Dungeon 42

Overture

Chapter 99

Mira and Hetcha shared dinner from the preserved food in the farm's pantry when evening came. They both sat silent for a spell when they finished, considering the hermit's letter. They’d expected to eventually meet them or be given some kind of request in exchange for their stay. The fact they’d been asked to put out the lights more than odd gave them both pause.

“Are we going to do this?” Hetcha asked.

“I could ask for an oracle,” Mira said without much conviction. Ula wasn’t stingy, but there was always a price to pay if it wasn’t offered freely. At the moment, they lacked the preferred offerings, which meant one of them would have to bleed for it.

“No… I supposed it should be enough that we’re both free. If this hermit wanted to harm us, all they had to do was leave us as we were,” Hetch said and sighed. She was naturally of a mildly paranoid disposition. Most Lepusan were. It didn’t make them cowards, but flight usually kicked in well before flight. She preferred to scout and study something until she felt confident rather than walk into it blind.

“Though how that came about is still a question,” Mira said, sighing with her own irritation. Rather than discuss it, Hetcha got up and started putting out the candles they’d lit. It didn’t take long as they’d only used three in total. Hetcha would have only needed one, but Mira disliked depending on her more than she had to, and her eyesight was too poor for such dim light.

“So what now, wait for a knock?” Hetcha asked. As if to answer her, a breeze kicked up and rapidly swelled to a howling wind. A window across the room blew open with a bang.

“That won’t be necessary,” a strange voice replied. Every hair on Hetcha’s body stood up at the bizarre double-layered sound. Like two low voiced women talking just slightly out of sync. Mira grabbing her in fright was all that kept her from charging the dark window and whoever was speaking.

“Good evening, I’m your benefactor and the owner of this valley. Please, call me 42,” the woman continued. Hetch swallowed, doing everything in her power to keep her frantic heartbeat under control. If she let it get any more out of hand, she’d either attack or blackout, and neither option was ideal.

“I’m Mira, and she’s Hetcha,” Mira offered, managing to keep her voice even through force of will.

“Hermit,” Hetcha growled. Mira looked up in alarm, realizing a little late that her lover had never mastered the fine art of sounding polite, even when she wanted to. A problem that was always made worse when she was under stress.

“Again, 42’s fine, but I’ll take hermit if you're more comfortable with that,” 42 said easily. Her voice was strange but sounded amused rather than offended. Mira let out a held breath in relief that she was apparently unphased by Hetcha’s lack of decorum.

“Why did you want the lights out?” Hetcha asked bluntly. Mira wished she could kick her.

“Bold question,” 42 muttered after a painfully long pause.

“Uhm, it's fine, forget she asked,” Mira said quickly. She tugged on Hetcha, who was standing like a marble figure, locked up in a contest with her instincts. Reluctantly Hetch sat down next to her at the chair she’d used during dinner.

Neither Mira nor Hetcha questioned that who they were talking to was the one who’d freed them. There was a strange heaviness in the air like the moments before a storm descended, a sense of power. They were in the presence of someone who could work such a miracle though they knew not how.

“I think we all have a lot of questions for each other, but I’d like to skip a few steps,” 42 began. Mira felt her stomach drop, wondering if Hetcha hadn’t succeeded in offending her despite her calm response.

“I could lie to you both, but I think that would fall apart rather quickly. So, I’m going to offer you a deal instead. First, you agree to keep my secrets. Second, I agree to allow you to leave unharmed should you decide to decline the rest of my offer. Fair?” 42 asked.

“I guess,” Hetcha said flatly. Mira gave her a pinch, wishing her lover would just fall silent if she couldn’t engage her brain and her mouth at the same time.

“That sounds agreeable,” Mira offered with forced cheer. They’d both been curious about the hermit but a little fearful too.

Hermits weren’t exactly rare, but they weren’t easy to meet either. It was in the definition of their title. They would separate themselves from society at large and hole up in secluded places. Still, they’d both heard of a few of such people. Their reputations were always odd at best and downright alarming most of the time.

Some hermits were known to carry on strange religious of dead gods or follow heretical practices for living ones. That wasn’t even counting the reasons that drove them to live in such a peculiar manner. Disfigurement, disease, curses, a revelation of unnatural heritages, not pleasant causes.

Mira felt it was likely best to respect the hermit's privacy measures given all of that. On the other hand, Hetcha was trying very hard not to give in to instinct and pick Mira up and leg it for the desert.

“Well, then pardon the theatrics,” 42 said. A moment later, a glowing panel of text appeared before each woman.

“As you can see, I want a bit more than a verbal promise,” 42 added.

Mira and Hetcha were both stunned for several long moments as they looked at the floating text. They’d never encountered anything quite like it outside of a grand oracle, and neither was sure it was quite the same. Unfortunately, only the head of the tower was allowed to be close enough to read Ula’s words directly.

“Take your time, both of you. I’m not in a hurry, and you should give this matter due consideration,” 42 said. Mira looked toward the sound of the voice, wishing she could see the speaker. Time passed, and eventually, Hetcha nudged Mira, totally at a loss.

“Sh-should I sign it?” Hetcha asked. Her voice cracked a little with fear. All of the fight had gone out of her the moment the panel had appeared. Mira considered for a few moments longer before giving up.

“Yes, I’m going to,” Mira said simply. They didn’t have much in the way of an alternative, and 42 wasn’t asking for much. They both agreed to the terms of the contract and were treated to the disturbing sound of 42 sighing.

“Awesome, thank you both,” 42 said, relieved.

“How did you free us from our enslavement?” Hetcha asked, voice soft and quaking.

“Oh, I had my… I had a friend take the items off the both of you,” 42 replied. The hesitation struck Mira and Hetcha as odd, but they didn’t question it. The person who’d done so had likely perished despite accomplishing the task.

“My turn. I noticed you two are a couple, which is a rather unconventional given the circumstances,” 42 started.

“Mind telling me how you two got together?” 42 asked. Mira and Hetcha were left wrongfooted by the mundane question.

“I was captain of the seer's towers guard before the chaining. We were already lovers, and she bought me afterward as a personal guard to keep me from being auctioned to strangers,” Hetcha said bluntly.

“Oh, fuck… What’s ‘the chaining’?” 42 asked, sounding startled.

“It was when all demi-humans were declared slaves in Stromholt and its territories,” Hetcha answered.

“Oh…” 42 responded weakly.

“The solution wasn’t ideal, but the living can’t remove enslavement items. I received an oracle that only the hands of the dead could, which is why Hetcha was so concerned about that part,” Mira offered, hoping to smooth things over a bit. It was an awkward dovetail, but it wasn’t a moment where she could summons much eloquence.

“Well… Hetcha, if I can call you that. Do you prefer demi-human as a term? I’d understood it as you’re a Lepusan, and the collective term for non-humans is La’Darin, was I wrong?” 42 asked. Mira’s mouth opened in a little o of surprise before closing. Either 42 didn’t care, or that was an incredibly graceless pivot of topics.

“I know my kind are Lepusan, but I’ve never heard the word La’Darin before,” Hetcha replied.

“Mira, have you?” Hetcha asked.

“I’ve only run across it in ancient manuscripts a few times,” Mira confirmed, feeling numb.

“It means children of Larel. The races who don’t claim a specific patron apparently used it at one time,” Mira clarified. That information had come from the oldest of the tome’s the tower held. Ones that dated from before the era of myths.

Mira’s mind worked feverishly to find an explanation. Thankfully one was baked in, and she latched on to it before her brain overheated. 42 had called herself the hermit of the Larel mountains. Perhaps it was knowledge she’d received as a revelation or through some book passed down among hermits. Mystic schools did something like that. So it stood to reason that Hermits might inherit something from predecessors.

“I definitely like those words better than demi-human,” Hetcha offered, seeming relieved.

“Noted,” 42 replied. There was a rather protracted silence.

“Right, your turn to ask a question,” 42 offered.

“Is Reigner actually dead?” Mira asked. "Certainly, I mean, not simply trapped."

“Would you like to see the body?” 42 asked.

“That-” Mira started only to falter.

“Yes,” Hetcha said flatly.

“Right, can't blame you for wanting to be certain… Did you want me to take care of him afterward? I’ll understand if you’d rather he not get a proper burial given what happened,” 42 replied.

“He didn’t do any of that by choice,” Hetcha said quietly but with a fierceness in her voice.

“I know, but I wasn’t sure if you did… Also, it wouldn’t be wrong not to forgive him anyway. You're entitled to your own feelings,” 42 said gently.

“He was like a younger brother to Hetcha, but the church of Stomholt took him a few years before the chaining. They claimed he was a chosen hero. Lilly went along with him to learn healing and support him,” Mira explained. 42 might know that Reiner was controlled, but that didn’t mean she knew anything about the boy himself. As lightly as she felt her guilt for her role in his death, Mira still wanted 42 to understand he wasn’t a bad person when he had a choice.

“He was greedy and a little dumb, but he meant well,” Hetch added sadly. Reign had incredible patience when lining up a shot and absolutely none for anything else. A fact that had got him into trouble more often than not.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” 42 said softly.

“I’ll give both Reigner and Lillian to you for whatever funerary rights are appropriate. Just let me know what you need,” 42 added.

“Thank you. They were both good friends of ours until… everything went wrong,” Mira said sadly. Reigner and Lillian had grown up at the same orphanage until Reigner went to the tower to train. Despite that, Lillian had made a point of coming around as much as she could. She'd been well-liked for her foul-mouthed cheerfulness.

“Right… Okay, let's call it here for tonight. I feel like you need some time to… adjust,” 42 said, sounding concerned. “I’ll leave you a map of where you can find the bodies in the morning.”

“Thank you,” Hetcha said sincerely.

“Should we pin the list for what we need for the rites after you go, or would you like to hear it now?” Mira asked.

“Uhm, you can tell me now. Or if you need some time to think, I’ll leave you a communication stone. You’ll be able to speak with me anytime from anywhere with it,” 42 replied.

“Wait, what?” Mira asked.

“It's a neat bit of magic imbued on a stone. All you have to do is hold it to activate it,” 42 explained.

“Thank you for your benevolence,” Mira said, voice openly shaking. Mira’s mouth went dry. Hetcha couldn't see it, but she’d turned pale in the dark. That was a magic item of a caliber rarely seen, much like the light stone that a peasant had used to lure them to the valley.