Dragonheart Core - Chapter 44: Negotiations

Chapter 44: Negotiations

More silvertooths spawned at my rippling wave of mana, spinning about with their red fins flashing and eyes already hungry for prey. Of course, it was that current nasty habit of theirs that was causing me to have to make more; with the Underlake’s newest addition of roughwater sharks, who were more than happy to survive their blood-frenzy, their foolish posturing and territorial disputes had suddenly stopped going their way quite as much.

Idiots, the lot of them. Hopefully they’d be able to find some sort of equilibrium, because they were far too expensive to constantly maintain.

Fortunately, I was so irritated with their general existence that I was quick to turn my attention away from them, which meant that I felt when one of the cave spiders that had spun their web over the cove-facing entrance noticed something approaching.

Two approaching somethings.

All my various points of awareness swiveled towards the first floor by the time the two invaders stepped through into my Fungal Gardens.

The first was a woman, tall and lean, covered in pockmarked scars not from blades or fire, but seemingly fists and bruises that had merely been layered so many times they upgraded to scar. Her eyes were bright and her mana strong; Silver, I guessed. Strong enough to make it to the advanced adventurer stage, well above most commoners, though not yet at the upper echelons of Gold.

The boy at her side, however, wasn’t either—he wasn’t even Bronze, his mana still weak and untrained, arms skinny and eyes hooded. A child, really, with ratty brown hair and umber skin, wearing clothes that hardly deserved to be called so. He was…

Familiar, actually. Certainly not from my time as a sea-drake, given I hardly interacted with any humans when I had far better things to be doing, but some of my stolen memories reignited. Of every single human invader, they remembered a young boy, eyes welling with tears, telling them of treasures hidden within the mountain.

Oho. My mysterious benefactor.

He looked decidedly less confident now, the woman shoving him forward as she slid lazy eyes over her surroundings. Neither carried weapons but she had cloth wrapped over her knuckles and feet, and she moved with the sort of grace I only saw in predators.

“Huh,” she exhaled, raising her hand to brush through a collection of webs. The spiders scattered from her touch. “Not exactly the hive of death and destruction you spun to all those others, huh?”

The boy didn’t respond. Smart, I thought.

She hummed, padding deeper into the floor. I’d kept the Fungal Gardens to look rather underwhelming in terms of threats, only a few constrictors and toads meandering around, and she appeared to have bought it entirely. Every creature was given no more than an appraising glance before she’d moved on.

One creature did get a second glance, though. A stone-backed toad who’d gotten too big for his britches made a sort of war-croak and charged at her, safely tucked beneath his clearly impenetrable armour.

She looked over, raised a foot, and squashed him so fast even the smear across the floor was a memory.

Ah.

I’d started to figure out the power of the invaders—though there were subtle differences between human and, say, merrow—so I was able to take a guess. There were two main fields of magic-users, either casters or enhancers; casters expelled their magic into the wider world, often being priests, getting their power by being a god’s mana-gate to the world, mages by studying spells and rituals, or any numerous others. Enhancers used that same magic internally, strengthening themselves or giving themselves abilities and augmentations, and had their own suitably numerous styles they ran with; berserkers for sheer strength, warrior for enhancements and agility, and so on. Far too many piddly little details.

But it was important to know which group they were in. I knew the Priestess—the Thirteenth Priestess of Arroyo, to be specific—had been a caster, changing the water’s temperatures and casting beams of lights, and Lady Luthia from so long ago had been an enhancer, reversing gravity over herself to run on the ceiling.

Judging from that little kick, I’d say this one ran more in the enhancer circle.

She grimaced, shaking her foot; something that had once been a living thing with dreams and emotions sloughed off to fall with a splat against the stone. “How fuckin’ weak were those cowards you sent in here? This isn’t anything like ol’ Thiago’s dungeon. A real pipsqueak of a challenger, eh?”

Perhaps she felt the thrash of my mana, because she laughed next, striding forward. “Well! At least there’s something present here. C’mon, brat.”

The boy trotted behind her, not out of obedience but instead the very real knowledge that if anything attacked them, it wouldn’t be him winning. She was his only hope.

And I could only imagine what was outside the cavern to make him not just run away.

Though it didn’t make sense. Three weeks since the last attack and this was what they’d sent to defeat me? Sure, I’d never defeated a Silver before, but this was one enhancer and a boy who’d probably never touched mana before. This wasn’t a threat.

Gods, I needed a spy.

They trotted through my first floor, avoiding the various dips and curves in the terrain, at least taking the time to admire my more elegant sculptures of limestone or gentle slopes of whitecap mushrooms. The woman seemed to be using some sort of tracking artifact, pointing the roughly-carved stone at walls and letting it glow, though she seemed rather disinterested in the results. Fascinating. What was going on?

But it was only when they reached the very edge of the newly-enlarged rock pond that something finally got her attention.

One of the rats had carved out a den on the side of a pillar, plenty out of sight for other rats but on the perfect eyeline for a human—and the jewels held within its caverns were bright and glittered. Her eyes gleamed.

Another second and she materialized by the pillar’s sides, thrusting her hand into the den—the rats awoke and raged to screaming awareness, biting and gnawing and writhing against her arm. But whatever enhancer technique she had didn’t end with only speed; she shrugged off the hits, swatting away the most annoying of the rats with enough force to cave in their little skulls.

But the boy didn’t follow her, hands wrapped around his chest despite the muggy temperature. He twisted away, angling his back towards the pillar while he faced one of my walls, eyes darting, voice hurried and panicked. “Ah,” he tried, speaking at the limestone like I was hidden behind it. “Hello, ah, o’ great dungeon?”

I could appreciate the attempt, but the deliverance was terrible.

“I’ve been the one delivering– ah, guiding people to you. Weeks ago. When they would come in. That’s how you feed, right? So it’s a good thing? That was filling you up?”

Nice to have it confirmed, at least, but that didn’t exactly explain what angle he was shooting for. Would flattery keep me from killing him?

Ha. All it’d do was make me come up with a suitably dramatic way of killing him.

He shuffled nervously, pressing one hand to the wall. “And I’m good at it. I can get you more people, lots of them, all of Calarata if I have to. Just don’t kill me.”

A tempting offer, really. One of the cave bears, coincidentally tucked right around the bend from him, opened one lazy eye as I prompted her, though not waking yet. The Silver was the bigger threat.

“And I, ah, brought you a gift.”

And from his ragged, lumpy coat he tugged something loose and displayed it to me with all manner of graceless hesitance.

But it was intriguing.

A corpse sat in his hands, stiff and cold by at least a few days, covered in dusty white-grey feathers. A bold yellow beak poked from one end, the tip a deep scarlet, and talons hung limply from the other. A bird.

Something I didn’t yet have.

My memories of the boy were limited—I was vaguely aware his name was Nicau—but while he hadn’t seemed altogether clever, he had come up with a rather perfect little scheme. I didn’t know how he had been caught but it seemed he ran under the attention of most people in Calarata, gangly and underfed, and had a habit of ending up in places he wasn’t supposed to be.

And, well. I had been looking for a spy.

He seemed to realize the silence had been stretching and pushed the bird a little closer to the wall, glancing once over his shoulder to where the woman was still murdering all my precious rats. “It’s more dangerous than regular pigeons,” he tried desperately. “Bigger. And fierce.”

There were healing scratches all over his arms, though not exactly deserving of the word fierce. But who was I to reject a gift offered so generously?

I reached out and dissolved the corpse, slowing down the process a hair in only to impress him with the glowing motes of light. A pigeon, as said, though not the normal ones my other stolen memories remembered flocking about the city. This one was near double the size with talons built for grasping and a beak far too sharp. A bit like someone had grafted predatory aspects onto a pigeon, but that couldn’t exactly erase it was still a pigeon.

Greater Pigeon (Rare)

Grown hungry from an urban life, it has learned to stop scrounging for scraps and instead feed off its unevolved brethren, hunting in great flocks.

Another of those mystical wild evolutions, though in the same vein as the crab, nothing too special beyond a size and skill increase. And predatory habits, I guessed. Looked like they needed an outside influence in order to actually grow unique and deadly.

Something I would rather humbly offer myself as.

Nicau waited, eyes far too hopeful, as the pigeon finished dissolving. Nothing happened after, of course. While I could—occasionally—with much bribery—be convinced to assist those needing of help, that certainly didn’t mean I was there to come and jump at their call. He’d discover that soon enough.

He looked forlornly at his empty hands. I’d almost feel pity if I, well, didn’t.

“Ho, brat,” the woman called, Nicau snapping back to attention. “You first.”

He nodded miserably and plunged into the rock pond, obeying without hesitation; another trait I was all too ready to take advantage of. Water sluiced to either side as he struggled his way through, but I threaded my great mana through my halls, implanting a vague mental approximation of him into my creatures’ heads. Do not harm him.

The Silver, though? Unbelievably fair game.

Nicau seemed faintly shocked when he emerged through the pond unharmed, though I had to work overtime to keep the idiotic silverheads from ramming his legs. The woman jumped across in a single bound, shook her hands clean from some imaginary dust, and continued pushing him in front of her as they traveled down to my second floor.

Alright. Showtime. I had the bears wake up, in preparation for anyone attempting to flee, and I had their guards suitably lowered. No more playing around.

They both stopped when facing my Drowned Forest, eyes wide, and I took great pleasure in both that and the alarm ringing through the connected roots of the floor, the mangroves shifting and twisting their branches in that direction. With the cloudskipper wisps, it could almost pass for moving in wind, though the light breeze present wasn’t near strong enough if they paid it more attention.

The woman whistled, rocking back on her heels. “Well I’ll be,” she murmured, padding to the closest mangrove. “You’re a beaut, huh? Never seen the likes o’ you before.”

You’re damned right you’ve never seen anything like them before.

They marched on, her still pointing her tracking rock at her surroundings with bored indifference; Nicau hung awkwardly at her side, too terrified to leave her, too terrified to disobey. My creatures stayed out of sight, gnawing at the bit but listening to me; I had to use only scraps of mana in separate rooms to keep from the invaders sensing my commands but I was getting better at it, as long as I had time to prepare.

A threefold purpose of my first floor. It truly was coming in handy.

And then they came to the fourth room, one with a massive, spanning canal and a few inconspicuous stepping stones marring the shifting water. Mangroves hung overhead, billowing moss below; another seemingly normal room. The woman seemed almost annoyed at the lack of challenge.

She did send Nicau over the river first, though.

He wavered at the edge, fists tight at his side, but managed the first delicate hop onto the stone; he nearly slipped off its moss-covered surface but held, arms thrashing. The next jump was easier, and the following even moreso—under a minute and he was safe on the other side, though panting heavily. Baby.

The woman shrugged, rolled her shoulders, and made to follow the same path when I released the hold I had on my most ambitious creatures.

Kobolds poured into the room behind her, hooting and hollering and waving their bone-spears in the air; each barely came up to her shoulders but they were numerous and uncaring of their personal fates. I saw her eyes light up.

“Finally!” She roared, and leapt into the fray.

The first kobold swept at her, chittering and hissing; she reared back, fist glowing from within like an ethereal torch, and slammed the kobold’s muzzle so hard the poor thing hit the ground before it’d even had a chance to show off.

She did wince, retracting her hand; even with the cloth wrapped around her knuckles, scales were built for brunt force damage, and human hands decidedly weren’t. “Fuck,” she hissed, pulling back. “That’s why I stick to other humans– oh no you don’t.”

The other kobold who’d tried the sneak-around approach promptly got its face introduced to the ground as well.

Nicau dropped to his knees, squeezing his eyes shut and covering his head; no kobolds attacked him, though. I had other plans.

Easily two dozen kobolds charged the woman and she answered in kind, fists and kicks flying; she switched up her seemingly normal strategy, tripping and twisting and deflecting attacks with all the grace of a siren. Group fights were simple for her and as opponents, kobolds were cheap and she knew it—which was why I had called for Seros.

From around the corner, a shadow darkened, and Rihsu strode into the room.

Her nine feet dwarfed both kobold and human, tail lashing and fangs bared; the woman paused halfway through choking out a writhing opponent and locked eyes with her, both squaring each other up.

If she’d had problems with punching scales, I couldn’t wait to see what happened when she encountered Rihsu’s armoured bulk.

I could see almost the exact moment she decided the fight was no longer worth it, throwing the kobold down and taking a furious step back. “Lluc didn’t tell me to clear this damned thing,” she spat, and turned. Not back the way they had come, where Rihsu now prowled from, but instead to Nicau, who stood hunched and cowering across the canal. She wasted no time in jumping to him, but even with her enhancements, it was too wide for her to risk it; and not that she had to. Why, she’d just watched Nicau march across those stepping stones with no worse for wear.

So she didn’t even look down as she stepped onto their backs.

Her foot landed on a lichenridge turtle’s shell and it surged upwards, jaws snapping blindly; it fit its maw around her ankle with a bonecrunching crack. She had just enough time to open her mouth, eyes wide with shock, before the turtle dove off its perch into deeper water.

Strong as she was, she was unprepared. Its weight dragged her into the depths.

Rihsu howled, a fierce, bellowing sound, and dove into the water after; electric eels and silvertooths and greater crabs swarmed at the motion, wrapping around the struggling Silver, churning the water scarlet.

And in all the confusion, in the thrashing water and deep, guttural yells, the chieftess kobold had no issue marching up behind Nicau and bopping him quite cleanly on the head with her spear. He crumpled to the ground.

Mission success.