Chapter 40: What Lies Beneath the Muck (Patreon)

The instant I crossed the threshold into Cantos’ room, I rocked to a halt.

The sight of the Butcher’s corpse transfixed me.

For that singular moment, nothing else impinged on my awareness but his body—and what it meant—and all the emotions I’d been suppressing came surging back. Rocking back and forth, I wrapped my arms about myself.

Vengeance was not all it was made out to be.

My friend had died, so I had sought revenge. I’d accepted that to get it I would have to bloody my hands, but I’d believed—unquestioningly believed—that it would be worth it, that I would feel better for it.

Staring at Cantos’ dead body, I knew that to be a lie.

I’d killed the Butcher mercilessly and without hesitation, as I had so many other Devils. But none of it changed how I felt. None of it eased the ache in my heart.

Alon was still dead.

And I was still bereft.

“Elana…” Adalinda’s voice intruded on my thoughts as if from a great distance.

Having nothing to say, I stayed silent.

“El, look at me…”

Coldness shivered up my spine, and my chest began to pound. I felt like I was dying. Or panicking. Or both. Whatever the case, I felt… lost.

My breath grew strained, and I hugged myself tighter. Would it be so bad to just lie down and rest? To join Alon wherever he—

“ELANA!”

My eyes snapped open, shocked back into the now. I hung my head. What had happened to me?

It was almost as if I’d been bespelled. But no, no outside source was to blame. It had been grief that had got me. Insurmountable grief brought crashing down by the sight of the one responsible for Alon’s demise.

Movement to my left drew my eye. Adalinda pacing. “I’m sorry, Ada,” I said quietly. “For a moment…” I gulped. “For a moment, it felt like all too much to bear.”

“I understand,” she softly. She eyed the room. “Do you still want to proceed?”

“Yes.” Raising my chin, I stiffened my spine and let my gaze drift across the chamber. This time no adverse reaction overcame me. Letting out a shaky breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, I stepped deeper into the room.

The Devils had left the place in a mess. Instead of one body on the floor, there were four—courtesy of their infighting. The place looked to have been thoroughly looted too. Which begged the question, why hadn’t any of the thugs searched the room I’d hid in?

It must have belonged to one of the players, I decided.

More concerning was the state of Cantos’ desk. The papers I’d seen there were now scattered all over the room, many besmirched by bloody fingerprints or booted heels. Yet, none looked to have been stolen. The remaining thugs had probably deemed them useless.

Bending down, I picked up the nearest scrap of parchment. The writing was still legible—somewhat. I sighed.

“Better make yourself comfortable, Ada. It looks like we’re going to be here awhile.”

✵ ✵ ✵

It took me nearly as long as I feared to collect and sift through Cantos’ notes.

Many were illegible, some I threw away—disgusted by what they had to say—and the meaning of others was too garbled to make sense of.

But here and there, I uncovered words or passages that spoke to me. They all seemed part of a personal diary, a journal of sorts. A fleeting smile crossed my face at the thought.

Who would believe the Butcher a journaler?

Gathering the pieces of paper, I laid them out on the desk in chronological order near as I could figure out. “Listen to this, Ada,” I said, then proceeded to read through them aloud.

“… my sources tell me that what we’ve uncovered in the Black Sewers is something from the Game. If that’s the case, it could be a veritable gold mine—if only I can retain control of it…”

“… Gorkin has found a player he thinks reliable…”

“I met Alistair yesterday. The fool might not be trustworthy, but he is desperate, and I know just how to handle that sort.”

“… a dungeon! Hatchling’s Trial or some such nonsense, that’s what Alistair called it.”

“Incredible… a dungeon portal, and in the very heart of my territory. I truly am the favored of the gods…”

“… the bastard killed my men! He threatened me! How dare he!”

“… no one comes into my territory and pushes me around. He will pay for his disrespect. Alliances are but pretty words to bind the weak and foolhardy…”

“… but I can’t confront him openly. Oh, no. Too dangerous. There’s more than one way to skin a cat, though. He may be a player, but he’ll get what’s—”

“I’ve made contact. I meet with the sworn tomorrow.”

“… the damn sworn didn’t turn up! He sent a lackey instead. Some lizard creature thing. Yuck.”

“The lizardwoman may be disgusting, but she knows her business…”

“… Alastair has no idea! The idiot really thinks he has me cowed. Ha!”

“Alastair: level 40 human archer.

Esmina: level 21 human mage.

Sigurd: level 15 half-orc fighter, or is that psionic?

Dansen: level 20 human cleric.

Tyn: level 19 mage.

Mathew: level 14 human rogue.

Iken: level 25 human telepath.”

“My plan is coming together nicely. Soon, I’ll be rid of both Alistair and the sworn’s cronies. Damn arrogant bastards! Good riddance!”

I sat back in the chair when I was finished. “What do you make of all that, Ada?”

“I think,” the celestial began slowly, “Cantos has laid it all out for you.”

I nodded. “By my reckoning this all began with the Black Sewers. The Devils found something there.”

Of all the hints in the notes, this was the part I found the least inconceivable. Mesina had been built atop the ruins of another older city, which the Black Sewers had reputedly been part of, and old folk in the quarter always loved telling tales of all the dark things that had crept out of it in their day.

That had stopped, though, when the sewers had been sealed—only to be reopened again by the Devils after they claimed it as their base.

“Not just any something,” Adalinda amended, pulling me back to the present. “They found a portal to a dungeon named The Hatchling’s Trials.”

“Correct.” I frowned. In all my years, I’d never heard of a dungeon in the poor quarter, and if anyone had asked me before today, I would have sworn such was not possible.

In fact, its lack was one the main reasons, Arinna’s people never bothered trying to control the poor quarter, and I couldn’t imagine the goddess’s followers ever letting something as precious as a dungeon portal remain in the hands of a bunch of ‘proles.’

Which meant…

“Arinna’s people don’t know about it,” I murmured.

“Or didn’t know about it,” Adalinda added. “If Cantos’ notes are to be believed that may no longer be true.”

I sighed. “True. But that’s where things get murky.” Picking one parchment in particular, I gave it a second longer look. “Esmina and Matthew, we’ve met. Sigurd, too—he must’ve been the half-orc. But who is Alistair, Dansen, Iken, and Tyn?”

“Dansen and Tyn are probably the fighter and mage we killed on the ground floor. I’m not sure about Iken but Alistair is presumably, is the group’s leader.” She paused. “You noticed the discrepancy in their levels?”

“I did. Esmina was higher leveled when we met her as was Sigurd the second time around.”

“Which would make sense if they’d been dungeon diving in the interim.”

I nodded. “So, what? You figure, Cantos sold access to the dungeon to Alistair’s group?”

“It seems likely. Only things didn’t turn out as he planned.”

“Huh-uh. And then in typical Cantos-fashion, the Butcher tried to betray them to Arinna.”

Adalinda tilted her head to the side. “Only tried? You don’t think he succeeded?”

I shook my head. “Think about it. There is no need for the goddess to be coy about things, not in her own city. If Arinna knew there was a portal to a dungeon in the poor quarter, she would’ve already flooded this place with her sworn and followers.”

“I take your point,” Adalinda conceded. “But what about the lizardwoman… there can’t be many of her kind in the city.”

“I know,” I growled in frustration. “That’s what doesn’t make sense.”

The lizardwoman who had questioned me had to be the same one Cantos had met with, which meant she was not only a player but one of Arinna’s followers.

“We know the lizardwoman is alive,” I went on, “so by all accounts, Arinna should’ve been informed of the dungeon’s existence by now!” I drummed my fingers across the table. “So why hasn’t she?”

“Perhaps there is some other game at play,” Adalinda suggested.

I stilled my hand. “What do you mean?”

The celestial seemed to shrug. “Don’t think of the players as one homogenous group. They’re no different from… the Devils for instance. There are always factions, and factions within factions.”

“I see,” I muttered. “So, you’re saying our lizardwoman may not have reported the dungeon’s existence because… she’s playing her own angle?”

Adalinda nodded. “Players crave dungeons the way a dragon hoards gold. When it comes to gaining access to a previously undiscovered dungeon, all sorts of betrayals are possible.”

“I don’t doubt that.” I rubbed my chin in contemplation. “It seems like we’ve covered everything.” Closing my eyes, I reviewed all our summations again, going over everything in exact detail and looking for flaws.

But nothing stood out as glaringly wrong, and a moment later, I stood, gathering the notes in a neat pile that I stuck in my pocket.

“It makes sense,” I pronounced.

The Adjudicator must have thought so, too, because a Game message unfurled in my mind.

Your task, Master of your Own Destiny, has been updated. You have found Cantos notes and have identified some of the Devils’ allies.

Revised objective 2: kill the players forming part of Alistair’s group.

Adalinda smiled after I relayed the message’s contents. “It looks like we are on the right track.”

I nodded. “It does. But now it’s time to go,” I said, heading for the door, but before I could cross the threshold, Adalinda hissed.

“I hear something!”

Reacting instantly, I took cover behind the door and stilled. “Hide Adalinda. Under the bed.”

“But—”

“Do it,” I barked, not about to brook any arguments now. Hand wrapped around the hilt of my stiletto, I strained my ears and heard…

Footsteps.

A single set, drawing gradually closer. I drew my blade silently. The approaching Devil was in for a surprise.

A shadow appeared in the doorway.

I burst into motion, blade raised at the same time as Adalinda surged out from under the bed. The figure spun and his hand shot up, seizing my descending wrist in an iron grip.

“Elana! Stop, it’s me!”

I froze. “Soren?”

He inched closer, revealing a smiling face. It is him, I thought, sagging in relief.

Where he shouldn’t be.

I stiffened in the wake of that thought and yanked back my arm. He released it immediately. How is he so fast? I wondered. Even with my added Dexterity, Soren had had no trouble matching my speed.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded, rubbed my wrist behind my back.

“I came to find you,” he replied, undaunted by my tone. His gaze flickered forward. “Is that Adalinda?”

I nodded curtly. The celestial had figured out Soren’s identity before I had and now sat contently on the floor.

“She looks different.”

“She’s evolved,” I snapped, not in the mood to explain further. I scowled at him. “And enough about Ada, what are you doing her? I thought I told you to stay away. I told you it was too dangerous for you to be here.” I threw up my hands. “Did you hear any of that?”

He looked away. “I heard,” he said softly. “Believe me, I did. And you were right…” He shook his head disbelievingly. “All that blood downstairs. My god, Elana, did you do that?”

“You still haven’t answered my question,” I said tightly.

“Sorry,” he said, ducking his head. “I know I shouldn’t have come. But I couldn’t not come. You’re my little sis.” Noticing my glare, he added hastily. “But I followed your instructions, the important bits anyway. I didn’t enter the house, and only watched it from across the street.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Sitting there, doing nothing was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done, Elana. Truly, it was.”

I softened my scowl, somewhat mollified. “So, you followed me?”

“I did and I vowed to myself not to interfere with your… work. But when I saw the Devils rush out of the house and there was still no sign of you, I grew worried.” He shrugged helplessly. “I had to come in then.”

I stared at him stiffly for a drawn-out moment.

But this was Soren, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay mad at him. “Thank you,” I said, solemnly, drawing him into a hug.

“For what?” came his confused response.

“For caring,” I said, squeezing him harder.

He patted me across the back, and we stood there in contented silence for a moment. Then Soren stiffened, and I knew he’d spotted Cantos.

Soren pushed me back gently, holding me out at arm’s length. “Is that… him?”

I nodded. “Yes, the Butcher is finally dead,” I said softly.

Tears streamed down Soren’s face. “You did it, El! You actually did it!”

I smile through my tears. “It was easier than I expected.”

Soren snorted. “Easy is not the term that comes to mind after seeing what’s downstairs.”

My smile faded. “But brother, I don’t think it’s over. What’s happening in the poor quarter, its bigger than Cantos, bigger than the Devils.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

Pulling out Cantos’ notes, I showed it to him. “Read these.”

Soren flipped through the papers, his face going paler by the second. “We have to show these to Eoman,” he said, when he was done.

I nodded mutely.

“And then…” Soren licked his lips nervously, “we must have a long talk, El. There are things I must tell you.”

“What things?” I asked, dread curling in me. I had my suspicions about what subject he wanted to broach, and somehow, I feared I wasn’t going to like hearing what he had to say.

“Things about our family, about the resistance.” He stared at me solemnly. “And about who you are.”