Dungeon Runner

Bottom Rung, Chapter 04

They followed the well-trodden path up the hill to the crack in the mountain. Tibs had expected it to be larger, but they had to squeeze in one at a time; except for Tibs, who fit by turning sideways.

The tunnel was rough stone, the same tan-gray as outside. The floor and walls were uneven, but the tunnel quickly widened until the two fighters could stand shoulder to shoulder. Torches illuminated the walls, casting their undulating shadows on the opposite wall and giving Tibs the impression they were being watched and followed.

"Slow down," the archer called after the guy hurrying ahead of them, "there might be monsters hiding in the shadows."

Tibs tightened his grip on the knife. It had been his imagination, hadn't it? If the archer said there could—

"No there aren't," the fighter replied dismissively and pointed to an even glow further down the tunnel. "Don't you know anything? There's never anything until the first room."

By the time Tibs and the others reached him, he stood at the point where the tunnel widened, grumbling in disappointment. The even light came from there, so Tibs squeezed between the two fighters to see.

The room was large; it looked like someone had aimed to make it square, but hadn't finished, making it round with flattened, uneven, walls, with an opening opposite where they stood. The light came from—Tibs couldn't tell where it came from. It simply was, but it had to be higher up, based on the shadows the irregularities on the walls caused.

Something caught Tibs attention as the fighter stepped into the room. "Stop!" he called, trying to understand what he was seeing. It was in the shadows. Something darker.

"Don't tell me what to do," the fighter replied. "I'm not giving you a chance to steal my kills. If this room's empty I'm moving on." He grumbled something about stupid dungeons and not knowing how to do things properly.

There was a click, then the fighter had a pole through his body. Thin, made of stone, Tibs noted, like the shaft of a spear. It had happened too fast for him to see if the tip had been pointed, but it came from one of the shadows, crossed the room to another shadow, holding the unmoving fighter in place.

Then the body moved, pulled by the shaft as it retracted back into the wall it had originated from. Something felt off to Tibs; it shouldn't be able to support the fighter's weight. It dragged the body to the wall, and Tibs saw the end of the shaft was flat.

By the time the body slid to the ground, Tibs no longer paid attention to it, the vanishing shaft, or the gasp and retching behind him. He'd seen worse deaths on the street: thugs having their fun with the beggars and urchins; The cold nights stealing the life of anyone without a warm place to sleep. No one survived the street without becoming inured to death.

He was more interested in preventing his and the others from dying the same way the fighter had. The click had been a trigger. The blood was a good indication of where it was.

A louder gasp made him look at the remaining fighter. Who was looking toward the wall where the body was—had been. Tibs caught the end of the body vanishing; melting away and being absorbed into the floor and wall it rested against.

That, Tibs thought, was different.

"Well, that explains why I was told to retrieve the dead's equipment," the sorceress said.

"I wasn't told anything like that," the archer replied.

"I was," the fighter said, "but I have no idea how we're going to do that. It only took a few seconds for the body to melt like that."

"I think..." The sorceress was silent as she closed her eyes. "I sort of recall reading something about how our lifeforce can keep a dungeon from absorbing anything close to us."