Decisions

Azalon stared into the flames of the small fire. After stripping off his wet clothes he laid them out around the fire, wanting to dry them before packing them away. He had another set he had changed into, but it would be a bad idea for him to put the old ones away wet. He needed the break as well. He felt the deep bruise on his ass with every step he took, and the way out of the cavern would take a bit more climbing than the way in.

The fairy, he had decided, was a problem.

While she had been friendly, even helpful at times, he had to remember that dealing with the fae was always a dangerous proposition. Traveling with her had caused him to lower his guard somewhat, but he had to remember that her mind didn’t work the same way his or most people he knew did. Willowing couldn’t feel empathy. She wouldn’t care if he was hurt or killed, especially if it happened in a way that was amusing to her.

But then what choice did he really have? While she had been content to watch him get assaulted by some kind of rape monster, he wouldn’t have fared any better if she wasn’t there. It wasn’t like she had lured him into a trap. Traveling through these tunnels had been his idea. The fact that she was able to hide him from the other adventurers more than made up for her casual disregard, occasional rudeness, and complete lack of boundaries.

He had to reconsider his goals though. In this situation he had to do what was best for himself. So why go to the Undergrove with her at all? The whole proposition was so dangerous he couldn’t even comprehend all the risks, but did he have any other option? It wasn’t like he could go to the kobolds for help instead. What he really needed was to get off of this island, but showing his face in the island’s only port was going to get him killed. He needed a disguise, a new identity. The kind of thing, he thought with a sigh, that the fae could give him if he did them a favor first.

“Hey, cheer up bud. Could have been worse right? Least you’re not walking around with a gut full of tentacle monster eggs.”

Azalon nodded. He wasn’t in the mood for a conversation with her, but after thinking long and hard again about his situation, he decided that he needed her. At least for the time being. He was angry, but he needed to keep things civil between them.

“It’s fine. I’m just tired.”

“You know, whenever I’m feeling down I like to-”

He held his hand up, interrupting her before she could finish, “Yes, yes. I know. But jacking off is seriously the furthest thing from my mind right now.”

“Hmpf, I was just going to suggest reading a book.”

“What, really?”

“Nah! I’m shitting you. Go on, rub one out for me.”

The sound of laughter from the other side of the cave brought them both up short as a party of adventurers began filing into the small chamber they had set up camp in. Azalon’s heart pounded in his chest as he rose to his feet. The caverns had been quiet enough that he had thought they’d be able to hear anyone long before they saw them, giving them plenty of time to hide. It seems like they were the only ones being loud though.

They were a small group of just three elves. One of them was clearly the leader. He carried himself with the kind of surety that came from experience, and his equipment looked well maintained, but also well used and comfortable on him. The other two in comparison looked young and inexperienced. Too young for this kind of work in Azalon’s estimation, but it was hard to tell with elves. The two boys could have been twice his age for all he knew. Being out here though, he had to assume they were out on guild business.

The one in charge spoke first as he neared Azalon’s fire, “Ahh, my apologies. We didn’t mean to startle you. We’re just passing through, on our way to the glade as you no doubt are. My name is Arathok, and these two are Wendell and Edwyn.”

Azalon froze for a second. He had just been thinking of needing a new identity for himself, but hadn’t actually put any thought into what one might be. He couldn’t tell them he was an adventurer. If they were part of the guild, it would be odd if they didn’t recognize him. He didn’t have a guild badge either, but what other possible reason would someone have for being out here?

Thinking fast, he picked the name of someone else he knew and hoped that what he said made sense, “Sorry, just a bit jumpy. Never know what’s going to come after you in a place like this. I’m Gunter, a tradesman. Leatherworker. Just in need of some fresh pelts so I thought I’d head out here for a little hunting.”

He was rambling and had to force himself to stop talking. The older elf glanced up at Willowing and Azalon tensed up, realizing he had forgotten to include her. He just knew that whatever came out of her mouth was only going to make the situation worse.

“Eh? Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just his flying cock sleeve. I mean you can stick around if you want to see him wearing me like a condom. Hell, you can join in if you want to. Ever get fucked by a man wearing a pixie around his dick? You haven’t really lived until you’ve had your prostate kicked around by a fairy butt plug wrapped around this guy’s thick knot. No shit, it’s bigger than your fist.”

The two recruits looked shocked by the fairy’s brazen lewdness, blushing bright red at the perverse pixie, and by the time she was halfway through her introduction they were already backing away. While Arathok didn’t seem as taken aback as the others, he certainly didn’t seem to want to stick around for a conversation either. He wore an amused smile as he shook his head, “Yes, well. Thank you for your kind offer, but we really must be going. Good luck with your… endeavors.”

Azalon gave them a sheepish wave as he watched them continue on in the direction of the grove. Finally once the light of their lanterns had disappeared down the passageway he let out a long sigh, “That was-”

“Hilarious. I know, right?”

“Well… effective certainly. A long drawn out discussion with them was the last thing we needed, so good thinking there.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s exactly what I was trying to do. Yep.”

The fox sighed again as he sat back down by the fire, “I’m worried about what they could tell the others though when they get back to the guild. It’s a lead for anyone hunting me, but we should have a couple days at least.”

Willowing looked unconcerned as she flew down to land on his shoulder. “Don’t worry so much. It’s not like you’re on wanted posters everywhere. The Adventurer’s Guild, I mean, do they even know you’re out here? Do you think they really care that much about you?”

Azalon thought about it for a moment and shrugged. He didn’t really even know why he or his house had been targeted in the first place, “Perhaps. I mean, it doesn’t hurt to be cautious. I can’t let anyone we meet out here know who I really am, but then you’re right. It is rather hard to believe that the guild would be sending people out hunting me. Why waste the resources? Even if I did escape their assassin, they’d assume that eventually the dungeon itself would kill me. All they really need to do is wait for me to come back to town, or wait for me to die out here.”

“See! Nothing to worry about then.”

Azalon shrugged, thinking that there was in fact plenty to worry about, “We do need a better cover story though.”

“Oh I know. I’m a pixie trying to make her way back to her home and you’re my sex slave.”

He shook his head, “No. Honestly, no one would believe that.”

“And you think they’re going to believe you’re Gunter the Leatherworker?”

He thought about it for a moment before shaking his head, “No… but maybe Gunter, a novice mage and his pixie familiar.”

“A familiar!?”

“Why not? Pixies often serve as familiars do they not?”

“Yeah, it’s the ‘serve’ part I’m having trouble with.”

“You seemed willing enough to be my ‘flying cock sleeve’ was it? Just think of it as a role you’d be playing. It would be like playing a trick on whoever we meet right? Let them assume I’m the one in charge. That would let you go unnoticed, free to use your illusions.”

Willowing frowned, crossing her arms over her bare chest. Finally she said, “Hmm, that does sound pretty fun. Okay, we can do that. But only when we’re talking with someone else. I’m still in charge.”

Azalon shook his head, “No. This is a partnership. I’m agreeing to escort you to the Undergrove, but we need to work together to make that happen.”

She gave him a shrug as she flew into the air in front of him, “Well, whatever. As long as you do what I say.”

✦ ✦ ✦

They rested for a little under an hour as Azalon’s clothes dried around the fire. Though they couldn’t see the sun it felt like early afternoon to the fox. Assuming that they were about halfway through the tunnel, they should make it to the Howling Glade before night fell.

Having been attacked once already, he watched carefully for any sign of danger as they walked through the dark twisting passages. The path wound its way steadily upward, past a deep crevasse that opened to even deeper parts of the caverns. Looking over the edge Azalon could see nothing but impenetrable blackness. He half expected another throbbing tentacle to rise up out of the dark, but they passed without incident.

They walked for what felt like another half an hour; the high open caverns gradually becoming narrower and lower. As they turned a corner the passage abruptly ended with a closed door set in a stone brick wall that spanned the width of the narrow tunnel. Frowning, the fox stepped up to the door and tried the handle. The door creaked loudly as he pulled it open, but at least it wasn’t locked. Beyond was a small stone chamber that at first glance looked to be some sort of base camp.

He stepped in cautiously, surprised to find a furnished room of any sort this far away from town. A long wooden table took up most of the space on one side of the room. It wouldn’t have looked out of place in a tavern, crudely made, but the kind of table that had been built to weather decades of hard use. The deep scars and gouges carved into its top made it look as though it already had.

Most of the walls had been bricked in except for one wall that was still the natural stone of the cave. A large fireplace dominated the brick wall closest to the table. Its chimney rose up through the crude wooden rafters, presumably to vent into the cavern above. There were no beds, but the other side of the room was empty with a smooth flat floor that wouldn’t be terribly uncomfortable to sleep on, if you had a proper bedroll at least.

The pixie looked curiously around the room, dipping briefly into the large iron pot hanging in the center of the fireplace. “Hmm, this doesn’t look too bad. Might be a good place to stay the night right?”

Azalon nodded, feeling a little foolish for stopping earlier when this place was only a short walk away. “Hmm, it would be, but I’m sure there are others with the same idea.”

He ran his hand along the tabletop, feeling the indentions in its surface, “This is strange though…”

Something was bothering him. This room being built inside of the cavern didn’t make any sense to him. He had first assumed that it was the guild’s doing, they would want rest areas spaced out in the areas they delved in. Places that were easily defensible where they could sleep the night. If that was all they were after though, then building what amounted to a small cabin, and dragging a piece of heavy furniture all the way down here, seemed like overkill.

What really made him suspicious though was that everything looked too old. The floor was worn smooth, the fireplace was black with soot, and that table looked like it had seen decades of use. But then this island had only been discovered a few years ago, too soon to have seen that kind of use. And when would the guild have had the time to build all this? At the same time it was all too new. Too new to have been built by the empire in any case.

That left only one conclusion, “This is all dungeon made.”

“Eh?”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense. The dungeons, they copy things that they’ve seen before, turning whatever land they’ve taken over into mazes of tunnels and buildings. They don’t need to make any logical sense. A dungeon might be a city with more cathedrals than houses, with a sewer system bigger than the city above it.”

“Well, yeah. But you knew you were in a dungeon right?”

He nodded and smiled, “Sorry. I guess that’s going to be a bad habit. I see a place like this and I want to make sense of it. Who made it? When? How? But from here on out I guess, ‘The dungeon did it,’ is going to be the answer. It wanted there to be a rest area here, so it made one.”

“That’s stupid though isn’t it? The dungeon wants to kill people, so why make safe places at all?”

Azalon shook his head, “The dungeons feed on mana, but the more powerful a person becomes the more concentrated and refined their mana is. Yes, the dungeons feed on people, luring them inside with the promise of treasure, but if they allow adventurers to grow stronger inside of them, the better their meal will be in the end. They’re not really murderers. They’re more like farmers, raising animals, fattening them for the slaughter.”

Turning to the pixie he gave her an inquisitive look, “But, you’re from the dungeon too. Your people live inside of it, so you must see that as well right?”

She gave him a shrug, “It leaves the Undergrove alone for the most part.”

He nodded. From what he knew, fairy magic was also rather territorial. The land itself was tied to their power. It became part of the fae. While the pixie was a powerful illusionist, if she had been inside of her territory, her illusions would have been closer to reality. That kind of power could keep the influence of the dungeon at bay. All the more reason for him to reach it as soon as possible.

Azalon walked over to the opposite door on the far side of the room. Like the door leading back down into the cavern, it was built from heavy looking timber and banded in iron. It had brackets for a heavy beam to be laid across the door so that it could be barred from the inside. He had to give it a strong push before it slowly began to creak open. Immediately his nostrils were filled with the scent of pine as fresh air blew into the small room.

He stepped out into the Howling Glade, his boots making a crunching sound as they sank into a mat of pine needles. Turning around he saw that the safe house had been built inside of the mouth of a cave, its roof and chimney scraping against the top of the cavern opening.

As they stepped out into the glade he saw that they were rather high up on the side of a steep mountain, and from here they could see the entire breadth of it. The glade itself was a deep bowl shaped depression, filled with pine trees except for a bald patch in the center. The tree covered mountains surrounding it were high enough that the tunnels they came through looked to be the only way in or out of the glade.

While he had thought that the place might have been overrun with wolves, the source of the name became readily apparent. The sound of the wind made a near constant drone as it passed over the high mountain peaks surrounding the glade. The wind itself was the howling.

A light snow had recently fallen, and Azalon noted the three sets of footprints that led from where he was standing down into the thick pine forest. He drew his spyglass from his coat and trained it over the woods, stopping once he reached the barren patch at the glade’s lowest point. From this distance it was a little hard to make out, but he thought he could see gravestones dotting the ground there.

After tucking the spyglass away he pointed it out to Willowing, “A graveyard. We’ll find the entrance to the catacombs somewhere there.”