The Crafter's Dilemma: A Dungeon Core Novel (Dungeon Crafting Book 3) by Jonathan Brooks (english readers txt) 📗

He had never really had any friends growing up because of his unique Nether sensitivity, and he was starting to think of the old Gnome as one – even if they didn’t speak the same language. Gerold knew that Felbar was committed to destroying the undead as much as he was, and it created a sort of bond between the two.

It only took them a couple of minutes to arrive at the workshop above, and despite the late hour and not a lot of sleep, Gerold felt wide awake.  He jumped into the Deep Delver construct with a little help from Felbar, who locked him in when he was all set; in return, the Dwarf lifted the Gnome up with his warhammer so that he could get into the pilot’s area in the much larger War Machine, and within moments he was strapped in and ready to go.

* I’ve sent the majority of my Monsters guarding the entrance of the Undead dungeon to intercept them before they arrive, but I fear they will arrive too late.  I also had some of my Shears sent down to the village to knock on doors and walls to wake everyone up, though I can’t really communicate the danger to them.  If you both rush, you might make it in time – but you better hurry! *

Gerold didn’t wait for anything else and he ran for the workshop’s exit, his practice over the last couple of days showing in the way he didn’t trip himself up.  All the hesitation and fear he had initially felt being trapped in what was essentially a large metal suit of armor was gone, and the movements needed to control the Delver were basically natural to him by that point.

Seconds later he hit the dirt and stone of the barren wasteland and took off, the partial moon above lighting a little of the way.  A few times he had to turn on his bright shield to see a few particularly dark areas bathed in shadows, but for the most part he could see well enough to navigate through the hills and valleys of the broken land successfully.

Running next to him was Felbar, who – despite having longer legs on the War Machine – was barely keeping up with his rapid pace.  It was one of the benefits of the construct he was controlling, he was told; it wasn’t nearly as powerful, but it was faster and more agile than the larger behemoth.  Gerold ate up ground faster than he thought possible, and within minutes he could see the burning torches of Nurboldar ahead of him.

As he crashed through the fields of wheat near the border of the wasteland – deliberately uncaring about what he trampled – he could see that there was a commotion near the village as more torches were lit and were moving around erratically, as if someone was carrying them around and trying to smash them into something.

* They’ve outpaced my larger forces, but some of my Rolling Forces near the forest border are seeing them almost there – you better hurry! *

True to her statement, Gerold could start to sense a large concentration of Nether Energy coming from the east.  It was hard to tell, but he didn’t think it was quite as large as the one he had sensed outside of Sandra’s dungeon nearly a week ago – though it was large enough to cause him some concern.  He could only hope that one of those gigantic, disturbing corpse-piles wasn’t accompanying them, otherwise they likely had no chance to survive.

It didn’t take long for him to arrive at the village proper, only to see every Dwarf out of their houses wandering around and obviously wondering what was going on.

“What are you doing back here, Gnome?  Is this your doing?” Second-shield Bregan asked in Dwarven as they arrived and practically slid to a stop.  The old Dwarf obviously didn’t know that Gerold was inside the smaller construct – how could he? – and the dishonored former Shieldman got a kick out of startling him.

“No, he’s here to help – the undead are just about to attack!  They’ll be streaming through the trees in a matter of minutes, if not less!” Gerold shouted, pointing towards where he sensed the concentration of Nether elemental energy.

“Boy?  What are you doing back here – and what in the name of all that is holy are you wearing?  That’s a poor excuse for your old armor, whatever it is – you look ridiculous,” the old Dwarf said, completely ignoring the danger that Gerold was trying to warn him about.

“Danger. Fight.”  Felbar’s accent was horrid and was barely understandable, but the few words that the Gnome had learned of Dwarven were clear enough to those assembled.

“I don’t take orders from a Gnome—” the Second-shield began, before Gerold angrily cut him off.

“Look, I don’t care what you think of me anymore, or about how I may have dishonored myself and my family with my actions.  But the undead are coming NOW, and if you can’t get over that, then everyone here could DIE!  If you won’t fight, then get out my way and I’ll do your duty for you,” he said, before turning towards the forest, feeling the appearance of the incoming undead at the cusp of exiting the trees.

“Now listen here, boy—”

Anything else he was about to say was tuned out when he saw some movement towards the tree line, right at the edge of a barley field.  Fortunately, the village was on a small rise in the landscape that allowed for seeing farther than normal, and the others around him seemed to glimpse the movement by the moonlight on the thankfully cloudless night, and they stopped their conversations and protests.

His protests apparently forgotten, Bregan started barking orders to the Shieldmen.  “UP FRONT!  Protect the villagers at all cost and prepare