Volume 1, Chapter 32: The Dungeon Underneath the Temple Cliché (Patreon)

“Again,” Khufu’Ri said, picking up the stick I had dropped and tossing it several feet toward me.

It landed in the grass in front of me, scattering the small translucent creatures that roamed between the blades, looking like tiny jellyfish with tentacles.

The lion stood opposite me, holding his own stick beside his body like a sword while picking something from between his teeth with a claw extended from one finger.

A dozen or so paces farther away, along the edge of the grounds in front of the temple, the caravan led here by Plasario was finishing pitching tents and setting up the beginnings of a camp under his supervision.

“We are now in a world where fighting with melee weapons is commonplace, Arthur. Deceiving yourself into believing that survival will be possible without learning its principles is unhealthy for both body and spirit. Fire can be extinguished. Magic can fail. A weapon can be taken from you. But until someone removes the bones from your body, Arthur, you remain armed. Learn to use what cannot be stolen—the indomitable spirit!”

“Fuck off,” I muttered under my breath, rubbing my back where he had struck me moments earlier, right after knocking the weapon from my hand with some twisting motion through the air.

“That was much better!” Bri corkscrewed through the air, shedding a spiral of sparks behind her like a tiny firework. “Come on, Arthur!”

I, however, felt like I had made absolutely no progress over the last two hours.

“You wouldn’t believe it, but I’m surprisingly good at lying to other people, and fucking exceptional at lying to myself,” I replied, picking the faux sword up from the ground and settling into the stance he had been trying to drill into me. Holding the stick extended in front of me in my right hand, slightly above my head with the blade angled downward, I was ready either to block or attack with a quick flick of the wrist.

The problem was that I didn’t see much point in learning how to do any of this myself. I would much rather watch how other people fought and figure out how to use the abilities I already had to counter them. Still, with nothing significantly better to do, I let the lion knock me around the trampled patch of ground for a while just to kill time.

“After what I heard in the temple, I’m prepared to believe every truth you tell me, and probably more than a few lies,” he replied, assuming the same stance and placing his closed fist just behind his back. The corners of his muzzle did not move, but a low vibration rolled through his chest. It took me a second to realize the bastard was purring. “I’ll count to five, and then we begin.”

“Come on, Arthur! Mhm. Come on!” Bri shouted.

“One,” came from the lion’s muzzle, his delicate, almost translucent whiskers trembling in the breeze and with the movement of his face.

I focused on the sword in my hand, drawing my other hand back as well. This time, when I had picked the weapon up from the ground, I had torn out some grass along with it, and now I was holding that and the clump of dirt tangled in its roots inside my clenched fist. It was about damn time I started playing by my own rules.

“Two,” he continued, and his pupils expanded as his body became unnaturally still.

I moved one leg back so that my left—the opposite side from the hand holding the weapon—was forward. That way, a step toward my opponent with my right foot could flow directly into an attack.

At least I’d learned that much from what he had been trying to teach me.

“Three,” he continued, and I finally looked directly at him.

A moment later, I snapped my wrist and brought the stick around into a horizontal block as the cheating bastard charged me before finishing the count.

I realized late that a stalking lion did not announce when it pounced, but thanks to my stance, I managed to catch the strike. And just as he had shown me before, instead of backing away, I let his weapon slide down my improvised blade and stepped forward, punching him in the stomach.

I immediately lunged beneath his weapon and past him, ending up behind his back as I turned my own weapon toward his arm.

He countered with a quick leap forward and away from me, twisting around at the same time and landing in a half crouch, his weapon extended as far as possible in a slash aimed at my midsection.

I was ready this time. Holding my weapon from above, I drove the stick sharply down and to the side, blocking the strike.

At the same time, two things happened. First, it pissed me off beyond belief that he had completely ignored my punch. My pride refused to accept that. Second, his attack slammed into my block hard enough to knock the weapon out of my hand again, so I threw the handful of grass and dirt straight into his face and eyes and charged shoulder-first beneath his arm, trying to knock him over.

“Good attempt!” he shouted as he lifted his massive paw off me—the same paw he had used to pin me to the ground before I even managed to reach him.

“How did you know I’d come closer?” I asked, rolling onto my back and looking up at his enormous body towering over me.  Even he looked ridiculous from this angle.

I thought that perspective mattered a fucking lot, while I spat out few blades of grass that I managed to catch between my teeth on the way down.

“Instinct. The weeds you threw at me were meant to blind me, so I assumed you intended to get closer afterward, perhaps to drive a knife into my heart or do something equally dishonorable and villainous. Few people blind an opponent only to retreat immediately afterward, wouldn’t you agree?”

He extended his left hand toward me to help me up.

I reached for it, and my hand practically disappeared between his enormous fingers. He hauled me upright as if I weighed nothing and set me back on both feet.

“I couldn’t attack with the sword again quickly enough,” he added, glancing at the stick in his hand. “When I knocked your weapon away, mine rebounded in the opposite direction, so I countered with my free hand. Better to lose an arm—or a few fingers, or a hand—than your life.”

“Depends on the life,” I replied, spitting a little blood from my mouth.

“Every life is priceless on a small scale. To history, we are all worthless. ‘There is no glory in a life being lived. Nor in the actions that herald its end. Blood pours all the same from opened veins, staining the ground red. Meaning comes only later, twisted by poets, bards, and other liars to serve their purpose and sway the hearts of those who listen. Trusting those songs is willingly accepting poison and mistaking it for mead,’” he recited the words with one hand pressed to his chest, staring somewhere far into the distance.

“Your words?” I asked, jerking my head at Bri to signal that she should join us as we headed toward the camp.

She circled around us from the lion’s side and drifted closer to him. He smiled, baring his teeth. His fur and skin were thick enough that the heat radiating from her seemed only pleasant to him.

As I was picking up my cage-staff I found myself thinking that maybe he would make a better guardian and caretaker for her than I did.

“Tokh’Ra of the Jewel of Africa, Northern Sahara, Third Tribe and the Muhatrasa Pride. Poet, seer, warrior, father of his people, and liberator of the lionfolk,” he said, and it was obvious from his voice that he held the man in enormous respect.

“So how does it work with your people? There’s nothing like you in my world. No humanoid lions.”

“Long, long ago, people such as you, descendants of the gods, learned to master the twin intertwined streams of life flowing through our bodies. They conjoined the beasts that roamed the savannas with their own bodies, allowing those animals to gain a fragment of your divinity. I am descended from the first of the people shaped that way,” he continued speaking as we entered the busy, hastily made street running between the tents. Thanks to Bri’s presence, people gave us a fairly wide berth, though they muttered curses under their breath at having to walk farther while carrying bundles, sacks, and all the other things they needed to haul around to make the camp functional.

“Sounds a lot like genetic engineering. DNA strands and all that. Your Earth must be way more advanced than mine, which doesn’t surprise me at all considering the Egyptian kingdom never fell in your world.”

“History is a river that branches infinitely, and we are all carried along by its current. Somewhere at the beginning of all this, though, there is a source from which it first flowed, and that makes you and me brothers,” he said, touching my chest. “Arthur?”

“Yes?” I asked, realizing my name was meant to precede a question, but some argument between merchants in the distance stole his attention for a moment. Then he turned back toward me, his eyes studying mine.

“I saw how you decorated the temple—you are an artist. So I make this request in the name of my ancestors, because Tokh’Ra was one as well, before he led us out of ancient Egyptian slavery. Do not lose the part of yourself that lets you see farther than what your eyes can glimpse directly in front of you.”

“Seriously? I thought that was going to be a more interesting question or request,” I replied with a dismissive wave. “Life taught me to use every talent I have to survive, even the ones that seem useless at first. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“It’s, um, nice listening to you two,” Bri suddenly cut in as we reached the temple doors, where a dozen or so soldiers were trying to reattach the gate wing that had been torn off earlier to its enormous hinges under Rodrick’s supervision. “And, um, it’s nice not having to run anywhere, chase anything, fight, or, um, kill and fight for our lives, right?”

“Yes, Miss Bri,” the lion replied.

“Hey, Rodri!” I called to the soldier. “We’ve probably given you enough time by now, haven’t we? We want to head down already.”

I added that while thinking about the main objective, which I hadn’t advanced in the slightest since I’d been sent here. It would be good to finally get this side quest out of the way too.

“Master Plasario is finishing the temple’s defenses. I think you’ll be able to head deeper inside shortly,” he replied, then immediately shouted at one of his subordinates to watch the weight.

“Wisdom speaks through Master Plasario,” Khufu’Ri said, looking around in front of the gate. “We do not know what will happen after we descend. Perhaps those evil spirits he fears so much will rise from the earth, or perhaps some other horrors will emerge. It is wise to keep the safety of your people in mind.”

As he finished speaking, he finally spotted Sophie and Nicky in the distance buying meat from a merchant and packing it into Nicky’s backpack. He waved to them, and there was no chance they could miss a giant like him, so they waved back and started heading our way.

“Wisdom and Plasario,” I muttered quietly enough that his soldiers wouldn’t hear, “shouldn’t be used in the same sentence. I just hope Milo doesn’t show up burning for revenge and cause trouble here.”

I said it while watching someone approaching us whom I hadn’t seen in the camp before.

“Who, um, is that?” Bri asked, following my gaze.

It led to a tall, dark-skinned man with short black hair, dressed entirely in black leather. The leather, though, looked more like armor made from interlocking pieces than anything you could buy in a store back on my version of Earth. He had a pack on and at least four containers that looked like waterskins. His eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses with pink frames. His jaw was almost square, his head sat atop a thick neck, his shoulders were broad, and his arms were built enough to suggest he spent plenty of time in a gym.

His legs, however, were disproportionately skinny compared to the rest of him, giving him a slightly comical appearance.

A fairly fresh wound also crossed his face, as if some three-clawed animal had raked its talons across his forehead, eye socket, and cheek, leaving a raw injury behind.

What caught my attention next was what he wasn’t carrying: no visible weapon at all. That raised questions about what kind of powers he had been granted.

“Afternoon,” the man said in a calm voice, directing the greeting more toward the soldiers than toward us. He took off his sunglasses, revealing two healthy brown eyes, even though the cuts clearly crossed one of the sockets. “Heard the temple entrance somewhere ’round here. I’m lookin’ for what belong to me, down underneath Frogflower.” Then his gaze moved first to Khufu’Ri, then to me, and finally to Bri. “My bad for askin’, but y’all ain’t happen to be—shit, how I’m supposed to put this—y’all from Earth?”

“Can we go in already?” Nicky joined us, tearing another bite from the meat in her hand. “Who’s that?” she added, noticing the man who had just approached us.

“Yes, we are,” Khufu’Ri answered him.

I had no intention of explaining myself to a stranger we knew nothing about.

“Oh, shit, bet! Name’s Peter Heidegger. Been bustin’ my ass tryna get here for the last twenty damn hours. Y’all finish that quest yet?”

Everyone started introducing themselves, beginning with Khufu and Bri, so in the end I gave him my fake name as well. Then the lion took it upon himself to explain the situation and everything that had happened here.

His account lasted a good five minutes and was finally cut short by a messenger sent from deeper inside the temple, who informed Rodrick—and, by extension, us—that we were now allowed to enter.

Two soldiers accompanied us deeper inside, where the way was now lit by gas lamps driven into the walls. Farther into the chamber, men were still working, hammering at the brickwork to prepare hooks for hanging more lamps, but there was finally enough light to see that every wall was covered in numerous paintings—fairly primitive ones—depicting what looked like frog-people emerging from a lake, accepting gifts from their gods, and constructing their buildings.

Many of the murals had been scraped away, while some had been painted directly over older ones beneath them. There was plenty of bare stone available, which meant painting one image directly over another hadn’t been done for lack of space. Someone had wanted the older pictures hidden.

I took a closer look, trying to figure out what might have been underneath, but in the places where I could make anything out, it seemed to be nothing more than some kind of grid, or perhaps vertical gray lines painted side by side.

The hall itself was spacious, and rows of benches or tables must once have filled it. At the front, where Plasario and Eli were waiting for us—and where, I assumed, I had come down from above, since two corridors there led toward the towers—was something resembling a pool with steps descending into it.

We headed straight there, and the entire way I couldn’t get over the fact that this Peter guy had basically shown up after all the work was done. We knew nothing about him, and the bastard had simply joined us so he could potentially reap the benefits of our fighting and sacrifice.

Ten soldiers stood guard beside Plasario and the Asian man, equipped in full battle gear—from spears, swords, and shields to bows slung over their shoulders and quivers at their backs. They surrounded the circular descent, which from a distance had reminded me of a pool, but up close looked much more like a well.

“The defenses are ready,” Plasario said, pointing toward an enormous round wooden hatch suspended on ropes above the opening. A system of gears, levers, and pulleys suggested that with only a few movements, the hatch could be lowered and the passage sealed.

“Not bad, right?” Eli puffed out his chest, proud, I assumed, of something he had helped build, judging by the amount of rope used in the construction.

“Right,” I replied with a nod. At the same time, I wondered why he had gone with Plasario toward the camp and back again, and whether that had been his decision or the swordmaster’s.

The walls of the shaft probably really had once been filled with water, because everything had been worn remarkably smooth. Now, however, stone steps led downward into a tunnel carved directly through the rock.

“I promised we would do everything we could to help you complete your important task,” the swordmaster finished, glancing toward the newcomer. “The way ahead is open to you. If at any point you need to return to us, shout my name on your way back up, and no harm will come to you when you emerge.” He gripped the hilt of the sword hanging at his side and stepped closer to us. “We intend to expand the camp into a proper trading town, so barring some tragedy, we should remain here and be able to offer assistance.” Then he stopped in front of Peter, close enough that the man had to take a step back. “You were not with us. I have no obligations toward you, and I will not allow you to go below. You are, however, welcome in our camp.”

“Man, for real? I can’t go down there?” He glanced over at Eli. “Then what about him? He ain’t one of your soldiers neither.”

Plasario’s gaze followed his. “Master Park fought beside my brothers at Frogflower. He shed blood in their defense, helped carry the wounded from danger and helped me bring my people here. He has earned the right to pursue what waits beneath this place.”

Eli Park gave Peter a small shrug. “Apparently I have dungeon clearance.”

I moved a few steps away, expecting some sudden burst of aggression. Bri instinctively drifted after me.

“Correct. There are also several laws you need to know if you intend to enjoy our hospitality,” Plasario added turning to the dark-skinned man.

He gestured toward a spot deeper inside the temple and led Peter away from us, explaining what was expected of him and what he was forbidden from doing. Fortunately, no fight broke out between them.

“Good,” I muttered under my breath. “Shall we?”

I pointed toward the stairs.

“Nothing like catacombs beneath a temple,” Nicky remarked, swallowing another piece of meat. “Absolutely nothing about this screams horror movie, right?”

“Movie?” Khufu’Ri asked, turning his ears sideways and striking the ground with his tail.

“What is that?” Sophie asked almost at the same time.

“Oh! I know, um, I know this one! Even though I’ve never watched one,” Bri began, floating lower to light our way. The entrance turned out to be very tall and wide, but as soon as the masonry ended, the passage had been carved directly through the earth, leaving chunks of rock exposed in the walls, floor, and ceiling. “It’s like, um, moving pictures. Animations… displayed on a flat screen.”

“For what purpose?” Eli asked.

“Entertainment,” I replied. “Like radio, except there’s an image along with the sound. Do you have radio where you come from?”

“We do,” Eli nodded.

“Of course. We have radio,” Sophie said as I took my first step deeper into the cavern, which reminded me of the one Bri and I had used to escape the sandstorm.

“I do not know whether we have such a thing, but I understand the concept you are describing,” Khufu added, ducking beneath the low ceiling.

“You’re not going to believe what’s here! It’s, um, amazing!” Bri shouted from beyond the bend she had disappeared around.

[Secondary Task’s second objective fulfilled: Find what’s mine under Frogflower. Secondary Task’s third objective: Find the Toad that dwells.]