The Crafter's Darkness: A Dungeon Core Novel (Dungeon Crafting Book 4) by Jonathan Brooks (ebook reader with android os TXT) 📗

lived in for weeks.  Second, like the colored robes of the others, there were subtle traces of different-colored accents in their outfits, which indicated what elements they had access to.  Five of them had three different accents, while the others all had two; that right there was reason enough to know that they were thoroughly outmatched.

Wyrlin dropped his bow and put his arms straight out at his sides, knowing there was literally no use trying to fight.  Even if the rest of the camp, who was just out of earshot, were to come to their rescue, the 8 Elites were most likely more than a match for whatever they could dish out.

“Ferio, drop it; we can’t fight this.”

As much as he wanted to fight so he wouldn’t be captured or killed out of hand, he knew it was no use; he’d rather take the chance that they were just going to disperse them or imprison them temporarily instead of a guaranteed death.  His second-in-command dropped his own bow reluctantly, followed by his quiver as he held his arms similarly as Wyrlin in a gesture of surrender.

“This is it?  This is what everyone was worried about?  Pathetic,” a multi-colored-robe-wearing Elite said, the sneer on his face obvious in his voice.

“Listen; you can’t believe everything they are saying about this dungeon.  It’s going to kill us all—”

“Oh, we’re well aware of that.  Why do you think we’re here?” one of the women Rangers said, and he identified her as the one that had him rethink trying to shoot them.

Wyrlin was so confused that he put his arms down.  “Wait…aren’t you here to…uh…get rid of us?” he asked.

“Of course we are.  Well, we were sent to do just that, but that’s also because we all specifically asked to be the ones to kill you.”

Wow.  I guess they weren’t planning on playing around with imprisonment or anything less severe.  “You…why did you ask to kill us?”

The group’s spokesperson continued to speak, though the others just looked at the two like they were dense.  “I would hope that the fact that you aren’t dead yet would be enough of an indication.  Since it’s not, I guess I have to spell it out—”

“They’re here to join us,” Ferio abruptly blurted out by his side.

Now Wyrlin was thoroughly confused as he turned to his second-in-command.  “What?”

“Exactly.  It’s good to see that at least someone around here can use their brain,” the Elite Ranger smirked at them both, though her disdain was all evidently all for him.  “We’re not here to kill you…but we are here to get rid of you.  We have to leave here soon, because if we don’t come back with evidence that you’ve been…taken care of…then they will be sending more to ensure you don’t become a problem.  The possible loss of the one form of consistent regenerating elemental energy that has ever been found is more than enough for those in power to want your escapade to halt before it could do something drastic.”

Now that the threat of being imprisoned or killed within the next minute or so was gone, Wyrlin’s mind started to function again.  He picked up and slung his bow over his shoulder as he asked, “You’ve all lost someone important because of the dungeons, haven’t you?”

The Elite that had sneered earlier repeated his action, almost like it was permanently attached to his face.  “Everyone has lost someone to the dungeons – you’re not unique.  The difference is that we’re one of the few that want to do something about this new dungeon and stop it before it becomes too powerful.”

I guess that works.  “I’m glad to see that some more of the Elites can see the danger this dungeon presents,” he responded tersely, trying not to rise to the insulting tone of the robe-wearing Elite – and barely managing it.  With their help, we can definitely destroy this dungeon.  “So you said we need to move and that makes sense.  With you here, we can go straight to the dungeon and—”

“Not so fast; that’s not what I said.  We need to leave Symenora altogether, because they have others watching for you all the way from here to the wastelands in case you escape from us.  We may be up to disobeying the orders we were given and joining you, but that doesn’t mean we will fight our own in the process.”

Wyrlin’s mind shut down again.  “W-what?”

“She means that we’re going to Orcrim, if I’m not mistaken,” Ferio mentioned, which earned another smirk from the Elite Ranger.

“Uh…why?”

“Because it’s the only way to ensure we aren’t caught before we can destroy that dungeon heart.  No one would think to look for us there.”  The old Ranger was turning out to have a better head on his shoulders than Wyrlin suspected.

“Exactly.  Listen to your friend here because he’s got the right of it.  Now, pack it up and get ready to go, because we have less than an hour before someone comes to check up on us,” the spokesperson ordered, before turning away.  The disrespect was infuriating; this is my group and my people, and there’s no way I’m letting some Elite try to boss me and mine around.

“Hey!  I give the orders around here—”

She cut him off.  “Not anymore, child.  We’re taking over right now, or we’re turning you over to our Elite friends.  It’s your choice.”

Wyrlin clutched his hands together to keep from striking out; the Elites were looking at him with expressions that ranged from obvious amusement to disdain.  They can’t do this!  This is my vengeance! 

Except that they could; and they just did.  When he just stood there and refused to let himself blow up at them and say what he wanted to say (which would likely result in his death), the Elite Ranger in charge smirked at him – again.