32. Dungeon is set!

In my mind, I already was laying it out. Ideas popped into my mind about dead ends. Traps. Even baited treasure. Maybe put something nice for the heroes to find to think they had cleared it and leave without finding the heart of my dungeon. I pictured what video game makers did in RPGs.

Soon, we reached the guard room and the heavy door that led out. Sviesos and her fellow will o' wisp sisters stood alert. They were naked, but they weren't posing sexy. They took their role seriously. Their faces hard.

"They won't get past us, Lord Leo," Sviesos said with triumph ringing in her voice. Her bluish body glowed bright for a moment.

Zaibas, Kibir, and Svyte all nodded their agreement. They were ready to fight for me. I smiled at them, encouraged by their fervor. I drew out the key from around my neck. It was on a long chain of gold. It was a gleaming skeleton key. I thrust it into the metal door's lock and twisted it. I pulled it inward, the hinges hardly even creaking.

Daylight spilled in from the mouth of the cave. Greenery beckoned beyond, the bright colors contrasting with the grays of the cave. The floor was uneven. Stalactites reared down from the ceiling, dripping with water. A pool lay in the corner, the water so clear it was almost invisible. After locking the door, Lana and I crossed the cave and stepped out into the daylight.

A grove of trees grew before us, half-screening the entrance to the cave. Thick brush grew around it, helping to disguise it more. We pushed through it and found a meadow that stretched down the slope. A valley lay beyond, the land cultivated. I could see farms growing crops in rows. Smoke rose from the center. That must be the village.

It didn't look far. I was wrong.

It took a few hours to walk there. My stomach grew emptier and emptier as we descended the mountainside. At the far end of the meadow we found a trail, perhaps a woodcutter's trail, that led down the mountain. Lana and I descended it, the sun rising. It looked like we'd set out in mid-morning. Nine or ten o'clock. The path wound us down the forested slopes for an hour, a gleam of sweat crossing my face.

Then it widened out into the farmland, and we found a proper road. It was made of dirt and rutted by wagon tracks, but it led us towards that village we spotted. We passed farms, the men working the fields in dirt smeared clothing. They were ripping up weeds, throwing them on squares of burlap with handles on opposite corners. They glanced at us, giving us suspicious looks, before they returned to their weeding. Livestock was penned around the farmsteads, often built on little rises. Buildings made of wooden frames with white painted walls stood in between, the roofs covered in golden straw. When I saw a woman, she was around the farmhouse, wearing a dress with a kerchief over her head.

I thought the farmlands meant we were close to the village, which I learned from a passing farmer was called Astovin, but it was still past noon before we arrived. My feet ached already and sweat gleamed on my brow. The day was warm.

The farmland gave way to more crowded buildings. They were larger here, with second floors a foot or two wider than their first ones. They were built with the same frames of wooden beam style construction with something like adobe making up the walls in between. They had windows, but no glass in them, just open curtains and storm shutters on the outside. The people wore clothing not dissimilar to mine. They glanced at us as we entered. Women in yards looked up from hanging laundry. Men lugging heavy sacks through the street frowned at us.

In the center of the village was a large field that had a collection of grown cows and sheep grazing on it. There were a few men watching over them. Ringing it were buildings. I hoped one of them would sell food.

Just as I was about to ask one of the people, a slender man in finer clothing than the others stepped up onto a stump. He stood before the largest building, a sign with a loaf of bread and a mug of beer over the door. An inn or tavern, I supposed. The man wore black clothing with a bit of lace at the cuff and neck. His pants were tighter and the tips of his shoes curled upward into points.

"The diviners of Lord Shorvin have felt a disturbance in the River of Mana," the man declared. "This morning, a Dungeon has appeared in the district."

Gasps echoed from the people around us. Men shook their heads and glowered. Women looked about to faint, pulling small children to them and hugging them tight. Whispers echoed around the townspeople.