Born a Monster

I blinked. “No, I really don’t.” I said.

Bitaxes ground his teeth together. “Because, larval cave pig, you are SQUISHY. And you are EASILY RECOGNIZED. And because I have orders to hide you from potential assassins.”

“I would think minotaurs would be easily recognized.” I said.

Gondon sat down on the floor. “You mean assassins from the Duhric Council?” And to me, “What did you DO, and why am I not better off slitting your throat myself?”

“Idiot is becoming a symbol.” Bitaxes said.

Gondon stared at him. “I seem to be seated, and have time. Tell me a story.”

Bitaxes did so, with occasional input from me as to what I was thinking. When it was over, Gondon was massaging his jaw as though it hurt, or as if stroking an invisible beard. “So the horned overlords forget what war is? Already?”

“It’s only been a generation, but yes, that is what we’re thinking.” Bitaxes said.

.....

“It could be otherwise.” I said. “The matrons rule minotaur society in the Maze. They didn’t lose many females during the war, did they?”

“Children are the bedrock of the future.” Bitaxes said.

“We are people, not monsters.” Gondon agreed. “For proven foes, for goblins and trolls and spiders, we do this.”

“Never to other people.” Bitaxes said.

“So why would the Council choose to kill me?” I asked.

“To keep you out of the Arena, out of public sight.” Gondon said.

“If we can do the same in a way that keeps you alive, so much the better.” Bitaxes said.

“You know the path I take. I can’t guarantee the squishy will live.”

“And how does that differ from me remaining here?” I asked.

“There may be a Horror.” Gondon said. “No sign of other Tainted creatures, but something of dread and fear lurks on the third level down.”

I blinked at him.

“Brass sergeant, tell me you’ve at least taught the larva to speak like us.” Gondon said.

“Horrors are creatures twisted by Taint. Each one is unique; they will assault not only the body, but also the mind and spirit. They are never to be engaged, or even observed, and no force of less than twenty one is to confront one. The lucky will die; the unfortunate will return twisted, maimed in ways that none should live with.” I said.

“All right, then.” Gondon pulled a series of tablets from his inventory. “Goblins. Slimes. Volcanic chamber. Spiders and snakes. Scouted by trolls; they may have moved in. More spiders, possibly with a Horror corrupting them. If we see any sign of that, we turn back at once. Fractured dwarves, where we resupply. Gemstone folk, be on your best behavior or they’ll kill us. Cave lurkers, deep worms, morlocks, more spiders, possible undead from the recent battle here, and then upward here, with the risk of waterfalls from the surface. We emerge here, in the Artisan’s quarter.”

“Other than the trolls and the potential Horror, it sounds almost routine.” I said.

Gondon smashed a hand down on my metal boot. “Pay attention, larva. This is just a tunnel run, not some glorified time to seek bounties. At no time are we just charging into battle. We stay hidden, we hide, we run, and only as a last resort we fight.”

“Give him room if he has to use the chain.” Bitaxes said. “He’s not... it’s not his strongest weapon.”

“Is he bad with it?” Gondon asked.

“I’ve had to graduate worse. But... it’s not his strongest weapon.”

“Which is your strongest?” Gondon asked me.

I pulled the pick from my belt. “My second is the rock maul.”

“Good.” Gondon said. “Good. People forget their basic weapons, try fancy stuff that doesn’t work. Any chance that you’re trained as a field cook?”

Bitaxes broke out laughing. “When have you ever had such luck?”

“My skills in cooking... aren’t for your kind of stomach.” I admitted.

Gondon clacked his lips twice. “Well, I’ll just have to teach you that, too.”

The Tunnel Wardens bear packs nearly as large as we ourselves are. They have quick-release straps, just in case, but generally speaking they held everything we needed to survive. So, while we COULD drop the packs if we needed to, abandoning the packs was never our first course of action.

About half the pack was food and medical supplies.

“About how long will this take?” I asked. “A moon?”

Gondon blinked at me. “Forget the surface.” he said. “Forget the sky, forget the stars, forget the sun and the moon. The Wheel of Fate turns differently here; forget that for even an instant, and you won’t make it back.”

I nodded. “Quiet. We hide, we run. Only fight if we have to.”

He stroked his chin again. “Well, either you understand or you don’t. Let’s get started. Unless you need to sleep for the night?”

“It’s morning.” I said. “I got my sleep in last night.”

“No WONDER you took so long just to make a pack. I guess I owe the brass sergeant an apology for my thoughts. He’s not getting one, but I guess he finally deserves one. Well, how well do you remember the path I showed you?”

“This way.” I said. “We’re taking the iron gate from the Temple quarter.”

“Close. The third iron gate. Details, larva. Always details.”

The Temple quarter was raucous, swarmed over with merchants of all types. But still, the ceilings were high and vaulted, painted in luminescent shades. The floor tiles were stonecuts, the walls decorated with mosaics and metal plaques.

“If you want to waste money, now is the time to get a protective amulet.” Gondon said. “It’ll fail before we get too far along our journey, but other larvae before you have sworn on them.”

“If we pass an Earth node,” I said, “I’ll ask for time to enchant my own.”

Gondon snorted. “Never discard any tool, but magic is one that isn’t as reliable as I like. That said, it’s your spiritual energy. Live your own life.”

We didn’t even seem to draw that much attention, even armed and armored as we were. We were met by priests of the Peridot Order, whose blessing was more than just a formality. Four laborers strained to open the gate, strained to not slam it closed behind us.

And then, all was darkness.

“Well?” Gondon asked. “Aren’t you going to light a torch, or pull out a glowstone?”

“We aren’t going to let our eyes adjust?” I asked.

“What is that, some squishy surface crap? Lad, that gate just warned anyone within two miles that we’re here. So stow that caution; light a damn torch.”

“Sprites of fire, spirits of flame. It is I, Rhishisikk, adept and shaman. Come, if you would, and perform the smallest of favors for me. Light this torch. Ignition!”

Gondon coughed. “Or you could use flint and steel, strike sparks like the rest of us.”

“I figured you didn’t want to waste the time.” I said.

“Oh, so you’re that bad at it. Something to work on.” he said, closing a hand around the burning torch, extinguishing it. “Starting now. Light the torch as though you’ve used all your magic burning garklings.”

What the? Well, I had promised myself to learn the trade. In less than a minute, the torch was lit again.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it? Now, come on. There’s four spots the gark will attack us at if they’ve got people watching this gate.”

They didn’t, but at the third intersection, there were traces of goblin cold cooking.

“Two days.” he said. “Certainly not more. From here on out, put a stifler on your torch, and mufflers on your boots. From here, it gets real. No noise unless I ask you something.”

We both had decent Might scores and were trained in breath control; he took off at a light jog, just about exactly as fast as you can travel without damaging your boot mufflers. I kept up, and nearly rammed him from behind when he suddenly stopped.

He tapped the side of his head, and moved to one side of the tunnel. I moved to the other side and listened.

It wasn’t Gobbley (the goblin tongue) as I had learned it. The words were shorter, sharper. The tones were still those of a Goblin throat, but the language was one I didn’t know. They talked to each other calmly; the voices faded as they moved away.

Exactly seventy two seconds after it was silent, Gondon motioned me forward.

“Did you get that?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No, that wasn’t the goblin language as I’ve learned it. It wasn’t long enough for my System to identify the language; I’ll have to purchase it later.”

“Okay, normal pace.” he said. “Keep up.”

We moved forward at about half normal walking pace, stopping to listen every four steps. Like I said, I missed the first words of my siblings. Over the rest of the day, we had to backtrack twice, and Gondon consulted his maps to find paths the goblins were not using.

In the eleventh hour, he pulled us off into a side cavern, where we silently made camp.

I had first watch.

A stifler is a metal band that goes on a torch, literally choking off the flame to a certain size. Mufflers are a combination of leather and fabric, which kept the boots from clanging on the floor.