Underkeeper

It was past dark by the time they were relieved by another reserve battalion. Sure enough, they’d spent the entire day just waiting for something to happen—it never did. A few hours in, Bernt thought to try and use his familiar bond to see what was happening inside. All he saw was a vague reflection of his own sense of boredom. Apparently, Jori wasn’t having a much more interesting time than he was.

Therion had spent well over an hour monologuing about the best ways to use lights, minor illusions, adhesion, basic elemental shaping and his favorite, the classic mage hand, to get an edge in a fight by grabbing and directly manipulating the enemy or their weapons. His first investiture was for divination, despite his general focus on arcane force spells. It was the reason he could comfortably create scrying windows and channel trapfinding spells for extended periods of time. Considering his own investiture, Bernt could think of a number of ways to make basic cantrips more potent, assuming he could learn to apply them correctly and at the right moments. But in the end, even he had run out of steam. They swapped more stories and Elyn played for them for a while to pass the time, but there was no defeating the creeping boredom of sitting around in the same place for nearly ten hours.

Bernt picked up something to eat on his way home, grabbing a few spicy wraps for Jori as well. She’d still been inside when he left, but they couldn’t keep her in there forever. They were supposed to be back at it by first light, after all. Sure enough, he sensed her approach just a few minutes after arriving at home, and she climbed through the window soon after, chewing on something he decided he’d rather not identify.

He held out the bag with the now-cold wraps.

“I got you some dinner,” he said as she snatched it with a toothy grin. “How did it go in there?”

“Hrmphf.” She crammed half of one wrap into her face and crunched down on the spicy sour cabbage. At the same time, she sent a complex sense of boredom, frustration and amusement through their bond, using a method of communication she hadn’t bothered with since she began to talk.

“It was… boring, nothing really happened, but Dayle was fun to hang around with?” Bernt guessed, interpreting the feeling.

“Mhmm!” She nodded as she finished off the wrap. Talking through the last mouthful of spicy cabbage, she elaborated. “I missed the fight! They were already dead, and it was quiet all day after. As if they just ran away. Dayle says they must be setting a big trap for us deeper down. The soldiers spent the entire time building little walls and collapsing some of the tunnels. They said it was to protect the city before they go in deeper. I’m supposed to go down tomorrow with the gnome called Yarrod.” She stood up straight, puffing out her chest. “I’m a guide!”

Bernt huffed a laugh. “Nice. So, you’re not coming with the party? We’re supposed to be assigned to a unit and sent in as well.”

The little demon shook her head and moved to pile a few pieces of wood into the stove. “Dayle said it’s better if I don’t work too near the soldiers.” She raised her chin proudly and grinned, eyes glittering red. “They were afraid of me, I think.”

Well. That was going to be an experience for her. Bernt didn’t think Yarrod would do anything to her, but working with the gnome was always… interesting.

“Alright. Time to get to sleep. We need to be up early tomorrow. Can you wake me up?”

“Yup!” Jori said, her voice a little hollow as she leaned halfway into the stove and set fire to the wood. She was careful to make sure her hellfire vented out the chimney, rather than stinking up the room. She was a light sleeper and would wake up the moment the first of the other tenants walked by out in the corridor.

Bernt sighed to himself as he took off his boots and lay back in his bed. He hated waking up before the sun.

***

When they arrived back at the main breach in the morning, Bernt found all of the Underkeepers in attendance, forming a loose group right in front of the command post. Small groups of adventurers trickled in here and there, and fresh soldiers marched in from one direction as those they were replacing marched off in the other. Several threw uncomfortable glances at Jori, but much fewer than Bernt expected. Maybe they were starting to get used to her. She’d come through here yesterday, after all.

It was an encouraging sign, Bernt decided. The Solicitors’ plan for Jori required her to be seen in public, whatever that was about. Ed had been annoyingly stingy with the details.

The archmage waved, and Bernt waved back as they moved to join him and the others. Surprisingly, Jori scampered off to sit down with Dayle, Yarrod and Fiora, who were squatting around a flame spell one of them had cast to ward off the morning’s chill. He’d expected her to stick close to him, but this was probably good.

“Morning,” Ed said. “Did you get a grip on your spellcasting?” For once, the old man wasn’t holding his pipe. It was tucked into his belt, and he held a long, intricately carved staff instead—one Bernt had never seen before. He must really be taking this seriously. Considering the terrifying dragon down there, Bernt supposed that was appropriate. His stomach clenched a little, remembering the glimpse of the battle he’d seen during their escape.

“I did,” he answered, holding up his hand to cast a basic magelight instead of his usual torch spell, just to show he could. It took a second longer than normal, but it glowed a steady blue—just as it was supposed to.

Ed nodded. “Good, good. Still… stay out of trouble down there.” He scowled toward the breach and grabbed at his pipe, pulling it out of his belt before tucking it back in in a nervous gesture. “If it were up to me, you wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near a fight for a month after forming any new investiture, never mind your first one. Especially with the adventurers—but the guild has you registered in one of their delving parties and the general is determined to be as much of a pain in my ass as he possibly can, so you’re stuck with them.”

Bernt swallowed. He wasn’t sure he should be getting into a fight either, but he would make the best of it. They were technically only meant to guide the soldiers anyway, though he doubted it would be that simple.

“Listen. I want you to keep an eye out for any kobolds you might be able to take alive,” Ed said, after a moment of hesitation. “Tell your party for me. It would be worth interrogating one—and I’m not so sure that the soldiers will let any live if we don’t force the issue.”

“Alright,” Bernt said slowly. “I suppose that shouldn’t be too hard.”

Ed nodded and clapped him on the shoulder. “Alright. Go and join your party. They’ll probably send in the exploratory units down the main tunnels first with the adventurer parties, and then follow up with smaller teams that will include the Underkeepers—except you. We’ll sweep the smaller passages and chambers and come to reinforce any units that make contact until proper help gets there.”

“I’ll see you inside, then,” Bernt said, and turned to go. He was brought up short by the sight of a shadow that seemed to grow out of the wall next to him, its shape leaning out from the command post and toward the rising sun in the east. It flickered left, then right, and then seemed to grow darker. Finally, it twisted, revealing the tall form of Radast standing less than two steps away and dressed in an expensive-looking coal-black jacket and trousers.

The man’s cold gaze fell on Bernt for just a moment before moving on to Ed, dismissing him carelessly, as if he’d never seen him before.

“Good morning, archmage.” he said, head dipping forward in a tiny approximation of a polite bow.

Ed grunted in response and chucked his head toward the breach. “And?”

The warlock nodded, face deadly serious. “They’re moving. Couldn’t say exactly where, yet.”

Ed sighed. “Well. Shit. Did you warn Arice?”

Bernt looked back and forth between the two. What in the hells was all this about?

“I did,” Radast replied with a contemptuous sneer. “Not that it will matter. He’s determined to pretend that there’s nothing here. And he was happy to accept volunteers regardless. Three of my warlocks are currently combat-capable, and they’ll be arriving in short order. I took the liberty of having us assigned to your care, in accordance with our agreement.”

“Uh… Ed?” Bernt said, looking back and forth between the two.

Ed scowled. “You all are going down there to dig through trap-riddled tunnels looking for a dragon, so you’re as prepared for trouble as you can be.” He hesitated, but then went on. “Keep an eye out for demons—there might be some down there somewhere. Don’t spread the word too much, though. If we don’t find any, the damn general will find a way to screw me over for ‘fearmongering’ or some fool nonsense.”

Bernt swallowed. Why would there be demons down in the dungeon? What did Radast know about it? Did this have something to do with Jori? Or the rogue warlock that summoned her? He still hadn’t heard anything about that.

He’d have to ask for an update soon. They… would tell him, right?

Then again, who knew. They were Solicitors—why would they bother telling him anything?

Grumbling to himself, Bernt made his way over to the gathering of adventurers, where he found Furin standing around stoically. The giant dwarf waved in greeting and even smiled.

“Good morning, Furin. Have you seen the others?”

“No,” he rumbled simply.

Bernt looked over his shoulder. There was plenty of sunlight coming over the wall, so it was well past “first light,” if not quite sunrise.

“Well, I guess they’ll be here shortly,” he said, more for the sake of making conversation.

Furin didn’t respond, which Bernt supposed was to be expected. Respecting the taciturn dwarf’s wishes, he turned slightly to watch the new arrivals. Officers were shouting orders over the noise of hundreds of people moving in a very small area, and soldiers responded with even more movement. He couldn’t see the Underkeepers through the crowd anymore.

“Adventurers!” A rough voice called over the noise. “Assemble over here by party!”

Bernt and Furin exchanged a glance and silently began to push through toward the speaker. After about a minute, they found a gray-haired officer with skin like tanned leather walking through the groups of adventurers, identifying party leaders and checking them off on a sheet of paper before handing them each a folded letter—orders, Bernt guessed.

A huge hand grabbed his shoulder and dragged him off. With a stumble and a yelp, Bernt caught himself only to see that it was Furin. He’d found the rest of the party. Therion waved when he caught sight of them, but the others were watching the officer, just as Bernt had been.

It took a few minutes, but the officer arrived, compared Therion’s name to his list and ensured that everyone was present. Then he handed them their orders and went off. The paper assigned them to a unit number and gave them the name of the officer they’d be working under inside the dungeon—a Lieutenant Rielle. This was all information they’d already received verbally the day before, but Bernt supposed it wasn’t official if it wasn’t in writing. Was this why they hadn’t sent them into the dungeon the day before?

Bernt shook his head. It couldn’t be. That was ridiculous.

The units were standing in small squads in the street, organized in numerical order to make them easier to find. Lieutenant Rielle was a broadly built woman in her mid-thirties who looked at them skeptically when they arrived, but she greeted them politely enough. They barely had time to exchange tense nods with the other soldiers before the order came to go in and the units at the front began to move.

It was time.