Dragonheart Core - Chapter 62: Three's a Company

Chapter 62: Three’s a Company

Every single point of awareness that wasn’t busy flew up to the first floor, my mana thundering in their wake; my lazy cave bears raised their enormous heads, stirred by whatever had made that noise, and peered outside their individual dens long enough to lock eyes and growl. Even heavily pregnant, they were ready to beat the shit out of each other. Something I very much respected.

But what I didn’t respect was someone clambering their way in the halls outside of my floor.

The light outside my Fungal Gardens was thin and weak, only reflections from the algae-light within, and no matter how many points of awareness I threw at the problem, they couldn’t see anything more than the vague outlines of further stones. What they could do, however, was hear the conversation neatly bouncing off the surrounding rocks and echoing straight back into my floor.

“Stop that,” one hissed, a masculine voice speaking in that brutish human tongue. “‘e said it’s supposed to hear us.”

“I bloody know,” another shot back, though his voice was pitched lower. “Just… are you sure?”

“Either this or the brig. That’s answer enough for me.”

A thump, like someone clicking their clawless fingers, but muffled; my intangible ears pricked as something faded away, dispersing with the hum of ambient mana, and suddenly I could hear them once more. The rasp of leather boots on stone, the hiss of escaping breath, the splutter of a torch. The sounds had all been there, but quieted, hidden by some magic. They’d tried to sneak up on me.

But then dropped it, right at the entrance? Clearly they knew what I was, if they were using this amount of caution, but then they went against their previous intelligence and came at me with all the quiet of a sea lion. Interesting.

The noises grew louder as they approached, and with my near hundred points of awareness swarming around the cove entrance, it didn’t take long before they swam into a vague sort of view. Two men, both humans, with the sort of scrappy, hungry-starved appearance I was beginning to associate with Calarata. Basic leather garb, no particular armour or defense, and, more interestingly, no particular weapons.

Hm.

“Where’s that entrance?” The one on the left mumbled, poking his head through said entrance; but for him, all he saw was the stone wall I’d brought up directly across from the entrance, forcing him to walk to either side to actually enter my halls and very neatly disguising this entrance platform as just another part of the outside caves. So he merrily kept walking forward, despite his obvious trepidation about entering my floor proper. Glorious. “‘e said it should be here?”

“Should be,” the other agreed, flexing his crooked fingers. They stepped forward into my little alcove without fear, eyeing the entrance to my dungeon directly to their left. The limestone wall hooked in slightly, giving them something to crouch behind, which they immediately did so.

“Stay behind the wall,” one advised with all the self assuredness of someone who truly believed he was correct. “Shouldn’t be able to get us from ‘ere.”

Ah, I loved idiots.

As one, they peered around my limestone outcropping, algae-light catching their faces. My creatures hadn’t been alerted to their positions yet, still mostly unevolved little beasties who didn’t have the honed perceptions of those on my lower floors, but I could see a few waking up—two luminous constrictors, one with his bulk wrapped around a stalactite directly by the other entrance and neatly hidden from their eyes, a couple of cave spiders with their webs spun directly over top of the entrances, even the enormous lacecap shifting slightly in their direction.

Unfortunately, given as they didn’t have weapons but were still coming for me, I had to guess they were more magically inclined; and as I didn’t have a method to hide my actions yet, I presumed that if I started to command my creatures to attack them, they would not only feel that, they would also figure out that they were within my dungeon instead of slightly outside, and neither of those were things I was interested in.

So I’d leave that up to my creatures.

The two invaders exhaled, looking at my floor with the awe I so appreciated. The serpent’s skeleton in particular made them very curious, although I wondered whether that was pure curiosity or some type of greed. Rare bones would surely fetch a great price.

Until, of course, they were revealed to only be a strangely large luminous constrictor. Not my problem.

What was my problem, however, was when one of the invaders stretched out his hand, ruby-red light crawling over his fingers, and launched a goddamn fireball into my floor.

Every creature living their own lives was suddenly very aware of the invaders, springing back as three stone-backed toads huddled under a outcropping that had the unfortunate honour of being named first target instantly died, frying to a crisp as their faux rocky armour did absolutely nothing to protect them.

In some kind of pissing contest, the other invader swept his own hand forward, fingernails gleaming; instead of a specific element, a ripple of crushing force bursting from his hand and pounded at my halls. Not strong enough to bring down stone but it ripped algae and spiders free, pinning weaker rats to the ground, throwing larger specimens back.

Yeah. Fantastic. I loved mages.

My creatures flew into a frenzy, blitzing away from the attacks; luminous constrictors curled up, hiding under their diamond-patterned grey-black scales, stone-backed toads croaking as they tried to hop away fast enough, spiders drying to a crisp as their carapaces couldn’t handle the rising ambient temperature.

But some moved to combat; those two luminous constrictors slunk forward, undersides gleaming. This was the first time I hadn’t commanded them outright to stay their hand, as with every other invader where I’d wanted them to only attack on the return trip, and for those with desire to grow but the knowledge they were too weak to survive on the lower floors, they were grasping the opportunity.

Another fireball, an entire lost section of algae—smoke start choking the air, the other mage’s force not efficient at pushing it away; more and more spiders died, fire being their perfect counter, but the other creatures crept closer and closer–

“Huh,” the fireballing one said, pausing as his hands slowly started to recharge their scarlet glow. “There’s another entrance over here.”

The first one just grunted, beads of sweat building over his forehead as he fired out blast upon blast of crushing force. “Go look at ‘t then.”

The fire mage narrowed his eyes but did wander over, still so assured he was safely outside of my dungeon. Maybe he’d never considered looking up, or maybe cave spiders were even more common than I’d thought, because there were easily dozens stretched on the ceiling above him. But no, apparently this area was cleared.

Gods, I loved idiots.

He peered through, ever so careful to keep his feet past this imaginary line, and had only a second to notice before the luminous constrictor wrapped around the stalactite reared up and released the full force of his bioluminescence.

“Fuck!” The invader howled, stumbling back—his arms flew wide, swinging in surprise, and brushed against several of the webs hidden high on the wall. And my spiders, ready and hungry for food, took their broken homes in literal stride and scrambled down his exposed arm.

His screams rose several octaves in pitch. Perhaps he was arachnophobic.

“Get them off!” He bellowed, scratching at his arms, still blind and floundering. The other mage flinched, glancing over, and got the front row seat to his companion screaming, falling flat on the ground, dozens of spiders swarming over his body. Weak as they were, the man wasn’t wearing armour, and little fangs with the strongest venom I’d been able to give them before their bodies rejected my mana nipped through his skin.

Two luminous constrictors slithered forward, fangs bared; the one who hadn’t attacked before used her flash now, erupting in a miasma of white as the other mage stumbled back. Both serpents, seemingly ignoring or perhaps teaming up with the other, sank their fangs into his fallen body for a grip and began to wrap around him, one over the torso, one around the head. And still the spiders swarmed, driven to madness by the destruction of their web and their own lack of critical thinking.

The other mage stumbled, punch drunk, rubbing furiously at his eyes. By the time his pupils finished dilating back to visible levels, he saw his companion thrashing on the ground in a coil of scales and spiders. He made the choice that many would.

Without so much as a backward glance, he sprinted from my cave.

Exactly what I wanted this floor to avoid, but I could hardly focus on that—I waited with greedy anticipation as the mage on the floor writhed weakly, face turning blue and froth spitting from his lips, until at once he collapsed. Mana exploded through the Fungal Gardens.

Oho. I ate his soul like a starving beast, ripping apart all the knowledge written in his core—he was a fire-attuned mage, not particularly strong but with a very stable connection. I’d encountered fire before, in the boiling water of the merrow Priestess, but she had only utilized that off of her various rubies stored on her person. No, this one was a real attunement, with his soul keeping all the memories of how he’d accomplished and used that.

Which meant that I could use that.

Not successfully right off the bat, I imagined. My heart’s mana was still very much stained with wind and water, and I didn’t have that fiery breath weapon so many of my primitive brethren did. So I would be clambering over unknown paths here.

I would figure it out, though. That was known. Having something bright and burning for my future floors would be truly wonderful. I nearly jumped directly into the memories before remembering that no, perhaps I should finish this up first. Facts were always irritating.

But even though the other one had run away, I had a sneaking little suspicion that I could send out a luminous constrictor or some other ilk to go find the invader in the halls. There would be no better time to test that than now, when I knew there was only one and there was–

The Drowned Forest awoke.

I barely even recognized it at first, too busy about to read the notifications crawling over my core, but then the situation hit me. Rhoborh’s alarm was going off, and in a way that I was getting notified.

The alarm system went off thousands of times a day, as burrowing rats and kobolds and cave spiders bumped various bits of flora throughout the many rooms, but that was safely regaled to a small, inconsequential part of my day. Sure, for the plants it was exciting—every time the alarm went off because some foolish stone-backed toad wandered onto a section of green algae hiding a vampiric mangrove’s thorns beneath, that meant a meal and mana—but that was very little to me. I’d safely shuffled the management of that alarm off to a mere fraction of my power as I dealt with other things.

But apparently, something got through that.

I gathered a few points of awareness, now that I didn’t need my hundreds watching the door, and sent them spiraling down to the second floor. It probably wasn’t pressingly important, maybe an unfamiliar creature coming through the river onto the second floor, but you didn’t survive as long as I did without a lot of care. I reached out to my core, ready to read those two messages.

Those points of awareness told me to wait just a second longer.

The plant that had sent out the alarm was a section of billowing moss, old enough its fronds delicately drifted in an intangible breeze, positioned right at the exit of the first room, in a relatively straight path from the entrance.

But there was nothing around it.

No creature, no fallen branch nor stone, not even an errant gust of actual wind. Just nothing.

The billowing moss shifted again as something else brushed it, a frond bending from an intangible pressure. My points of awareness swarmed; and with my mana sense in full activation, I could feel… something. The air didn’t waver properly, the pair of cloudskipper wisps kicking up wind that never quite blustered this one part, a hazy outline of something I couldn’t properly catch.

Something was inside my halls I couldn’t see.

No time for subtlety; I called upon everything single creature I had on the Drowned Forest, pulling them all to this first room. The entire kobold tribe awoke, stirring with their claws reaching for spears. Luminous constrictors and ironback toads jerked upright, reaching out; even Seros rose his mighty head, frills extending.

The figure—tall, vaguely humanoid, probably another bloody invader—stopped moving. The billowing moss by its feet shifted again, that same intangible force pushing against it. My points of awareness spread out and I could see the serpents slithering into the first room, hear the distant crash of kobolds amassing—no doubt the figure heard them as well. The moss moved again.

Go! I bellowed. An entire faux tree of webweavers sprung to action, flinging themselves through the space the figure had inhabited; they fell harmlessly to the bed of moss. Kobolds appeared, jabbing spears through empty air, flicking their tongues out and furrowing their scaled brows. The Chieftess banged her ornate spear against the ground, warbling in that confusing tongue of hers.

There had been a human here, but now it was gone.

My points of awareness flew out; on the Fungal Gardens, even amidst the chaos, I found a whitecap mushroom squashed, a boot’s imprint over its surface, a burrowing rat spooked from being bumped by something it couldn’t see.

So. Um.

If it hadn’t been for Rhoborh’s blessing, something invisible could have gone all the way through my halls and captured my core before I was even aware. And something had tried that, failed, and still managed to get away before I could stop them.

Okay. That was bad.