would connect to his superiors here in Bellrise, and the other was a direct link to the Sergeant of the Watch currently on duty at the Al'drossford Keep. Whichever was used first promised to bring trouble Gaffney's way if the person notified second found out. It was the Al'drossford communication device that his hand closed around at last.
The Captain in Bellrise would be displeased, but the worst he would do was dock Gaffney's pay. The angry scribble of Cullen's orders promised pain to any that wasted time before informing him.
You have entered a minor Permanent Trial.
Recommended Levels 1 through 15. You may exit at any time.
The words trembled as Trent read them. Beyond the translucent screen containing the message, the tightly fitted stone blocks that made up the wall also shook as the Trial itself vibrated. Dreq whined at his feet, and Trent shut his eyes and pushed up his mask to let the dry air of the room touch his face.
Something had changed in the brief time since he had entered the Trial. Closing his eyes, he let his mind float, hoping Perception would pick up on what had caused the disturbance. There was nothing. Or rather, he was unfamiliar with the normal state of this Trial and couldn't tell what was different. He would have to rely on Kerry or the new Mage girl to tell him.
An unlikely possibility Trent realized as Kerry cursed and exclaimed, "Did either of you feel that? Why is it still so dark in here? Hey, Trent, first to enter lights a torch! We did bring torches, right?"
Trent opened his eyes. It was pitch dark without his mask on. He hadn't expected that. Before he could remedy the situation by casting Spark, Felicia proved why a Mage was handy by casting a Light Spell, which sent a luminous white ball soaring to the ceiling.
"I thought it would be a cave," Trent murmured, looking around. The blocks that made up the walls were red stone, and other than their color, they could have been found in the town's wall. A narrow opening in the walls was directly in front of him, guarded by two statues of red stone beetles, standing three feet high. The light from Felicia's Spell spread out for twenty feet in all directions, completely illuminating the room yet failing to penetrate the darkness beyond the statues.
"It is farther in. This is just the antechamber, a Safe Zone to finish preparing in," Felicia explained in her soft voice. "Didn't Kerry explain the
Dungeon to you?" "What's to explain?" Kerry grumbled, "We check the entrance to figure
out the configuration, and then we go kill bugs. The first floor is easy." "Is that as far as you intend to go? Just the first floor?" Felicia peered at
Trent's back. He tugged his mask back into place without answering. "There's only two of us, three now." Kerry removed a gauntlet and
walked to the walls, rapping the red stone with a bare fist. "It would be dangerous to face the first Guardian without more people."
Felicia murmured in agreement while keeping her eyes on Trent. A short bow had appeared in his hands, and he tested the draw. He said nothing to confirm or deny Kerry's assumptions.
"Hey, Felicia, have you ever seen red stone in the entrance before?" Kerry walked along the wall, dragging his fingers against the stone. "I don't see any of the signs that are supposed to be here. The beetles look weird, too."
He ended his inspection at the statues, bending slightly to peer at them, poking a sharp, carved mandible with his finger. The legs of the Beetle were too long and thin, the statues nothing like the squat insects he was used to seeing. A hooked horn protruded from its head, and barbs could be seen at the edges of its wings and along the lower half of its legs.
"What are you two looking for?" Trent asked, a hint of impatience colored with curiosity in his voice.
"Hints about what to expect," Felicia answered before Kerry could. "There are five common layouts to the Dungeon. The antechamber will tell you which is currently being used if you pay attention."
"That's how it should be." Kerry took a step away from the statue. Its lines were smooth and clean, making it look as if it could come to life. "Grey, slightly damp walls, first configuration. Beetles with wings spread, second. I don't see anything I recognize. We're the first to enter today; you don't think we unlocked a new pattern, do you?"
"You and I didn't." Felicia pressed her hand to the dry red wall. There was a warmth there, not enough to burn, barely enough to notice, but it was present. "Maybe we should go back."
"She has a point, Trent. We're treading in unknown water here." Kerry was reluctant to agree, but they were only students. It was better to be safe than sorry. "So, not leaving then?"
"If you're coming, you should take the rear with Felicia in the center."
Trent had already stepped by the statues into the dark of the tunnel. Dreq's tail was wagging furiously as he pounced after the Swordsman. "And try to stay quiet."
Trent quivered with anticipation as the antechamber gave way to the crudely hewn stone of a natural cave. The tunnel was too narrow to allow more than two people to walk side by side. The top of his head was an inch away from brushing the ceiling as he stalked forward. His eyes and ears worked to their fullest, but all they picked up was a straight path, Dreq's eager panting, and two sets of footsteps.
Felicia wore soft leather slippers, and her steps were a whisper of movement in sharp contrast to Kerry's heavy-booted clomping. It was less noise than Trent anticipated. He waited for arguments and complaints to hit him from behind. There was nothing, just the whisking noise of cloth and the occasional jangle of iron.
The two young Adventurers kept their own watch and held their tongues, ready to do their job despite the uncertainty of their surroundings. There was no badgering to hurry him along or calls for food or rest; no cursing or random banging of a mace against stone to signal their approach to the Trial's Beast. Felicia didn't walk directly behind him, and Kerry maintained the perfect distance from the Mage at all times.
It should have been comforting, that air of semi-professional competence. If it weren't for Dreq, who pounced at shadows and squeaked out growls, Trent would have been lonely. He felt disconnected from his party, the Mage and the Warrior he had stumbled across.
When the path opened up and offered them their first choice of the delve, Trent was happy to hear Kerry rest his shield against the ground and ask, "Left, right, or center?"
Felicia cast an additional three light orbs and sent them floating down the three branches. They revealed nothing but more unending stone. "Traditional wisdom says left."
"It does? Why's that?" With Far Sight and Dark Vision, Trent could see farther than his companions, though not a great deal farther. The left tunnel curved slightly as it went on, blocking his view after a hundred feet or so.
"I don't know. None of the instructors said why," Felicia admitted. "They just said that people tend to go left, unless there's a better reason to go right. To me, that tunnel looks more spacious. I'm starting to feel cramped in here. The Dungeon has never been so monotonous before."
"Should we be mapping this?" Kerry lifted his visor and squinted around. "Did either of you bring parchment?"
"Already on it." Felicia removed a roll of paper from the loose sleeves of her robe and began drawing a straight line that ended in three short dashes. "I made notes about the antechamber as well. If this is a new configuration, there may be a reward for exploring it."
They took the left tunnel, and Trent saw no reason to mention that he had an internal map that was more accurate than Felicia's hand-drawn one. He picked up the pace, going as fast as he thought Kerry was able, half-hoping the Warrior would bellow at him to slow down. If Kerry felt any strain, he kept it to himself.
Trent knew he was being unreasonable, childish, when a change in the tunnel brought them to a halt again, and he caught sight of Kerry's red, sweaty face behind the visor of his helm. Did he actually want Kerry to scream, "Bloody flaming piss!" and throw things? Hadn't he wished Tersa would have acted more like Kerry? Weeks alone in the Moonlit Forest must have scrambled his brains!
Motioning for Felicia and Kerry to move back the way they had come, Trent brought them into a huddle and crouched down. His hand stroked the back of Dreq's neck, something that startled the pup as much as it pleased him.
Dreq pressed close to the scratching fingers as Trent said, "Twenty Level 4 Swift Beetles. Lowest Attribute is Strength at 8 but they have Agility at 13. They are all crowded at the end of an open cavern with a high ceiling."
"You have Identify?" Felicia said blandly. "And it's leveled enough to pick out Attributes."
"Only for creatures at a lower Level than me," Trent answered. "Don't you?"
"I have the Reveal Weakness Spell but–" "Does this matter?" Kerry took a drink and wiped his face with a cloth.
He tucked the cloth and canteen into the satchel at his waist. "Twenty is doable as long as we don't let them surround us. We can lure them into the tunnel. Swift Beetles can't fly far, but they hop high to make up for it. You'll need to watch for that, Trent."
"The tunnel widens at the cavern. There's enough room for two people." Trent's fingers closed around the scruff of Dreq's neck. "You'll block half with your shield, Kerry. I'll still have space to stand next to you. Felicia,
you'll need to be ready to Heal." "That shouldn't be necessary," Kerry assured Trent. "They're called
swift, but they're nowhere near as fast as you. Not unless you are only that quick when you dance. They shouldn't be able to touch you."
Felicia cocked her head. Behind her veil, her eyes narrowed as Kerry's reference to the night before escaped her. Trent just shook his head. "The Spell won't be for me."
Dreq knew something was off, but it was too late. He was lifted into the air a second before he could run. He hung, legs dangling, in the air in front of Trent's face as Trent said, "Dreq might need it, though."
Chapter Twenty-Nine Dreq had been having such a pleasant day. Every day with Trent was an
adventure, and this one had been the best the Dog could remember. He had awakened early, when Trent tossed aside the hide and plucked him from his rightful place on the boy's chest. Dreq thought that meant it was time for another round of chase or a battle with sticks. He'd been blown away when Trent tucked him in and patted his head without insisting that he get up and run.
He hadn't gone back to sleep, though. He had settled his head on his paws and watched as Trent woke the old man and the clumsy boy and proceeded to whack at them with a pole. It had been marvelous! Watching Kerry tumble to the dirt was good, but to Dreq, the look on the old man's face when Trent mastered a common Skill and exploded into the movements of a Basic one had been as sweet as the honey the straw-haired girl fed him yesterday.
After that, it was feasting on the Dire Bear meat Dreq had been eyeing in Trent's Storage. That odd-smelling old woman made Dreq nervous, but she knew how to cook. That was one ability that Trent was lacking. Raw meat was better than burned. Trent always insisted on holding perfectly good food over a flame until it was black.
The walk back to town had been followed by a game of fetch. Just a game, and a mild one at that. Trent hadn't tossed the tooth too far or pushed Dreq to run faster. He stroked his head when Dreq brought back the subject of the chase, and in the Dog's opinion, Kerry's return had come much too soon.
That was alright because then came the Trial! Dreq had been looking forward to seeing what this place had to offer. He didn't ask for much. A chance to watch Trent fight was enough to satisfy Dreq. There were always tasty morsels and Cores laying around when Trent drew his sword!
He should have known better, should have realized it was too good to be true. Trent was obsessed with getting stronger. He had no appreciation for the subtleties of a nap. Dreq had accepted that being with Trent meant hard exercise simply for the sake of an Attribute Point or two.
And there were benefits to this kind of lifestyle. Dreq's Agility had gone up 2 Points and his Strength one due to Trent's absurdly rough type of play.
Agility and Strength, but not Constitution, which was why Dreq had to find a way to put a stop to Trent's current plan.
"Stop squirming!" Trent shifted his grip from Dreq's neck and held him up with both hands. "You want to unlock the rest of your Status, don't you? We did not come here for me. This Trial is your chance. The Beetles are only Level 4!"
"Scared." Dreq had been careful not to speak where others could hear him, but he whined that single word into Trent's mask.
"I understand that, believe me, I do." Dreq did believe Trent, or he did, right up until Trent said, "You get over it."
Dreq's tail curled up tight against his belly and his ears lay flat as he growled. A growl was the best way to express what he thought of Trent's carefree dismissal of the Dog's heartfelt confession.
Trent ignored him. Dreq cut off his growl as Trent's presence lessened, evidence that Stealth was being used, and the end was approaching. It was dark when Trent set him down on the stone, and as Trent's hands released him, Dreq almost howled. He would have run had he been able to see where he was going. He would have called for Trent, but that would only bring the Beasts.
"Trust me, I won't let anything happen to you." Trent's voice was a lifeline in the darkness that Dreq seized upon desperately. "Ah… this didn't help me. I still don't get it, but you have Intelligence; you need Wisdom. What I was told was that Intelligence is related to how fast you learn, and Wisdom is how well you use what you know. This will go faster when you figure out what that means… I think."
Dreq hunkered down. He might have panicked, but then he felt Trent through the Party link. He was nearby; he hadn't left! Dreq applied his Mana to the link to further cement it. He normally waited for Trent to fall asleep to do this. Desperate times required a break in his routine.
Night Sight! Whatever it took, Dreq had to get Night Sight. The second a Core holding the Skill appeared, Dreq would claim it! He would fight Trent for it if he had to. Trent didn't understand how oppressive the dark was, not with Dark Vision built into his mask. How Dreq would love to have that Skill!
When the light came, in the form of a glowing ball attaching itself to the roof, Dreq thought it was a mercy. He had thought it was suspicious the way the Mage girl wormed her way into the group, but he felt a warm glow of
appreciation for the veiled angel when her Spell filled the cavern with a flood of bright white.
It turned out, in reality, the minx was a demon, much like the one Dreq found standing inches away. Waving antennae and cruel-looking mandibles on a hairless face were the last thing a Dog should see when sight was restored to him. He had heard a clicking sound but had not known it was so close. The black-shelled Beetle chittered at him, snapping its fearsome mandibles closed on the spot where Dreq's head had been a moment previously.
The appendages breezed by Dreq's stomach as the Dog reared up on his hind legs and swiped at the air with his paws. Hackles raised, teeth bared, Dreq barked out a warning, and then tucked his tail and ran. His recently raised Agility allowed him to hop backward, drop to all fours, and flee with a quickness he'd never known before!
Dreq fled right into the spindly leg of the Swift Beetle that was directly behind him. He was surrounded! He bounced off the leg, a wicked barb pricking his head, and settled onto his haunches. He spun in a circle and confirmed that there was no retreat. The Trial Beasts were all around, and more waited behind the four that had reached him first.
Dreq was from a proud lineage. His was an ancient heritage, filled with bravery. He had been sent into the world to find a partner worthy of that history, and he thought he had. However, the remembrance of his ancestors was far away. With jaws open wide, his short legs scrambled to push himself forward. It was an image that filled his head, one of Trent wounded but victorious next to a Dire Bear. It was a Beast the boy had no business defeating, and one a hundred times more dangerous to Trent than a Swift Beetle was to Dreq. With that example how could he fail? Dreq howled his rage as he closed his jaws, to snap and crush the face of his foe.
His teeth drew blood when they clamped down on air and the tip of his own tongue. Dreq stumbled as his paws slapped down, not on a Beetle but on stone. A stick lay on the ground in front of him. Dreq's eyes widened as the length of pointy wood disappeared. It shouldn't have been there in the first place! Where had it gone?
The snap of a string, the thud of a solid object hitting a black shell, drew Dreq's attention to his back. The first Beetle was gone, and another stick replaced it. Bewildered, Dreq watched as this scene repeated itself. Soon all the nearest threats lay on their backs, legs scrabbling at the air as the fallen
Beetles rocked back and forth, trying to return to their feet. "Don't just stand there! Do something! Move!" At Trent's shouted command, Dreq realized who was responsible for the
sudden turn of events. Had Trent thrown the sticks? That was possible. They were longer than the darts Trent preferred but shorter than the sticks he had used to disable the children the day before.
Why had Dreq ever doubted the boy? Trent could defeat a dozen children while standing on Kerry's shoulders! How hard would it be for him to do the same with some insects? Filled with confidence, Dreq bounced forward and bit down on the leg of a Beetle that had managed to roll to its side.
Blood flooded his mouth again as a barb cut the roof, and Dreq let go with a squeal. That probably wasn't what Trent meant when he said to do something.
"They're getting up! Better start running!" The words were so like those Trent had shouted when they were playing
in the woods that they banished Dreq's fear and relieved most of his pain. Later, drifting to sleep in Trent's lap, he would wonder why such a shout should motivate him. For now, he was caught up in the game.
Dreq ran, dodging between the legs of one Swift Beetle and narrowly avoiding the snapping bite of another. He barked cheerfully, mockingly, at the misnamed bugs. Yes, they were fast, but Dreq had practiced dodging Trent, and compared to Trent, the Beetles were snails!
Dreq fell into a pattern, rushing to gain some distance and then whirling to snarl and snap at the charging insects, allowing his Stamina to replenish before weaving in and out of the legs with their cutting barbs. He quickly became used to the bugs' movements, and by the fifth iteration, Dreq started to plan.
He had two Skills. The first, Shadow Lunge, was out. That Skill would drop him on an opponent's blind spot and leave Dreq completely drained. That left Paralyzing Howl, which would freeze his enemy without doing harm. It might buy him some space. It would also drain almost all his Stamina.
Wisdom is how well you use what you know. Why had Trent told him that? What was he supposed to use? His teeth
were ineffective, and his claws wouldn't scratch the bugs. What else did he have? His two Skills wouldn't kill. What did Trent expect him to do?
Dreq had added Points to Intelligence to give himself the wherewithal to
speak. Even before he had done that, he hadn't been stupid. Yet he felt like the dumbest of animals as the answer to his question occurred to him. Trent had never said to kill, that wasn't the purpose of all this.
Dreq was in a pack, Trent's pack, and a pack was stronger than the individuals that formed it. Dreq simply had to find a way to be a part of the fight, not win it! He had to make things easier so Trent could finish the bugs!
While Trent hadn't implied any of this, not through words or actions, Dreq felt he'd found the answer. Summoning every bit of speed he could muster, Dreq ran in circles around the cavern. Swift Beetles were a lot like Kerry. Quick in short bursts while attacking, slow and cumbersome otherwise. In the first pass, he had to dodge through legs and avoid mandibles. By the second, all twenty Beetles had crowded in a group to chase him. He maintained a short lead for a while, slowly increasing it until, by the third lap, he thought he had gained the room he needed.
It irked him that the Beetles ignored Trent with his short bow and Kerry with his shield, each time Dreq led his flock of black shelled monsters by the cavern's entrance. Those two looked entirely too relaxed considering the work Dreq was putting in. Dreq told himself it was fine. It would make the inevitable conclusion all that much more glorious.
Judging the time and distance to be right, Dreq spun around and faced the horde. They were closer than he thought. There was no time for regret or second thoughts. Filling his lungs and pushing Stamina into his Skill, Dreq unleashed Paralyzing Howl.
From a Werewolf, the howl was fearsome and dreadful. Dreq's was thin and warbling, much too high-pitched and ending too quickly. The sound swept over the Beetles, stopping all but the last in their tracks. Their legs stiffened, and the bugs dropped to their belly as Dreq sagged to his.
That last one that he hadn't reached was a worry, but not for long. Dreq's expectations became reality as Trent discarded his bow and descended on the disabled Beetles in a flash. Dreq's tongue lolled from his mouth as Trent stomped and scattered the Beasts. Sorrow and Strife in their hatchet form broke through hardened wings and exoskeletons, splattering Beetle goo through the air.
The Beetles were three feet long and stood two feet high, dwarfing Dreq in both size and weight. They were similarly outmatched by Trent. In Dreq's eyes, Trent was a giant, crushing villages beneath his feet, and Dreq knew that one day with a little help from a good thing, he'd be able to do the same.
Finished with the insects, Trent knelt beside Dreq and ruffled his fur. "You did it!"
Dreq baked in the warm glow of Trent's approval and waited for more. "Ah," Trent felt Dreq's expectations and supplied him with the only
acknowledgment for a job well done that he was familiar with, "Took you long enough. Be faster next time. We're burning daylight while you're fiddling around like a simpleton with a shiny rock. I suppose you expect me to clean up the mess as well."
Dreq was nonplussed by the dubious bit of what was not at all praise that dropped on him. He started to growl in protest, but Trent was already walking away. In his hand, Sorrow and Strife had been replaced by his Harvesting knife. Fortunately, Dreq found a Beast tooth lying on the ground in front of his nose, proof that while Trent's words were out of place, he did think a reward was in order.
Dreq chomped down on the hard remains of a Dire Wolf. Trent used them to craft weapons. To Dreq, they were medicine that closed the small wounds he had gathered and sharpened his own natural tools. He would have to find the time to tell Trent that with another thirty or so, his teeth might get sharp enough to kill a Beetle on his own.
Trent would probably say to level up, spend his Attribute Points, and keep his greedy paws to himself. That was something that Dreq was willing to do now. Trent's training regimen had worked. Dreq had Wisdom in his Status now!
Name: Dreq Age: 8 weeks Animal: Dog Level: 8 Health: 10 Stamina: 10 Mana: 80 Strength: 4 Agility: 3 Constitution: 1 Intelligence: 8 Wisdom: 1 Free Attribute Points: 29
Skills Shadow Lunge Level 1 Paralyzing Howl Level 2
"Do you know what we just watched?" Kerry's shield lay against the wall
of the cavern, and his helm was safe in his lap as he sat with his legs
stretched out beside Felicia. His Party's financial difficulties and teammates' fondness for the Lucky Pig meant that Kerry didn't delve as often as the rest of his classmates.
He asked this question of Felicia because, while the Mage Apprentice didn't have a permanent team, her Specialized Class and boosting Spells made her welcome to tag along with any group she wanted to join. He had not seen anything like what they just witnessed before, but there was a chance she had.
"To what are you referring?" Felicia had kept to her feet instead of sitting, and she looked down on Kerry, both figuratively and literally, as she asked for clarification "Have I ever seen a Dog forced to fight in a Dungeon before? Or a common animal with a Skill? Or maybe you mean, have I ever seen a professed Swordsman fight with a bow and then wade into battle with hatchets that I could have sworn were knives?"
She gave up and slid down the wall to sit beside Kerry. "Whichever you mean, the answer is no. I've also never seen an Adventurer give a valuable crafting material to a Dog either. Where did you find this guy?"
"Would you believe on the southern road, walking on his hands?" Trent was pulling all the Beetles into a row and flipping them onto their backs. The sight tickled a memory at the back of Kerry's brain that wouldn't come out and tell him why it was pertinent.
"When you showed up in the market, I wouldn't have. Now, I'd believe anything!" Felicia stuck her hands in her sleeves and rubbed at her forearms. "You met a man walking on his hands, and your first thought was to invite him to clear the Dungeon with you?"
"No, my first thought was, 'why did I fall down?'" Trent had finished lining up the Beetles and was flipping a knife in his right hand as he studied the bodies. It was when Trent shrugged and knelt to stab into a thorax that the memory that had been tickling Kerry surfaced. It was a memory of how one should Harvest a Swift Beetle. Since he didn't have the Skill, Kerry hadn't paid close attention, but some information had sunk in.
"Trent, no! Not like that!" He shouted, holding out his hand as if he wanted to pull Trent backward,
even though he was thirty feet away. It was too late. Kerry's shout reached Trent's ears right as Trent's knife pierced the Beetle. The knife cut through the exoskeleton of the bug as quickly as it slipped into a sheath. Trent didn't have time to continue his cut, and there was no need to. The dead bug
erupted, a thick lime-colored goo sprayed into the air, and bits of legs, head, and shell shot across the room; those that didn't ping off Trent's mask and armor, at least.
"You need to remove the mandibles and wings first," Kerry finished, letting his outstretched arm fall into his lap. "It relieves pressure, or something. Cutting into Swift Beetles directly makes them…"
"Spew junk that smells as bad as a Hill Troll's armpit?" Trent shook his arms downwards violently, trying to dislodge some of the filth that covered him.
"Yeah, guess you figured that part out on your own," Kerry added, in one last attempt to be helpful. "And keep flames away from it, it goes up at the smallest…"
He coughed and stopped talking. Trent was too busy casting Self-Clean to hear him.
"You were saying?" Felicia prompted, nudging Kerry's side. "He's not going to be using fire anyway," Kerry muttered, scratching his
chin. "I don't know why they tell us that." "Not about the bug, about how you met Trent and fell down. Why would
falling down bother you? You trip all the time." She tried to say this gently but didn't pull it off. No one wanted to hear they were clumsy.
"I don't fall down all the time, and I didn't trip!" Kerry glared at her, and Felicia held up her hands, saying that she didn't mean anything by it.
"People always say that." Kerry let his head fall back against the wall. "But it wouldn't be on their tongues all the time if it were true."
They sat quietly, Kerry embarrassed, and Felicia abashed. Trent was gathering up Beetle goo into jars. The jars had been an impulse buy, one he regretted moments after the Merchant who sold them to him packed up his stall and rushed off. They cost Trent 10 coppers each, and he bought five silvers worth. They seemed like a smart purchase now that he discovered one of the Harvestable bits of a Swift Beetle was copious amounts of slime.
Kerry pulled off a gauntlet and cleaned out his ears with his little finger. There was something wrong with his hearing. It sounded like Trent was laughing, chuckling, as he scooped up the goo that was spread across the ground. No amount of picking at his ear changed anything, though.
Maybe that was why Kerry had never been able to pick up the Harvesting Skill no matter how many wild Beasts he cut open. Maybe to get it, you had to enjoy touching what should not be touched. If that was the case, Kerry
could do without Harvesting. "I bumped into him, and I'm the one that fell. Trent didn't waver in the
least that I could see," Kerry mused. "I've run into three-hundred-pound Laborers before and knocked them off their feet. I fell too, but they went down just as quick.
"Trent was walking on his hands while balancing a Dog on his feet, and he didn't budge. It was like running into a wall. He asked me if I was alright." Kerry slapped his chest, his hammer of a hand banged against his breastplate. "Fine, I'm not light on my feet, but I am solid. What I hit goes down, only, not Trent."
It hadn't come together for Kerry until he was back in his dorm room the night after he met Trent. Detect Traps and Rogues had interested him. Those were what his conscious mind had focused on. Trent's… stability… was what was fascinating as he tried to go sleep.
"Be careful, Kerry," Felicia warned. "He's dangerous, you… you know what he is, seen his face? His eyes?"
"He's Al'rashian!" Kerry arched an eyebrow. "I've never met one before, and I've heard they can be touchy, but you can't tell me the Academy's only half-elf is sensitive to race."
"He's more than Al'rashian, the violet-eyed… just be careful okay." Felicia's hand touched her ear where behind her hat and beneath a layer of cloth it came to a mild point.
"I think he's younger than us," Kerry scoffed. "He plays with farm kids and dances at festivals. I'm not worried about Trent. And if you are, then why come along?"
"Because he's dangerous, and he has Harvesting." There was no reason to hide her intent, and Felicia spoke freely. "There's something I need, and no one else can get it for me."
"You don't know anyone with the Harvesting Skill? There are at least four at the Academy. I can introduce you when we get back." Kerry dug a ration bar out of his satchel and offered Felicia a bite, which she turned down.
"I know them as well. They won't go to the fourth floor." Felicia was glad to have her veil as Kerry answered with a full mouth, spraying her with crumbs.
"You think the three of us will?" Kerry paused to wipe his mouth and swallow. "Excuse me! We won't see four, we'll be lucky to clear the first
floor!" "You've met Trent. You don't know the violet-eyed. You haven't heard
the stories." Felicia scooted farther away as Kerry took another bite. "What they set out to accomplish, they see done. No matter what gets in their way."
Chapter Thirty Trent held up a crystal vial and stared at the viscous green liquid it
contained. He had learned a lot from Harvesting Swift Beetles. The most important lesson was to remove the wings first. Just as important was the fact that a single vial of the Beetle's inner slime was all you had to remove to make its body disappear. The vial he held in his hand was a drop from that first Beetle, which was convenient since he had filled all his jars before opening the third.
His leather sack sat at his feet, half full of loot the Beasts had dropped. They had been quite generous; four vials, twenty coppers, and various miscellaneous goods each. He remembered Kerry commenting that they would probably get three to five coppers from each Beetle as they watched Dreq scramble. Three to five coppers and nothing else. Kerry was going to lose it with excitement when he saw what actually dropped, but Trent was uneasy.
It would have seemed like a little if Kerry had not mentioned the Trial's normal rates. Trent would have been disappointed by the drops which couldn't compare to others he'd earned by himself. That the Trial had increased its rewards meant it had changed other things as well. Kerry and Felicia's knowledge would be less useful going forward.
"Should we split the loot now?" Trent asked, jogging over to the other two Adventurers.
"You hold on to it, if you don't mind." Kerry stood and extended a hand to help Felicia up before picking up his shield. "Normally, I carry things for my party but since you have Storage, it will be easier for you. We can divvy up the spoils when we're done."
The three fell into a line and reentered the narrow corridor, making their way back to where the tunnel had split. Trent didn't ask the others for their opinion of which area to explore this time. He chose the right-hand passage and trotted ahead until he was beyond the effect of Felicia's Light Spell.
He activated Stealth and stalked forward in a crouch, bow in hand. Now that Dreq had been successfully trained, it was time to work on his least favorite Skill. Trent intended to learn the Create Arrow Skill contained in the short bow, so he could finally set the thing aside. Triple Shot, the second
Skill that could be obtained by using the bow, would have to wait until his Mana pool was larger.
Kerry and Felicia followed Trent perhaps a little more casually than they should have. They were aware that the Dungeon had altered, but it was still the first floor. The first floor never had traps, and Beasts hardly ever attacked in the corridors. The dangerous places were only the caverns and rooms. There was no need for excessive care.
The clicking noise approaching from behind went unnoticed by Kerry until the Swift Beetles were almost on top of him. Looking over his shoulder and seeing a line of the giant bugs approaching, Kerry shouted, "They're behind us!" He turned and attempted to block the tight tunnel with his shield and bulk.
"They're up front as well!" Trent's voice echoed its way back to Kerry's ears. "You and Felicia deal with the ones back there! Dreq and I will handle these!"
"No good!" Felicia cast a Spell to increase Kerry's Agility and Speed as she shouted back at Trent, "I'm support only, and Kerry doesn't have a weapon!"
A Mage without attack Spells? Curiously, the subject had never come up. Trent pushed Dreq back with his foot, sending a crude arrow flying towards the rapidly approaching bugs that crowded the tunnel in front of him.
"Dreq will come help you then. I'll finish these as fast as I can." Trent did not waste time asking why Felicia didn't know any offensive spells. He immediately changed his plan. He had intended to use these Beetles to hone his Archery and let Dreq practice. In the face of his companions' lack of support, that wasn't going to work.
"Go help Kerry, Dreq. I'll be fine!" Trent fired again, knocking the lead Beetle backward without penetrating its shell. The damage a bow could cause was directly related to the weapon itself. With a finely built bow and well- crafted arrows, an Archer could send devastation from a distance that had little to do with his personal Attributes.
Trent's bow was only a training aid. The cheapest arrows it could produce, costing 5 MP, did 5 Damage from this distance, provided the projectiles managed to get through their target's defenses. He could stall the Beetles as long as his Mana lasted. Without investing significantly more MP, he was unable to threaten these Level 4 bugs.
Trent had other options, however. The knives on his belt, his handcrafted
darts, and the imbued Elwire swords in his Storage would all end these Beetles with a single hit. Instead of switching out the bow, Trent ran forward, charging an arrow as he went.
With his bow drawn to its limits, Trent set the tip against the stunned Beetle's head and released. No momentum was lost in flight and the wooden shaft, so ineffectual before, penetrated with a crunch, causing significantly more harm. The insect slumped, lifeless.
Trent stepped on its back and jumped over, creating another arrow as he went. He landed on the back of a second Beetle and sent another arrow into the area where thorax met head. The second Trial Beast fell, and Trent kept moving, firing rapidly from point blank range at the monstrous insects that crowded the narrow tunnel.
He gave up an advantage fighting this way. Archers typically fought at the back. Then again, Trent was no Archer. He had no feel for the delaying and controlling tactics that a low-level Archer used to assist his party. He had seen the versatility the bow could provide when he covered for Dreq, and while he admitted that a good Marksmen would be invaluable, the whole exercise left a sour taste in his mouth.
The idea had come to him during the morning's training. Archery was a common Skill, and like the spear movements he had learned, he now knew he needed to push the Skill. To make it work for him, he had to adapt it to his personal style. Common Archery was about stillness and distance. Trent preferred to move and stay close to his enemy. All he wanted was the Create Arrow Skill; there was no need to chain himself to the rigid Skill's demands.
Once he had a stronger bow, he would explore Archery further. Today he intended to seize the Skill inside the slender wooden tool and move on. He fired a third arrow between snapping mandibles, and a fourth into a bulging compound eye. His bowstring hummed as he shot a sixth and seventh. His boots smashed against the fallen, and their exoskeletons creaked as he walked over their backs to reach his next target.
He kept careful count of each arrow he created. Twenty shots were his limit for this engagement. At five MP each, he could probably fire a few more, but doing so risked Mana drain. As slow as his MP recovered, he would finish this battle woozy if he pushed it too far.
Trent found his cautious count unnecessary when the Skill he was waiting for appeared after the twelfth shot. Create Arrow was his, and he could set the short bow aside at last! He almost tossed it to the ground with relief. Before
he could, Sergeant Cullen's tutelage kicked in, and he stored it away. His hands drew Sorrow in its hatchet form, and his shield appeared on his left arm.
Twelve arrows fired meant twelve Beetles slain. A thirteenth hopped over the body of the last one killed as Trent changed out his equipment. Trent discovered where Swift Beetles earned their name. Long thin wings buzzed, and the Beetle slammed into Trent's hastily raised shield, rocking him on his feet. It was the first and last hit he would suffer from a Swift Beetle.
Bashing with his shield and hacking with Sorrow, Trent moved forward, more inconvenienced by the tight quarters than he was by the bugs. Mandibles snapped at him, and he answered them with a kick and a chop before moving on. Workmanlike, Trent avoided hits that would damage the Harvestable bits, and aimed for eyes and what passed for necks on an insect.
He kept up his count as he went. There was no need to, but the numbers occupied him more than the routine slaughter of Level 4 Trial Beasts. The count in his head reached thirty, and he lowered his weapon, relieved. He felt a little ashamed that he had used Sorrow for this task. It was too easy. The soul-bound weapon deserved better.
"There are too many! Run! I can't hold them back!" Suddenly, Kerry's shout echoed down the tunnel, reminding Trent that he
was not alone. It was followed by the sound of Dreq's howl and Felicia's scream that there was nowhere to run. Trent had been about to return Sorrow to his belt when the noise reached him. He spun on his heel and raced back the way he had come, dodging corpses as he went.
His three companions had been having a decidedly different experience from Trent's. Kerry's shield was holding the Beetles at bay, and Dreq's Paralyzing Howl prevented them from being overrun, but they were being pushed back. Beetles unaffected by Dreq's Skill buzzed through the air and slammed into Kerry.
Kerry grunted as the Beetle hit his tower shield. It fell to the floor and snapped at him with its alien jaws. Kerry tried to kick it away, and failing, began to hammer at the bug with the edge of his shield. He got in two hits before a second Beetle rammed him and forced him back another yard.
Trent was able to watch Felicia in action as he ran up. The Mage cast three Spells in the time it took for Trent to squeeze past her. He would have been even more impressed with the speed of her spell-slinging had there been a noticeable change when her magic reached Kerry. However, other than
making Kerry and Dreq glow briefly, the Spells had no effect on the pace of the battle.
Trent flew by the three, not bothering to equip his shield as he entered the fray. There were as many Beetles on this side of the corridor as had been on his side. Thirty more Beetles and, as far as he could tell, only one of them was dead. A few bore cracks in their hard outer shells, the equivalent of flesh wounds. There was nothing significant to show how hard Kerry had been fighting.
Kerry watched in open-mouthed disbelief as Trent tore through the line of bugs. Each strike was a kill, and he never paused to line up his hits. Every step took him deeper into the dark, and if a lack of light hindered Trent, Kerry couldn't tell. A fact he was distinctly grateful for.
As Trent single-handedly destroyed the Beetles, Kerry felt a weight of powerlessness settle in his chest. This was only the first floor! He had never felt so helpless before. The Beetles had come without end, and he had not been able to hold his ground, the one thing he was good at. Watching Trent fight highlighted his own weakness, and that stabbed at him.
"There are just as many behind us. All dead," Felicia stood behind his shoulder and whispered.
"Too many, too many for the first floor." Kerry leaned his shield against the wall, lifted his visor and looked back at her. "What's happening?"
"I don't know." Felicia's veil waved as she shook her head. "But maybe we should–"
Whatever she had been about to recommend was lost when Trent returned. He held his pack and pressed it towards Kerry. "I'll Harvest, you pick up the drops, alright?"
Kerry's hands closed on the leather bag. It was empty. Presumably, Trent had left its former contents in his Storage now that that mystery was out in the open. The bag couldn't have weighed more than a pound or two, yet Kerry's shoulder dropped as he gripped its straps.
"I'm good for more than packing the baggage." Trent had drawn his knife again and turned away when he heard Kerry's complaint, forced out from between clenched teeth.
"I never said you weren't," Trent answered, not stopping. "We split the loot and the work. That's fair, isn't it? Don't forget your shield. You should stop dropping it like that."
"I didn't drop it!" Kerry said indignantly, hoisting the tower shield and
hurrying to catch up. "I set it down. Carefully." "Stop setting it down then," Trent replied with an odd chuckle.
"Sergeant…it's a bad habit. It's unnecessary. You need to be alert in the Trials."
"We should go back," Felicia cut in. "The new configuration needs to be reported. It's only going to get harder."
"You can go back if you like." Trent began to Harvest the first Beetle. "I'm going on."
He moved to the second Beetle as Kerry began stuffing coins and vials into the pack. Trent gave a casual glance at the shield that Kerry set aside before he began disassembling the bug.
Kerry saw the look and felt a childish impulse to stick out his tongue which he repressed. Oddly, it was Felicia that came to his rescue. "He can hardly hold the shield and pick up coins!"
"Then he should find a way to sling the shield! Or he could hold the bag while you gather the loot." Trent cracked open a thorax and dipped out a vial of what he now knew was bile, not slime.
"We should leave!" Felicia insisted. She waved Kerry away when he moved to collect the new pile of coins and followed Trent's suggestion, all the while telling herself it was a suggestion, not an order.
"You're a Mage without an attack Spell. He's a Warrior without a weapon's Skill. Dreq is a Dog that… I'm not sure what he's supposed to have, but he doesn't have it." Trent faced the trio and gestured at each one in turn with his knife. Felicia and Kerry stared at him blankly, Dreq's tail wagged, and he sneezed in agreement, happy to be included.
"Those are the reasons we should get out of here!" Felicia insisted, lifting the hem of her robe to move to the next pile of drops. She shoved each coin into the bag Kerry held forcefully.
"That's why we, why you three, should go on. The Trial will make you better. That's why we challenge them." Trent sliced through a Beetle wing, then added, "Or it might kill you. That happens too."
Felicia ignored the more ominous part of Trent's words and said, "We delve for profit. It's a way to make a living, keyword, living! Delving is not a calling!"
It was a lesson the Academy instructors hammered into them. Go slow. Be cautious. You can't spend coin if you're dead. However, Trent had had a different kind of teacher. There were many things Sergeant Cullen claimed he
wasn't able to talk about, but one thing he said, unreservedly, was that Trials were for the challenge.
Two things a student of Sergeant Cullen's should never be was a hero or a coward. It was a contradiction that Cullen had never addressed, and Trent had never asked about. Trials were meant to be challenged. They were supposed to be difficult. When the going gets tough, the tough kicks the going in the face and cuts its thrice-damned throat! And the throat-cutting was just for good measure. The kick should have been enough to put the going down for good.
"I don't know about profit," Trent said, sawing away at a mandible. "I don't even know why you're here. I do know whatever brought you inside can't be found in Bellrise. You should do what you feel is right. You're good at making scarves; you could go do that."
It sounded like an insult. From a fellow student, it would have been. Trent's voice wasn't mocking, though. He sounded quietly envious, as if he wished he knew how to make the brightly colored lengths of wool that Felicia sold.
However Trent meant the comment, Felicia stopped arguing. She did not suggest leaving again, settling for muttering to herself under her breath as she followed behind Trent, picking up coppers and occasionally staring at Trent's back.
"This is different." Kerry set the edge of his shield against the ground. As
long as he kept hold of the equipment's handle, Trent wouldn't say anything. Kerry had attempted to find a way to sling the shield over his shoulder when resting, but a sheet of metal five feet tall did not like to be slung.
There had never been a conversation about tactics. Kerry had expected there to be one. They had been lucky so far. That luck could end at any time. They needed to work out how they fit together as a group. He tried to hint at it. He brought it up with Felicia as casually as he could, asking her how her Spells worked and what he needed to do to help her.
The one time he managed to drag Trent into the conversation, Trent had merely asked, "Can you do more than stand there and get hit?"
Kerry had stopped bringing up tactics after that. Trent's dismissal should have made him angry, yet Trent always sounded genuinely curious when he said something that might have been taken as a mean-spirited dig from anyone else. It was why Kerry felt, contrary to all evidence, that Trent was
younger in age than he was, and that made it hard to remain frustrated with him. Especially since Trent was doing all the heavy lifting.
They were starting to find a rhythm of sorts. They had fought four times since that ambush. Each time, Trent managed the majority of the Beetles that swarmed them. Somehow, he never finished them off until Kerry and Dreq, working together, had made two or three kills of their own. That Trent viewed him in much the same way he saw the puppy was a fact Kerry had come to accept, even while he vowed to show Trent how wrong he was.
"Can we go through that?" Kerry asked, referring to the steam-filled passage ahead of the group of four. The Dungeon had thrown larger numbers of Beetles at them than he was used to. That wasn't as unsettling as this latest change.
Other than the number of bugs and the red tint in the stone walls, the Dungeon was the same as it always was, long winding tunnels, broken by open caverns and dead ends. Kerry had latched on to that normality as a lifeline. For the most popular beginner's Dungeon in the territory to put a new obstacle in their way did not bode well for the rest of the exploration.
The new obstacle was a wall of steam that billowed and swirled unpredictably, sometimes seeming to thin only to come back thicker than ever and never revealing what lay beyond. Kerry held his hand a few inches away from it, and sweat broke out on his palm beneath his gauntlet. The steel and leather of his armor heated up as he held his hand out, and he stepped back, waving his hand to cool it.
"Do you know a Shield Spell that can block that much heat?" Kerry asked Felicia, removing his gauntlet to blow on his fingers.
Felicia took a wand from within the sleeve of her robe and used it to draw in the air a few feet from the steam. The tip of her wand glowed and left sparkling shapes hanging in midair. After a few moments, she stopped and shook her head as the runes dissipated.
"It's natural heat, not magic," she said, tucking her wand back in her sleeve. "Mage shields don't do well with natural heat. It would drain twice as fast at three times the cost. I could maintain the Spell for three or four seconds, tops."
"That's not very long," Kerry mused, rubbing at his chin with his bare hand. "Looks like we won't be going this way. What are you doing? Felicia, Healing!"
While Kerry and Felicia were talking, Trent had stepped up to the curtain
of steam. As Kerry was preparing to turn back, Trent lifted his arm and thrust it into the dense white mist that Kerry had found burning hot. Kerry lunged forward to pull Trent back, certain he would find Trent's arm had become a blistered mess.
Dragging Trent away from the steam, Kerry began to pull at the buckles and straps of Trent's leather armor so that he could examine the wounds Trent must have received. Felicia screamed at him to leave it; she could Heal through the leather.
"What are you doing?" Trent slapped Kerry's hands away and pushed Felicia back. "I'm fine!"
"You are not fine!" Felicia insisted. "You must be in shock, but the pain is coming. Stop pushing me. I'm trying to help you!"
Trent danced away from the two who were trying to either undress him or douse him with potions. Dreq sensibly moved to the side, where he yawned and lay down. It would take a moment before the others learned what he already knew about Trent, and he did not want to be stepped on in the madness that had descended on the party.
"Grab him, Kerry!" Felicia shouted. "Tackle him! Hit him if you have to, just hold him still so I can work on him!"
Kerry drew back his arm… and then stopped. Trent was facing him, and the set of his shoulders dared Kerry to throw the punch he was threatening. Kerry wisely lowered his fist and moved to stand beside Dreq.
"You hit him!" Kerry leaned against the wall. "I don't think he's hurt. And I don't want to be."
"He has to be! That stuff is hundreds of degrees hot; it would be like sticking your hand in a fire!" Felicia panted as she continued to chase after Trent. The cloth of her veil got caught in her mouth as she shouted, and she spat it out. "Trent, unless your armor had fire resistance, you need to…"
"It does, err, I do!" Trent sidestepped Felicia's lunge, and gave her a light shove to keep her away. "I'm not burned!"
"Your armor has fire resistance!" Felicia came to a halt, her chest heaving more from emotion than exertion. Trent nodded in response. He was willing to explain that the fire resistance came from an Ability and not his armor, if necessary; anything to keep Felicia's grasping hands away.
"Why didn't you say that in the first place?" Felicia huffed, tugging primly at her robe to straighten it.
Trent waited until he was sure no one was about to rush him, then slowly
relaxed. "I didn't think I needed to." Felicia waited for the apology she thought should follow that statement.
When it didn't come, she didn't demand it. She was aware that she and Kerry were more of a hindrance to Trent than a help. She was more conscious of the fact that if her uncertain feelings towards Trent drove him off, she and Kerry might not be able to make it back to the entrance alone.
Trent, thinking the issue was settled, inched past the Mage to study the blocked portion of the tunnel again. When he spoke, instead of the conciliatory words she was hoping to hear, what he proposed was exactly what she had been dreading. "I'm going to have to go on by myself."
Chapter Thirty-One There were a dozen reasons why Kerry and Felicia were opposed to
Trent's plan. It was dangerous to split up in a Dungeon. There was no need to explore every corner. What would happen if any of them were attacked? What if the heat was worse farther into the steam cloud, and Trent was injured?
The arguments were meaningless, though. None of them outweighed the fact that Trent wanted, needed, to know what was hidden behind the steam. So what if it was a Beast stronger than those they had encountered thus far? Wasn't that exactly what he was hoping to find? A challenge not for his companions but for himself.
He couldn't be dissuaded, and the others lacked the means to stop him. Dreq came the closest, jumping up to rest his front paws on Trent's knee and whining plaintively. The Dog was easily bribed, though. A hunk of dried meat and a Dire Wolf tooth had Dreq curled up, chewing peacefully. Trent suspected that may have been what he was after the whole time.
Steam washed over him as Trent entered it. Within three steps, he was hidden from view and was likewise unable to see Kerry or Felicia. He could feel them through the party link, and although some of their anxiety spilled through that tether, it couldn't override his own excitement.
He slid his feet along the floor, testing the path carefully, never lifting his boots from the stone. Dark Vision was no help here; his sight was blocked by the swirling mist. Not only could Trent not see his friends, his feet, or the walls of the tunnel on both sides, he had no idea of what waited for him in front.
The heat that had scorched Kerry's hand was a warm blanket to Trent. It surrounded and sheltered him. He took a deep breath and hot, moist air filled his lungs. Water condensed on his skin, running down his chest and back to soak the shirt beneath his armor. Trent stood for a moment, rolling his neck, loosening tight muscles, reveling in the steam bath, and enjoying a new sensation.
He might have stood there longer, but Kerry's voice reached him, asking how things were going. It broke Trent from his reverie, and he called back that he was safe. A new warmth filled him. There was concern in Kerry's
voice. Concern for Trent and not for Kerry's own dubious situation. It was ridiculous when you stopped to think about it. Kerry had every
cause to worry for himself and none to care what happened to Trent. Trent was as safe as he could be in this Trial. Kerry, on the other hand, was vulnerable to the weakest of the Trial's inhabitants. He should have been worrying for himself, yet he still had some to spare for a relative stranger.
Trent had heard that kind of concern before. He had heard it in the angry voice of Cullen when Trent had disappeared without notice. He had heard it from Orion when he was injured or near exhaustion. It was good to hear it now.
Another deep breath, and Trent started forward again. He had to find out what was hidden in this mist, even if it was just another dead end to be marked on his map. He needed to explore, but his presence was required with the group. He had to quicken his steps.
The steam did grow hotter as Trent ventured in deeper. He tugged at the collar of his armor as the soothing warmth became uncomfortable. When it occurred to him that what he felt as mild discomfort was enough to boil the usual Bellrise Adventurers alive, Trent shivered, despite the sweat that covered him.
This was wrong. He had only a vague understanding of Guild ranks, but Bellrise was populated by Adventurers carrying Wooden Tokens. High- leveled Warriors did not come here. Warriors with Abilities and equipment that could resist this kind of heat would find it unworthy of their time to explore the cramped tunnels where Academy students trained. If they entered it at all, they would press on to the final Guardian as fast as they could, not bothering to search every nook and cranny for crumbs. This obstacle was out of place.
A hundred feet, two hundred, and the heat grew more intense. Heart of the Inferno began to actively draw Mana to protect Trent from the sweltering temperature. It had never done that before, had never needed to. Looking at his Status, Trent watched his MP tick down at a noticeable rate.
He pulled off a glove and held his hand close to his face. His skin was red and tender, not burned but not far from it. The sensation was becoming painful. Painful, though not anything as bad as the Burning Lake had been. Trent kept the thought that he had felt worse firmly in mind as he stretched out a boot and continued forward.
Breaking out of the steam sent chills through Trent's body. He
involuntarily crossed his arms in front of his chest as the normal air of the Trial cooled the superheated moisture that covered him. Trent coughed and shook as he adjusted to the sudden change.
He had done it! The steam was behind him. And in front? A dead end. The Trial had a lot of those. Kerry said you could avoid them when you knew the current layout. As they were exploring a new floor-plan, they were forced to discover them personally, and this one was different than those they had found previously.
It was five feet from the wall of white steam to the wall of red stone. Trent could see clearly now, but his feet still shuffled on the floor, feeling his way as if he were blind. Unlike the blank walls of other dead ends, this one held a recessed shelf at around waist height. Five feet high, four wide, and three deep, the shelf had three items sitting in it. Trent felt a lump form in his chest when he was close enough to examine the contents.
A bow, a bottle, and what appeared to be a bundle of sticks. An image of Dreq chewing on a bone crossed Trent's mind. These items felt like a bribe. As if the Trial wanted something from him and was luring him, urging him to continue, though there was little to be gained here.
These weren't the normal offerings of a Minor Permanent Trial. Placed behind an obstacle only he could cross, the items felt less like loot and more like a trap. His fingers touched the bait as he Appraised them.
The bow was a recurve type, the tips of its limbs stretching forward, unlike the straight bough of his short bow. This one was called a Runic Battle Bow. It had a Damage Rating of 35, which was significantly higher than his current bow. It also passively absorbed and stored Mana to be used for creating arrows. A marked improvement for someone like Trent.
The bottle contained an Alchemical mixture that would permanently increase the Agility of anyone who drank it by 6 Points. This item Trent picked up and turned over to study from every angle. He was more convinced that he had walked into a trap with every second that passed. This item was a miracle. A potion that increased an Attribute by more Points than could be gained by leveling an Advanced Class? Trent had bled for lesser rewards than this bottle represented.
Trent found his distrust growing as he ran a finger around the cork that plugged the bottle. The mixture in the bottle was miraculous, and at the same time, pointless. It was no more effective than the Attribute Crystals Trent had come across before. The only improvement that the potion had over those
Crystals was that it could be carried away, saved for later. He resisted the urge to drink the potion immediately, and set it down.
He picked up the last item. The bundle of sticks turned out to be ten Prickly Stick Legs, insect parts that could be used in crafting. Six inches long and a half inch thick, the legs flexed as Trent bent them with both hands. These legs confused his theory that the Trial wanted something from him.
The bow and the potion were things he could use. They whispered to him that he should go deeper into the Trial and find out what else was there to be discovered. They represented an increase to both himself and his equipment.
But the insect legs? As far as Trent was concerned, they were about as much use as any stick he could find lying around. He had just begun crafting his own weapons and had no idea how to use the fragile-feeling Beast parts.
Felicia intruded on his thoughts. Felicia with her hand-woven scarves. She knew something about crafting; maybe she would know about the legs. Trent stored the bundle, intending to ask her when he returned. He hefted the bottle and began to open it when an image of Kerry tumbling to the ground popped into his head. Kerry needed this.
Three items for three Adventurers? From the first, Trent thought the bait left in plain sight was for him alone. The coins and drops they had acquired, he fully intended to share. The others hadn't contributed much, other than information, but he felt it was only right to split the gains fairly.
These three items, though? This was no Survival Trial where any small increase in the party was beneficial to all. If the way forward became too dangerous, Kerry and Felicia could always leave. What he found himself, he had every right to keep. He did not have to decide between the bow or the potion; they were both his!
And both went into Storage. Trent ran back the way he came. He barely felt the change in temperature as he reentered the steam. A sick feeling in his gut distracted him as he rushed back. He burst out of the concealing fog in a sprint, startling Kerry and Felicia. They got over their fright at his sudden appearance as quickly as they could, and focused behind Trent, readying themselves to confront what was chasing him.
Trent was at a loss as he saw Felicia brandish the wand she kept in her sleeve, and Kerry heft his shield. What did they think they were doing? He brought himself to a stop and considered how his return must have looked.
"I think we should agree," Trent rolled his shoulders uncomfortably, "that if you see me running, you should run too."
"Fair enough." Kerry cleared his throat and let out an embarrassed chuckle. "So, find anything in there, or was it too hot to handle?"
"Why are you here?" Acting like he hadn't heard the question, Trent faced Felicia and lifted his mask. He watched as she flinched at the sight of his face. He hadn't missed how nervous she was around him. Even when she had been trying to heal him earlier, Trent had seen the disquiet that filled her at the thought of directly interacting with him.
"What? Why are you asking?" Felicia took a step back, her hands fluttering nervously.
"Because I have a right to know. You want something from me. What is it?" Trent lowered his cowl, forcing Felicia to look at his distinct features. His face was set and serious, a look slightly undermined by the festive ribbon that held his hair in place.
"I want… a crafting material." Felicia squared her shoulders and put her hands on her hips. "It drops occasionally on the fourth floor. It can be Harvested as well. Which is why—"
"Fourth floor!" Kerry guffawed and slapped his leg in an artificial and obvious attempt to dispel the tension between his two companions. "Keep dreaming! Second floor is the best we'll do today."
Felicia gestured towards Trent while speaking to Kerry, " Maybe so, but he'll reach the fourth someday soon. And when he does, I'm willing to pay twice the market price for—"
"Prickly Insect legs?" Trent produced the bundle and held it out to her. "Will ten do?"
"Ten is more than enough!" Felicia snatched the bundle away with a soft joyous cry of disbelief. "How much do you—"
"They're yours," Trent interrupted the Mage again. "You'll be leaving now?"
Felicia's hands trembled as she clutched the crafting material she had been attempting to acquire for months. "I can… I will help you on the first floor. It's the least I can do."
She forced the words out, as if making a great concession. Trent had already turned away from her. "And you, Kerry? What do you need?"
Kerry didn't answer. He set down his shield and stretched his arms wide. "How long have we been at it now? Think we've about covered the first floor?"
"Kerry needs money," Felicia said for him. "Don't give me that look,
Kerry! The whole Academy knows. Three gold to buy out of the charter. That should have been enough to tell you what you were in for even if you didn't read the fine print."
"Gold? Is that all? Not a weapon?" Trent's eyebrows arched hopefully as he asked, "I don't suppose you have a secret talent for Archery?"
"Not particularly good at things that require delicacy." Kerry emphasized his point by holding up and wiggling his thick fingers. "What's this all about, Trent?"
Trent shushed Kerry with a wave of his hand. He was busy calculating the amount of coins that they had earned in his head. During the few hours they had spent exploring the Trial, they had fought five groups of Beetles. Each Beetle had dropped anywhere from fifteen to twenty coppers. With a hundred coppers equaling one silver, they had made approximately forty silver, not quite half a gold, after killing nearly two hundred Swift Beetles.
It was an unbelievable number to Kerry. Trent hadn't thought much of it. The XP had been more important to him and, split between three people and a Dog, the experience earned from two hundred Beetles was slight. Considering that Trent needed three thousand XP to level his Swordsman Class, the two hundred and fifty or so given by the Trial so far wasn't worth talking about.
But if Kerry wanted money and nothing else… "Is this worth three gold?" He held out the potion for Felicia to take. Trent hadn't participated in the
conversations Kerry and Felicia held, but he had listened and learned that her Evaluation Spell gave a more detailed estimate of an item's worth than Appraisal did.
She gave the grimy old bottle Trent handed her a doubtful look before she cast her Spell. As the wave of information Evaluation provided entered her mind, that look faded and was replaced by one of wonder. The hold she had on the bottle went from careless to fluctuating between desperately tight and ginger. She was torn between fear that she might drop the bottle and concern that it might crack beneath her fingers.
"This is… How did Maryann put it? It's worth what people will pay for it!" Felicia made a loud gulping noise, and her veil twitched as she licked her lips. "I didn't know it was possible to make a potion like this. The ingredients alone must have cost more than three gold. I wouldn't take less than five, if I were selling it."
Trent took the potion back and started to hand it to Kerry, who reached
for it longingly. Before his fingers could close around it, Trent held it back and said, "First, show me your Status."
"For five gold, I'll show you whatever you want," Kerry said, eyeing the bottle as he chanted, "Display Status."
Name: Kerry Moss Age: 14 Race: Human
Level: 4 Class: Warrior Level 4
Profession: None
Health: 170 Stamina: 170 Mana: 90 Strength: 19 Agility: 14 Dexterity: 7 Constitution: 17 Intelligence: 9 Wisdom: 8
Free Attribute Points: 0
Skills Heavy Armor Level 3 Taunt Level 1
Spells Self-Clean/Charm
Level 6 Self-Dry/Charm
Level 4 Mend/Charm
Level 2 Shave/Charm Level 1
Trent forced himself to concentrate on Kerry's Attributes and Skills. It wasn't easy. The wet shirt that clung to his skin begged him to ask about the Self-Dry charm. Shave also caught his eye, and for a moment, he wondered what its purpose was.
However, it wasn't the time for his fascination with everyday magic. Kerry was well on the way to crippling himself. Every Class had an Attribute they focused on. Warriors invested in Strength, and Archers chose Dexterity, while Mages needed Intelligence. As practical as Trent found building up all his Attributes, his situation was different than the average Adventurers.
So Kerry wasn't wrong to set his Free Attribute Points the way he had. It was a common build for Warriors who fought at the front. Only, Kerry had taken it to extremes. The rule, as it was explained to Trent, was that a Warrior's Strength should never be more than twice his Agility. Without flexibility, Kerry wouldn't be able to use the impressive muscle that he had. Skills could counter this to some extent. The Heavy Armor Skill kept Kerry
on his feet and fighting as long as he wore the right equipment. Whereas, without the plates of iron, his biggest nemesis was his own feet.
Kerry had an honest face. He wore his emotions for the world to see. It was not greed that Trent found in Kerry's furrowed brows. It was desperation. Desperation caused Kerry's lips to flatten into a line and set his eyes to gleaming with a feverish light. He would do anything for the bottle that Trent held just out of reach, and it wasn't for the increase to his Attributes that it promised. Neither Felicia nor Trent had mentioned the potion's effect.
"You can have this," Trent said, holding the bottle up, "on one condition."
"Anything! You name it, and it's yours," Kerry blurted. "You want my firstborn? My left arm? Both?"
"You can have it, once you promise me, you'll drink it. You can't sell it." Trent locked his eyes onto Kerry's and watched the light fade from them. "You have to drink it, Kerry. You brought me here because I have the Detect Traps Skill. Trust me when I say I've spotted one, and I'm helping you avoid it."
"Five gold, Trent!" Kerry's tone begged Trent to understand. "Do you know what that represents? I've been saving for months and I have less than fifteen silver put aside. My father fed a family of five on twenty silvers a year, and fifteen is a drop in a lake to me!"
"So, you won't drink it?" Trent tucked the bottle behind his back. Kerry's eyes bulged as it disappeared from view.
"I can't!" Kerry hissed. "You can!" Behind Trent, the bottle blinked out of existence as he put it
in Storage. "I'll help you." "You don't understand! I—" Kerry let out an oomph when he hit the
ground. His leg ached where Trent had kicked it hard enough to sweep him off his feet. His helm cracked against the stone and stars filled his sight. He didn't have time to count them. Before he could blink the dancing lights away, Trent had already straddled his chest, pinning Kerry's arms with his knees.
"What do you think you're doing? Get off my…" Kerry slurred groggily, trying to free his arms to swat Trent away.
Trent's fingers closed around his jaw, applying pressure and forcing Kerry's mouth open. "Don't fight me, Kerry. This is for your own good."
Too relaxed, Trent's tone and body language were just too damned relaxed. Kerry tried to heave his body, and with his greater weight managed to wriggle his lower limbs, but Trent rode the wave, keeping Kerry's shoulders pressed down.
"It doesn't have to be this way, Trent. Let's talk about this." The words were garbled as Trent continued to press on his jaw. Kerry's eyes grew frantic as Trent produced the bottle again and used his thumb to open it.
"I'm not good at talking." Trent maneuvered the mouth of the bottle close to Kerry's lips. "You are right, though, it didn't have to be this way."
Any other arguments Kerry might have offered were lost as Trent began to pour. The bottle had a long, thin neck, and to prevent the precious liquid from spilling, Trent shoved it between Kerry's teeth towards the back of his throat. Kerry was left with the choice of swallowing or choking, and wisely chose the former.
The ceramic of the bottle tasted of dirt and mildew, the potion cloyingly sweet. It was like eating honey poured over mushrooms that had not been washed. Kerry was sure whatever the positive effect of the potion might be, he was going to die from a toxin on the bottle itself.
Kerry swallowed and gagged and swallowed again, tears filling the corners of his eyes. Not a single drop of the potion leaked from his mouth. Trent had conscientiously scrunched his cheeks to prevent spillage. Trent also made sure to shake the bottle, ensuring all the liquid was out, as he removed the container and tossed it aside.
Once he was certain Kerry had ingested all the precious medicine, Trent hopped to his feet and stepped back. Kerry, freed to move again, lay in a miserable state on the floor, scrubbing his tongue against the roof of his mouth and checking his teeth for chips.
"Are you okay, Kerry?" Felicia's voice was muffled coming as it did from behind both her veil and her left hand. Her right hand held her wand, which shook as she pointed it at Trent.
"I feel violated." Kerry coughed and struggled to sit up. Trent's foot settled on his chest, holding him down before he could rise as far as his elbows.
"Violated? That's probably the potion taking effect. It will pass," Trent said blandly. "Stay down for a bit. 6 Points of Agility all at once will make you feel woozy if you move around before you've adjusted."
Kerry's hands clamped around Trent's ankle, and he tried to push the
offending leg away. All he got for his efforts was a red face and the frustrating sight of Trent looking hurt from Kerry's lack of appreciation.
Letting his arms drop, Kerry gasped, "Do you know what you've cost me?"
"Nothing." Trent's lips twisted into a frown. "You need gold? We've already earned forty silver. Maybe now you'll trust me when I say I promise that I'll see you have what you need before we leave this Trial."
"The gold, and a weapon. A Warrior needs a weapon." Trent plucked at his armor and began to undo the buckles. "I'm still wet. Rest a little, Kerry. After I change, we have a Guardian to fight."
Chapter Thirty-Two Privacy was a luxury in the Trials. It was why Charms like Self-Clean
had been developed. Researchers spent years studying Spells to make life simpler for combatants and civilians alike. No matter how they tried, though, there were problems that couldn't be resolved by magic. Adventurers in mixed company learned to be discreet and politely inattentive when life's necessities required attention.
Trent, having spent most of his life in such situations, wasn't shy and felt no shame as he stripped five feet from his companions. He did spare a brief thought to picking up the Self-Dry Charm, but his only concession in regard to his nudity was to take an Elwire longsword from Storage to lean against the wall, close at hand.
That was a trick Orion had taught him, not Cullen. Fighting naked was unpleasant. Fighting naked and unarmed could be disastrous. Best to keep a weapon handy so you weren't scrambling for your belt when Fleshings came with fetid breath and grasping hands.
Kerry and Felicia were not as accustomed to the practical fundamentals of Adventuring. Academy students delved as often as they could but in short durations. A few hours at a time was the most they subjected themselves to. This trip was already approaching record lengths for the two, who studied the tunnel's ceiling with red cheeks, while Trent rubbed himself down with a spare cloth.
Kerry had lifted himself into a sitting position with his head in his hands by the time Trent had finished changing and started wiping the excess moisture from his armor. Kerry peered at Trent from between spread fingers. Trent's movements were brisk and professional. They inspired confidence.
It was a confidence that Kerry truly desired. The potion made his head swim as it accomplished the task for which it had been brewed. Underneath the sick, world-tilting sensation, Kerry felt stiff muscles loosening as they became more flexible. Trent had been correct. Kerry did need to drink the potion, not sell it. The feeling that his limbs were once again fully under his control, in a way they hadn't been for months, was worth more than five gold.
Once Trent's armor had been dried as much as possible, he laid it down
and plopped on the ground beside it. Trent put a set of tools, a few strips of leather, and two thick branches out in front of him. Kerry and Felicia stared as Trent's hands went to work. Dreq was less captivated. His feet slapped the ground as he ran over and curled up with his head in Trent's lap.
A sense of curiosity was injected into the embarrassed and baffled silence that had fallen over the group. Trent whittled one branch with the heavy knives he wore until it had a sharp point and then set it down. He used a gimlet and an auger on the second branch to bore a hole near one end, and proceeded to enlarge the hole with a smaller knife. Then to Kerry's disgust, Trent took out a jar of Swift Beetle bile and smeared it on the inside of the hole.
Satisfied with the results, Trent picked up the first branch again and trimmed the point some more before inserting it through the hole. Trent cut the unsharpened side off, leaving a foot of material protruding from both ends, and, using a mallet, hammered the spike until it was tight. He started to sharpen the dull side then, after a glance at Kerry, left it as it was.
Trent swung the makeshift implement a few times and bit his tongue as he considered the results. It was too light. That was the problem with Elwire wood. It held an edge better than iron and could cut with ease, but it lacked the weight to deliver a crushing blow or deep slash. Or, maybe it was a problem with his understanding of the wood and its uses.
Trent was no master craftsman. It could be the wood was supposed to be treated or used as an additive. He should have asked Arden why the would-be smith was so desperate to get the timber. However, Elwire was what he had, so Elwire it would have to be. Trent shrugged as he picked up the jar of Swift Beetle Bile and began dripping it on the handle of his creation.
"That's gross." Kerry put his chin in his hands and rested his elbows on his knees. "You shouldn't play with Beetle innards, Trent."
"It's sticky, and it's flammable," Trent explained, not looking up from his task. He began to wrap the strips of leather around the coated handle. He wound it slowly, making sure that the edges of the strip touched without overlapping.
"Beetle bile can be used as a glue if you know what you're doing," Felicia added, refraining from stating that Trent obviously did not. She had moved to kneel beside Kerry while Trent worked. The wood Trent handled so casually tugged at her memory. She tried to identify it from sight and would have cast Evaluation if the piece Trent had discarded had rolled closer.
"Still gross," Kerry muttered, drumming his fingers against his cheek. Trent stood, dislodging Dreq ,who grumbled grumpily. Moving farther
away, Trent gave his creation one last careful look. It wasn't perfect. Without the knowledge, tools, or materials to adjust the balance, it would have to do. It was only a temporary fix, anyway. There was just one final step.
Kerry's hands dropped and his jaw fell open when Trent cast Spark. All that work for a torch? A torch they didn't need? A torch that didn't light? The Spell was cast, and Trent looked to be concentrating intently, but nothing happened.
Then an intoxicating smell drifted through the tunnel. Pleasant and comforting, Kerry couldn't quite place the scent. It was filled with fresh flowers and spices. It sank into you, through the nose and into the chest, settling there like a drink of hot cider on a cold day.
Kerry peacefully relaxed under the scent's influence. Felicia had an entirely different reaction. Her hat was nearly dislodged by her abrupt rise to her feet, and her veil puffed out as she let out an anguished cry.
"Elwire," she moaned. Had she not seen Trent slaughter his way through the Trial, she might have rushed forward to strangle him. "You're using Elwire for… for… what do you think you're doing?"
Trent studied the results of his Spell with a critical eye. With Heart of the Inferno and Fire Manipulation, his Spark Charm could be made to burn hotter than Liquid Silver. It had cost him 90 Points of his Mana for a few seconds of purifying fire. He wasn't sure it was worth it.
The shaft and spiked head had fused, which was good. The leather was intact and bound firmly to the handle which was as he intended. The weapon made a mournful whistle as he swung it through the air as hard as he could. That was also satisfactory, but Appraisal wasn't kind as it revealed the results of his handiwork.
Crude Improvised Elwire Spiked Club
Common item/Poor Quality
Damage Rating 5
Was it necessary to say crude and improvised? His swords weren't great, but they were Basic items of average quality. This spiked club was common and poor. That Damage Rating of 5 wasn't impressive either. With Kerry's
Strength, he would be able to deal 25 Damage with a heavy swing, and maybe a little more with a precise blow.
Trent could use the club to kill a Swift Beetle in a single hit; he was stronger and faster than Kerry. With their thick shells, Kerry might have difficulty breaking the bug's natural defenses. That wouldn't do! There had to be a way to test it outside of actual combat.
Trent's eyes shifted from the club to where Kerry's shield leaned against the wall. Felicia was still shouting outraged insults at Trent, questioning his intelligence and parentage in turn. Kerry was fully focused on her, and Trent's nonchalant stride didn't tear Kerry's attention away. It took the shrieking of metal as it was pierced and rent to do that.
"My shield!" Kerry clambered to his feet, his arms outstretched. It was too late. Trent had delivered three rapid blows to Kerry's shield, and the innocent sheet of metal had fallen to become scrap.
Trent nodded gleefully and pressed the club into the fingers that Kerry opened and closed mindlessly. "It's better than it looks. The description doesn't say so, but I think it has a piercing effect. The spike went through metal, and I hardly felt any resistance!"
"My shield, Trent, my shield." Kerry's arms dropped lifelessly, and the head of his new club thudded against the stone.
"Oh." Trent rubbed the back of his neck ruefully. He tugged a black ring off his left hand and gave it to Kerry. "This is better. You can use it until we find you a new one. After I clean up my tools and get my armor on, we need to get going."
Trent ducked his head and turned away. Hoping to take Kerry's mind off what he had done, Trent put the destroyed tower shield into Storage before putting on his armor. He hadn't thought Kerry would take the loss of such lousy equipment so hard.
"He keeps his promises," Felicia muttered bitterly. She reached out and touched the haft of Kerry's new weapon reverently. "You've got your gold,
Kerry."
Her words shocked Kerry out of his stupor. "What do you mean?"
"It's Elwire! Elwire!" Felicia repeated and stressed the word. "An Alchemist or woodworker will haggle with you after what Trent did to it, but a Blacksmith will pile gold on you for that… thing."
"I don't understand," Kerry said numbly, holding up the club to look at it.
"Elwire can be used to refine the hardest metals to their purest form. Shavings from that club can replace twenty types of ore when used to create silver steel." Felicia stamped a foot angrily and glowered in Trent's direction. "Shavings added to any metal will improve a Smith's results tenfold, and Trent… I can't talk about this anymore."
Felicia wandered off to mutter to herself, stamping her feet and kicking at the wall. Kerry processed the new information, and a manic grin slid across his face. His right hand tightened around the weapon worth gold. His left clutched the ring containing the shield that he had seen Trent use. They were superior to anything he had ever owned.
That fact might have been the source of his excitement but watching Trent equip his shoulder guards and cowl, Kerry had an epiphany. He had thought he needed gold to find a new beginning, to fix past mistakes. He had been wrong.
His fresh start lay behind that featureless mask. Trent had not given him the club to sell. He had made the club because a Warrior needed a weapon. With Trent, Kerry could explore the Dungeon freely, and unlike Jace, Trent wanted Kerry to be more than a meat shield lugging around the loot. Kerry was beginning to understand why Trent had the Leadership Skill.
Kerry would not sell the club! Like Trent said, he would use it until he found a better weapon. Kerry would earn the coin he needed himself. It was possible now. He was a Warrior.
The Academy's instructors were all retired Adventurers and Soldiers. Men and women who had been there and done all the things Kerry dreamed of doing. They were competent, grizzled Warriors, educated Mages, sly rogues, and Kerry admired them all.
Had he been asked, he would have said the instructors were tough. They had high expectations for their students, and slacking or shirking were not allowed. They demanded the best that each student was capable of and let you know in no uncertain terms when you let them down.
Kerry had to adjust his opinion during the next wave of Beetles. The instructors mixed encouragement in with their criticism. They were kind, gentle souls next to Trent. Trent seemed to think encouragement was a waste of time. It was odd to hear biting sarcasm and ear-burning insults delivered in a deadpan tone. Trent's voice was utterly devoid of malice when he told Kerry he waddled into battle like a fat man with a full bladder. He was cheerful when he said Kerry swung his club with almost as much strength as a housewife would use to beat rugs.
When words weren't enough to correct Kerry's stance, Trent resorted to kicking his feet. When his elbows stuck out too far for Trent's liking, Kerry's armor didn't protect him from swats that jarred nerves and stung the back of his head.
Kerry might have complained about this treatment, except Trent's method did have redeeming features to make up for its harshness. For one, it worked. Kerry learned to keep his shield up and follow through with his blows. Beetles became targets instead of threats. He started to look forward to the ambushes and attacks.
It helped that the second redeeming feature to Trent's approach was that, while Trent felt free to slap and kick at Kerry, he never allowed anyone else to. A Beetle taking advantage of Kerry's poor positioning would be cut down before it could get up to speed, long before its mandibles could bite into him. Kerry was more involved in the delve than he had ever been, and he never felt safer.
Kerry hammered his club downwards with an undulating war cry. The
spike pierced through the shell of a Beetle where its thorax met its head, and the Beast convulsed as it collapsed. Kerry let out another scream as he sank to his knees. He let go of his club's handle, the head of which was still stuck in the dead bug, and punched at the air victoriously.
One hit! He had finally managed a one-hit kill on a creature the same Level that he was! Bards would not write songs about the moment, but Kerry felt like singing.
"Tired, Kerry?" Trent asked, drawing his Harvesting knife and tugging Kerry's weapon free. "Would you like a nap? Perhaps first, I could fetch you a bottle to suck on while the men do the work?"
"Yes, please, but heat the milk if you would." Kerry pulled off his gauntlets and removed his helm. "I sleep better after a bottle of warm milk."
Trent had lifted a wing and was about to start cutting. He froze at Kerry's quip. That had sounded like backtalk. One of Cullen's first lectures had been on the dangers of backtalk. It apparently killed more Recruits than Beasts did. The Sergeant had never explained how those Recruits died, but Trent had avoided it, nonetheless.
Having never risked backtalk personally, Trent wasn't sure how to impress upon Kerry the danger he was walking into. Trent could only pass on the lessons Cullen had taught him and the tricks he had picked up on his own. Kerry had just dragged him into unfamiliar territory.
Trent spent a minute in thought, then shrugged, and his knife flashed as it separated the wing he held. After all, Kerry wasn't a Guard Recruit. Adventurers probably had different types of danger they had to look out for.
Felicia dropped the loot-gathering sack in front of Kerry as she and Dreq moved to help Trent. The Dog and Mage, with their supporting Skills, had been left out of the fighting since Trent started concentrating on Kerry. The job left to them was to pick up after Trent. Dreq had gotten adept at spitting coins into an open sack, but his tendency to chew on other drops relegated Felicia to handling the nonmetal bits.
"You two probably missed it from way in the back," Kerry said proudly, buffing his fingernails against his breastplate, "but I was glorious!"
"Bravo, hero," Felicia said, giving Kerry three soft claps.
"I am a hero! Tell them, Trent. Tell them about the one-hit kill. Tell them how good I looked!" Kerry pleaded, holding open the sack so Dreq could deposit coins into it.
"You looked strong enough to kill chickens, and ugly enough to scare children," Trent said, not looking up from his work.
"Really? That's it? Not one nice thing to say." Kerry rolled his eyes. "It wouldn't kill you, you know."
That got Trent to stop what he was doing. He had thought that phrase was nice. He remembered the day Cullen had said it to him. It had been on the way to the Burning Lake. He had managed to get a single hit on Tersa during the morning's sparring. The look on her face had been priceless.
True, it was just one hit, and Tersa had pummeled him for it, but that was the day Cullen had promoted Trent from being too weak to kill chickens and too ugly to be let out in public. In Trent's book, he had given Kerry high praise.
"There were twenty-five Beetles, and—" Felicia started primly.
"Wow! That many. I must have lost count." Kerry's chest swelled. "Didn't think I had it in me!"
"You don't!" Felicia jabbed a finger in Trent's direction. "He took care of fifteen while you were occupied with the first two."
"Oh." Kerry deflated and cleared his throat. "That's still pretty good. Can you name another first-year student who can claim they've bagged ten Beetles in one fight?"
Felicia sniffed and knelt to pick up a handful of glass vials. Kerry's words hit her hard because they were true, and that scared her. Under Trent's
tutelage, Kerry had blossomed, and that was frightening. It forced her to consider that all she had heard of the violet-eyed might not be true.
Kerry called Trent's instruction harsh, but Felicia saw it from an outsider's perspective. The students and instructors could have helped Kerry buy out of his charter. They all liked him, and knew he was worth helping. Yet, they hadn't.
She had chased after them from the market, thinking to profit from Trent. She had expected to see brutality and bloodlust. Instead, time and again, Trent was generous and, in his own way, kind. Those that called themselves Kerry's friends hadn't stepped forward to help the Warrior, but Trent had, at considerable cost.
He gave freely of his time. Felicia suspected that, on his own, Trent could have cleared the first floor of the Dungeon thrice in the time he had spent ushering the group along. She could have explained that away as a desire for company, or the security offered by an extra set of eyes, but there were other instances of generosity that couldn't be dismissed.
The incident with the potion, for example. Trent had not only given it to Kerry, he had forced him to drink it. There were cautionary tales told about Adventuring Parties that had fallen apart over less impressive loot than an Attribute-increasing potion. Trent gave it away without a thought, then afterward crafted an invaluable weapon, from a material standpoint, and gave it away as well.
Felicia saw it, and once he was done pouting, Kerry probably would, too. Trent had an odd way of putting things, but it was a fact, no one else had invested as much effort into Kerry. Not his supposed friends, not the instructors who were paid to look out for the students, and certainly not the members of his chartered party.
Felicia had been raised to fear the violet-eyed. All elves and half-elves did. The Elven half of her family hadn't lived in Elven controlled territories for centuries, but they still told stories of the slaughter during the long retreat. They sang songs describing the bloodlust that resulted in the burning of Tinredi Grove, and the laughter of the Al'rashians as ash floated into the air.
Felicia had more reason to hate Al'rashians than most modern elves. The ancestor who had started their line had been crippled by Warriors of the Verren Clan and brought to what had been a secret merchant outpost long before it was a kingdom as a slave. She had every reason to despise Trent.
So she thought. Stretching her back after dropping the last vial into the sack, Felicia watched Trent breathlessly peering at a wooden spoon. Miscellaneous goods like that showed up in drops all the time. Socks, needles, cups, they could be seen cluttering the ground when the Dungeon was filled with Adventurers too lazy to pick up the junk.
However, Trent insisted on collecting all of it. It might have a use, he insisted. The Trial provided it for a reason. It sounded acceptable when he said it, but she had seen the innocent light in his eye when he pushed back his mask to more closely inspect a carving of a duck.
She could not bring herself to hate someone who chuckled when he found a rose made from paper. She could admire a man who stepped between his companions and harm, and she couldn't fear a Swordsman who tucked shiny pebbles into a belt pouch when he thought no one was looking.
Chapter Thirty-Three "There shouldn't be any Beetles between here and the entrance." They
had reached the first split in the tunnels after hours of backtracking, and Trent pointed towards the exit while addressing Felicia. "If you think you can't make it by yourself, we can walk you out."
"What are you talking about?" Felicia had been ready to follow Trent down the middle path, the last route that they needed to explore. When he had turned and started speaking, it had taken her by surprise.
"You have what you came for. There's no need for you to go on." Trent said, "Don't sit down, Kerry, we aren't stopping long."
Kerry paused in the act of sliding down the wall and tried to pretend he was flexing his legs, "No, of course not. We've been at it for days. Why would we rest?"
"It hasn't been a full day yet," Trent disagreed. "We can rest after the Guardian. Didn't you say each floor starts with a Safe Zone?"
"It's been twenty-six hours, actually," Felicia interjected. "We'll need to pick things up if we want to explore all five floors before the next term starts."
Kerry's ears perked up at that. Not only did Felicia sound like she wasn't going back, but there was also a tone in her voice when she spoke of the coming start to Academy classes. A tone that suggested she didn't care if they made it back on time.
Trent was taken off guard by Felicia's comment. He had already dismissed her from his considerations. It was also annoying to learn he had lost track of time again. There had to be a way, a Spell or device, to monitor the passing of hours. It was something to investigate later.
For now, "You aren't coming with us," Trent said flatly. Felicia had
offered to help complete the first floor with them. It was then that Trent stopped thinking of her as a member of the team. He saw no need to invest in a person that wasn't committed to the group. Especially one who so far had contributed little.
"You have what you need. It's best to part ways here." Trent started to turn away, confident the conversation was over.
"You need me!" Felicia grabbed his arm to hold him in place. "Unless you like walking in the dark."
"Point to her, Trent." Kerry coughed into a fist, uncomfortably. "I don't have a torch, and unless you know a Spell to light the way—"
"I do." Trent cast Spark. It was second nature for him to brighten the flame and bind it in place. He chose to bind it to Dreq's tail, and for good measure, he set another two flames on the Dog's ears, before sending Dreq down the tunnel where Felicia's Spell was unable to reach.
"Huh!" Kerry pushed up his visor and squinted after Dreq. "Works well enough. Looks like you can take it in after all, Felicia."
"I'm the group's Healer!" Felicia countered, adamantly. "Potions can't replace a Healer."
"No, but they can replace a Mage who knows Minor Healing." Trent's foot tapped an impatient beat. "You have what you need. There's no reason —"
"What I need has changed." Felicia reached up and unfastened her veil, pulling the thin cloth away. She tucked it into her pouch and started to remove her hat. "And there is one more thing you should know."
"Careful, Trent," Kerry said uneasily. He took off his helm with a sigh. "When women start talking about their needs, it's a good time for smart men to make themselves scarce."
Felicia's hands crumpled the brim of her hat as she counted slowly to
three. "A smart man would never have said that out loud. Ignore him, Trent. Kerry knows less about women than you do about the value of rare goods and materials."
"Hey! Instructor Bragee says—" Kerry opened his mouth to defend himself, proving that he indeed was not a smart man.
"Instructor Bragee," Felicia said, in a dangerously calm voice, as she tugged her hat deeper around her ears, "is a foul old man, who would have been murdered a dozen times if he wasn't so good at hiding. A wise person disregards any comment which comes out of his mouth that isn't directly related to scouting or field craft."
"I think he makes a lot of sense." The flickering light of a returning Dreq drew Kerry's eyes away from Felicia. "His stories are funny, too, and... Ow! Stop that!"
Felicia's hat made the point that Trent had been trying to convey to Kerry for several hours. Putting down your shield or taking off your helm when you could be attacked at any time was a bad idea.
"Would you shut up, you oafish bastard!" Felicia struck again and again with her hat, shouting at Kerry, "This is serious!"
Trent exchanged glances with Dreq as Felicia wailed and Kerry cowered before her. The flames on the tips of the Dog's ears bobbed and swayed as Dreq turned them to catch every word of the Mage's tirade.
Dreq was curious about words he had never heard before, but Trent was anxious to be off. He waited until he thought Kerry had learned whatever lesson Felicia was trying to impart and then came to the Warriors aid by clearing his throat.
"Your hair is green," he said. He wisely avoided pointing out how red Felicia's face was. It was his first time seeing it, but he was nearly certain that red wasn't its normal shade.
"Yes!" Felicia shot another glare at Kerry, before composing herself to
address Trent. Her hand touched the green locks of hair that fell to her jawline. After making sure it wasn't sticking up in all directions, her hand drifted to her ear, specifically, to the sharp point that became visible when her unruly hair was tamed.
"My hair is green and my ears are pointed because I'm an elf, a half elf." Felicia paused, her body language defiant despite the way her hand trembled. "Is that a problem?"
Trent took the question seriously. Felicia's features were more guarded than Kerry's, but her distress was easily seen. Thin eyebrows twitched minutely over almond-shaped eyes the color of honey. The nostrils of her thin, straight nose flared, full lips were pressed tightly, and there was a tremble in her chin that would be missed if you weren't looking closely.
Trent stepped closer, trying to find the problem that Felicia thought might be hidden in her exposed face, and was stumped. She was a little shorter than he had thought, the top of her head hardly reaching his nose. Her hat had made her look taller. That probably wasn't what she was talking about.
"I don't see anything wrong with how you look," Trent said, stepping back.
"Good," Felicia sighed, relieved. "I don't have a problem with you being Al'rashian either. So I'm staying with the party."
"In that case," Trent took a damaged book from his Storage and handed it to her, "can you learn these?"
"Is this a Spell tomb?" Felicia flipped through the pages. She murmured angrily at the sight of the scorch marks and tears that marred the book and then became even more irate when she identified what Spells the tomb contained.
She closed the book with a snap and pushed it back towards Trent. "These are Fire Spells. I won't learn them! I'm a support Mage only!"
"Then you can't come with us," Trent said, not taking the book back.
"Not without some way of protecting yourself. A potion can replace the Healing you provide, but Kerry and I can't be a sword and shield for you. It's too dangerous."
"Do you know what these Spells do? Do you?" Felicia's voice became ragged and she waggled the book in Trent's face. "They set people on fire! They burn people alive! Does that sound like fun to you? Does it sound like a good time! I don't need them! I have defensive Spells and can take care of myself, and… what are you doing?"
Trent had tried to interrupt Felicia several times. When an upraised hand and soft word failed, he made his argument by removing his upper armor and shirt. He pointed out the scars on his ribs and shoulders silently. He turned to show Felicia the marks on his back, and when he was sure she had seen them all, he pulled his shirt back on.
"Half of those wounds were unnecessary." He didn't look at her as he fastened the buckles of his armor. "I took them for a friend who… she was too scared, I think. Scared and angry and half-mad. She thought she was fighting but… I took blows meant for her because I couldn't do anything else to help her."
He still avoided looking at Felicia as he adjusted his cowl around his shoulders. "I might be injured again in this Trial. Kerry is trying, but he has a long way to go. I can accept that because he is… a friend who is doing his best."
"But you? All I know about you is that you are a Mage with no weapon or means to attack and only one defensive Spell." His violet eyes pierced Felicia to her heart, robbing her of the arguments she tried to summon.
"If you can't learn the Spells, that's alright. If you won't even try?" His mask snapped into place, and Felicia jumped at the sudden sight of her own blurry wide-eyed reflection peering back at her. "Then it's better that you not come. I can't protect you if you won't protect yourself."
Felicia was right. Kerry didn't understand women. He was positive that if
