Underkeeper

For a moment, Bernt considered creating a light for himself, but it would only help the kobolds find him. For that matter, they could probably smell the blood he was losing all over the ground.

He needed to stop and deal with that, and quickly.

Realizing that he was forgetting something, he flipped his bag open, urging Jori to come out. By concentrating on their bond, he saw from her perspective as she jumped to the ground and chittered in agitation.

She felt how upset he was, which made her feel anxious in turn. He had no idea how well she understood what was going on, but she could see in the dark—and that was something he needed right now. She scrambled up the wall with her sharp little claws and ran along the ceiling, scouting back the way they’d come.

If the kobolds came up from behind him, he’d know in time to get moving again.

After a bit of rummaging in his bag, Bernt found the bandages he bought from Grixit and pulled up his robes to examine the wound. It was a deep gash that ran almost vertically up the outside of his calf where the kobold had stabbed him. Cursing himself furiously for his lack of awareness in the moment, he began the process of wrapping it up to stop the bleeding. It wasn’t a deadly wound—as long as it didn’t get infected, at least. But he might have avoided it entirely if he’d just remembered to use his thorn skin amulet.

He hadn’t thought of it at any point in the battle.

How did people get good at this? Elyn had barely had time to react, but she’d still remembered to use her defensive items. Furin and Therion had responded almost instantly—as far as he knew, they were still fighting. Maybe they’d even win.

He needed to learn, and fast.

But first, he had to get out of here. That was the most important thing right now. He couldn’t move very quickly with a wounded leg, and he’d need to slow down even more to find the markings that would lead him back to the entrance. He’d never make it if he couldn’t lose any pursuers that might be coming.

Bernt bent over his wounded leg, ripped the cloth with his teeth to free the roll, and used a quick adhesion cantrip to doubly secure the enchanted bandage. Then he signaled Jori and started moving again. He needed her up here to help him see. He had no idea how the kobolds had found them before, but he didn’t want to risk a light now. Alone, he could be overcome even by a few kobolds, especially if they got the drop on him.

***

Bernt huddled in what looked like a small sleeping alcove and listened as another kobold patrol passed by out in the tunnel. His group had passed by a variety of deserted chambers on its way in, and he was glad for them now. The patrols often poked their heads in to check for any adventurer parties that might be hiding there, but as long as he wasn’t in the line of sight from the doorway, it wasn’t an issue.

His progress had stalled now that he was near the dungeon’s exit. Kobolds passed by every few minutes. Either his group had been incredibly lucky on the way in, or the kobolds had found the disabled traps and stepped up their patrol schedule in the meantime.

Despair welled up in Bernt’s chest. How could he possibly get to the exit now, much less find the time to open it back up? Just opening the way out would take longer than the time between patrols.

The sound of his party fighting as he ran away still rang in his ears. He couldn’t get it out of his head. They were probably captured now, or worse.

They were counting on him, and he was hiding in a random room. He hated feeling like this—like a mouse in a hole, helpless.

But he wasn’t a mouse. He was a mage and a pyromancer. He couldn’t just sit here waiting for the guild or maybe Ed to get suspicious of the fact that nobody was coming out. It would take too long, and they still wouldn’t know what they were facing here. The kobolds were organized and prepared specifically to deal with adventuring parties.

That wasn’t unthinkable on its own—everyone knew how the Adventurers’ Guild worked. Why wouldn’t an intelligent enemy, like a dragon, prepare for them?

It was just that usually, it didn’t work. The guild’s scryers assessed and ranked threats to prevent things like this. The prime party was meant to overwhelm the defenses of the dungeon it was assigned to. That was why it had to be ranked so highly.

So what happened this time? Where was the prime party right now?

Bernt cursed silently. He didn’t even know who was in the prime party—he hadn’t thought it would be important. Now, though, he wondered. Were they underqualified? Or had the kobolds deliberately put up a weak defense, allowing them to smash through, only to close the way behind them?

Maybe they were advancing on the dragon right now, not even realizing what was happening at their rear.

It didn’t matter right now, though. Bernt needed to find a way back, and he needed to do it right now.

Going through his bag again, he tried to come up with possible solutions. There had to be something he could do.

He’d brought some food and water, but not enough to stay here for days—not that he had that kind of time anyway. He also had more bandages, a cloak, his shoddy old wand, his iron ring, and the healing potion Therion had given him.

After a moment of consideration, he pulled out the wand.

It really did look terrible compared to his pyromancer’s wand, but it was a better general focus than his ring. He wondered if it really had been made by a goblin—maybe Grixit himself. It certainly looked like something he would make.

“Jori, can you keep an eye out, out in the tunnel?” he whispered. “I’m going to try something.”

He didn’t need to talk to Jori out loud to communicate, but he thought she understood him a little bit more when he did. With a quiet chitter, she disappeared around the corner as Bernt raised the wand. He felt slightly better, knowing that she was with him and keeping an eye out. He knew she probably wasn’t that much help down here beyond her ability to see in the dark, but she was a comfortable and familiar presence in a terrifying situation.

Bernt took a deep breath and raised his wand.

This alcove would work as well as anywhere else—at least the kobolds wouldn’t find it right away. Concentrating, he began casting the same tunneling spell he’d used to create the dungeon entrance earlier that day.

If he couldn’t get back to his other tunnel, maybe he could just make a new one from here directly to the surface.

He wasn’t sure if it would work—he didn’t know how far down he was. The tunnels sloped slightly downward from the entrance, but maybe he could just tunnel out directly from here. He couldn’t be that far from the surface, right? He was certain that he was well outside the city, so he’d probably just pop out in a field somewhere… unless he was under the river right now. But that would have to be some absolutely terrible luck.

It was worth the risk, he was sure.

***

After what felt like an hour later, Bernt sagged to the floor, exhausted, with a small flame flickering in the air over his shoulder to light his surroundings—his torch spell. It was a spell he’d invented early on in his days at the academy because it was easier for him than a traditional magelight. It couldn’t possibly have been unique, but it hadn’t been in his textbook, so he’d cobbled it together himself. Fire magic always came naturally to him.

Unfortunately, he’d discovered the hard way, early on in his career as an Underkeeper, that walking around with an open flame in a sewer was a terrible idea. At least until you knew exactly which portions were and weren’t properly ventilated.

A new tunnel sloped upward from where he’d started, small and narrow, but passable. It pointed toward where he thought the city would be and was nearly two hundred paces long.

He still hadn’t hit the surface.

It was exhausting work, and he had to stop every time another patrol came by. The tunneling process wasn’t loud compared to traditional pick-and-shovel work, but it wasn’t silent, either.

Jori would see any patrols coming, so it wasn’t a problem, but it slowed him down all the same. Not that he had the energy to continue much longer as it was. Pushing his exhaustion to the back of his mind, Bernt moved up to the smooth stone at the end of the tunnel again and began channeling the tunneling spell one more time.

Stone moved away from in front of him, slowly pushing outward. It was slower now than before, as if the rock didn’t want to compress any further to make room for the tunnel. Bernt didn’t know what to make of that—he wasn’t a miner or a geologist—but he did his best to push through it. It would get easier again, he was sure.

Then, suddenly, he felt a breeze against his face. He’d made it!

Collecting himself, he kept the spell going. He didn’t want dirt and rock to fall back in on him from an unstable tunnel mouth. It was pitch dark out there. Was it night already? It couldn’t be…

No matter. He needed to get back into the city and report to the Adventurers’ Guild. He wasn’t sure if they would listen to him, since he wasn’t supposed to be in the dungeon at all, but he could probably get Ed to vouch for him. Though that would be another problem—he doubted his boss would approve of his illegal venture into a dungeon.

But Ed would believe him, at least. That was what mattered now.

He gave his bond to Jori a mental tug and stepped out through the hole onto smooth stone.

Bernt froze and looked around, heart sinking in dawning realization.

This wasn’t the surface.

It was another chamber. A higher floor somewhere up in the kobolds’ warren. He’d come so far… how was this possible?

Pushing down that sense of despair, Bernt looked around. The space was quite a bit nicer than the one he’d just left. The walls had been worked smooth, and it all felt… older, somehow. Pouring a bit more mana into his torch spell, he entered the room.

It was piled full of stuff. Shelves filled with sketchy-looking potions that were definitely expired, a pile of beetle-carapace helmets, small barrels, and other items that he supposed a tribe of kobolds might hoard were stacked against one side. He was lucky he’d come out where he had; otherwise, all this stuff would have fallen in on him. The entire place was covered in dust and had an abandoned air to it. He turned, looking for the door, when his breath caught.

An old wooden door stood half-open, as if someone had halfheartedly moved to close it on their way out and then never returned. But, piled behind it and spilling out onto the floor, Bernt saw a small mountain of crumbling books and scrolls.