A Soldier's Life

Chapter 140: Mourning

Chapter 140: Mourning

Konstantin stood over Delmar. He studied the legionnaire’s body and then said with remorse, “Did anyone else get hit by the specters or wight?”

Firth was cradling his broken arm, “The wight broke my arm.”

Konstantin moved to stand in front of Firth and study him. “Just the one injury? Do you feel any different?”

“My fucking arm is broken, Konstantin. Of course, I feel fucking different!” Firth yelled, spittle flying from his mouth.

“Eryk cut off Delmar’s head and use the kettle on him!” Konstantin barked at me while we were all still in a daze.

I looked at Delmar’s corpse, not processing the request. “What?”

“His spirit is going to turn into a specter! You can prevent that before it happens!” Konstantin yelled, his anger bleeding out. He kicked over a rack of swords. The violence and noise were therapeutic for him.

I walked to the body and readied my black blade, but it just felt wrong to cut off Delmar’s head, so I hesitated. Konstantin stormed over and used his own runic blade to complete the task, steam hissing up as he did so. I fumbled for the kettle and used it. A purple haze flowed from Delmar’s neck and head into the kettle. It was proof that he had been turning, but it still did not make me feel any better.

Benito was walking around the room, looking at all the various weapons. I think he was having trouble dealing with Delmar’s death and seeking a distraction. I went to the wall and charged the embedded glowstones to illuminate the massive forging chamber. There were a number of workstations and anvils throughout the room.

Benito asked weakly, “Who is going to tell Castile?”

There was silence as we all looked around. Konstantin finally voiced, “It will be me. His death was my fault.” No one argued with him as we continued our search.

Benito seemed mollified it wouldn’t be him and asked, while clearing the dust off some short blades, “Are any of these runic weapons?”

Scholar Favian was searching with us. “Most likely, no. Clean off the dust, and there is a chance if they have no rust.” I started searching with everyone else. It gave us something to distract us from Delmar’s body. I noticed Flavius pick up Delmar’s runic blade. It was an extremely valuable dungeon blade, but no one stopped him.

Every blade and axe I checked was tarnished with rust under the jacket of dust. It felt like Delmar had given his life for no reason. There were hundreds of weapons in here; all were artistic works that needed to be cleaned and oiled, but nothing was free of tarnish.

“Got one!” An excited Benito called from near the forges. We all rushed over to find Benito was cleaning something that looked closer to a sledgehammer than a weapon. The head of the sledgehammer had been cleaned off and looked like liquid mercury in the light of the glowstones.

Scholar Favian quickly assessed it: “Definitely an artificed hammer, but I think it is designed for metalworking and not fighting.”

He handed it around, and I realized how heavy it was when it got to me. The head alone was probably over five pounds, and the shaft added to that weight again in rich black wood. Konstantin said what I had been thinking, “The goliath can use that. He can then be of some help with the specters.”

We continued to search the room and started stacking the weapons in the center so we wouldn’t go over them more than once. We made four stacks; one was daggers, one for short swords, one for long swords, and one for axes. The spears we found, we leaned against the wall. We were interrupted twice by wandering specters but eventually searched the entire room.

Konstantin was the most upset of all of us. I think he wanted to find something more substantial so Delmar’s death would not be in vain. We found three runic daggers and a second smaller runic forge hammer among the bones of the fallen smiths. Bringing the total to four more runic weapons added to the company and a sledgehammer for Maveith.

We left the room and began the walk back to the wine vault. Konstantin led us but did not drag his feet. When we reached the room, he marched right up to Castile and told her what happened. I went to Maveith, who was playing checkers with Remus. “Eryk, how did your exploration go?” The goliath asked when studying the board.

“Delmar is dead.” I said plainly, and Remus’ red mop of hair looked up in surprise.

“That is impossible.” Remus muttered as he stood and went to spread the gossip.

“That is because I think it is a solo dungeon. You can meet up with others once inside and work together. The good news is that it appears there are many exits, and it is not difficult to leave the dungeon.” The Scholar offered the book in question to Castile.

Castile opened the book, and Adrian looked over her right shoulder, so I looked over her left. There were some faded pictures, and the Scholar described the book, “It is a tale of an elven princess who wants to be an Adventurer. She sneaks into the Shimmering Labyrinth to prove herself to her father.”

“There could be a lot of embellishment,” Castile voiced skeptically as she paged through the children’s book delicately, careful not to degrade the ancient book further. She was interested in the pictures. Each picture was a faded watercolor and had the heroine fighting a different monster. I noted the monsters pictured. There were many spiders of varied sizes and colors, including a black bear and a massive white bear.

The Scholar took the book back, “It is a child’s tale, but there should be threads of truth in it. It is also the only book I have found that directly describes what to expect in the dungeon.”

Castile looked old, and her hair had streaks of gray in it. “Do you still have the recipe book too?”

“Yes, I also brought that one with me,” Scholar Favian affirmed.

“We will make our way to the hearth tree tomorrow and try to find a way around it. Will the dungeon be above or below?” Castile asked resignedly.

The Scholar didn’t have a definitive answer but with an hesitant look offered his best guess. “I believe it is below ground. The Elven King tried to hide its existence from outsiders and seems to have been successful for the most part.”

Castile nodded, committed to continuing the search for the dungeon. She addressed everyone in the room. “Delmar was a great legionnaire. He knew exactly what each and every one of you needed and how much you could carry. His knowledge and skill with the sword will be sorely missed.” She scanned the group, locating Delmar’s blade. Flavius, Delmar would have wanted Adrian to carry his blade.” Flavius walked forward, and the two of them exchanged runic weapons. Flavius took the borrowed blade the duchess had secured for the expedition.

After the ceremonial exchange, Castile continued, “We are close to the dungeon. In eight hours, we will push together in search of it! We will be able to find food inside, and the summoner will not know where we went!”

Castile’s speech was not as motivating as I thought it could be. She also did not tell the company that the dungeon might separate us when we entered. I was left to coordinate the snow retrieval teams with Adrian to fill everyone’s canteens. I also had to ensure each man securely packed six bottles of wine in their packs. Being in charge of logistics meant I now had a lot less free time and had to babysit the men who were too lazy to remain prepared.

I also saw how much solid food we had left in Lirkin’s pack. It was just enough food to feed everyone a single full meal. Lirkin planned to stretch it for three days, and then we would subsist entirely on wine afterward.

As we left the wine vault, there were still thousands of bottles here if we needed to come back and replenish our supply. Too many of the men were dealing with daily cramps and muscle pains from slow starvation. I agreed entering the dungeon was our best course of action. We were too feeble to fight our way out of the city.

I was in the middle of the group with Castile, who frequently went forward to capture a specter. I was glad I did not have to use the kettle. We quickly moved through the underground network, Konstantin leading us. When we reached the room where Delmar rested, Castile went in and covered his body in his sleeping roll. She said a few private words and then offered the men a chance to take any weapons they wanted from the piles we had made during our previous visit.

Even though they were not runic weapons, the quality was far superior to our legion-issued gear. I picked through the daggers and hand axes. I added a dozen of each to my storage. No one was paying much attention to me, and I figured they could eventually be cleaned and sold. I also took one of the Elven spears. If we found another wight, I would prefer to be able to hold it at range. The claw marks on my armor were a terrible reminder of the encounter.

We quickly found the passages blocked by the hearth tree’s gnarled roots when we headed out. The roots blocked the passage and even went through the stone floor to the lower level and down to the sewers. Castile determined it would take too much energy and time to cut through the mess. We started making our way to the right, trying to follow the roots. We constantly had to backtrack and seek a wider route around. But we were making progress circumnavigating the tree.

Things got a little dicey when we caused a rush of over fifty specters and poltergeists when we entered a wide corridor. We had to cycle men to the front, and Castile got extremely busy with the kettle of souls. Our large group even had to deal with specters coming from behind through the walls.

During the rush, Maveith was a monster with his new runic sledgehammer. Where it took multiple strikes from a runic sword to dissipate a specter, Maveith’s heavy hammer blow always took them out in one. We proceeded even slower after that rush. Firth was the only legionnaire who was too injured to help in the fighting, his dominant sword arm broken and in a sling.

Everyone was exhausted after hours of walking and fighting in the underground complex. The complex never seemed to end. It really appeared as if we were never going to get to the fabled dungeon. Scholar Favian got Castile’s attention, “Mage Castile, this door goes up to the city.” She gave him an impatient look to get to the point. The Scholar wiped the coating of dust to read the Elven script, “It goes to the Elven barracks that I think...now, I am not too certain...but this barracks or maybe Delver Hall was in charge of guarding the entrance to the dungeon.”

The entire company was suddenly silent. All eyes turned to Castile for direction on what we would do next.

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