Dungeon Walkers 2 Read online

  “We got them,” Trish said, coming back with Cyra.

  Cyra smiled happily, as he hadn’t shown the drawing yet.

  Bag in place, Stern held the parchment out to the receptionist. “Here.”

  Taking the rolled paper, the receptionist unfurled it on his desk, allowing Cyra and Trish to see it. A polydactyl cat paw in multiple colors was depicted with the crew name under it. Both women giggled as they looked at it.

  “It’s Pawly’s paw!” Cyra smiled broadly.

  “She’s part of the crew,” Stern said a little defensively.

  “An important part,” Trish agreed, touching his shoulder. “We like it.”

  “Yes, we do,” Cyra nodded emphatically.

  “I will update your crew,” the receptionist said. He placed the paper onto the tablet and then pressed some buttons on the side of it.

  The page glowed for a few seconds, then burst into glowing lights that got sucked into the tablet. Once the lights were gone, the tablet depicted the image.

  “Your crew is registered. The icon is unique to your crew, so only you can openly display it. Most don’t ask to have their badges updated with their crew icon, but if you want to, any hall can manage it for you,” the receptionist smiled.

  “Please,” Cyra said, fumbling with her badge.

  “Mine, too,” Trish said as she began to pull her badge off.

  Stern sighed, but feeling only happiness from them, he smiled. “Okay. Might as well make it part of being in the crew as a full member.”

  “Did you want to add that to your crew rules?” the receptionist asked as he accepted Cyra’s and Trish’s badges.

  “Yes,” Cyra nodded. “Can we have Stern be the one who gets all the dungeon points and payment, too?”

  “We can’t do that with dungeon points,” the receptionist said. “That’s up to the shopkeepers. We can add that quest payments go to your crew leader.”

  “I agree with her,” Trish said. “I know Stern won’t try to screw us… not that way, at least.” Her smirk made her other meaning clear.

  “That’ll make it harder to bring others in,” Stern cautioned.

  “We’ll see,” Trish replied. “A lot of crews do it that way. They expect the leader to pay for accommodations in return.”

  “It means splitting the coin differently to set up a crew fund,” Stern said. “I can do it, but are you both sure?”

  They both agreed, and Stern nodded to the receptionist. “Please?”

  The man handed their badges back as he fiddled with the tablet, updating the crew rules. Stern looked at his badge, smiling as he rubbed his thumb across the icon of Pawly’s paw.

  “See? You do like it,” Trish grinned, bumping her hip against his.

  “I do. Makes it feel more like she’s a real part of the crew and not a disposable summons,” Stern agreed.

  “She’s never that,” Cyra said with feeling. “Pawly is special, not a tool.”

  “Agreed,” Stern said, meeting her eyes. “But watch what others think of her when they join. Don’t get angry at them right away. Summons are used as tools for everyone else. She’ll be an oddity… another oddity,” he finished lamely, thinking about himself.

  “All done,” the receptionist smiled. “Anything else?”

  “We’re good,” Stern said. “Thanks. We need to get on the road.”

  “Safe trip, Walkers.”

  “Thank you,” Cyra and Trish said as they turned with Stern for the door.

  Cyra’s ears twitched as they left the hall. She’d clearly heard all the comments being made by the other groups. Part of her was furious at them for thinking and saying what they had, but she did her best to ignore them. She knew she’d have to tell Trish and Stern what she’d heard if she didn’t, and neither of them deserved that.

  Trish caught Cyra’s arm, giving her a knowing look, but then a bright smile. “This is it— the open road before us, some collecting and killing and days camping in the wilderness, and maybe a chance to grow a little closer while we wander through the woods.”

  “I like that,” Cyra smiled back, glad that Trish hadn’t asked her to tell her.

  “Away from people,” Stern said with feeling. “We’ve stocked up on everything else already, so we’re ready.”

  They started walking for the north gate. Crossing the city took some time, as it was a large city. Stern felt the eyes and emotions of those who looked his way, and he started to hunch to limit his height, and maybe get the eyes off him.

  Trish traded a smile with Cyra, then let go of her arm and moved up to take Stern’s. “Bet you never thought your dungeon crew would be like this, huh?”

  “No bet,” Stern said. “Though, like I told you, this isn’t out of line for my family.”

  “Yeah,” Trish acknowledged. She smiled again, when Stern stopped hunching, as he walked with her. “If I recall right, your mother— your birth mother— is infernal?”

  “Yeah, I’m half-infernal,” Stern nodded, “not that you can tell that.”

  “You didn’t get the wings,” Cyra said. “Did you ever wish you could have them?”

  “Not really,” Stern said. “I did want to fly away a few times, but I didn’t dwell on it. Besides, the lack of wings might be what gave me Pawly.”

  “There is that,” Trish nodded. “You have an infernal’s vision and fire resistance. The empathic perk and the summons must be from your father.”

  “Also because of what I am,” Stern added a touch bitterly.

  “I didn’t want to ask and hurt you,” Cyra said, “but what does being irregular really mean?”

  Stern grimaced, then exhaled softly. “No one really knows.”

  “Irregulars were killed at birth for so long. It was only in the last thirty years that they really got the chance to live. The Goddess commanded the senseless killing of the babies to stop,” Trish said.

  “Guess I’ll have to thank her eventually,” Stern muttered.

  “There’s one thing that’s rumored to be true of irregulars,” Trish went on. “Like the name suggests, they get unusual perks. Both the empathy and summons are that.” She hesitated, then added, “Steve had one where he could ignore any damage for a few seconds.”

  “That’s a known perk,” Stern said. “Diamond Skin.”

  “Which is down the line from Thick Skin, Iron Skin, and a couple more,” Trish nodded, “but he had it from birth.”

  Stern’s lips pursed. “Oh, that makes sense, then. And yeah, I’ve heard the same rumors. But there haven’t been enough irregulars who’ve been Walkers long enough for people to get a firm grasp of it.”

  “We’ll get a good idea of it,” Cyra said. “We’re going all the way to the Goddess, right?”

  Stern blinked, then gave her a smile. “I want to.”

  “And we’ll be beside you,” Trish said.

  “Thanks,” Stern said softly. He took in their feelings and wondered if maybe his long-hated perk might not be something he should be grateful for now.

  Chapter Three

  It was past noon by the time Stern found the first dark willow shoot. The small, black growth was barely a hand’s length above the ground. “Hold up!” Stern called out. “Found one.”

  Reaching to the side of his bag, he pulled the spade free, then knelt down and carefully dug around the shoot. While he worked, Cyra came over to see what the plant looked like, and Trish kept a passive watch on the area.

  “That’s it?” Cyra asked.

  “They might grow up to a foot, but most are only a few inches tall,” Stern said.

  “Oh, I had no idea.”

  “It’s a common component in a lot of alchemy concoctions,” Stern explained. “I’m sure the quest was reposted an hour after we took it.”

  “Then why ask for a set amount?” Cyra asked.

  “To make sure they get enough to be useful,” Trish answered. “If we bring more than twenty, I’m sure the quest giver will be more than happy to take them from us.
”

  “I see...” Cyra said slowly. “I still have a lot to learn.”

  “I’d say over half the Walkers at our level have no idea how useful black willow shoots are,” Stern said. “I do because I’ve talked with alchemists. Well, my parents did, but I was there, so I learned, too.”

  “And I heard it from other crafters,” Trish grinned. “The raw goods go to specific types of crafters. I used leather and metal, but the tanners and smelters took the raw goods, not me.”

  Done digging, Stern wrapped his hands around the plant, then yanked hard. There was a crunching pop sound, and the shoot came free of the ground. Broken just above the root ball, Stern nodded and set it aside.

  “Why didn’t the roots come with it?” Cyra asked.

  “Because those roots are sunk into this tree,” Stern said, pushing the loose dirt back over the root ball. “This shoot will regrow in a few weeks. They’re nearly impossible to kill.”

  “Sunk into the tree?”

  “They’re a type of parasite,” Trish said. “They pull the nutrients they need out of the tree they’re next to. Normally, it’s willows, but like this one, they’ll use other trees.”

  “But…” Cyra started, then trailed off.

  “If allowed to continue growing to their full length, they’ll kill the tree,” Stern said. “They’ll drain it dry and then, after a couple of years, they start to become true dark willows.”

  “Which is a plant monster,” Cyra said, thinking about one of the monsters she’d learned about from Stern.

  “Yup. Hard to kill monster, too,” Trish agreed, “unless you get them before they start to grow leaves.”

  “When the leaves grow, they become mobile,” Stern said. “In the north, there are some dark willows that reach thirty feet tall or more.”

  “So when they have leaves, they can latch onto people and drain them?” Cyra said questioningly.

  “Yup,” Trish nodded.

  “Shouldn’t we dig the root ball out and kill it, then?” Cyra asked.

  “No,” Stern said. “If people did that, we’d run out of the shoots. The shoots are used in the healing salves, among other items. As Walkers, we need those.”

  “Oh…” Cyra murmured, clearly thinking.

  “Circle of life,” Trish said.

  “But like this, they’re harmless?” Cyra asked.

  “Yes. If it has even a single leaf growing, though, it can try stabbing you,” Stern said, “which is why you always check the shoot before digging. The closer to the root ball, the more likely it can hurt you.”

  “I see. Can I dig up the next one?”

  “Sure,” Stern said. “Could you reattach the spade, please?” He stood up, holding the shovel out to her as he slipped the shoot into a bag on his hip.

  “Of course.”

  Cyra was reaching for the spade when a chitter came from above them. Stern shoved Cyra back, using the force to fling himself backward, too. An angry scurrifly landed where they’d been standing a moment before. The monstrous flying squirrel was large— a couple of feet long and wide with its wings extended. Its bony tail just missed Stern as it hit the ground.

  There was a yowl from a dozen yards away as Pawly rushed back toward them. She didn’t get the chance to reach them, as Trish had spun at the first chitter. When the beast landed, Trish smashed down with her hammer. The scurrifly’s head cracked open and the rodent spasmed a moment before going still.

  “And that’s why one of us should always be on guard,” Trish said. “Are you two okay?”

  “Yes,” Cyra said, leveraging herself back to her feet. “I had no idea they were so big.”

  “They’re more long than wide, normally,” Stern said. “We’re fine, Pawly.”

  Pawly came bounding back to them, then sniffed. She approached the dead mob and sniffed it before sneezing. After pawing it once, she nodded.

  “Why did it attack?” Cyra asked.

  “We were close to its tree,” Stern said. “That chitter came from above us.” He pointed into the branches above them. “We must have woken it up.”

  “That would be my guess, too,” Trish agreed.

  “Are we going to skin it?” Cyra asked.

  “Not worth it,” Stern sighed. “Only their tails are worth a damn.” He picked up the dead beast by the tail. “Look at their fur.”

  Cyra did, denoting the mottled look of the fur, then gingerly touched its back. “That’s stiff.”

  “Now touch its tail,” Stern said.

  Cyra did and frowned. “That’s soft... What’s that on the end of it?”

  Stern used his thumb to prop the tail end up, showing off the bony knob there. “A weapon and counter weight. When they glide, they use their tail weight to keep them level. And yeah, the fur is very soft, which is why people want their tails.”

  “Oh...”

  Stern pulled a dagger to collect the tail. Pushing the carcass against the tree, he cut the tail off right at the base of the monster. He had to saw a little, as the tendon holding it in place was a tough one.

  “I hate wasting them, but something here will find it and eat it,” Trish sighed.

  “Pawly, do you want it?” Stern asked.

  “Should she?” Cyra interjected.

  Pawly chuffed, bumping Cyra with her head before moving over to the body on the ground. With a single bite, Pawly chomped the carcass in half. Cyra turned away, not watching the sight, and then started to walk to get away from the sounds of it. Trish went with her, giving Stern a look. Stern sighed, staying with Pawly as she finished off her snack.

  When Stern caught back up to them, he fell into step with Cyra. “You okay?”

  “Yes. I just wasn’t prepared for her to eat it like that,” Cyra said. “I’m fine, now.”

  “Are you sure?” Stern asked gently.

  “I think so. I’ll get used to it,” Cyra said. “I think it was just the fact that it was intact. The crunch of the bones…” She trailed off with a shiver.

  “Hmm, okay. We’ll let her have them when we’re leaving the area,” Stern said.

  “Are they really safe for her?” Cyra asked him.

  “She’s never gotten sick from food,” Stern said. “Even then, if I send her home and summon her back, I’m sure that it would be fine.”

  “Okay,” Cyra said. “Half of it was the brutal sight and sound, and the other was worrying that Pawly would get sick or choke on a bone.”

  “We wouldn’t let that happen to her,” Trish said. “If she shows any distress, Stern will send her home.”

  Cyra nodded, exhaling. “I know. It was just a worry.”

  “Better now?” Stern asked.

  “Yes. Sorry.”

  “I’m not going to let you apologize for worrying about my best friend,” Stern said. “I’m glad you and Trish care for her.”

  “Of course we do,” Trish smiled.

  They lapsed into silence as they walked through the woods. Pawly chuffed ahead of them, having heard everything, a smile on her muzzle.

  ~*~*~

  They found two more of the dark willow shoots and killed three more scurriflies as they went. Cyra had tried to pull one of the shoots, but found that she couldn’t manage it.

  Cyra did hit one of the scurriflies when it came gliding out of a tree, screaming at them. It had been problematic, as she’d pinned it to the tree a good twenty feet up. Stern was able to climb up enough to snap the bolt, bringing both him and the carcass falling down to the ground. He was fine, with only his pride getting hurt.

  By the third snack for Pawly, Cyra didn’t turn green. She even stood not too far away, waiting for Pawly to finish her meal. Trish was impressed with how quickly Cyra adapted. That did prompt a question from Cyra, though, about how much food Pawly could eat.

  “She never seems to get full,” Stern said. “She just normally eats what we give her happily. But yeah, three of those should have filled her up.”

  Pawly meowed at them, giving them sad eyes
.

  “Or not,” Trish laughed.

  Pawly chuffed and bumped Trish’s hip with her large head.