone at the campfire, “you are from one of the independent factions. I had suspected as much earlier.”

I kept my own expression blank. “What makes you say that?”

“Your gear for one,” he said, gesturing at my clothes, “and theirs too. All look to be primitively made, with none of the sophistication of items manufactured in the cities.”

“You admit you’re from one of the sponsored cities then?” I asked, brows raised.

He smiled. “I’m sure you guessed as much already.”

“It was obvious,” I admitted.

Jain’s eye flickered from the spearmen to me. “Your settlement appears well organized,” he said. The bald man hadn’t missed the ranks the soldiers had used amongst themselves. “You’re fortunate,” he went on. “Most of the other independents fell into chaos almost immediately after the gates closed, and nearly all are ruled by thugs and criminals now. Your own settlement, I’m guessing, is different.”

I bit my lip. The rogue’s words painted a bleak picture. “You’ve come across many such settlements?” I asked quietly.

Jain sighed and stared deep into his cup. “Too many,” he said. “I had begun to despair of humanity.” He raised his eyes to meet my own. “But meeting you and your companions—” he waved at the scout and spearmen squads—“has given me new hope. Perhaps we can rebuild our civilization after all.”

I stared at Jain, struck by both the sudden undercurrent of emotion in the usually expressionless man and the similarity of his sentiments to my own. I leaned forward. “Where are you from, Jain?”

He stared at me for so long, I feared he would not answer. “We’re from the south,” he said at last. “Our party—five-strong originally, we lost our healer to the orcs—marched north across the plains, following the river. You know which one I speak of?”

I nodded. There was only one river he could mean.

“Well,” he continued, “my team and I entered Overworld early on.” He gave a short laugh. “That’s less than four weeks ago, but it still feels like an eternity. Our journey began in a gnomish city.”

I expelled my breath in a whoosh. I had suspected as much, but it was nice to finally have confirmation. “Where is it?” I asked eagerly.

“On the banks of the Sedge—that’s the name of the river we followed north. The city is over a hundred miles south of here.”

“Ah,” I said, leaning back. I finally had the location of one of the sponsored cities. If the city was on the riverbanks itself, it would not be hard to find. “Thank you for telling me,” I said.

He nodded absently.

“What is the city called?”

“Jabbermuck,” Jain replied.

I bowed my head. It had been a little too much to hope that the city he sprung from was the same one Eric had landed in. Still, I felt a slight spurt of disappointment that it was not. I hesitated, then asked, “Have you heard of the city, Splatterpunk?”

Jain tilted his head to the side in thought. “Can’t say that I have, but it sounds like a gnomish settlement.” He studied me curiously. “Why do you ask?”

“Never mind,” I said, waving away the matter before returning to the subject at hand. “Are you and your people citizens of Jabbermuck then?”

To my surprise, Jain shook his head. “Hardly. We refused the gnome’s offer of citizenship. Unlike the orcs, the gnomes did not force themselves upon us. Me and a few hundred other like-minded people purchased supplies from the overworlders, then marched out to start our own settlement about a half a day south of the city.”

“How did you manage that?” I exclaimed.

Jain smiled, a trifle sadly. “As I mentioned earlier, most of the independent settlements fell into anarchy even before they could be established. We found one such village south of the gnomish city. We took it. By force,” he said, his eyes hard. “The settlement belongs to my faction now. We renamed it Hortown, and with the help of our gnomish neighbors, we’ve restored order to the region.”

Humans had not stopped fighting each other, it seemed, despite being faced with the threat of extinction. I already had enough on my plate dealing with Sierra’s troubles, though, and couldn’t go wondering what the rest of humanity was doing to each other. “How did you learn of this dungeon’s location? It seems a long way from your home.”

“The gnomes have their own means of discovering information. They share the whereabouts of key locations with us.” The rogue paused. “For a price.”

My ears perked up. “A price? What price?”

Jain reached into his pocket and held out three objects. They were creature champion cores. “These. Full cores like these are exceedingly rare and normally only ever found in new Dominions. Wysterl—that’s the head gnome we deal with—gives us the location of dungeons, and we go clear them.”

I stared at him in shock. “You’re employed by the gnomes?”

“We’re not,” Jain said firmly. “But we do have a working relationship,” he admitted. “The gnomes are our allies, as much as any of the overworlders would lower themselves to being such.”

I wasn’t sure I understood what he was getting at. “Explain,” I demanded.

“Surviving Overworld alone is impossible,” Jain stated bluntly, “your own settlement’s experience notwithstanding.” He paused. “I’m not sure how your people managed to survive this long alone, but their achievement is the exception rather than the norm. To thrive, you need equipment. We wouldn’t have cleared any of the dungeons we did without our gear—gear like the reanimate dead scrolls, Liyanda’s armor, my blades, and Cedric’s staff. Where do you suppose we got all that from?”

“The gnomes,” I answered.

“That’s right. We bought it from the gnomes with the cores.”

I rubbed my chin. “You’re trading the cores?”

Jain nodded. “The gnomes cannot acquire them on their own, of course. The Arkon Shield prohibits that. But the Trials doesn’t forbid them from buying the items from us. Wysterl’s people know that once the new domain restrictions fall away, there is little chance they will gain access to the dungeons. So instead, they’ve chosen to reap what little gain they can by equipping human teams to clear the dungeons before any of the other overworlders can.”

“They do all that just for champion cores? I know Marks are valuable, but still?” I asked skeptically.

Jain shook his head. “The cores can be used for other things too. However, Wysterl wasn’t willing to go into details about just what those purposes may be. I only know the cores are especially prized by their artificers.”

“I see,” I said. It was perhaps a fairer bargain than either the orcs and elves had struck with humanity. And honestly, it was a smart move on the gnomes part. Yet it rankled. I sighed. But I couldn’t deny it sounded like an equitable trade. The gnomes got what they wanted, and in the process, Jain and his people got stronger.

The rogue was eyeing me thoughtfully. “What about your own people? You still haven’t told me where your settlement is.”

I stared at him for a moment weighing my response. “I would tell you,” I said at last, “but the information is not mine to share.”

Surprisingly Jain chuckled. “You need your chief’s permission, is that it? He’s a hard-nut, I bet.”

I smiled. “Something like that.” I paused. “I’m sorry, I can’t—”

He shook his head. “I understand, and besides, you don’t owe us anything. You’ve already helped us more than we’ve had any right to expect.”

“What will you and your team do now?” I asked.

Jain shrugged. “Return to Jabbermuck. It will take us a few days to get back.” He lowered his voice. “And what with the new Trait we all earned, everyone in the group is keen to get their hands on seasoned-ranked lorebooks.”

That I could well understand. I, myself, was eager to return to Sierra to advance my dragon magic to rank three and begin spellcrafting more advanced spells.

Imagine how much more I could do in a gnomish city.

For a moment—just a tiny fraction of a heartbeat—I was tempted to go with the rogue’s party. I’d earned their trust, and I knew Jain wouldn’t refuse me if I made the request. But what with the orcs in the area, Sierra needed me more than ever. I couldn’t just abandon the village. And besides, I also couldn’t forget I was a wanted man. “Be careful if you plan on following the river south. It’s infested.”

Jain laughed. “Oh, that we know, believe me.” He rose to his feet. I did too. “Well, I guess our time together is coming to an end.” He stuck out his hand. “It’s been… interesting.”

I clasped his arm and asked, “When will you leave?”

“At first light,” he replied.

I glanced to the area where the rest of his group had rolled out their sleeping bags. The death mage was still awake, sitting up and muttering to himself. “Can I borrow Cedric for a bit?” I asked.

Jain looked at me curiously. “If he doesn’t mind, of course not, but what do you want him for?”

I grinned. “Training.”

✽✽✽

Coming up from behind, I clamped a hand down on Cedric’s shoulder, causing him to start in fright. He scowled when he saw it was me. “What do you want?”

“Ready to finish what we started?”

He looked at me mystified.

I arched one eyebrow. “Or don’t you want to learn wilting ward?”

Cedric scrambled to his feet. “Of course, I want to! But after we failed the last time, I didn’t think...” His words ran aground as he spotted the freshly torn-off sapling in my left hand. “What is that for?”

“What you said last time got me thinking,” I said.

Cedric’s brows drew down in confusion.

“About trainers using teaching aids,” I reminded him. “You wouldn’t happen to know what sort of items they use for that, would you?”

The albino’s frown deepened. “The mage who taught me leeching hands used a pool of what he called ‘living water’ to demonstrate the spell’s form.”

“That mage was an enchanter, wasn’t he?”

Cedric nodded. “An artificer, actually.” Seeing my blank look, he added. “Artificers are what gnome enchanters call themselves.”

I nodded thoughtfully.

“But how did you guess that?” Cedric asked.

“I’ll explain later,” I said, waving away his question. I hefted the length of wood in my hand. “The important thing now is that I think I can do something similar.”

Cedric’s eyes jumped back to the sapling. “Tell me, you’re not thinking of using that?”

I laughed. “I am. I know for a fact that the weaves of a sapling’s spirit can be realigned, and I’m hoping I can manipulate its spirit enough to demonstrate the spellform of wilting ward.”

The death mage stared at me in shock. “That’s not—”

Liyanda jerked upright. “Won’t you two shut up?” she snapped. “I’m trying to sleep here!”

—possible,” Cedric finished.

I chuckled. “Come on, let’s go somewhere quiet, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

✽✽✽

“Remarkable,” Cedric murmured when I was done explaining everything I’d learned of sorcery and enchanting in general.

The two of us were seated at the very edge of the camp to not disturb the others. Pulling out his staff, Cedric laid it across his knees while he studied it in fascination.

“It’s enchanted, right?” I asked, gesturing to his Focus.

Cedric nodded. “I bought it from the same Veteran mage who taught me my spells.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask: why doesn’t your party have more enchanted items?”

The mage’s lips turned down. “They’re expensive, that’s why,” he muttered. “Jain told me you know about our deal with Wysterl?”

I nodded.

“Well, with the quota we pay the gnomes for every dungeon location they provide us, we’ve hadn’t had enough money left to purchase better gear.”

I bit my lip, feeling suddenly guilty for the core Jain had given me.

Seeing my look, Cedric smiled. “Don’t worry, we exceeded our quota in the Arena. We owe Wysterl two cores for that, which after the core Jain gave you still leaves us one to buy some much-needed upgrades. Don’t think of returning what Jain gave you. You’ve earned it.”

“Ah,” I said, relieved. I pointed to his Focus. “Can I see that?”

The death mage hesitated for only a moment before handing it over.

“Thank you,” I said gravely. Running my hand over the length of wood, I cast analyze on the item.

The target is an enchanted blackwood wizard’s staff inset with 2 elemental crystals of death. It can only be used by: Cedric.

“Wow,” I exclaimed. The staff had two elemental crystals, not one. Running my fingers over the Focus again, I inspected it anew with my magesight.

From what I could sense, the crystals were embedded within the staff’s steel-capped ends. Just as interesting, the living spirit in the Focus flowed seamlessly between the wood and metal endcaps—they’d been fused together somehow. I looked up at the death mage. “This staff has two crystals.”

Cedric nodded. “I couldn’t afford a second enchantment, so I kept the slot spare for future use.” He tilted his head in consideration. “Can you etch wilting ward into it?”

I shook my head ruefully. “No, my sorcery isn’t advanced enough to enchant rank three spells.” I lifted my eyes to his. “But the second crystal will make teaching you wilting ward much easier.” I might not be able to etch the entire spell in the crystal, but if I worked carefully and in stages, I could still use the empty crystal to demonstrate parts of the spell’s forms at a time.

Cedric leaned forward. “You’re sure?”

I nodded. I set aside the sapling. “We won’t need this anymore,” I said confidently. “Let’s begin.”