The Crafter's Dungeon: A Dungeon Core Novel (Dungeon Crafting Book 1) by Jonathan Brooks (best books to read for students TXT) 📗

She surreptitiously slid a gold piece out of her pocket and placed it on the bar, deliberately only covering up half of it with her hand.  She looked around at the sleeping drunks behind her at the far table, before she said in a low voice, “I was looking for a little information.”

The bartender smiled at her, which faded just a little as he took in her crippled hand, but he maintained his demeanor quite convincingly.  “I’ll do what I can, but there’s not much that happens around here.  I doubt that I’d know anything that you don’t, since I can see from your appearance that you’re a little more worldly than I am. Either way, though, I’m at your disposal – especially as it seems you’re my only customer,” he said, before glancing at his drunk patrons in the corner.  “Well, my only paying customer,” he amended.  “The name’s Marth – now what can I help you with?”

Well, here goes nothing…  “It’s nice to meet you, Marth.  It’s actually a fairly simple question, actually.  I was wondering if you could tell me if you’ve ever heard of man named Dramien?” she asked, hoping that she was in the right place and her information was correct.  She pushed the gold piece over to him and took her hand away.

Marth’s smile instantly dropped away at the mention of Dramien’s name, and he pushed the gold piece back across to her.  “Keep your money.  I don’t want anything to do with that man up in the hills.  And a pretty little thing like you shouldn’t either; now, please leave – you’re taking up valuable space.”

At least he was lying politely about it.  Rather than argue, Sandra got up and left; she knew from experience that she wasn’t going to get any information out of the bartender, no matter how much she asked or offered.  As she exited, she was too preoccupied to notice that one of the “drunks” in the corner got up and followed her out.

Sandra walked aimlessly through the few streets of the village, though calling them streets was a misnomer – they were more like random pathways between buildings.  Well, I know he’s around here in the hills at least, but how do I find—?

A scuff behind her caused Sandra to pause in confusion, which turned out to not be a great idea.  A sharp blow to the back of her head caused her to fall to her knees as her vision swam before her eyes; a rock dug into the bandage she had placed there earlier, which elicited an equally sharp yelp of pain.  Before she could do anything else, a second blow smacked her in the head again – and she fell into a deep pool of unconsciousness.

Chapter 2

Blinding pain woke Sandra up, though it wasn’t necessarily all from the back of her head.  That certainly did hurt, of course, but what was worse was what felt like her arms and legs being ripped off of her body.  Her eyes shot open and it took a moment for them to adjust to the dim light.  When her vision stopped swimming and she was able to focus through the pain, she was finally able to look around her.

The first thing Sandra noticed was that she was looking straight down onto a large, dark-colored stone worktable, though the sides were raised enough that it almost appeared to be a small pool or a bath of some kind.  However, unlike a bath or a pool, this one was completely devoid of any water.

Lethargically moving her head to the sides, she was able to see that her hands and feet were tied with rope to a large metal grate that was suspended parallel over the table.  In fact, the ropes were so tight that when she tried to flex her fingers and toes, she couldn’t even feel them.  And since there was nothing keeping her body flat against the grate, Sandra hung down, the weight of her own body pulling at her restraints and making it feel like her appendages were going to be ripped out at any moment.

She tried to move, to loosen up the ropes enough to escape, but the best she could do was slightly shake the entire grate, which caused some of the chains holding it up to rattle and creak.  Even that much movement tired her out and caused the pain in her shoulders and hips to flare up – it took all of her concentration not to scream.  She might be helpless at the moment, but she wasn’t stupid; calling out for help or screaming in pain would only call attention to herself.  Unfortunately, her vocal restraint didn’t matter in the end.

“I see you’re awake.  I’m sorry that my associate had to hit you so hard, but you ended up being a tad more resilient than he had guessed.  Anyway…welcome to my workshop.  I heard you’ve been looking for me.”

A smooth, silky voice seemed to come from the shadows toward one end of the room.  Who?  What?  Sandra still wasn’t quite “all there” yet, and it took a moment for her to piece together what the voice was talking about.

“Dra…Dramien?” she rasped out; her voice was barely able to be heard over the dryness of her throat.

“The one and only.  Now, why don’t you tell me why you were looking for me.”

Sandra swallowed a few times, trying to get some saliva to wet her mouth a little so she could speak.  It was only then that she realized that the room was stifling, the heat so oppressive that sweat was rolling off of her in waves.  A few drops made their way over her face and into her mouth, and despite the saltiness of them she greedily used them to make her voice a little stronger.  “I was