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

“That’s what I thought.  Now, come along; tell me about who you have here so we know what sort of rabble we’re working with.”  She waved him forward like he was some sort of child, completely unconcerned about the invisible waves of wrath flowing out of his body.

I’m going to kill her if it’s the last thing I do.  But only after we destroy that dungeon…

Chapter 2

“You want me to do what?  No way; I’m the last person you should send as an emissary of some kind,” Gerold said, disbelieving what he was hearing inside of his head.  All he wanted to do was sleep and try to forget the horrors he had experienced in the dungeon against all of those undead; not to mention, he was haunted by the memories of the Shieldmen that had perished under his command.  Ha!  My command; a few days ago, the very idea of that would’ve been ridiculous.  The Dwarf winced internally at the thoughts and memories running through his head.  Frankly, it’s still hard to believe all that has happened in such a short amount of time.

 

*  You’re the only one I can trust to do the job; besides, this is for your benefit as well.  Or have you forgotten your promise already? *

 

What is—?  Oh.  Not only did Sandra want him to travel to the mountain strongholds of the Dwarven Kingdom to warn them of the increased danger from the nearby dungeons, but she wanted him to fulfill the impossible promise he had made.  To get her to agree in helping to save his people in the nearby town of Nurboldar, as well as providing shelter for those displaced by the rampaging undead that had almost wiped them out, and being willing to provide them with whatever they wanted or needed to both survive and prosper…all Gerold had to do was promise one little thing.  It seemed simple in principle, but actually accomplishing the task was another matter entirely.

Mainly because he hadn’t ever heard of a Master Blacksmith ever voluntarily leaving their mountain homes in the history of their people.

That didn’t matter, though, because Gerold needed it to happen.  His set of specially made armor, shield, and battle-axe – which used his internal elemental energy to enhance it unlike anything else he had seen – were destroyed by some sort of attack that Sandra had used to wipe out a large army of undead that was besieging her dungeon.  The loss wasn’t intentionally done by the Dungeon Core, however; the young Fifth-shield Dwarf had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Or, maybe it should be right place, wrong time; Sandra has indeed been a boon to us already, and I guess it was fortunate that she saved me.

If he managed to go back home, disgraced because of the loss of his armor so soon after receiving it, and convinced one of their few Master Blacksmiths to journey into a dungeon, then have that Blacksmith teach a Dungeon Core their traditional secrets of crafting their special armor and armaments, and then have another entire set crafted for him, then he might be able to redeem himself in the eyes of the Shieldmen.  Being a defender of his people was a huge responsibility and brought with it a lot of honor; unfortunately, losing his equipment that was painstakingly made just for him – even through an occurrence which he had no way to prevent – was a massive dishonor upon his entire family.  Bregan, for as much of a pain as he had been toward Gerold over the loss, had spoken truly when he said that it would’ve been better if he had died along with his armor rather than live with that dishonor.

“No, I haven’t forgotten about it.  Are you sure you don’t want someone else to go?” he asked, already knowing the answer.  Thinking about who was left from the Shieldmen, all 5 of them, they were all Fifth-shield like he was…well, before he lost his equipment, of course.  Now he was just a dishonored Dwarf in the eyes of those back home, despite his actions in helping to save the villagers and destroying the undead dungeon.  He already knew that the other Shieldmen looked to him for direction, mainly because he was a lot more familiar with Sandra and her dungeon than they were – that didn’t really mean that he was in charge, though.

* You know, more than anyone else, what is at stake here.  I need the help of your people if they want to survive for longer than a decade or two; with the increased threat caused by the destruction of these other Dungeon Cores, they’ll have hordes of Dungeon Monsters knocking at their gates sooner than they think.  From what you’ve told me, your leadership has already abandoned much of your homeland, seeking to exist safely within your strongholds. 

 

* Within a few years, though, the expansion of these nearby Cores will be like a snowball rolling down one of those mountains of yours; starting here, the Cores will wipe out every Dwarf on the surface before they grow without any opposition.  Granted, it may take them a couple of years to figure out how to dig their way into your homes – but it will happen, eventually.  Once it gets to that point, there’s truly little way to recover from the sheer amount of Monsters ceaselessly invading your strongholds.  All it will take is one line of Shieldmen falling at the wrong time and it’ll all be over. *

“Don’t you think I know that?!” he practically shouted, startling the others around the table.  The problem, he knew, was that King Ferroushard and his advisors (including his mother) all thought that they would be safe for hundreds of years.  He didn’t like to even think about that being incorrect, but he knew that their doom