TUNNEL RAT 3

©2025 WALRUS KING

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Also in Series

Tunnel Rat

Tunnel Rat 2

Tunnel Rat 3

Tunnel Rat 4

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Contents

1. Limburger Hollow

2. Surprise!

3. Tail-Fighting 101

4. Dinner with Brutus

5. Cheese Class

6. Breakfast with Larry

7. Friendly Sparring

8. Snacks

9. Hamsters Hopping Happily

10. Gotta Collect All the Mushrooms!

11. Making New Friends

12. Spiders Don’t Keep Score

13. Things Get Mixed Up

14. Partner Perspective

15. A Place to Think

16. Clean Pants!

17. Tunnels and Traps

18. A Visit to Larry’s House

19. Three on One

20. Cookies for Four Heroes

21. Clan Secrets

22. Operation Larry

23. Clumpy Bigtoe

24. The Rational Decisions of the Students of the Arcane Arts

25. Duel

26. Another Duel

27. Final Duel

28. Circles

29. Jelly Beans are Hero Food

30. Dinner with Arlothe

31. Sparring

32. Not Sneaky Guys

33. Different Like Me

34. Midnight at the Library of Death

35. Bad Guys

36. Because We Care!

37. Tunnel Muggles

38. This is a Wrench…

39. Scouts Doing What Scouts Do Best

40. Poker and Pings

41. And Poison Makes Four

42. Runes and Repairs

43. The Iron Spider

44. Too Much Bleu

45. Dwarven Holiday

46. Conclave

47. Investigations

48. A Visit with the Eels

49. March of the Spiders

50. The Raid

51. Pickled Picnics and Plucky Puffyfurs

52. The Cheese Caravan

53. Further Investigations

54. Words in the Dark

55. To the End

56. Jelly Bean Break

57. Raiding the Ratkin Dungeon

58. The Big Scary Noise

59. Dwarven Thunder

60. Tasty New Cheese

61. The Iron Spider Takes the Scenic Route

62. Spiders, Spiders, Everywhere!

63. Salvaging the Situation

64. When Some Idiot Screws Up Your Clever Plans…

65. Wait… You Have Beer?!

66. Larry: 1, Reality: 0

67. The Battle of the Gathering Fields

68. Healing and Puffcakes

69. Magic Cheese!

70. Blood Work

71. This Will Hurt, A Lot!

72. Smiling

73. A Delicate Mix of Strength, Torture, and Compassion

74. Someone Is Sad

75. Battlelines are Drawn

76. Parley

77. Don’t Bring a Mace to a Spider Fight

78. When You’re Hungry and Craving Pancakes

79. Anime and Death Races

80. Sour Pickles

81. Recovery

Epilogue

Thank you for reading Tunnel Rat 3

Groups

LitRPG

Chapter 1

Limburger Hollow

“What a pathetic bunch of limp-tails? What whelp master let you leave the nest so young and with such poor training? Was he tired of your mewling and complaining? I’ve never seen such a poor group of new students. Drop and give me fifty push-ups! And if they aren’t good, I’ll be chopping off some tails to lighten the load.”

Gilad the Tail-Master stalked off and allowed himself a sip of water. He was a large and warlike ratkin just starting to go gray. No one who saw him move would ever think of him as old, but he felt it in his bones some mornings. It was a long time since he had trained troops for the wars against the spiders. He had to remember that. These young whelps had no idea of those times. And too many of the new ones acted like this was only some game. They would learn!

“They that bad, boss?” The speaker was younger than Gilad but much larger, wearing heavy armor and a helmet. A large polearm leaned against the bench he was sitting on.

Gilad lowered his voice. “Yes and no. Every recruit I have trained has started this way. They have no training and not enough exercise. I’ll get them straightened out and teach them the basics of claw and tail. They will be able to defend the hollow in an emergency. But we have too few trained fighters for guard duty, as you well know! I have seen you and Brutus working far too many shifts.”

Justin just nodded; it was certainly the truth.

Gilad looked at his class of new students, swelled large with all the wild ratkin coming to the hollow recently. “The problem is the new ones. The whelps that just show up out of nowhere with weird names and bad attitudes. Where the hell are they all coming from? There can’t be that many nests out in the wild, could there? I think some will work out. A few are born killers that can’t wait to go out and fight. But the questions they ask? It’s insane! ‘What good is tail-fighting if I have two swords already?’ A lot of inbreeding in those nests, that’s what I think!”

Justin nodded. He’d noticed that too. “I’m worried about the ones that get some money from doing extra work and helping out. It’s great to have the help, but most of them are spending every last cent on cheese. It’s like no one taught them discipline. We may be looking at an entire generation of Cheese Fiends. I thought Larry was bad, but can you imagine several Larrys?” He shuddered

Gilad smiled evilly. “In that case, I know a few lizard and spider colonies that are getting pretty large and moving too close to our caverns. I wonder how they’d like to have a full front line of Cheese Fiends tear into them?”

Justin blanched. “Please tell me you are joking?”

Gilad let himself enjoy the thought for a few more seconds. “Of course I am. Berserkers are bad for everyone. If we allow even one of these children to become a fiend, then we have failed as a hollow. They must learn to master their addictions.” He looked over to where a half-dozen recruits were dutifully doing pushups, and another half-dozen were lying on the ground, breathing hard and complaining. “Still… maybe I could use Larry as a sparring partner for some of them later. What do you think? Six of the new students vs. Larry? Twelve?”

Justin stood and grabbed his polearm. “I’m on shift in five minutes, but if you decide to do it, I’ll put 10 shinies on Larry, and I don’t care about the odds.”

Gilad stroked his chin. “Yes, getting someone to bet against Larry will be the tough part. And Gendivere would be very cross with me filling up her infirmary with all of my students.”

Justin marched away to his post at the entrance of the village, and Gilad went over to “encourage” the slackers to finish their exercises. His attention was momentarily taken by the tall tower that rose to the ceiling of the cave as it spat forth thunderous bolts of lightning across the cavern, shaking the whole village. Another day, and another fight between Arlothe and his wife. At least many of the newer students had at least a small talent for magic. New students would keep those two busy.

A breeze brought him the delicious smell of fried mushrooms and crumbly bleu cheese. The chef must be cooking up something tasty. The only thing that kept Justin from walking into the building for a snack was the knowledge that being on time for guard duty would get him a free meal later in the day. The voice of his old trainer came to him. “Master the cheese or the cheese will master you.” One had only to look at Larry sitting on a rock in front of the building, his mutated body quivering and his nose constantly sniffing the air. Larry served the village in two ways: Firstly, he was a sad example of what happened to cheese addicts. Secondly, he was six hundred pounds of unbridled murder machine when someone threatened the village. All it took was one piece of cheddar for Larry and a second tossed at the enemy. Larry saved a lot of lives that would otherwise be lost fighting intruders. He deserved to be more than that, but Justin didn’t know how to make that happen.

Brutus was at his post when Justin arrived. They guarded the entrance to the hollow. The small cave that served as their guard post had only two entrances. One led to the hollow, and one to the warren of caves beyond and the massive tunnel that a wandering world-boss had dug. They’d had a lot of trouble lately from that. Cave-Mantes were multiplying again, slimes kept showing up on their doorstep heading for the smell of food coming from the hollow, and worst of all, humans were coming in groups to “check things out.” Some were content to play by the rules and prove they could behave, but others became rude and aggressive. They’d beaten off attacks by several groups so far and sent more than three dozen off on quests to prove their worthiness and loyalty. Only a couple had come back so far and gained entrance to the hollow.

Brutus was about to head up-tunnel and get his dinner when he paused and stared at the darkness. “Oh, look there! We have a sneaky one skulking along the outside wall.”

It took Justin a few seconds to spot him. The newcomer had some mildly good stealth skills. “He’s got more than Skulking going on; I bet if my Perception was a bit lower, I couldn’t even see him. I bet he’s used to walking right past people. Hey, I’ve got an idea. Let’s pretend we don’t see him at all until he gets here!”

Brutus straightened up and went to attention, staring straight ahead. “Oh, good, I love playing Surprise!”

Chapter 2

Surprise!

The deeper he explored into the caves beneath Shadowport, the more Milo relaxed. He wondered how his second life had gotten so hectic. After some thought, he decided to blame the Eels. They always seemed to be up to something. First, it was the Copperheads and their queen. After that had been the Slaver Mage and his hissing pet. Finally, as he finally had a chance to relax, the Sea Hydra attacked the town. He’d like to avoid Eels for the rest of his life—they were too much trouble. At least he got double experience and Enhancement Points from killing them.

But there were better ways to earn Enhancement Points and gain levels. He needed to carefully explore deeper and find a nice place in the caves where he could explore, mine, and hunt the smaller, named bosses as he had fought in the beginning. He’d begun by leaving Harry’s mushroom farms and climbing back up to the mines under Shadowport. From there, he had easily found the path that the Word Boss had carved as she tunneled up from below.

According to the announcement from the game and rumors around town, following the tunnel downward would bring him close to the town of ratkin that had been discovered. New players could enter the game there if they chose ratkin as their race. He found that interesting and wondered how many would do that.

Hopefully, the town was far down the tunnel. It might make a convenient place to buy food or sell ores as he explored deeper. He could take a quick look around, and if the town seemed fun, maybe he would stay for a bit and do some quests. The online forums said that beginner towns always had a lot of quests, mostly low-key jobs that helped you explore a starting area. If it was like the starting areas in many games, there would be three or four quest givers, a newbie hunting zone, and some trainers. Milo enjoyed finishing jobs and fixing things. It was why he was always busy in Section E. Not having something to do made him very twitchy. If the hollow had no jobs for him to do, he’d leave and go mining. But he was curious to see if anyone besides himself was running a character with a tail and a love for cheese.

Cheese was a big reason for visiting. The cheese selection in Shadowport was quite poor right now, but hopefully, the hollow would have some for sale. What varieties did they make that he hadn’t tasted yet? The halfling clan wasn’t going to be selling cheese anytime soon, and too much was going on in the town. He wanted to avoid the fight brewing between the Dwarven Engineers and the Scavenger Clan from the ship. He needed something quieter.

The way was obvious. The World Boss had left an easy trail to follow in the mines, and that led him to a steep, rocky path leading downward. It was fairly treacherous, with loose rock and dirt. Uthneragrubban had been a massive creature who could shatter rock and force her way to the surface. Her path wasn’t easy to follow in the dim light of a few glowing mushrooms or lichen. While Milo could see fine, new players were going to have a tough time getting to Shadowport unless they picked up some climbing skills. Not his problem, and might even be for the best. New ratkin players would have a hard time in the town if they didn’t have the disguise skills of a wererat. Which made Milo wonder how ratkin would react to him. Would they hold his part-human heritage against him? That might be something to hide among ratkin as much as he hid his ratkin heritage from humans.

After descending nearly a mile and traveling several more horizontally, he stopped and took a break. There were many caverns, large and small, that Uthneragrubban had cut through on her way to the surface. He avoided any that had signs of being inhabited, wanting to avoid fights for now. He selected a small cave that was only accessible by climbing fifteen feet up the wall. It was big enough to set up camp and rest while he roasted the last of his steamed Eel over a fire.

Cooking may have been a mistake, as something else that liked steamed Eel—or perhaps raw ratkin—decided to come calling. A rumbling in the earth alerted him to the new threat, and he barely managed to leap and grab hold of the ceiling before his fire and his snack disappeared down the throat of something that looked like a gigantic earthworm. It didn’t like eating his firepit and thrashed back and forth until the remains of the hot coals were dislodged from its mouth before turning its attention to the other morsel it sensed above it.

Milo saw the worm retreat, compressing itself into the tunnel. Subsequently, it lunged at him, its body extending out of the hole and its maw covered the entire stalactite he’d been holding onto. The worm must have thought it caught its prey, as it struggled to pull the hunk of rock into its gullet. Milo was dropping next to it as he fell and scraped deep, with all four sets of claws leaving a score of deep cuts in its pulpy, purple flesh.

The worm went crazy, dropping from the ceiling, and more of it came into the cave from its hole. Milo wasn’t looking forward to fighting it here in the close confines of the cave and gave it something else to think about, namely an exploding rune-covered skull in its open mouth. The skull exploded, blowing up the worm’s head and splattering Milo with purple blood. Rather than die, the worm seemed confused. It started quivering, and the part below separated from the part in the cave, retreating deeper into the earth. The top half began thrashing, and it was all Milo could do to reach the cave entrance and wait for it to die. He spent the next ten minutes cleaning worm gunk off of his body debating his next move. Finally, the portion up top died, and he recovered his pack from inside the cave, a little worse for wear and covered in purple worm fluids.

Congratulations on your victory.

Technically, you only killed half of it, but I’ll give you half the reward. Go kill the other have if you want the experience points.

For killing half of Whorlewiggle, the Purple Predator, you have earned 10 Enhancement Points.

Feeling better after a short nap and a snack, he continued to follow the newly dug cave downward. After another two hours of travel, the long passage clipped the edge of a large cave. The path was fairly level here and then plunged deeper on the far side of the cavern, going over a steep cliff. Milo could see the claw marks that showed Uthneragrubban had climbed up from the depths below. Off to his left was a dark passage that led slightly upward. Smells were coming from it: the tang of ozone, baking bread, and cheese! This had to be the way!

The tunnel showed signs of recent use and the tracks of both clawed feet and heavy boots. After a few hundred feet, it ended in another cavern. Milo slowly skulked into it. The high ceiling had a large colony of bats hanging from it, and a few flew in slow circles around the cavern. The cavern was dark, but he saw light coming from another passage directly across from him on the far side. He could just make out two hulking guards, both twice as tall as he was and much heavier. They were standing to either side of a roughly fifteen-foot-high tunnel that had to lead to the hollow. He moved carefully around the outer perimeter of the cave, stopping often. The guards mumbled something now and then but mostly stayed silent. As he got closer, he could make out their handsome, rat-like faces and their strong tails. Each was well over nearly seven feet tall, heavily armored, and holding a huge polearm.

Milo looked at his options. He could just walk up and ask to enter. That might or might not work. The stern looks on their faces showed they wouldn’t be someone to argue with. Running by was out of the question. He could just move near them and try to tip-toe by? Or should he use the ceiling? He liked the idea of sneaking into the hollow and not having to talk to anyone.

He decided on the ceiling. He could ascend here and move along it slowly using his claws. The ceiling got lower as it neared the tunnel but was still over twenty feet high. The guards were used to staring at the other entrance. They probably never looked up. He just had to be careful not to disturb the bats. Carefully, moving one foot or hand at a time, he crawled like a shadow on the top of the cave. The guards were totally oblivious to him.

“Hey, Justin, look at that bat.” One of the guards pointed to his left. Milo suppressed the urge to turn his head.

“My, you’re right, Brutus. That certainly is a large bat. You rarely see them that size. They’ve been getting bigger this season. Your idea to put out food for them was genius! Those big ones will make some tasty bat tacos.” Milo stayed frozen, not moving as the two guards discussed the large bat, the recipes their grandmothers used to cook bat, and whether bat stew was better than bat tacos. Batacos won. Who didn’t like batacos?

After another five minutes of hanging from the ceiling, he started moving again. The guards began discussing the best route down to pick mushrooms, one drawing a map in the dust and the other arguing with him and placing pebbles to denote the route he liked. Milo just kept moving. After another ten feet, he’d be in the tunnel—and past them.

“Surprise! Welcome to the hollow!”

“Happy Bataco Day!”

Both guards yelled at the top of their lungs and beat their gauntlets on their metal breastplates. Milo lost his grip, flipped over, and fell to the floor running, completely panicked. The guards pounded their feet on the ground like they were running after him and laughed hysterically. “Oh boy, I love playing Surprise!”

Milo ran on, trying to get his adrenaline under control. He shot out of the end of the tunnel into a huge cavern. It was well-lit, profuse with greenery, and many buildings. He was so surprised that he missed the furtive tail that tripped him. He rolled and slid twenty feet, finally coming to a dusty stop in front of two muscular legs and a swishing tail. A hand helped him to his feet.

“What was I just saying about wishing you whelps would show a bit more excitement about my class? Thankfully, someone comes running in, very excited to be my first volunteer. What’s your name, young man?”

Milo looked up at the tall ratkin in front of him. He was an impressive specimen of muscle and carefully groomed whiskers, just starting to turn gray. The older ratkin waited a few seconds and then asked him again, this time with force in his words.

“I asked you for your name, newbie. Spit it out.”

“Name? Right, I have a name. I’m Tallsqueak.” The older ratkin smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Well, Tallsqueak, welcome to Limburger Hollow. I’m sure that after your journey, you are anxious to get started with your lessons. Why don’t you toss your extra gear off to the side and show me your best tail-fighting stance? Nothing fancy, I want to see how well you know the basics and then we’ll go a few rounds.”

From behind him, Milo heard a loud whisper. “Tail-Master is going to tear this guy apart. He hates interruptions.”

Chapter 3

Tail-Fighting 101

Milo collected himself and stood up. The older ratkin had said that they would “go a few rounds.” Did that mean a fight? But his stance was neutral and non-threatening. What did they expect him to do? It felt like part of the first tutorial that he had skipped. Looking around, he saw that he was in a small, dirt-sided arena. It seemed he had rolled down one of the sides into the middle, with a couple dozen or so ratkin standing or sitting around. Some were standing at attention, while others were joking and talking to each other. Based on names and their gear—or lack thereof—Milo guessed that some of them were new players.

He tossed his pack to the side and put his spanner and pick on top of the pack. Noticing that the older ratkin wasn’t equipped with weapons, he took off his belt with his daggers and left them there as well, along with his Spikey stick. Considerably lighter, he stepped back into the ring.

“It is nice to meet you, Tallsqueak. My name is Tail-Master Gilad. I instruct young warriors in the ancient fighting techniques of our people. I always need someone to help me demonstrate techniques, and today that will be you, since you were anxious to get into my ring. Please take your stance, and we will begin.”

Milo had questions. “Are we fighting? For real? Or is this just a ‘pissing contest’?”

Milo had never really seen a pissing contest, but that had been Butch’s term for the little challenges all the gang liked to engage in. No one ever got hurt beyond a few bruises. After Milo beat three people in challenges, and after that, people quit trying to fight with him. Butch had laughed at him. “It’s like you have an on/off switch. When you fight, it’s for real. Try to develop a slider instead—it lets you tone things down a notch.”

Master Gilad sighed. The new ones always tested him, one way or another. “No, Tallsqueak, we aren’t fighting for real. If we were, I’d be obligated to rip your head off and give you so many bruises you’d be limping sideways for a month. This is called “sparring.” No special abilities or magic should be used. You should focus on dodging and using your tail. I’m not going to try to hurt you, but you should try and hurt me. Can you do that for me, Tallsqueak?”

Milo nodded yes.

Gilad smiled. “I’m so happy we understand each other. Now get into your fighting stance and we’ll start.”

Milo wasn’t sure what a fighting stance was, so he simply stood there. Gilad sighed, took a step forward, and his tail slashed across Milo’s ankles. Or would have if Milo hadn’t hopped upward enough to dodge. He tried to hit the Tail-Master but his own tail slid through the air, and the older ratkin was suddenly next to him. Milo felt a heavy tail hit him in the head, knocking him down.

Tail-Master turned and walked away. “If you are too injured to continue, leave the ring.” His ears didn’t hear the sound of Tallsqueak walking dejectedly out of the ring. Instead, he heard several students make soft exclamations or suck in their breath. He dropped flat on the ground as Tallsqueak’s tail went through the spot his head had been. Tail-Master spun to his back and flipped forward.

He’d expected the brave little youngling to follow up with that attack. If they were foolhardy to try a sneak attack, they would try to rush their follow-up attack and put themselves off balance. But instead, Tallsqueak had backed off, putting distance between the two of them.

Tail-Master yelled at him. “Attacking from behind, are we?”

Tallsqueak looked puzzled. “You didn’t say the fight was over. Was it?”

Tail-Master’s tone was gruff, but his eyes were bright. “Oh no, this fight is a long way from over.”

“Oh, good.” Milo was glad he hadn’t made a mistake.

The two engaged again, and again Tallsqueak went down. Tail-Master didn’t turn his back this time. Seeing how this one fought, he thought that the youngling must be some type of rogue. He had a poor fighting stance but good stealth, and he dodged like he had just eaten a pound of Parmesan. Gilad decided this youngling needed further testing.

The fight went on. Each time the Tail-Master dodged Tallsqueak’s attacks, but the young one was learning. He was adjusting his stance, and gaining more balance. Several times he had outright dodged Gilad’s attacks. When he did, Gilad sped up his offense another notch, pushing his opponent to be even faster. Time after time, Tallsqueak took heavy blows from his teacher’s tail. Tail-Master expected him to quit each time and go tend to his bruises. But the little whelp just kept coming back for more. He was a stubborn one with a head as hard as rock.

Three more times they engaged, dodged, and threw tail at each other. Tail-Master had grown accustomed to his opponent’s fighting style—but suddenly it changed. After the second engagement, Tallsqueak charged him, then leaped straight up into the air. Tail-Master was off balance, moving forward, for just a fraction of a second. That was when Tallsqueak’s tail slapped him hard between the eyes, knocking him down. He rolled back up immediately, to dead silence.

Everyone waited. Tallsqueak wondered if the fight was still going on. He was just starting to get the hang of this game. He mimicked the stance that his opponent was using, keeping his weight balanced and shifting from foot to foot quickly. Move and dodge. Dodge and move. Hit dodge and move. Always moving. He’d taken a chance by leaping up and forward like that. It left him exposed if his opponent was expecting it, but it had worked. Probably just this once. Next time he’d do something else. But was the fight over? Tail-Master was looking at him oddly.

“Good job, Tallsqueak. I underestimated you. Do you know the reward for a good job?”

Tallsqueak gulped. He knew. “Another job?”

Tail-Master nodded. Then he laughed. “Yes, that’s right. You have the honor of assisting me in the early class from now on. I’ve been needing someone to help spar with these whelps. You seem to enjoy fighting and are hard to break.” He tossed Milo a wooden coin. “Go give that to the chef and get settled in. Be back here at three bells tomorrow.”

Milo caught the wooden coin and then looked around, wondering where the chef was. Tail-Master shook his head, remembering that Tallsqueak had just rolled into town. “Follow Brutus, the big guard. He’ll be making tracks for dinner as fast as he can.” The guard in question waved to Tallsqueak, and after grabbing his pack and pick, the two walked in the direction of the largest building. Milo looked up at him. “You were at the tunnel! How did you see me?”

Brutus chuckled. “Don’t take it hard. Guard duty is boring, and we stay alert. Guards have to have great perception; otherwise, sneaky gits like you get past us. That was great—the way you came across the ceiling. I was giggling so hard that I was about to piss my pantaloons while waiting for you to get to us.”

Milo wasn’t used to people seeing him. “How did you get your Perception so high?”

Brutus visibly winced. “Special guard training. When the Death-Master sneaks up on us or sends one of his best students, you’d better be alert. When they yell ‘Surprise,’ it means there are already a couple of daggers sticking out of your back. Perception goes up really fast when you play with those guys.”

Chapter 4

Dinner with Brutus

“Wow, I can smell the mushrooms from here! I’m starving. You’ve got to have worked up an appetite with all that skulking and fighting. Nice job, by the way. It’s not easy laying a tail on old Gilad. That guy was fighting as a mercenary for decades before he retired to teach combat to the new whelps. My grandpappy said he served under Gilad during the 3rd Spider War, and the Tail-Master was going gray even back then. Pappy always said it was good fighting but lousy food. Never enough cheese to feed the army. Makes sense I guess, since that’s what the war was over. Makes me hungry just thinking about it. I’m going to grab a double bowl of mushrooms with some extra Bleu on top. Good stuff.”

Milo was content to just follow along with the big guard and let him carry on both sides of the conversation. They were nearing a large wooden building, and Milo could smell the food himself. The unmistakable smell of fried mushrooms was drifting to his nose, as well as the pungent aroma of moldy cheese. He agreed with Brutus; it was a two-bowl night for sure.

As they went to step up onto the wide porch of the eating hall, a huge shadow skulked around the corner, sniffing at them. “Bleu? Larry wants some Bleu! Kind Brutus! Handsome Brutus! Have cheese for little Larry?”

Milo took a step behind Brutus. The guard was huge, but whoever this was, he was bigger. At least seven feet tall, he was equally as wide and shaped like an inverted triangle. Larry had wide shoulders and massively over-muscled arms and hands. His arms were so long that his claws scraped the ground. His chest and tail were equally large, but it tapered to a small waist and smaller legs. Large feet ending in dirty claws seemed too big for the rest of his body.

Nothing about Larry looked right. His muscles weren’t in the right spots, and one eye was larger than the other. His mouth was filled with oversized fangs that kept him from shutting his mouth fully. A bit of foam leaked from his mouth as he talked.

Brutus stood firm. “NO! No cheese for Larry! Sorry, little buddy. Larry knows the rules. Larry will wait until the Cheese-Master feeds him. Larry follows the rules, or Larry leaves the hollow!”

The hulking pile of muscle seemed to deflate a bit. “Larry follows rules. Larry is a good Larry.”

Then he sniffed, and the large eye swiveled over to Milo. “New friend? Tallsqueak be new friends with Larry? Tallsqueak is smart and handsome, and Larry smells cheese bits in Tallsqueak’s pockets.”

Brutus looked at Milo. “Oh shit. You should go on inside. I should have warned you. No one keeps cheese on them if they are anywhere close to Larry. I’ll be in when I have him settled.” He used one hand to push Milo toward the doors, and the other hand grabbed Larry by his leather collar as he lunged for Milo.

“What does it have in its pocketses?!! Larry needs to know!!!”

Milo pushed open the door and stepped inside, shaking from the encounter. The hall was half-filled with ratkin happily enjoying their dinner. Tables were arranged around the outside of the room, with the center taken up by a charcoal fire over which several pots were suspended with frying pans of tasty mushrooms cooking on the edges. Several stone ovens were venting heat and steam into the air. Copper pots, strings of onions, garlic, and herbs hung from the ceiling all over the room, along with kettles, cooking pots, and smoked hams. Indeed, the place less resembled a dining hall than it did a massive kitchen with a few tables added as an afterthought.

The chef was huge, with a large belly, stout legs, and quick hands that darted among his pots and pans, adding a bit of salt or herbs or stirring something briefly. His whiskers were glorious, sweeping out from his nose at least a foot and a half to either side. Like his nose, his whiskers were a light blue in color.

A server came up to Milo. “New in the hollow? Haven’t seen you before. Let’s get you sat down and some shrooms in front of you. Good stuff tonight—Bleusnout is really happy with his new recipe. I’m Rifkin. My cousin Smiley is the other server. We assist Chef Bleusnout with all the cooking. Just yell if you need something. All one big happy family here.”

Brutus stepped into the room. Behind him, a mournful cry rang out. “No cheese? No cheese for Larry? No friends for Larry?”

Rifkin shuddered. “Well, almost everyone is happy. Hey! Brutus, double bowl for you?”

Brutus grabbed a bench at a table. “You know it, Rif. Grab a couple for my new pal, Tallsqueak, too. Have a seat, buddy. Food will be right out. Bleusnout cooks fast and never keeps anyone waiting.”

Milo grabbed a seat, and indeed, the food was on the table in less than a minute. The meal was a mixture of mushrooms fried in oil with scallions and herbs, topped with a dusting of crumbly bleu cheese. Milo was in heaven.

Brutus tossed a small coin to Rifkin, who pocketed it. Milo brought out his own coin. Rifkin held it up and examined it before smiling. “Oh ho! Did you get a coin from Gilad? Very Nice! He’s hard to impress. You’ll work hard for it, though. This will get you meals for the next three days. Come in anytime the fire is burning hot, and I’ll be here tossing food on tables.” With that, he left the two to their meal.

Milo devoured his first bowl and was just starting on his second when Brutus finished his second bowl. He patted his stomach and picked his teeth with a sharp claw. “Good food. The Cheese-Master always cooks up something good when he harvests a new crop of cheese. As you can tell from his name and his whiskers, he likes the blue, moldy varieties. Oh, and sorry about Larry, but you know how it is.”

Milo shook his head. “No, I really don’t. What’s wrong with him?”

Brutus was surprised. “You’ve never seen a Cheese Fiend before? Wow, your hollow must have really had things under control if no one gave in to their cravings. I thought we were doing good with just Larry. I’ve heard of some hollows having a dozen or more fiends running around that they have to deal with.”

Milo wasn’t sure what to say, but Brutus seemed friendly, and he needed information. He remembered one of the classes he was offered and was suddenly worried. “I didn’t grow up in a hollow; pretend I’m sort of uneducated and just hit town. What happened to Larry?”

Brutus seemed taken aback. “Wow, really? So, you haven’t been told the stories or got the training we give to our whelps? You’re lucky then. You could have become another Larry pretty easily. All it takes is to ignore the warnings and eating too much cheese. Hard not to, the shit is so good, and a little can give you a nice edge in combat. Too much, though, and the addiction gets out of control. Next thing you know, it’s all you care about. Once someone lets their addiction get out of control and keeps eating cheese, it changes them.”

Milo felt a bit ill. “So, is there a point of no return? Or can you get rid of the addiction?”

Brutus shook his head. “I’m pretty sure you know the answer already. We’re ratkin. We’re born with addiction, and we’ll die with it. But we master the Cheese so the Cheese doesn’t master us. I saw how you tore into your food. Maybe you like your cheese a bit too much right now? We can help you get that under control. Joining a hollow is the best way to get training.”

Brutus thought for a moment. “But Larry smelled cheese on you. Maybe we should play it safe and you hand that over to me? I’ll keep it safe for you until you finish your classes with Bleusnout.”

Milo thought for a moment and then reached into his pocket and brought out a pound of cheddar sealed in red wax, with just a small nibble out of the side. The smell of the sharp cheese made a couple of heads turn. His hand was shaking as he went to hand it to Brutus, and part of him was objecting to letting it go. After half a minute, he made his shaking hand drop the cheese into Brutus’s large paw.

“Good man. You can’t be too far gone if you can still give cheese away. A little hard work to sweat it out of your system and some remedial classes, and you’ll have things under control.”

From out on the porch, Larry began wailing again. “CHEDDAR! Larry smells cheddar! Larry needs the CHEDDAR!”

Brutus shook his head sadly. “You’ve had your first lesson already. You met Larry.”

Chapter 5

Cheese Class

Milo felt a small bit of regret as Brutus tucked away his cheddar into a large pouch, but the sound of Larry begging for cheese was enough to convince him ten times over that this was the right decision. “You mentioned some classes? I think I need those. But I’ve never been in a hollow before, so can you give me some advice on what to do or not to do?” So far, people had seemed friendly here, but there were friendly people in Shadowport too, along with quite a few bad ones.

Brutus grinned at his question. “Sure thing! One of a guard’s duties is to help new people fit in. Lots of small nests out in the caves send us their young whelps for some schooling, and lately, we’ve had something called ‘players’ show up. They’re like cave whelps but not nearly as well trained. But we’ll get them straightened out. Let’s go introduce you to Master Bleusnout, and then I’ll show you around a bit.”

The huge chef was cleaning his pots and pans, scouring the cast iron with sand and then oil, while Rifkin carefully washed the more delicate copper pots. Brutus swaggered up, put his nose up, and took a big sniff of the air. “My, something sure smells good around here.”

Bleusnout snorted. “Tossing out compliments in the hopes of getting the leftovers? I hope you can do better than that next time.” From an oven, he pulled out a half loaf of toasted bread, spread butter across the top, and sprinkled on garlic and the barest hint of grated Parmesan. The loaf was cut in quarters with a slice each going to Rifkin, Smiley, Brutus, and Milo.

Milo had never had anything so delicious. If only they made food like this in real life. Bleusnout watched him intently.

The chef looked the new ratkin up and down. “I’m glad you enjoy my cooking, but maybe you enjoy it just a bit too much? Will I be seeing you in class tomorrow?”

Milo hesitated, but Brutus spoke up. “You sure will. Tallsqueak just came into town today. He already has some of his time claimed by Gilad as a punching bag… Sorry, I mean as an ‘assistant instructor.’ That will take up his time until the fifth bell.”

“With Gilad? Well, you’ll be hungry afterward, then. Well, what is left of you. No, I jest. The Tail-Master will work you hard, but he rarely breaks bones until he begins teaching regeneration. Come see me at the fifth bell. You can eat and then help Rifkin with some chores before classes at the sixth bell.”

“Make sure he understands the important rules, Brutus. Now go. I have to deal with Larry.”

“No trouble at all, sir. C’mon Tallsqueak. I’ll show you around a bit.”

The two of them walked out a different door, but Brutus immediately took him to a window where they could look back inside. “I’m getting the feeling your nest didn’t teach you all the basics, so let’s go over some rules you’ll have to abide by in the hollow.”

“The most important rule is: Until Bleusnout gives you a passing grade in his classes, don’t even think about eating cheese outside of meals in his mess hall. And only what he gives you. If someone offers you cheese, refuse politely, then tell me, Justin, or Bleusnout. People who do that aren’t your friends.”

“Secondly, if you catch wind of anyone smuggling in cheese from the outside, you let us know. Too much cheese in a hollow will cause problems. I’m talking about Larry-sized problems. Some people are making a lot of gold somehow bringing in cheese from some other city. Might be humans, spiders, or gnomes. There was even talk that the Myconian Collective was running illicit cheese ring.”

“Lastly, everyone contributes, or they don’t eat. Gilad paid for your meals for three days. And you can bunk with me and Justin. The guard shack has some extra bunks. After that, though, you need to earn points for doing chores or contributing to the hollow. The basic class on controlling your appetite is free, of course. Other classes you’ll have to pay for if you are interested in learning things.”

“So, got all that?”

Milo nodded. He understood. He also knew he’d already smuggled in four large, twenty-pound wheels of cheddar and several smaller ones. Did it count as smuggling if it was in another dimension? Probably. The name of the ability seemed to imply exactly that. He decided not to use his Smuggler’s Stash until after his trial period was over. Brutus’s whispered voice brought him out of his thoughts and back to watching the scene unfolding on the other side of the window.

Three loud bangs shook the building. Bleusnout called out. “Hello, is someone at the door?”

“Yes, Larry is at the door. Larry wants to come in. Can Larry come in?”

“Yes, Larry can come into my house today. Wipe your feet and promise to behave.” Larry pushed open the door, wiped some of the mud off his feet, and scampered into the room. Bleusnout encouraged him with soft words and got him to sit at a table. Rifkind brought out a plate with large mushrooms, carrots, and potatoes.

Larry looked at the plate. Larry sniffed the plate. Larry decided he’d rather have cheese and pushed it away from him. “Cheese for Larry?”

Bleusnout rapped Larry on his sensitive nose. “No! No cheese for Larry. Larry needs to follow the rules. Eat your dinner. No dinner, no cheese!”

Larry considered and then began stuffing the other food into his mouth and rapidly swallowing it. Bleusnout smiled, took the plate, and then placed a small sliver of cheese in front of Larry. The ratkin trembled but didn’t take it. After ten seconds, the Cheese-Master nodded to him, and Larry put the small bit in his mouth, rubbing his belly and making happy noises. “More cheese for Larry?”

Bleusnout was firm. “No more. Chores for Larry at two bells. Breakfast for Larry at three bells.” The cheese addict got up sadly and walked out of the room, shutting the door.

Milo was horrified. “How long until he gets better?”

Brutus shrugged. “No one knows. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. Larry was really young when he took some bad advice and tried to become stronger. He wanted to be a great warrior. He outpaced all the other trainees in his group, but then the cheese took over. He’s strong, but he lost a lot of himself. Now all he enjoys is eating cheese and fighting. Which is tough, since only Gilad, me, or Justin can really fight him and not get hurt. So, when Bleusnout says Larry needs some exercise to help him calm down, either Gilad or I get some extra cuts and bruises.”

“But enough about that. You have any questions? We can do the grand tour, or if you’re tired, we can head to the guard shack. You need to be up early. If you get up at two bells, you can grab something quick in the mess hall and then be at Gilad’s arena by the third bell. You want to be on your toes and tail for him.”

Between fighting and learning about the pitfalls of too much cheese, Milo was actually quite tired. He let Brutus show him to the guard shack, where he fell into a bunk and immediately went to sleep in the game, his body in the pod already doing the same.

Chapter 6

Breakfast with Larry

Milo was having a dream where Justin and Brutus kept appearing out of nowhere and yelling “Surprise!” He woke up in his cot in the barracks, muscles tight and tail coiled. Something wasn’t right! From the ceiling, a dark shape dropped toward him, and he rolled aside, coming to his feet. Someone yelled “Surprise!” as they landed on his bed where he had been asleep just a moment before. His pillow tossed feathers into the air, as it had been stabbed with a small knife.

Before his attacker could react, Milo’s tail wrapped around their neck, and he brought his spanner down hard on the back of his attacker’s head. Whatever it was quit moving and slumped onto the cot. He stayed wary, wondering if it was a trick, prepared to give them another lump.

A lamp was lit, and suddenly Justin was standing next to him, polearm in one hand and lamp in the other. “Oh, just one of those guys. I was worried we had spider problems again. Check to see if he’s still alive. We really aren’t supposed to kill them, but then again, they aren’t supposed to be playing these games with anyone except trained guards. We know how hard to hit back.”

With a start, Milo realized the creature was a small ratkin dressed all in black. He checked their pulse, found they were still alive, and rolled them over. His victim groaned.

“Oh, good. They’ll be fine after they get patched up and get over that headache you gave them.” Justin seemed very unconcerned about both the attack and how Milo had reacted.

“But who are they? Why did they attack?”

“Shadowlurker-in-training. The Death-Master assigns their targets among the guards and other higher-level people in the hollow. The shadowlurker gets experience in Skulking, and their victims get to train their perception. Playing Surprise! is traditional in a lot of hollows. Sometimes the Shadows take some lumps, and sometimes we get a knife in a soft spot. This one must have been trying for some extra credit. Let’s see who it is.”

Justin pulled down the facemask revealing a young, female ratkin with light brown fur and short hair. The guard laughed. “Oooh, you scored a point on Princess Throatslitter. Nice job! She’s outscoring me four to zero right now. Good to see she isn’t invincible.” Justin applied a chunk of moss from his first aid kit to the lump on the back of her skull and wrapped a bandage around the unconscious shadowlurker’s head.

Knowing how easily Justin had seen him trying to sneak in, Milo felt a chill go down his back at the thought of someone who could surprise the experienced guard so easily. “So, you said I was off-limits, right? I won’t have to worry about her?”

Justin gingerly picked up the small girl. He smiled at Milo and chuckled. “That was before you scored a point on the Death-Master’s granddaughter. You scored points and will be on the board. You’re fair game now. She’ll want revenge, and all the little thieves and cutthroats wanting to catch her eye will be after you too! That’s pretty awesome for your first day! Your Perception and regeneration are going to get some nice chunks of experience!”

The big guard’s words were humorous but made Milo even more nervous.

“I’ll go dump her off with the healer and let Gendifur take care of her. You better get a move on. Grab some chow at the mess hall and then go have fun with Gilad.” Justin sauntered off, whistling a happy tune.

Somewhere a bell rang twice. Milo remembered his new job as an assistant at fight practice. He left the barracks and headed to the mess hall, paying close attention to roofs and shadows. The smell of something delicious was in the air.

Larry was sitting on the porch, looking sad. The few other people who were heading into the mess hall were carefully avoiding him. Larry wasn’t begging today, sitting very still with his arms wrapped around himself and shaking. Milo started to walk by as well but stopped instead. “Good morning, Larry.”

The cheese addict looked up, and after a few seconds, his eyes seemed to focus. “Good morning, Tallsqueak. How are you? Larry is having a bad day today.”

Milo could see that Larry was rocking back and forth a little bit and trembling, but he seemed more coherent than before. Moving slowly, Milo sat down next to him. He remembered how bad the itchy feeling had gotten right before the fight with the World Boss. He’d eaten a pound of cheese in a minute when Vary delivered it to him. And then eaten more during the fight. That itchy feeling was better now, but he had an idea of why Larry felt so bad. “Does food help? Are you going to get breakfast soon?”

That perked Larry up. “Yes! Breakfast! It’s honey and groat day. Larry loves honey and groats. Larry will get a big bowl, and it will be a better day! Does Tallsqueak like honey and groats? You should go get a bowl. A big bowl!” Larry’s eyes seemed animated now, and he was drooling again.

Milo stood up. “Thanks, Larry. I’ll go have some. I’ll see you later.” Larry nodded and sniffed the air, thinking about his own breakfast.

The line for food was moving fast. As each person got to the front, one of the servers gave them a large earthenware bowl of something that steamed and smelled spicy and sweet. Milo asked about the food when he got to the front. Rifkin was happy to let him know what it was.

“An old recipe my granny passed down to me. Lots of the families have a variation on it, but Granny makes it the best. She takes groatvine seeds and grinds them fine, then threshes them with a sharp groat-sieve with steel blades. Then we add fire-ant honey, spicebark, and ground meg nuts to it. The secret is extra honey.”

Milo noticed a huge bowl with an extra-large spoon. “Is that Larry’s bowl? Maybe I could take it out to him and eat with him. He seems lonely.”

Rifkin looked a little nervous. “I’m not sure. Bleusnout has him on a set schedule. Let me go ask.” He went into a back room and promptly returned, accompanied by the huge chef.

“You wish to take food with Larry? I don’t see why not. I have him eat last so he has some privacy. He makes everyone nervous when he eats. But it would be good for him to eat with someone.” He shook a finger at Milo sternly. “But no talk of cheese, and if his eyes get wild, then slowly move away and come get me. You must always be careful around him.”

Milo promised, and then balanced one bowl in each hand and headed back out to the porch. Larry saw him coming but stayed sitting. “Honey and groats for Larry? Larry gets the big bowl!” Milo handed it to him, and Larry began to eat quickly, finishing up by licking the bowl clean with his long tongue. Milo ate his at a slower pace and saw the ratkin looking at him but not talking at all. The meal was actually more than he could eat.

“Would Larry like a little more honey and groats? Tallsqueak is full.” He handed the bowl to Larry.

“Larry is never full! Yes, yes. Larry will help Tallsqueak finish breakfast.” Milo’s bowl was also quickly finished. He saw both Rifkin and Bleusnout watching from the doorway and handed them the empty bowls.

“I have to go now, Larry. Have a good day.”

Larry began hugging himself again, then looked up. “Breakfast tomorrow is little fishies fried with mushrooms. Larry likes little fishies. Tallsqueak should come have little fishies with Larry.”

Bleusnout was nodding his head. Milo assumed that meant he was granted permission to eat with Larry again. “Sure, Larry. I love little fishies.”

Chapter 7

Friendly Sparring

The fighting arena was filling up as Milo arrived. Like the day before, some of the students seemed to be players just starting new characters. Several were sparring in the center area, punching and slapping with their tails. One of these approached Milo as he put his pack down. “Hey, want to get in a round before the drill sergeant guy shows up? I’m Blackwhisker.”

Milo wondered if most players didn’t start with an Identify or Appraise skill. He had already known the player’s name, without asking. This was probably another one of the social rituals he needed to learn. He was always confused about whether he was supposed to shake hands, bump fists, or touch elbows. He preferred the small bow of the head that many ratkin used. He’d go with that. “I’m Tallsqueak. You want to spar with tails?”

Blackwhisker was tall and muscular, wearing a set of stiff, boiled leather armor. “Tails, claws, weapons. I’m pretty easygoing. I just want to get in some friendly practice with someone that I haven’t fought before.” Milo nodded and moved to the center of the arena. Some of the other fighters backed off to the perimeter. Even before Milo got to his side of the arena, Blackwhisker was rushing at him, slamming his shoulder and knocking the new ratkin to the ground. Milo rolled to his feet and saw a sly smile on Blackwhisker’s face. “I’ll give you a pointer—always keep your guard up in the ring.”

Milo reevaluated his definition of “friendly sparring” to not include the word friendly. He heard a few cheers for Blackwhisker from a group sitting together. “Thank you. I will remember that from now on.”

Blackwhisker came at him again. Milo sidestepped when he tried to knock him down and slashed his claws across the larger ratkin’s chest, at the same time tripping him with his tail. Blackwhisker went down in a pile of dust, and Milo backed off but stayed focused on his opponent. His opponent was not happy with him. “What’s this bullshit? You cut my armor? Are you using weapons?! This cost me all my starting money!” The leather chest piece hung loose, with four long cuts into it.

Milo wondered why Blackwhisker was upset. They were sparring. Claws and tails were part of sparring. He shrugged and got ready for the next round. It wasn’t long in coming as Blackwhisker advanced on him again. Milo noticed he wasn’t using his tail, letting it just swish back and forth with anger. He also wasn’t preparing his claws, keeping his fists balled up like he intended to punch Milo.

A right hook from Blackwhisker was dodged, as was a left jab, and then two more punches. He had strength and weight, but Milo found it easy to dodge his blows. Acrobatics and Fleet of Foot skills worked well with Master Gilad’s style of fighting and moving. The Sense Danger skill, along with his perks of Acrobat and Uncanny Dodge made it trivial for him to avoid the clumsy punches. His opponent was getting angry and breathing hard, trying to keep up with him. “Stand and fight! You keep running away like a coward!”

Milo shrugged. “Okay.” As his opponent tried to hit him again, Milo grabbed his arm and pulled, tossing him off balance. Mining had made him strong, and his STR of 8 proved to be stronger than his larger opponent. As Blackwhisker turned, Milo’s tail slapped him hard in his snout, breaking something and causing blood to spurt. Following up while his opponent was stunned, Milo’s claws tore the rest of Blackwhisker’s leather armor to shreds and left light scratches all over his chest. Milo didn’t give him a chance to react, slapping him again in the head and then kicking his legs out from under him. Blackwhisker lay on the ground and didn’t get up, panting hard and in pain.

The group that had been cheering for Blackwhisker were all standing, and two were about to rush into the ring. Milo flexed his hands, showing his claws to them, getting ready to fight. They reconsidered and sat back down. Blackwhisker crawled out of the ring and sat with them, trying to staunch his bloody snout.

Gilad stepped into the ring. Milo hadn’t been aware that he was even there. “I see that you are all on time. Wonderful. Please line up around the edge of the ring, giving yourselves space to move and tumble. We begin with the forward roll/tail slap combination. This fast attack can often take your opponent by surprise.” For the next half hour, the Tail-Master led his students through the elementary move, making them perform it over and over until it was ingrained in them. One hundred repetitions had most of them performing adequately. Then they moved on to side-rolls, back-flips, and full disengagements. In every move, he emphasized the use of the tail.

“Your opponents will often forget about your tail, giving you openings with what can become a strong weapon. This is our natural advantage, as orcs have durability and spiders have poison and webs. Not using your advantages to the fullest is lazy and stupid. You will die and waste my training.”

Gilad had been observing the silly “sparring” that these whelps had been doing before his class started. It was the same with every new batch—too much energy led to fighting and a few trying to exert dominance through strength or size. The fight between his two strongest students had been interesting. Blackwhisker forgot everything he knew as soon as he took a blow, while Tallsqueak became quiet and focused. Blackwhisker should have backed off when he saw how sharp the other’s claws were! Instead, he forced the fight to continue, letting Tallsqueak stay in control and prove himself stronger in every way.

He was pleased. He had made Tallsqueak his assistant to put pressure on him. He had known that the other whelps would challenge him for his position. It was good to sort out the pecking order early. No one would doubt who was the dominant whelp in this class. It was one less thing filling their small brains and getting in the way of his teaching.

Two bells of drills and constant movement left every whelp tired and panting. Tallsqueak was doing better than the others but was also breathing hard and sweating. Half the class had collapsed exhausted partway through. Blackwhisker still stood, but he was swaying back and forth, about to pass out.

“Very well, we are done for the day. I’m not sure how much more of this I could take. You and you. ”He pointed to two of Blackwhisker’s nest mates. “Take that one to the healer; he seems unwell. Tomorrow, drills will begin at half-bell past two. Tallsqueak will be leading you in them. Sparring and lessons will begin at three bells. Hopefully, I will not be so disappointed tomorrow.”

Milo looked around. Some of the players were talking about quitting, not seeing the point of lessons if you could just go and fight monsters. Others seemed to be greatly enjoying the classes and wondering what came next. The ratkin of the hollow were all excited. Just being in the Tail-Master’s class meant they had a chance to become warriors with enough training.

Milo himself enjoyed the class. It made sense to him. There was a purpose to each drill and exercise. Up until now he had improvised his fighting and let the game influence and help him. Now he felt like he was exceeding the game’s bonuses and gaining control. As the fifth bell of the day sounded, it was a relaxed and happy Tallsqueak who walked to the mess hall. That lasted until Brutus saw him. The big guard walked over with a huge smile on his face.

“Hey! Justin told me about you beating the crap out of that crazy little gal that keeps surprising us. Great job!! I’m looking forward to letting you dodge her tender embrace while I get to sleep in peace instead of in pieces.” He laughed at his own joke and put an arm around Milo. “Come on, let’s get double bowls of whatever Bleusnout has for lunch to celebrate you catching her eye.”

Chapter 8

Snacks

Cheese class with Master Bleusnout was interesting. Milo hadn’t known before coming to the hollow that cheese was as much a part of ratkin culture as beer was in dwarven culture. It was an ingrained part of every ratkin’s life, and how a hollow managed their cheese determined much about it.

“Greetings, young ones! I am Chef Bleusnout. You may refer to me as Chef or Master, for in addition to cooking meals for the hollow, I am also its Cheese-Master. My duties as master of all things cheese include making sure our Hollow has enough of our favorite food on hand at all times. Some cheese we make ourselves, and some we acquire through trade with other hollows, human settlements, and even the Myconian Collectives.”

“Why so many kinds of cheese? I’m sure you’ll all agree that all cheese is tasty, and there is joy in sampling a new variety. But more importantly, we need many types of highly specialized cheese to concoct the best snacks for our warriors. Many races create their own types of snacks. Humans call them potions, the spider tribes eat the fermented organs of other creatures, dwarves have their alcohol, while elves prefer jams made from magical fruit.”

“I’m sure you were all disappointed that today’s meal did not include a small bit of cheese for dessert. Instead, I have a better treat for you: a tasty bit of my special blend of seven cheeses, all spread on a crispy wheat cracker. I have one for each of you.” Rifkin gave out one cracker to each person in the class. Some students put them directly into their mouths. Milo held off, trying to examine it, even though he was drooling and his stomach was growling.

Bleusnout’s All-Purpose Warrior Snack!

+50 Health, increased health and stamina regeneration, +2 STR, increased poison resistance.

Effects last for 4 hours. May be eaten safely once every 24 hours.

“I’m sure you can feel the difference in your muscles as the cheese hits your belly. This snack makes you much tougher and harder to kill. But even with all these advantages, we only serve them right before battle. Do any of you know why?”

Milo didn’t, but one hand went up. “Because battle will help work the cheese out of our system and lessen the effects of growing dependent on cheese.”

Bleusnout patted the young one’s head. “Thank you, Olivia. Correct as always. The exertions of battle use up the cheese, as does healing wounds with regeneration. A warrior in constant battle can safely consume far more cheese than any other person. This is one reason I suspect that Warrior will always be a popular class for our people.”

“The next part of our class involves some reading and study. If you have trouble reading the characters on the paper, I suggest taking an academic class in the Tower of Strife. For now, do your best or find a study partner. I expect you to read through the first two pages by tomorrow.” Rifkin distributed worn books that had seen generations of use. Bleusnout watched as the young whelps began turning the pages, some reading, some just being confused or looking around for help.

Some of them simply paged through the book, looking at the pictures. Tallsqueak was one of these. The Cheese-Master watched as he quickly turned each page, pausing on the pictures that dealt with cheese-making equipment, cheese spread distillation, and famous battles. After a few minutes, he set down the book and waited patiently for the class to end. All the other poor readers had found a partner. Two of the whelps had asked Tallsqueak if he needed to join a reading group, but he turned them down.

Bleusnout sighed. He’d seen it before. A young whelp comes in from a cave nest, far behind in academics and culture, and often with a cheese problem. Some sought help, but many were simply too proud. They could fight, and they thought that was enough. From what Justin and Brutus had told him, Tallsqueak was well beyond the other whelps in fighting and might have even pushed into the second tier. Bleusnout prepared himself for an ordeal with the troublesome whelp. It was his responsibility to show him why he needed to learn to make sense of the scribbled characters in books.

“Tallsqueak? You should be reading in your book. Pages one and two. If you need help, please join a group.”

To Bleusnout’s surprise, Tallsqueak stood up and spoke. “I’m done. I read the book.” Then the whelp had the audacity to walk up to him and return the book.

“You read both pages?”

“Yes, but all the others as well.”

“Please! Are you seriously trying to claim you read all 213 pages of It Takes a Hollow to Make the Cheese?”

Tallsqueak nodded. “I had trouble at first with the alphabet. It’s different from the human and dwarven writing styles, but I deciphered it from context. It’s a great book! I have a lot to think about. Are there more books I can borrow?”

No one in the building was reading anymore. They were riveted to the spectacle of Master Bleusnout turning bright red in the face. Some claimed later they smelt the odor of burnt cheese and saw steam coming from his nose. Rifkin had gone dead white and was trembling. Tallsqueak just seemed puzzled and patiently waited.

Bleusnout grew very calm after a minute. And even more angry. “This is serious, Tallsqueak. Lying to a master is a huge offense, and doubly so in my class. It shows a lack of control, a lack of shame, and a lack of community. I will give you one last chance to tell the truth. Did you read in the book?”

Tallsqueak was nodding along with what Bleusnout said, agreeing with him. “I understand. But don’t worry, I read the book. All of it. So, I don’t need the book anymore.”

Bleusnout took the book and opened it to a random page. “Then you can tell me about page 73?”

Most of the class turned to that page, and Tallsqueak began to speak. “…that the need for correct temperature control is essential to making sure that the milk used is raised to the needed level of heat for a full twelfth of a bell to remove unwanted meconium contamination. Care must also be taken not to overheat the milk and ruin it. A thermionic dissipater is recommended for large batches of milk.”

“The rest of the page has a nice diagram of how to operate a Thermionic Dissipater, but I have to wonder if it wouldn’t have a better effect if the prong had a spiral twist instead of a linear shape. More area would dissipate the heat faster.”

The Cheese-Master turned to the class and smiled. “Class is dismissed for the day. Please do your reading. Except for you, Tallsqueak. You get a reward for such fine reading.”

Tallsqueak sighed, knowing what the reward was going to be.

“Rifkin?! Get my keys. We are going to the cellar. Tell Smiley to start the soup and put the bread in the oven.” The chef turned to Tallsqueak. “We are going to the cellar to check on some of the cheese I have there, and you are going to prove a few more things for me. I may have a special job for you.”

Milo was excited to see the cellar but wondered why all the rewards he got seemed to be more jobs. He was gaining them quickly.

Chapter 9

Hamsters Hopping Happily

Milo followed behind the Cheese-Master and a very nervous Rifkin. A small side room was unlocked, which turned out to have only a staircase in it, leading downward. Milo could smell all sorts of interesting scents coming from below: mushrooms, spoiled milk, damp earth, and many types of cheese. The stone steps went down over a hundred feet and ended at a locked door. Both Rifkin and Bleusnout put a key in the door and turned them together. Milo heard the click of a mechanism, and the doors slid sideways into the walls. Rifkin returned upstairs, and Milo followed Bleusnout into the room beyond.

The chef paused. “Let us stay here for a few minutes. Take a few deep breaths.” Milo did as he was told. The room smelled delicious, but he suppressed hungry thoughts about cheese. After a full five minutes, the Cheese-Master relaxed. “Well, you didn’t run into the room and start tearing out the steel bars. That’s good. Entering this room can have a very strong effect on some people. You have a slight quiver to your arm and your breathing is a little faster, but overall, very good control. Let us go in.”

There were dozens of rooms with stout iron grates sealing them off from the main room. Milo saw huge rounds of cheese in bright wax, barrels of cheese carefully marked for aging, and vats of moldy cheeses slowly maturing. Just breathing in the air was a joy! The rest of the room was filled to the brim with cheese-making apparatus. Churns, stoves, and mixing vats were in several places, along with so much more that Milo didn’t understand. His meager skill in cheesemaking didn’t give him enough background. Bleusnout led him to a room with a wooden door and ushered him inside. It appeared to be a library with scrolls and ancient books.

One book in particular he pulled from the wall. It had a green binding with gold lettering. A second was selected, very thin with a brown leather cover and much smaller than the first. Bleusnout set the larger book gingerly on a table and blew the dust from it. “I need someone with good memory and attention to detail to gather some special items for me. Let us see if what you showed me upstairs holds true with a book you could not possibly have memorized.” He handed Milo the small brown book.

Milo read through Hamster Huey and the Gooie Kablooie in half a minute, then handed it back to Bleusnout. Cheese-Master quizzed him on the book, having him read from each page. Luckily, he did not have to perform the “Happy Hamster Hop” as instructed in part of the book.

“Very well, you pass. That is a very powerful gift you have been given. You may wish to consider the path of Lore-Master, but that, of course, would be many years in the future. Enjoy the freedom being young gives you to have fun and explore before you settle down and get fat like I did.”

“Now a much harder book. Can you promise to let me know if this is beyond you? It is not easy telling certain types of mushrooms apart. If we were to use the wrong one in our cheese, the poison could wipe out the entire hollow. And you could easily die simply by handling some of the more poisonous types. He pushed forward the large green book:

Mushrooms of the Deep Hollows: An Identification Guide to the 47 Varieties of Spotted Death Bloom. With Pictures! by Gather-Master Redcap.

Milo turned the pages slowly, looking at the colored drawings and detailed descriptions of different mushrooms, all of which seemed to be extremely poisonous. “Wow, this is great. I read all of Harry’s books, but he only had twenty-three of these listed in his wiki-shroomia.

Bleusnout raised an eyebrow. “Harry? Is he by chance a troll?”

“Yes, Harry. Very big troll sometimes. Smaller now. He gave me some lessons in mycology. His full name is Dr. Harold Earthtongue, but he says to just call him Harry. He really knows his shrooms.” Milo paused, thinking. “He might even be part mushroom now.” He went back to reading.

Milo was quite absorbed in his new book, entranced by the pictures and the copious number of notes scribbled on each page. He didn’t notice the Cheese-Master sigh and shake his head. On the shelf of books were seven volumes by Dr. Harold Earthtongue. It was a day like this that made Bleusnout wish he had stayed a simple lizard farmer. Some whelps always managed to surprise him.

After an hour, Milo assured the Cheese-Master that he had memorized every detail of the book and that he should have no trouble harvesting any of the mushrooms listed using the proper equipment. A large knapsack was found, and Bleusnout assembled a collection of small clay jars with cork stoppers, several sets of tongs for harvesting, and a cleansing solution to wipe down his tools. “I can’t emphasize enough just how poisonous some of those varieties are. Leave anything not on my list alone. Be careful with that field guide, but take it with you. Consult it if you even have the hint of a question about what type you are plucking.”

“I have a need for a great many rare mushrooms. We have many fields here in the hollow, but it’s simply not safe to grow some of them in the open areas where anyone could wander by. I had small amounts of the rare varieties growing in the back caverns down here, but somehow, a blight got into them, and I was forced to clean out the entire cave and start over. Such a waste. All of the planter boxes turned black in only a few days. I need samples of many varieties to start fresh, but obviously, care must be taken with them. I myself am not small or limber enough to carefully make my way through the wild shroom caverns without stepping in the wrong place. If you have worked with Dr. Earthtongue, you know not to step on the shroomlings.”

He paused and made sure he had Tallsqueak’s full attention.

“Care must also be taken with the spider tribes. We share much territory with them, but the peace is uneasy. Small skirmishes occur all the time. I don’t expect you to fight. If you see spiders, run away quickly. And if the worse comes to worst and one of the guardian myconians takes offense, also run. They can hit quite hard considering they are made of soft fungus.”

The Cheese-Master put his hand on Milo’s shoulder. “Can I count on you, Tallsqueak? The Limburger Hollow needs brave young whelps like you to step into positions of trust where your work will benefit us all.”

Milo considered the question, and the Cheese-Master gave him time. Finally, after a minute, he answered. “You can trust me to do a good job gathering shrooms or any other job you give me. And I’ll fight to defend the hollow. I won’t reveal secrets, and I won’t betray a trust.” He paused and exhaled. “But I have some awfully awkward secrets.”

“Do any of them put the hollow in danger?” The Cheese-Master didn’t seem terribly concerned about Milo’s secrets.

Milo shook his head. “No. And if they do, I’ll tell you and either fix things or leave.”

Bleusnout patted him on the head. “Good enough. We all have secrets. Let us get all this loaded into your knapsack, and I will get you a map of the caverns you need to visit. Then we’ll set you up with some bowls of lunch. Larry will be very happy to see you, especially when you tell him you memorized Hamster Huey. It’s his favorite story. He even knows how to do the Happy Hamster Hop.”

Chapter 10

Gotta Collect All the Mushrooms!

After his third time telling Larry the story of Hamster Huey, Milo got away by promising to tell it again at the next meal. Larry was in a better mood, still singing the song from the story. Milo noted his change in personality. He wasn’t a good judge of such things, but there was a huge difference between Larry who craved cheese and Larry who quietly listened to stories and sang songs. It was sort of nice to sit next to the ratkin. Milo didn’t like being around a lot of people, and everyone else he saw in the hollow stayed far away from Larry.

For now, though, he needed to concentrate on mushroom hunting for both of his quests. The map showed the caverns that made up Limburger Hollow and showed all the exits. The route he needed looked to be through a cave that was a little past some place called the Tower of Strife. He decided to head through the marketplace and maybe do a little shopping.

He was just about to step off the porch of the mess hall when a figure in black clothing swung into view and attacked him. They had been on the roof, holding onto the edge with claws and tail, as they swung at him, upside-down, they yelled, “Surprise!”

Milo didn’t think much of the plan. They’d have been better to drop to the ground or drop and catch themselves with their tail. Instead, they had held onto the roof and swung down in an arc like a pendulum. Milo knew from experience how much longer that would take, starting from a resting position. Moving through the tunnels and drops in his section led him to experiment with the best ways of traveling. Swinging like that was useful to change your vector of movement but not to gain momentum. Did they not teach shadowlurkers any math?

Milo had plenty of time to react. He brought up his left hand and blocked the weapon with the hardened bone that appeared on his forearm. The small knife that was used when playing Surprise! snapped. Milo grabbed the assassin by the front of his tunic and used the momentum and direction of their swing to toss him to Larry.

“Quick Larry! Gooie is trying to go Kablooie! Throw him far away from us before he explodes!!

Larry stood up and yelled loudly, holding the poor ratkin in one hand and winding up for a throw. “NO Kablooie for you! Larry saves Hamster Town!”

Milo watched as Larry threw the hapless assassin far and high. As he hit the ground a hundred feet away, a huge cloud of dust went up in the air, and Larry yelled, “Kablooie for Gooie!” Then he grabbed Milo, who was forced to do the Happy Hamster Hop with him as everyone in the mess hall came out to watch. Milo started to explain and then turned to the excited and happy Cheese Fiend. “Larry, can you tell everyone about how you saved Hamster Town?”

Larry stopped bouncing and looked unsure of things. “Larry tells the story?”

Milo nodded to him, and Bleusnout sat down on the porch. The Cheese-Master smiled encouragingly at Larry. “I would love to have Larry tell the story.” Milo snuck away to do his mushroom hunting as Larry began to tell for the first time what would become an ever-evolving story of how Larry saved Hamster Town.

One day, Larry was sitting with his best friend, Hamster Huey. Hamster Huey told Larry a story. Larry saw a sneaky guy trying to surprise Hamster Huey. It was Gooier Kablooie! Larry grabbed Kablooie and yelled at him…

* * *

Finding the Tower of Strife was easy. It was a stone tower going to the roof of the cavern, showing signs of many repairs. It was darkened by fire, and some of its stones were melted. Milo wondered what occurred inside. Even as he watched, several blue-robed ratkin barreled out the front door just seconds before thunder and lightning shook the tower. A green cloud formed high in the air, which then exploded as more lightning went off. The displaced students decided it was time for dinner and ran to the mess hall, hoping things would calm down soon.

Milo went around the tower, choosing to ignore it for now as everyone else in the market was doing. The open-air flea market was familiar to Milo. It looked like the market in Shadowport or the swap meet in the hab. Tables and blankets were covered in goods. Here it was foodstuffs, cloth, weapons, and jewelry. In the hab, it was broken machinery, video games, and canned food.

He found two sets of cheap, wooden tongs that were intended for cooking but were instead going mushroom hunting with him, along with a small shovel. He was happy to see that the coins he had looted from the airship were taken by the merchants. Most bit them to check for quality, but so did half the people up top.

He was about to leave when he saw an older merchant who sold hides and rolls of leather. He also had a pile of cleaned bones of various sizes. Milo started picking through them.

“Ah, got a carving project in mind, do you? I try to find thicker bones for that, but most of what I have now is longer thigh bones from horned milk beasts or red-crested lurkers. I do a little scrimshaw as a hobby now and then. I mostly carve kitchen knives or chopsticks, unless I get some nice claws or ivory tusks. Some of the big spiders have nice mandibles for carving. What are you looking for today?”

Milo let the old ratkin ramble on as he found four suitable thigh bones. “I need something for throwing. These will do. One silver?”

The old ratkin chuckled. “Don’t make an old rat laugh too much. Those are worth a couple of copper at most, and only because I cleaned them up nice.”

Milo handed him the silver piece. “I like old bones. The older the better. Maybe you can keep a look out for them?”

The old merchant stroked his chin and looked thoughtful. “Maybe I can. There might be some stuff in an odd corner of the hollow. If so, I’ll find it and let you know. Come back sometime, Tallsqueak, and we’ll talk. If you don’t see me, just ask for Scrap Hunter—someone will send word.” They bowed politely to each other, and Milo went on his way.

The market wrapped around the tower, and the ratkin continued past it, down a small path toward the waterfall. He stopped, staring at what he saw. A large piece of battered and rusty machinery sat near the pool, with a detached water wheel leaning up against it. It looked like a broken piece of dwarven machinery made by the lesser brothers in their delirium. He took a closer look at it, seeing copper coils to generate power, broken gears, and misaligned linkages. It was a mess and a total wreck. If he understood part of it, it was meant to generate power, but the far end from the water was a mystery. Broken glass globes had wires that wove into a tangle of cracked glass and melted metal. He itched to start fixing it, but he was missing the tools needed without getting into his Smuggler’s Stash, and he had a job to do.

Reluctantly, he moved on, finding the path that skirted the waterfall and went through a narrow passage for fifty feet before emerging into a large cavern with fields of mushrooms where ratkin were working at harvesting the tasty fungus. An ancient and feeble-looking old rat stood leaning on a gnarled cane, looking through thick spectacles out into the cave. These caverns must be very safe, as there were no guards around like there were at the other entrance. As Milo came near, the old rat sniffed the air and turned to look at him. His eyes narrowed a bit, and he raised his head to stare through the lower half of his bifocals. “You aren’t one of mine. Tell me what you are doing in the hollow.”

Milo decided to interpret the question as “What are you doing now?” instead of “Tell me everything you’ve done in the hollow.”

“Mushroom hunting for Master Bleusnout. I need to head past these fields and then go through three more caves.” He showed the old man the map.

The wrinkled old ratkin eased herself down onto a worn rock that showed signs of being used for a stool many times. “So far? You must be after some special varieties used in cooking and cheese. You should be cautious; some of those may also be poisonous. I should know, I hunted many a shroom in my younger days when my legs were better.” He gave a small bow of his head. “Welcome to the hollow, then, Tallsqueak. You can call me Old Healer or Grandfather. Either of those is what the young ones call me now.”

Milo sat with the old rat and went over the types of mushrooms he was looking for, double-checking his book knowledge with the wisdom this old man had. To his relief, the descriptions matched.

“I’m wondering if you might do me a favor, young Tallsqueak? I need quite a few mushrooms myself, to study and as ingredients for special medicines and tonics. Luckily, I need all the ones that our esteemed chef does not. If you don’t mind gathering those for me, I’d take it as a personal favor and find a way to reward you.”

Milo agreed to the task. It was a small amount of work to repay this teacher for his knowledge. And it was efficient. He could pick the caverns clean of spotted mushrooms between the two lists. But the old man had a warning for him. He pointed to a small cavern near the end of the cave complex Milo was heading to. “This way is dangerous. The spiders usually guard it. Sadly, the small cave beyond has the rarest varieties of mushrooms growing there: Golden Puffballs and Red-Spotted Eye-Rot. One tasty and one deadly. It would take quite a bit of stealth and daring to get in and out of that cave without a fight, so be careful. And take this gathering bag for the poisonous variety. Best not to get them mixed up with the edible types.”

With that warning and small challenge, he waved Milo on his way and leaned back to take a nap.

Skill Summary:

Sense Danger has improved from Level 5 to Level 6

The Spine of Volax-Repat has improved from Level 5 to Level 6

Combat Block has improved to Level 3

Acrobatics has improved to Level 6

Mycology has improved to Level 5

Dodge has reached Level 6

Climbing has reached Level 6

Chapter 11

Making New Friends

Milo passed through the large cavern, noting the types of common mushrooms and vegetables that were being grown here. All of the plants were grown in raised beds with water carefully poured in by the bucketful. A large water cart went to each field where water was poured into the buckets and then into the fields by careful cultivators. Another field hand was spreading pungent fertilizer around the plants. Milo was glad he wasn’t a farmer. He understood the process of growing things with hydroponics in the real world, but next to nothing about doing it here. It seemed a lot messier. He’d much rather be mining.

His time in the hollow was feeling like a vacation. He was relaxing more and more. There were problems here, but he didn’t feel like the responsibility of solving them was on his shoulders. He did like solving problems though, and applied some thought to his current job. He needed to gather rare mushrooms for two different people. One needed the tastiest to reseed his planters. The other needed the inedible ones to make medicines of some sort. He was curious about that. Maybe the old alchemist could teach him a few things and help him increase his knowledge of Mycology. Curiously, he had both warned Milo against the cavern patrolled by the spiders, yet pointed out that the rarest mushrooms would be growing in that area.

It felt almost like a challenge. Milo realized he also didn’t know the old ratkin’s real name. With a name like “Old Healer,” he should be someone who could be trusted. Milo had some doubts. He didn’t trust easily, and things were happening fast. When he returned, he’d ask Master Bleusnout or the Tail-Master. Someone in the hollow would know of him. He’d just take a look at that cave and be cautious, as he had promised Master Bleusnout. If you were cautious and sneaky enough, did that count as being careful? He mulled that over as he walked and decided it was outcome-based. If you didn’t get caught, you were careful. If you had to run away with giant spiders nipping at your tail, you weren’t.

Milo had gone past the area where the hollow had its farms and into the caverns beyond. Mushrooms and lichen grew all over, but not all of the ones that he needed. He filled most of Bleusnout’s list and found a few that Old Healer needed, but not the Golden Puffballs or Red-Spotted Eye-Rot. He explored further and further into the caverns, the wild mushrooms and lichen growing thinner on the rock walls.

The next cavern was quite dark. He felt his eyes adjust to the complete darkness, but something was bothering him. Where was the lichen that gave off a soft glow? It was like this area had been scrubbed down to the bare rock. He slowed down, moving low to the ground and skulking off to one side. And then he sensed the trap. There was a void in the rocks where there should be solid stone. A pit that felt open to the air with his stone sense but that looked like bare rock to his eyes. He scanned the ceiling but saw nothing hiding in the stalactites.

No one was around to see him use his magic. He brought out the Claws of Alta-Viator and the Spine of Volax-Repat. Bone plates covered his hands and forearms like gauntlets and along the top of his feet and his shins. His tail grew longer, looking like a whipping spine with a slashing blade on the end. Soundlessly he climbed the wall of the cave and skulked across the ceiling until he was directly above the pit. Whatever was down there was used to ambushing its prey. It wouldn’t be happy to have prey ambush it first.

Milo took an ultra-sharp claw and began to cut into the stalactite directly over the pit. This would be a good way to say “Surprise!” The sharp cone of rock was five feet long and a foot thick at the base. It took Milo ten minutes to soundlessly carve around the outer edge, not letting any of the rock fragments fall to the ground. Pushing on the stalactite, he heard a small cracking sound, and the three-hundred-pound spear of stone fell fifty feet to the ground, passing through the illusion and into the pit, where it poked through something soft and very squishy. Milo couldn’t help but mumble, “Surprise!”

He was surprised himself when a very large and very angry spider erupted from the hidden pit and pounced on nothing at all. The stalactite was stuck through its thorax, which was oozing thick greenish ichor. The maddened arachnid raced around the cave, looking for the attacker that had hurt it until it chanced to look up and see Milo on the ceiling. The spider hissed at him in pain and anger and raced up the wall and across the ceiling toward him. Milo was already moving to the side of the room, using his tail and arms to swing from one stalactite to the next. When the floor was only thirty feet below him, he dropped to the ground.

The spider tried to do the same, but the wound was hampering it. It landed badly and injured itself more, more green ichor pouring out. Milo raced away, trying to judge the spider’s speed. He could tell immediately that it wasn’t as fast as he was. He moved to the side, slashed with his tail, and then rolled as Master Gilad had taught him. A strand of silk shot from the abdomen, narrowly missing him. The leg he had slashed was hanging by a thread. Twice more he repeated the tactic, and the spider collapsed with only one leg on that side. The spider tried to crawl toward him. Milo moved behind it, content to let it die from bleeding.

It was nearly dead when a black-garbed figure raced forward and leaped into the air high enough to perform a double rotation before sticking the landing onto the spider, just behind its head. “Surprise.” Twin daggers stabbed into the spider. At the junction between head and body, multi-faceted eyes glowed green with hatred as it twisted to spit a mass of sticky saliva at the new attacker before it collapsed.

Milo saw a message pop up.

You have slain a foe with the aid of someone you are competing with. They seek to claim the victory. Please Choose:

- Share the victory with this helpful person as if they were in your party, and agree to a truce from competition for one day.

- Claim victory for yourself. You will gain 70% of the experience and Enhancement Points. Competition continues.

- Declare that you are attacking the kill-stealer for daring to take what is yours. Combat is to first blood. You will gain all of the experience and Enhancement Points.

You have a minute to decide. It’s normally much less, but the second attacker is in a bit of a sticky situation at the moment.

Milo scanned the announcement and then looked at the situation.

Sticky was indeed the correct word. The person who had killed the spider had both hands glued to the spot where they had stabbed it. Milo was still being cautious. He recognized the garb of a shadowlurker. Green eyes stared at him, but his attacker was silent.

“Are you from Limburger Hollow? How are we competing?”

A whispered voice spit out a curse. “Get it over with. Just nick me, take the points for the kill, and score one on me. This sticky stuff is crap! Without it, I’d be kicking your ass all over the cave and taking all the experience for myself! Stupid spiders.”

Milo disagreed with her about the spider’s intelligence. “This one was actually quite smart. It was tricky, stealthy, and fought hard. It might have got me with that spit. I was about to rush in myself. So, let’s call it a draw.” Milo noticed that in the group window, it showed his name as Tallsqueak and his new acquaintance as “Partner.” Some sneaky skill in play, no doubt.

You have chosen cooperation! That tricky move surely will leave your temporary ally confused!

You have slain a Level 4 Elite Boss, Silentslayer. You and your partner each gain one Enhancement Point and 200 experience.

You also gain 1 point of Surprise. Your partner does not.

The shadowlurker finally managed to free themselves and then walked angrily over to Milo. “Don’t think that will buy you any favors! Tomorrow, we start over.”

Milo pointed to the far end of the cavern. “I didn’t do it to buy a favor. I did it because the ‘stupid spiders’ were quick to come to investigate the noise.”

His partner spun and stared at the other tunnel. Two large, black spiders were coming into the cavern.

“Those are the guards that are normally at the entrance to the Cave of Death. If we can decoy them, one of us could harvest some of the Red-Spotted Eye-Rot. Lead them around, I’ll harvest the fungus, and we’ll split the loot and rewards.”

Everything slowed down for Milo as he looked at the situation, thinking very hard. Somehow, he was in competition with the shadowlurkers, probably from playing Surprise! They were taking things very seriously, even to following him and trying to steal his experience or goad him into a fight. Getting the mushrooms must be some sort of test for them. Milo wanted the shrooms from the cave for eating and medicine. He and his partner were in a truce for a day, which should include the mushrooms. It wasn’t a bad plan, and with the spiders on the move, he wasn’t going to be harvesting anything until things calmed down.

“Agreed. I’ll get their attention; you do the sneaky harvesting.” He raced toward the guards and threw two skulls, one after another. Both throws put the runed skulls under the spiders, where they exploded, causing the arachnids to squeal in pain. Dust billowed into the air, and his partner used the distraction to disappear into the darkness.

The plan was working, but Milo needed to figure out a way to keep two nasty-looking spiders busy and not get caught.

Chapter 12

Spiders Don’t Keep Score

Milo didn’t like the idea of trying to just avoid combat to keep his two adversaries busy while his partner looted the rare mushrooms. Every scenario seemed to end badly for him. The spiders could use the ceiling and walls as proficiently or even better than he could. They were too big to draw them off the way he came, and he couldn’t take them in the direction his partner had gone. Running around was a losing game against two opponents in a cavern whose part was already occupied with sticky webs.

Better to cut down the odds and slow them up. He gave his partner some time to slip past them before he threw a bone harpoon at the spider that first emerged from the cloud of dust. Hitting an unseen ally with a spell meant for a spider would have been awkward and embarrassing, as well as probably fatal. The Harpoon of the Winds hit the spider between its first and second set of legs, puncturing its side. He followed up immediately with a second spell for double the mana using Fast Casting, watching his mana bar drain by an eighth. He needed to get rid of one enemy quickly, and he needed information on what he was fighting.

You have struck two angry spiders with explosions, dealing 100 damage to each.

You have struck Black Widow Brute with a spell, dealing 338 points of damage.

Black Widow Brute blocks your second spell, taking minimal damage.

Health 962/1,400

The second harpoon was met and deflected by the wounded spider’s front leg, sending the harpoon clattering to the side. Milo could see that the front legs of this spider were heavily armored, made for taking blows. The second spider began casting a spell, its nimble front legs making motions and rhythmic chittering coming from its mouth.

Black Widow Deathmonger casts a spell. You may not use Counter Attack because you recently used Fast Casting.

Poisonous Cloud of Doom does 50 points of damage to all non-spiders in the area. This is a persistent attack that will damage you each round. Damage is reduced by 20 points due to your Level 5 Weak Poison Resistance.

Green clouds filled the entire cave, spreading out over everything. It was a good attack that would wear down multiple enemies, but less useful against just him, and something he could endure for a time. He realized the spiders might be worried about where his unseen Partner was. The spell would be terrifying if used against tight-packed ratkin infantry. As he choked and dodged away from the spiders, he looked at the spellcaster. It was much thinner in the legs, and smaller in the body than its bodyguard. And probably more deadly. He immediately switched opponents, sending another harpoon spell its way.

You have struck Black Widow Deathmonger with a spell, dealing 338 points of damage.

Health 462/900.

The Deathmonger screamed and the bodyguard moved to interpose itself between Milo and the mage. Milo had planned for this, circling to get to the side and running up the wall so that he could keep the mage in view. The Deathmonger began to cast another spell, green light forming along its forearms. Milo used his Counter Attack ability and cast his own spell, throwing the last of his harpoons.

Your counter-attack is successful!

Deathmonger has taken 338 damage from your harpoon.

Deathmonger has taken 63 damage from Rotting Death as its spell is disrupted.

Health 61/900

This was too much for the Deathmonger. It headed for the tunnel leading out, moving slowly from two harpoons in its body. The Black Widow Brute came after Milo but stopped when it was twenty feet from the tunnel, holding its position when he retreated away from it, choosing to guard the spellcaster’s slow retreat.

Milo spent a few seconds circling to the side and retrieving his last harpoon, where it lay on the ground. He should take the time to carve more of these. Maybe a quiver? Using his own bones to power the spell hurt and used a lot of his health. That was an option for emergencies. Which this fight might become. Could the wounded spider mage kill his partner? It could certainly bring more spiders that could kill both of them.

Milo ran at the Black Widow Brute, readying his harpoon for a throw. The spider braced itself and prepared to block. Milo took another step and tried to jump over it. The spider managed to hit him with an armored claw, doing a hundred points of damage to him and turning his leap into a clumsy fall and roll. Rather than get up, he just kept rolling until he could come quickly to his feet and sprint away. The Brute pursued. After a short tunnel, he emerged into a huge cavern filled with mushrooms. The far side had been harvested, and he saw very small spiders scuttling away with loads of harvested shrooms, getting away from the fight.

Milo had hoped to catch up with the Deathmonger as it ran away. What he wasn’t expecting was for the wounded spider to drop on him. Sense Danger gave him some warning but was overwhelmed by the spider’s natural Ambush ability. At least it didn’t shout surprise, as he had half expected it to. Maybe spiders didn’t keep score?

Something sharp punctured his left thigh, stunning him. The Deathmonger went for a second attack, higher up, driving its poisoned stinger into his spine. Milo was driven into the soft soil of the cave, but the stinger couldn’t penetrate the bone armor that covered his spine. The Deathmonger screamed in pain and rage as its stinger snapped instead.

Milo felt sickened. He turned over and struck with claws and tail, killing the Deathmonger and covering him in foul-smelling ichor that made him more nauseous. He didn’t have time to think as the enraged Brute flipped the dead spider off of him and reared up to drive its own stinger into him.

Milo dodged, then dodged again. At some point, he regained his feet and began stumbling away. The Brute pursued, hitting him twice with its front legs.

Status:

You are poisoned. Speed -25%, +50 points of poison damage per round. Your weak poison resistance is ineffective against this strong poison.

Health 1,120/1,900

Milo was looking for anywhere that would let him get away from the brute. Killing it with claws didn’t sound like a good option when he was slowed and losing 50 Health per round. His partner was nowhere in sight, but he saw the smaller cave. If his partner was inside, the two of them could kill this thing. He was still faster than the brute, and fear gave him speed as he sprinted around the edge of the cave, avoiding the patches of poisonous mushrooms.

The cave entrance was narrower than the other tunnels, but he fit through easily. He wasn’t sure if the Brute could make it, but he was sure it would try. Inside the cave, he saw nothing at all. If there had been mushrooms here, they were gone. If his partner had been here, they were gone too. Milo had trapped himself in a small cave while dying of poison, and an enemy was coming for him.

He examined his options. One seemed like a good idea. He tossed a runed skull into the tunnel, then paid twice the mana to do another. Just in time. The Brute had stuck in its head and took them both in the face. It was wounded, but not slowing. It jammed its body into the tunnel, its hard armor scraping in places and making it a tight fit, but it was pushing through.

Milo tossed his last two Exploding Skulls. They exploded and wounded the Brute, taking it below half health. It started to exit the tunnel as Milo struck the rock above it with his pick, dislodging a large chunk of rock on its head. The Brute chittered at him and moved another foot into the tunnel. Milo moved to the side and hit the crack he had started with his last strike. The tier-four pick went deep into the soft rock, and Milo pulled as hard as he could. With a small rumble, the tunnel shifted, and tons of rock pinned the Brute in the tunnel. It was helpless as Milo struck it from the side, first breaking off its legs and then killing it. The pick gave him reach, and the sharp head punctured through the hard chitin as easily as his claws would have.

You have slain a Level 6 Black Widow Deathmonger.

You have slain a Level 6 Black Widow Brute Bodyguard.

You have earned 900 experience.

As soon as it was dead, he sat down and began drinking healing potions. His leg was turning black and swelling. With two healing potions in him, he had time to bring up his Enhancements. He had 10 Enhancement Points and 500 experience points he had been saving from the fight with the Whorlewiggle. Those could be used in two ways: Strong Poison Resistance or Extra Health 3. He didn’t expect the poison to run its course quickly, and while another 250 Health would help, he needed to reduce the damage he was taking.

All 1,100 experience points went into Strong Poison Resistance, raising it to Level 4. Immediately, the messages about the damage from the spider venom were reduced to only 25 per round, giving him more time. The throbbing wound in his leg was better but still hurt. From outside the tunnel, he felt the vibrations from many feet. It was either a legion of ratkin or a lot of spiders. He had no idea if they could get to him, but the situation had suddenly gotten worse. He began to drink his remaining healing potions one at a time as he searched the cave for a crevice, small tunnel, or anywhere to hide or barricade himself.

What he found instead was a door in the rock. Or a rock that was a door? He couldn’t even see the cracks in the rock, but he knew it was a thin door that led to a space beyond it. Stone Sense was telling him it was there, even if he couldn’t find the door itself. He felt carefully, scanning the rock for any way to open it. A small depression had a button in it. He pressed it, and two things happened. The door moved inward on silent hinges, and a needle poked his finger.

You failed to notice a trap! You are taking 5 damage points per round from Strong Poison. Lucky for you the poison on the trap hasn’t been refreshed in ages.

Downing his last healing potion, Milo stumbled into the hidden passage, closing the door behind him. He could see that it opened into a room. As he moved forward, he felt a sharp pain—a needle stabbed into his foot.

You failed to notice a trap! You are taking 5 damage points per round from Strong Poison. Lucky for you, the poison on the trap hasn’t been refreshed in ages.

He cursed whoever had left him an escape route but littered it with traps. Milo was dying, but he slowed down and scanned the rock walls carefully. He found two more traps before he entered the room. He saw furniture covered in dust and a body slumped in a chair, the narrow skull of a ratkin resting on the table littered with books, vials, and jars of rotted ingredients. A pile of what looked like empty healing potions made a pyramid on the floor. A huge book was opened to a page that detailed the making of a restorative of some sort. It used mushroom extracts and alchemical substances he’d never heard of. Milo didn’t understand half of it, but the potion required one full day of aging before it was useful. One outstretched skeletal hand held a flask with a sparkling golden liquid. Every other potion seemed to have been drunk in an attempt to save the alchemist’s life. He hadn’t had time for the potion to age properly.

Milo’s health was dropping steadily still, even slowed by the Strong Poison Resistance. The two traps hadn’t helped, of course.

He grabbed the vial and drank down the amber liquid. It tasted like a sweet, fizzy drink from the hab. It also made him dizzy. He barely made it to the dust-covered bed before he passed out, wondering if he was dead or alive.

Chapter 13

Things Get Mixed Up

Just as he was passing out or dying in some hidden cave, Milo flicked his tail and logged out of the game. He had too much to do in the real world to be wasting time lying in a dusty cot. He did enjoy sleeping in the game now and then, especially when that would be what he was doing in the real world, but he didn’t think he was resting comfortably this time. He was either dead or he wasn’t. Dead was going to be a real pain, sneaking through caverns naked and dealing with spiders to get back some of his gear. Of course, living might also have some problems associated with it, like being stuck in an unknown cave with a dead body and angry spiders knocking at his door.

But that was tomorrow’s problem. Today he needed to get a different set of gear ready in case he did decide to go to some big swap meet/party that some rich person was holding in Section H. That thought made him pause. Was he a rich person now? He wasn’t sure if stolen money counted. But logically, it had to, since governments and corporations seemed to steal so much of it all the time, and it counted for them. Another decision was made: stolen money counted to determine if you were rich. He would figure out all this social stuff eventually.

Of course, Milo would have trouble doing a lot with his stolen money. Unlike the people rebuilding Section H, he couldn’t just put new solar panels on the roof of Section E. First, they’d get stolen. Second, they were too damn obvious. The ones in Section H didn’t get stolen because they were constantly under surveillance of guards and maintenance workers. It was too bad that he couldn’t just put an array of his panels in Section H and let them guard them for him.

Was there any reason he couldn’t? He would have to mimic the email trail for all the requests, invoices, installation, and a dozen other things. Once they were installed, he could wire them into his system by running new cables through an unused crawlspace. He could even have his panels designated for future use and high energy needs. If they fed power to Section H only as needed, it would camouflage that most of the power was being used in Section E rather than being wasted. Section H would benefit from having their storage at 100 percent all the time, and he could greatly upgrade the energy system in Section E. Even if someone questioned having extra panels, it would be a huge mess of complex orders to untangle why they were there. He’d make sure of that.

And he was safe because an engineer or technician looked for problems and things to fix. Extra power wasn’t a problem. Bonus solar panels didn’t need to be fixed. Move on, citizen. Nothing to see here.

He began working on the idea immediately. Thoughts of poison and spiders pushed to the back of his head. After an hour, an alarm went off. The alarm was connected to a message to himself.

Remember to order the following: 196 graphene panels made according to the schematics we just set up. We also need 2,000 titanium/iridium micromotors, two miles of the ultrathin graphene cable coated and uncoated, the new micro-waldos from Lang Enterprises, and the micro-processing “factory in a box” that Dr. Ignition is trying to sell prototypes of. Leather coat, the kind we saw with 100 pockets. That pitiful-looking prosthetic leg with the fake foot on the end. And bread, the long kind. A dozen loaves. Ten pounds of butter. A pound of ground Parmesan. That should do for now. Do it before you go back to the other project.’

He almost ignored himself but was reminded of how good the bread had tasted that the Cheese-Master had made. It took him a half-hour, and then he got back to work, creating several months’ worth of fake emails and inserting them into the archives, spam folders, or saved mail of the right people. Ordering the panels was the easy part, so was routing the money into and back out of the accounts of the people who ran Section H even. Those two had been a piece of cake, as these people sucked at basic accounting. They had money coming in, getting tangled up with other money, and going all over the place. Maybe he wasn’t the only person trying to hide something?

The only problem he had was dealing with their engineering firm. It was locked tight. Much tighter than he would have expected. Any time he started to get in, their security began to notice, and he was forced to back off. In the end, he simply created the emails from them on this side of the fence. It was a small clue that something was off, but not one anyone would ever notice. Like anyone else, they weren’t going to care about something that didn’t cause a problem.

* * *

A few weeks later…

Onyx: This is driving me crazy. How stupid can these people be? They thanked me for the superb job we did on the second solar array. We had nothing to do with a second solar array!

Nina: They thanked you?

Onyx: Not me, personally. They thanked our fictitious talking head that they think runs things.

Zander: Was a second solar array installed? I recommended it because projections showed they would need it in 30 months, plus or minus 4 months. They turned down the proposal because of cashflow considerations. Very short-sighted of them, in my opinion. You shouldn’t hire smart people and then not follow their advice.

Onyx: No, we had nothing to do with it. I mean, we could have, but they turned us down. But they have a second array, and they thanked me for my insight and work in making sure it was done correctly. I didn’t do anything!!

Bork: Is that a problem? They did something on their own for a change. Probably someone said, “Screw this; we need it; go do it. And if anyone asks, tell them that the wonderful engineering firm said to do it and helped.” Done, move on.

Algernon: Now, if they paid us for our help, that would be something. Money for nothing.

Onyx: I checked. They paid us. It was part of last quarter’s accounting.

Algernon: How did that tune go? Money for nothing and the chicks for free? I demand women!

Nina: What would you do with them?

Algernon: Make them play games with me, of course. You people are always too busy.

Nina: Ugh, enough games for me. Never going back to that horrible trap of a fantasy world.

Onyx: I think that… No. Never mind. So, we got paid. What now. I want to go sort through this and dig around in their systems. It bothers me. I want to know what happened.

Nina: You went back in, didn’t you?

Onyx: I dig into their systems all the time. Their accounting is so funny. They barely hide the money laundering at all.

Nina: The game. You went in the game. I told you not to!

Onyx: And I told you not to download all those cat photos and fall in love with them. Now you own seven cat shelters!

Nina: Full of cute ones!

Bork: I’m not seeing problems here, people!

Algernon: I want my MTV…

Zander: I wish I was an only child sometimes.

Bork: Wouldn’t work. You’d be insane by the time you were twelve. Any of us would be. We have to have a group to bounce ideas off of each other, or we go feral and then insane. Hardcoded in our genetics.

Onyx: That’s troubling on many levels. But I may disagree with you at some point.

Nina: NO! It wasn’t him. You aren’t going back in. That’s crazy talk. We don’t need more crazy. We need time with each other.

Onyx: I suppose. What are we doing tonight then? Another group project for someone?

Nina: No. Done with this. Going to watch Politician Grudge Match. The ex-governor of Nebraska challenged the current Prime Minister of Alaska. They’re doing a cage match tonight for the title.

Bork: I’m in. Everyone?

Onyx: I suppose. You’re right. This is a waste of time. Just morons getting things mixed up. I’ll make popcorn.

Chapter 14

Partner Perspective

Char, aka Charlotte, aka Partner, aka Princess Stabbypants, Charred-Earth, and Hearttaker was delighted to do nothing but watch as events unfolded. She had been concerned when Grandfather gave a mission to Tallsqueak. He wasn’t even in the Guild! What was the old rat up to?

The annoying newcomer was fast becoming a thorn in her foot. Her head was still sore from his attack on her. All she’d been doing was playing a friendly game of Surprise! with him. Who the hell used a wrench when playing Surprise!? She had argued for half a bell that giving him a point in the contest wasn’t right. Correspondingly, she shouldn’t have to lose a point! But Grandfather had insisted and pointed out that it was her fault for attacking him in the first place. Grandfather could be totally unreasonable at times. Her record was ruined now! No one had scored a point on here in three seasons, but now she heard the whispers behind her back. She had vowed to get her revenge on Tallsqueak.

Luckily, she had overheard the conversation between Grandfather and her target and followed behind Tallsqueak as he made his way through the caverns, where gatherers from the hollow were busy bringing in a harvest of tasty fungus. She hadn’t had a plan in mind—just follow and do something to regain that stolen point. Her patient skulking had paid off. She had learned his secret!

Away from the rest of the hollow, he unveiled his hidden abilities while fighting an assassin spider. He was some sort of aberration, like the over-muscled Larry. No wonder the two could stand to be around each other. The bony plates, elongated tail, and horrible claws had nearly made her squeal when he deployed them. But the ugly mutations were effective, and he nearly killed the powerful spider by himself.

He hadn’t even suspected she was around until she had struck. Which was why it was totally unfair that she hadn’t been given the kill. She had hated having to sit there while he considered what to do with her. Her plans were already forming for how she would attack and humiliate him when he confused her by taking only half the credit for the kill. She had no idea what his plan was. Anyone else would have drawn her blood and scored the experience and a second point on her.

Then she realized that they had a twenty-four-hour truce and were grouped together until then. That had been his plan! He was going to use her skills and stealth to further his own missions. Well, two could play at that game. Her hasty offer of ‘You delay the enemy while I loot’ had obviously caught him off guard, and in his confusion, he took the deal. Most likely he would flee battle quickly, but all she needed was a moment or two in the cave to pick it clean.

The Cave of Death was small, and the mushrooms were few. She harvested all of the two varieties of mushrooms there, taking care not to touch the poisonous type, and then raced out of the cave and up the wall to hide before the spider guardians made their way back. It would be tricky getting away, but she could do it.

Of course, nothing said she had to meet up with Tallsqueak immediately. “Oh, so sorry, I couldn’t find you. A day has passed. No partnership, No split. So sad.” She could hear him whining already. It would be so sweet.

That daydream burst as the wounded Deathmonger limped out of the tunnel and clumsily climbed above it. Somehow Tallsqueak had managed to hurt the mage-spider enough to make it flee. Whatever respect that might have gained him was lost when he stumbled out of the tunnel and got ambushed like the total neophyte that he was. She had hoped the spider would yell “Surprise!” but spiders don’t keep score.

She expected to see him die, especially after he was struck twice with the deadly poison. But it was the Deathmonger who died, slashed to death by his mutant claws. She watched as he wisely fled the Brute but then stupidly trapped himself in the Cave of Death. Again, Char was surprised as Tallsqueak killed the Brute. She saw the stone crack and the tunnel collapse. The spider’s back legs had kicked feebly for some time before it died. She felt like she needed a scorecard to keep track of what he did right and what he screwed up.

Not that anything would save him. Two doses of Black Widow Venom should have put him down already. She watched on the group screen as his health went up and down as he drank down health potions. He got lower, lower, lower… and then he just wasn’t there. Tallsqueak has left the game. What did that mean? Dead? She decided it meant dead. Maybe she’d ask Grandfather about it. Grandfather knew everything. But not for a day. Grandfather got weird about honoring deals and keeping your word to people in the hollow.

Then it had suddenly been time to go, as more spiders arrived. Very angry spiders! At least two full hunting packs. She raced to safety, hoping she was unseen. Just in case, she should warn the workers in the far fields and have them pull back to the hollow for a couple of days. Spiders did stupid things when they were pissed off. Luckily, they were pissed off at Tallsqueak. He was the one who killed the two Widows. Totally his fault. She should get Justin and Brutus to guard that entrance to the hollow. It was their job after all. What else had she been helping to train them for?

* * *

Larry decided that it was time for Larry to go home. It was many bells until he got another meal, and most of the hollow was off to their pillows. No one was left to read to Larry. No one for Larry to tell stories to. Cheese-Master was doing cheesy stuff in the basement. Larry could hear him singing. No Tallsqueak. Larry knew when Tallsqueak was near; his friend smelled different. Everyone smelled different, but Tallsqueak was different-different. He smelled like an old cave, and hinge oil, and magic all mixed together. SneakyGuy was sneaking around, doing his sneaky stuff. He thought Larry didn’t hear him, but Larry had big ears. Thoughts about SneakyGuy made Larry growl and his claws grew long. That was bad! Larry should go find Larry’s pillow, and think happy thoughts until he wasn’t mad at SneakyGuy.

Larry started walking home. Larry’s house was past the blue house and past the yellow house. Not as far as the people making hot metal. He turned into a smaller cave, then turned again, and finally got on all fours to creep where it was low. Larry’s house was bigger, but only after the long, long low part. His house was just like it was this morning. Nothing changed in Larry’s House. Larry had three pillows, one from his old house when he was smaller, and two new ones. He had a board with a drawing of Justin on it. He had made it when his hands could hold a paintbrush. It showed Justin in his new armor and Larry next to him. Larry was so small then. Now he was bigger than Justin. Someday he would get armor like Justin and stand guard with him.

Larry put his book about Hamster Huey on his shelf, next to his picture of Justin and his lucky rock. Some days he tried to do what Cheese-Master said and throw his lucky rock in the air and catch it. He didn’t catch it a lot, but more than he used to. Larry sat down on his bed of soft stuff that people had given him for his house and tried to sleep. Tomorrow was a big day. Larry would save Hamster Town again. Larry would be a hero. Like his big brother, Justin.

Chapter 15

A Place to Think

After logging out of the game, Milo decided to stay inside his pod, logged into VR, and sat in a plain white room. He needed to do some thinking and wanted to access the datanet, specifically the forums where people discussed GENESIS. In the game, there was a lot to do. Out of the game, there was a never-ending list of things that needed to be done. Milo recognized his obsession with doing things. Task-oriented was a nice term used in some of the medical journals, which only partially described one of the things that had been done to Milo and his family. They were born wanting to do things. Bred to work continuously. Instead of playing like normal children, their games were moving money and resources around the world and not getting caught.

It was difficult to just sit and think in Section E. Part of him was always aware of a long list of jobs that had to be done. Early on, he had roamed all over the hab, fixing broken things. After a year, he was able to focus on just Section E and not the rest. Then he narrowed his focus to only the mechanical and electrical systems. There were things he couldn’t fix, like the people living in the Hab. People would have to fix themselves. He’d help by keeping the water, food, and electrical systems working. He focused only on the big jobs that he could do from the shadows. Replacing light bulbs, getting elevators working, and all the other small problems were someone else’s job. Or they’d stay broken. There was too much exposure in fixing little things.

Sitting in just a plain, white room was helping him think. No distractions. No jobs. But it also bothered him. It didn’t feel safe, only plain. He started to design something better. This area was meant to be a safe place where players could do research, wait for death timers to expire, or play video games with guildmates and hold meetings. It could be designed as the owner wanted and had no effect on the game. Five minutes later, Milo’s area looked different.

Now it was a section of rusty pipe with a six-foot diameter and twenty feet in length. Both ends were metal walls made of scrap metal, cut to fit, and welded to the walls of the pipe. The only way in or out was a small hatch in the floor that was locked tight. Four large screens took up one wall. Milo was sitting on a comfortable couch. An end table with cheese, crackers, and chopped vegetables sat in front of him. He felt secure and comfortable here, with no alarms or blinking lights to distract him and no worries about someone playing Surprise!

First on his list was some research into the hollow. Reviews on it were mixed. Many players didn’t like the new race, complaining they felt weak and small. Others were having a lot of trouble not tripping on their tails. The biggest complaint was how hard it was to climb up through the tunnels to Shadowport. It was a difficult climb with a group, and usually fatal doing it on your own. Predators roamed the series of caves on a regular basis, and the newly made ratkin were just tasty snacks for them to enjoy. Milo wondered if ratkin tasted like cheese to a red-crested cave fisher.

On the other hand, some players loved the hollow. The isolation from the rest of the world let them focus on their character and learn about the culture of the ratkin. In many of the other starting areas, it was difficult to find trainers, and it could be expensive to pay their fees. In Limburger Hollow, getting training was not only free and available—it was required. Everyone trained with the Cheese-Master and had to select at least one other trainer. The options were Fighting, Scouting, Healing, Gathering, and Spells. Many of the ratkin players talked about trying to stay in the hollow until at least Tier 2, and there were several threads discussing staying long-term and living there. The discovery of the Deep Rock Engineers, large cave systems, underground World Bosses, and Limburger Hollow spurred a lot of conversation about what else might be underground. Hints from the developers indicated that the world below might be bigger than the world above. That made sense to Milo, and he wondered why it was such a big revelation. Didn’t the real world dig deep and build up to increase space? Why should the skin of the world have more than the entire volume under it?

The most interesting thing for Milo was finding out that Limburger Hollow wasn’t the only starting place for ratkin players. Several other hollows in other parts of the world offered options for starting out. Most seemed similar to Limburger Hollow with areas for new players to fight, do quests, and gain skills, but some of them had different masters to take classes from. Storm-Masters and Battle-Masters were mentioned by one player in Stilton Hollow. Pule Hollow was the home of an Illusion-Master. The few players who had been placed there mentioned the large herds of cave donkeys. Winnemere Hollow was situated in a massive, bat-infested cave and boasted a Blast-Master. The first player who had found it hinted that a little chemistry knowledge was helpful. Milo made a note to himself to see where these other hollows were located and if there were any maps in Limburger Hollow. Maybe he’d go visit them.

He learned several things about Limburger Hollow that he hadn’t found on his own. The area he had explored was known to be dangerous because of the spiders. Gathering and stealth skills were practiced there, with no fighting. The mines were also a place for gatherers and an area for neophyte ratkin to practice their fighting skills. The last thread he saw was titled: What’s the best way to spend contribution points?

Contribution points?

“So after doing a lot of the little quests, clearing out some nests of spiderlings in the mines and gathering some mushrooms, I have 15 contribution points. What do people think are the best things to spend them on? I have the Gathering Whelp class, but I’m thinking about taking more of the tail-fighting classes and learning some weapons. Or maybe doing the sneaky stuff? Where are people spending points?”

“Definitely take the tail-fighting classes. You can gain levels in the skill fighting spiderlings, slimes, and moles, but you don’t really learn as much just raising the skill with experience as you do in the classes. Especially incorporating dodges and acrobatics into a fighting style. We have a couple of good fighters in our group, and one guy that is insane. It’s like he was born with a tail. He’s the master’s little pet, of course, but no one is going to challenge him after what happened to the last guy. I’m spending points on Whip Tail and Slashing Tail as soon as I can. Having another weapon for free is great.”

“I want to learn how to make my own cheese! At high levels, it’s a potion-making skill and uber-buff food. I’m going to grab Careful Milking, Cheesemaking, and raise up my WIS as fast as I can so I don’t have to worry about the side effects.”

“What are you guys talking about? I just started up a new rat character in Pule Hollow and I’m doing all the donkey quests. Where do I find out about the points?”

“If you are doing quests, you already earned them. Keep doing quests and look for a bulletin board where you eat with lots of notes on it. You can either read the little notes, but it’s easiest to use the prompt to open up a screen. Look for the people standing and staring into space.”

Milo almost started to log back into his character, wanting to go check his points. Then he remembered where he was and realized that was a bad idea. He’d either waste time taking a nap or find out he was dead and just be back here immediately. Better just to wait. He logged into his systems and continued his work designing some specialized gear he was going to need. Things were going to get more complex in the Hab. Going to this party thing with Butch would give him an idea of what was going on. Hopefully, the swap meet was a good one and they had some good games to play. Four hours went by quickly as he finished his schematics and placed additional orders for some components and circuitry his new plans had incorporated into his designs.

His bank account was slowly dropping. He had stolen a lot of money. But state-of-the-art robotics components and solar panels didn’t come cheaply. He should probably look at investing his money, but that left a large paper trail. He had enough for now and was hesitant to expose himself more. He put the thought aside, logged out, and hopped out of his pod. He ordered up a big bowl of mac and cheese from the food processor and prepared to look for problems in Section E.

Uncooked chunks of something hard and dry fell into his bowl, followed by broccoli-flavored food cubes, and then a nice gooey topping of something black and stinky. Milo sighed. Job number one was fixing the central food processing unit again. It was hours later that he logged back into GENESIS and opened his eyes.

He wasn’t dead! He was very surprised. Now to look around this room and see what secrets it held. No one hid a room this well if they didn’t have secrets.

* * *

Larry put his head on his pillows, but he wasn’t tired, so Larry told Larry a good night story.

“Once upon a time in Happy Hamster Town, Larry lived with his big brother Justin. Justin was the bestest, strongest, and bravest guard in Hamster Town. Larry couldn’t wait until he could be a guard like best-biggest-brother Justin. He worked hard at tail-fighting and trying to lift Justin’s halberd. He was getting stronger every day, but not from Cheese! Larry just worked hard! One day when Justin was guarding one end of Hamster Town by himself, a big, nasty spider tried to get in. Justin went to stop him. Larry wanted to Help! SneakyBadGuy had special cheese that Larry could have for free! Special cheese would make Larry strong, and he could save Hamster Town! But Larry said ‘No, you go away SneakyBadGuy. Larry won’t eat your bad cheese. Larry will help Justin.’ Then Larry picked up a halberd and ran to help Justin! They killed the nasty spider together!

Larry and Justin were heroes, and Larry lived with Justin forever and everyone was happy. Even Larry was happy. The end.”

Chapter 16

Clean Pants!

Something near Milo had died. It was very close and very stinky.

As Milo woke up, the smell hit him hard. Something rotten and foul was nearby. He eyed the desiccated skeleton, but it was long dead, the few scraps of skin and fur left on it were as dry as paper and the bones yellowed with age. Milo saw the skeletons of a dozen small scavengers nearby, mostly underneath where the skeleton sat. Whatever poison this person died from hadn’t faded, even in death. He went to sit up as the smell became worse, and he realized he was the source. All of his clothing besides the Bone-Runed Cowl were rotted and stinking, and he was covered in filth and dried sweat. His mouth was bone dry, his teeth felt fuzzy, and his breath made him gag. Water from his canteen only helped a little. He couldn’t stand to be like this.

He moved to a corner of the room, removed his clothing, and used some of the ancient bedding and his water bottle to scrape off the worst of the sweat and grime. Another blanket he tore to a smaller size and knotted about his waist. This room was large and seemed to have no exits, but one spot on a wall seemed suspiciously bare. He carefully searched for a hidden catch, then again for some other trigger. If the way to open a door was trapped, it made sense there was a way to disarm it. He found a pebble-sized knob of rock high on the rocky wall that could be depressed, and while holding it, pressed the other button. With a click, the “hidden” door opened. He carefully opened the door and entered, hearing the sound of water. The natural chamber beyond was lit by a magical lamp that hung from the ceiling. The soft light was steady with none of the fluctuations that a flame would make. Most of the chamber was taken up by a small pool of water fed by a small waterfall that poured down one side of the room. The water filled the pool, with the excess running down a spillway into another cave.

Milo didn’t care if something was lurking down there; he was taking a bath! He brought the Bone-Runed Cowl with him. This wasn’t the first time they had taken a bath together. A small depression held what might have been soap long ago. What was left was enough to help him get clean, along with sand from the bottom of the pool. He scoured himself and the cowl until he didn’t smell anything, then carefully dressed in the blanket and cowl, tightening his belt to hold the towel in place. He noticed he had to tighten the belt another notch as if he were thinner. Looking at his arms and legs, there was a noticeable difference, with his muscles standing out more and his fur looked… silky? Fluffy? He worried he looked like some stuffed toy now.

Stuffed toys still made Milo uneasy. He hadn’t understood the concept well when he saw pictures of children with stuffed bears, unicorns, and lions. But he had heard of taxidermy and jumped to an unfortunate conclusion. Sometimes when they were small, one of their keepers would put on a children’s show for them when it was time for them to sleep for a couple of hours. Milo had watched something called Muppets on more than one occasion. Seeing a 6-year-old girl in a photograph holding a stuffed Elmo had terrified him. But he grew suspicious when a search showed hundreds of them for sale. After discarding the idea that someone was breeding Elmo’s to turn into stuffed toys as not cost-effective, he figured out how they produced teddy bears and rap-with-me-Elmo’s. Everyone but Nina had laughed at him. She had been equally horrified.

The next cavern proved to be a mushroom farm, overgrown with large crops of every poisonous mushroom on Milo’s list. The water spread to keep the soil in the cavern moist before the excess drained down a small hole in the wall, covered with a rusting grate. Near the entrance, Milo saw several sacks in good condition, along with rusted gathering tools. He left them for now. There was no reason to harvest anything if he had no way out of here.

Walking back through the short tunnel, he examined the wall carefully and was rewarded with two more secret doors. Whoever had built this place had liked his secrets. He left them for now and went back to the first room, put his old clothes on the remains of the bedding, wrapped it all up, and then dumped the foul-smelling bundle of clothes into a hole in the soft dirt of the mushroom cave, burying them—and hopefully their smell.

He took the old blanket back with him and laid it on the ground, gathering up the bones of the withered skeleton carefully, using some of the tools he found in the mushroom cave. He had no idea if it was still toxic, but he was playing it safe. The bones were brittle and pitted, falling apart and turning to powder. The tunic the corpse had been wearing fell to pieces, dropping the broken rib bones in a pile.

The pants, however, were in suspiciously good condition. Milo held them with tongs and shook them out over the blanket. Dust and dirt seemed to fall off of them. A desiccated leather pouch burst, scattering gold coins and a dozen small rubies on the ground, along with an ornate ring. Milo set the contents of the pouch aside, tossed the pants aside, and carefully wrapped up the old bones. He found a corner of the mushroom cave and dug a small grave, mounding the dirt over it. There wasn’t much else to do or many words to say.

Another hole was dug, and the bodies of the dead vermin were buried as well. Having cleaned up the room as much as he could and disposed of possibly toxic corpses, he started carefully examining the room. One end was dedicated to some sort of alchemy. Dried bottles of ingredients with faded labels were everywhere. A rack on the side held potion bottles, some of which were dry, but a dozen blue and red fizzy potions remained. They were identified as Overcharged Mana Potion, Full Potency and Vigorous Healing Potion, Full Potency. All of the potions had notes written on them detailing how many weeks it would take for them to mature and be useful. The tags were barely readable. Those would be going with him.

There were a series of journals, but written in a language and alphabet Milo didn’t know. They probably were in code as well. That’s how he would have done it. The thin, cramped handwriting was hard to read, as if the author wanted to put down as much on each page as possible. Given enough time, he could probably figure out the journals and some hints at the alphabet or language. It would be a fun side project. He put those with the potions. The other dozen books were dedicated to either mycology, poison and how to cure it, or the anatomy of spiders. All good reading material.

He turned his attention to the large book on the table. It wasn’t written in code but was extremely complicated. The pages were heavy, made of thick parchment with roughly trimmed edges. They still turned easily, and the heavy book seemed to be in good shape. Other people had added comments and notes in the margins, often filling up any available space. A popular book with many people owning it over the years. Turning to the index, he saw a list of chapter headings

Chapter 1: Czardian measuring systems and how to translate to standard magical terminology

Chapter 2: Milking Froxbeetles for their venom and how to remove Froxbeetle larvae from your lower intestine if you get bitten.

Chapter 3: Making Royal Jelly from Wasp Berries

Chapter 4: Creating the correct compost for growing the elusive Golden Puffball mushroom and the deadly Red-Spotted Eye-Rot mushroom

Chapter 5: Lesser Elixir Vitae: A sovereign cure for all poisons and toxins.

Chapter 6: Creating a potent spider-bane poison from Red-Spotted Eye-Rot. (Read Chapter 5 first!)

The front of the book had a confusing title: Woodchucks and Beavers of the Smoke Lands by Damien Franklin.

He shrugged. If it were your book, you could call it what you wanted. He wondered what chapter the beavers were in. He didn’t have time to read it now, though. He summoned his Smuggler’s Stash and loaded potions, books, gems, and gold into it. He looked at the ring and the pants. Maybe if he washed the pants, that would take care of any remaining toxins. He really didn’t want to show up to fight practice wearing a blanket. He examined the pants, suspicious about how clean they were.

Cleansing Pantaloons of the Agile Skulker

+2 to Agility

Extra Skulky: -4 to any Perception checks to a creature trying to detect the wearer.

Self-cleaning and self-repairing. One size fits all.

These would do! He rinsed them off in the pool, watching the water run off the black pants, leaving them immediately dry. He put them on, amazed at how comfortable they felt. He rinsed the ring, scrubbing it with soap. It was a signet ring of some sort, but with a low profile that could be worn on the inside of his hand to obscure it. He tried to identify it, but it seemed like the ring was fighting him. He suddenly had an intense feeling of danger and being watched. He turned around quickly and then again, feeling as if someone was looking at him. Then, as if the unseen watcher had made a decision, the feeling went away. Glancing at the ring, he had no trouble identifying it.

Signet Ring of the Scout-Master

+10% to avoid blows you are aware of.

+3 ranks to Sense Danger skills.

Storage Area 1: 12 Potions.

Storage Area 2: 50 arrows, spears, javelins, shuriken, or other ammunition.

Storage Area 3: Up to 10 pounds of clothing.

Storage Area 4: Up to four gathering bags of any type.

Milo had heard of Scout-Masters. They were the people that taught scouting to young whelps and how to always be prepared, weren’t they? And there had been the note in the forums about one of the hollows having a Scout-Master. With a ring like this, he could see how they were always prepared.

He put the ring on his finger. Immediately he became aware of a large amount of dirty clothes, some jewelry, twelve empty potion bottles, and two empty gathering bags. Concentrating on the bags, he watched as they appeared in front of him. Each bag was the size of a small backpack and looked like a simple cloth bag with a drawstring.

Master Gathering Bag

Weight: 1 pound

Capacity: 100 pounds of material. Limit of 1 cubic yard.

These would hold a lot of mushrooms! He should only take a little for now though, as he still didn’t know where the other tunnel went. There was no sense wasting them. He quickly picked several of each of the poisonous varieties, and two dozen of the Rot-Eye and put them in one sack. Likewise, he took several of each cooking mushroom and two dozen of the Golden Puffballs. There were several beds each of the Rot-Eye and Puffballs. He tied up the bags, and with a thought they disappeared. His next step was to find a way home. Never Lost was giving him an idea of where he was, so hopefully he could figure a way through the caves and back to the hollow, instead of into Spider Territory.

He couldn’t get over how much better he felt. It wasn’t only being cured of the poison. He felt great in every way. Curious, he checked for messages from the System and saw his improvements. No wonder he felt better, and he didn’t miss his little slime buddy at all. One less thing to worry about.

Beginning your studies under Master Bleusnout has taught you the value of being in control of your cheese addiction.

You have earned the skill: Mastery of Self (WIS) at Level 0.

Congrats on not being dead from Spider Venom or an overdose of strange chemicals you found sitting around!

Status Update:

Practice pays off, your fighting skills are improving. So has “not dying from poison.”

Skill: Claws of Alta-Viator has improved to Level 7

Skill: Tail of Volat-Repat has improved to Level 7

Skill: Dodge has improved to Level 7

Skill: Fleet of Foot has improved to Level 6

Skill: Strong Poison Resistance has improved to Level 6

Skill: Stealthy Skulking has improved to Level 6

You have used a Tier 6 Elixir to purge poisons, toxins, impurities, parasites, and mutagenic symbiotic slimes from your system

- You have lost the Skill: Pudding-Based Regeneration. The creature trying to turn you into slime has been cleaned from your body.

- Bone density affected by damage from mutagenic symbiotic slime has been restored. Gain +1 TOU. Your TOU is now 9.

- Perk: Pretty Good Regeneration has been increased to Perk: Strong Regeneration

- You have gained +2 CHA because of your soft, shiny fur. Your CHA is now 2.

You have gained 5 Enhancement Points.

* * *

Several hours ago…

Milo tossed and turned in a state of delirium as the potent elixir tried to cure him while the poison tried to kill him. Besides the poison, the elixir found something else hidden inside of him. At one point, he choked and then vomited forth a large blob of white ooze.

Dejected and hurt, Ooblipimilo gathered himself together until he appeared as a twelve-inch high version of his ex-host made of pale jelly.

He wobbled along with each step, determined to master the art of walking. He had plans! He would be back! He’d grow in power and return to show his host just how much they needed each other. Or maybe he’d just eat him… That would be fun.

Ooblipimilo made it to the pool room, but an errant step from a wobbly leg sent him tumbling into the pool. From there he was swept into the mushroom cave and down to the drain. He got stuck for a while on the grate but was eventually pushed through. He tumbled into the darkness, thinking, I’ll be back!

Chapter 17

Tunnels and Traps

Milo had a lot of experience moving through dusty ductwork and unused corridors. He could tell that this was an old tunnel. And unused for a long time—certainly years. Dust would settle slowly based on air movement. Small spiderwebs picked up dust as well. Milo estimated at least one decade since anyone had been here, and probably more like 30 to 40 years, which matched the level of decay of the corpse, whoever he had been.

The floor was very smooth, but the sides and roof showed the mark of the picks that had been used to carve through the stone. They had used good picks. A pick made out of low-tier materials like iron or steel would slowly chip away at this stone. The walls showed markings where the picks had gone deep into the stone, breaking off larger pieces. Dark steel, or maybe something a little better. His pick was superior to what had cut these tunnels, but not by much.

He slowly padded forward, careful to check for traps. Patience and Perception paid off. Twice he found tripwires near the floor. Three times he found pressure plates hidden in the floor. Looking at the patterns the picks had made helped him find them. The patterns on the walls where the trap mechanisms had been hidden were slightly off. You’d need to have a lot of experience mining and a good eye. Milo had both.

Of course, that meant he missed one as the tunnel came down to a T. Stepping over a tripwire, he felt the slight give in the floor and heard a soft click. Instantly, he jumped without knowing why, avoiding a razor-edged blade that swung out from the wall. He grabbed the walls and moved back to safety before disabling the traps and moving forward even more slowly than before. He reached the T and pondered which way to go. He felt that the left tunnel would take him toward the barracks and mining area, while the right would head in the direction of the marketplace. He chose left and began his slow advance.

The left tunnel had even more dust in it, but thankfully fewer traps. It led to a small room with a hidden door in the far wall. This door was very small, just enough for someone his size to crawl through. The room itself was only a dozen feet in either direction and had probably been a small cave that was expanded. Stone benches lined two walls, and a series of hooks were set in a wall. Several old cloaks and tunics hung from them, dry and brittle with age.

Milo was suddenly famished and weak. His stomach felt empty. He dug quickly into his pack for bread and dried fruit. He felt silly. Of course he was starving! He had lain on his cot, sick and sweating out whatever poison had been in his system. He was surprised he was only needing food just now. Probably how bad he had smelled had killed any need for food. He slowly munched his snack and reread his notifications. He was overjoyed to see that his little pudding stowaway was gone. Any gratitude he had for it for helping him escape from the airship was countered by nearly having his bones dissolved. It was like having a timebomb living inside of him. Good riddance. And better—getting rid of it has raised his toughness and regeneration, so he was better than he had been.

Better in several ways, in fact, with his skills going up. He wasn’t sure how he felt about his upgrade to his looks. Probably no one would notice. He was happy to see his skills were going up, and he’d even gained 5 Enhancement Points. It almost made waking up stinky worth it. Almost, but not quite.

He took a better look at what was in the ring. Several black and gray cloaks, black tunics, dark leather belts, and soft black slippers, all in need of a wash. There was also a cute pair of pink slippers that looked like weasels, complete with whiskers. They were even magical.

Adorable Baby Weasel Slippers

One Size Fits All: Feet getting bigger as you grow up? No worries! These expand to fit even the largest of feet!

Nigh Invulnerable!: Hard to damage, and won’t wear out. If something can hurt these slippers, you probably don’t have feet!

Weasels Are on the Job: 90% of the time you would trip and fall, you don’t! Trust the weasels!

Handy for running away from spiders, but Milo wasn’t sure about the color. He put them back in the ring and pulled out the jewelry. All of it looked valuable but didn’t seem magical when he used his Identify skill until he came to the last ring. This one was a delicate ring of bright silver with a pattern of leaves carved into the ring. On the inside of the ring was a series of runes that Milo didn’t know. He memorized them the best he could and copied them to his journal.

Fae Ring of Dancing

Those mortals who accept this ring and pay its price will gain great boons from the Fae who crafted it long ago.

- Skill: Dancing is granted to the mortal who wears this ring. This is a permanent gain after 1 hour of dancing.

- On a day when the owner has danced for at least one hour, that mortal will gain the perk: Grace of the Fae (+4 Agility)

- If a day passes without dancing, not only will the mortal lose Grace of the Fae, but they will be cursed with clumsiness, reducing their Agility to 0 for 3 days. Only by dancing each of those days will the curse be removed.

The ring may not be removed unless its owner has danced for seven days in a row and clicks their heels three times, saying “Last Dance… Last Dance… Last Dance…”

The ring was interesting, to say the least. Milo was hazy about what a Fae was, but they made neat rings. He put it back into the storage ring. He didn’t have time to stop and dance for an hour. Refreshed, he took a look at the small exit. It was actually a short tunnel, only two feet long, with a hidden door and a way to peek out. Peering into the area beyond, Milo saw a round cave with an assortment of pillows and a bed of rags. On a small shelf was a child’s drawing of a guard next to someone smaller. The large mound of rags shifted…

* * *

Larry had been sleeping when his large ears heard something nearby.

Was it a spider? No, Larry only heard the pitter-patter of two feet. Spiders had more than two.

Was it SneakyBadGuy? No, he didn’t visit Larry anymore, and he smelled of sweat and cheese and mushrooms.

Was it Justin?! No, it didn’t smell like Justin. It smelled like someone very clean, with just a little bit of oil and bone.

Was it Tallsqueak? Had Tallsqueak come to visit Larry at Larry’s house?

Someone knocked at Larry’s door to Larry’s house that Larry hadn’t known was there. “Can Tallsqueak come in?”

Larry bounced up and down excitedly, only falling once! “YES! Tallsqueak can come in!

A little door in the rock opened. A secret door! Tallsqueak came through the door, but he looked different. And he smelled clean! Larry ran and picked up his friend before Tallsqueak could stand up.

“Shiny Fur! Tallsqueak has Shiny Fur! It’s so fluffy and shiny! So fluffy!” It was a long time before Milo could convince Larry to set him down and quit petting him.

Chapter 18

A Visit to Larry’s House

It took a few minutes for an excited Larry to calm down. Milo finally diverted his attention by asking him about his house, and Larry sat him down on a pillow and gave his head one last pat. Larry sat on his bed, happy to show off his house.

“This is Larry’s special house. No one else lives alone except for Larry. That makes this house special! Larry has three pillows, his comfy bed, and his picture of Justin. Larry has some pet bugs and his lucky rock here too! It’s a long crawl to get out of Larry’s house, but Larry likes it that way.

Milo agreed with him. “I like Larry’s house. I had a house like this when I was growing up. I had to go down a long tunnel that no one else could fit through, with a cozy spot at the end. Now I have a bigger house, but I still crawl through tunnels to get there. No one else goes there, just me. It’s safe and cozy, and I like it that way.”

Larry looked at him oddly, slowly thinking. “Did people make you live alone like they did Larry? Larry used to have more friends, but now it’s only Larry. Sometimes Justin. Sometimes Tallsqueak.”

Larry suddenly got very excited and jumped up and down until he fell over. “Larry has two friends! Larry has two friends!”

Seeing Larry fall over reminded Milo of the slippers he had found. As soon as he pulled out the pink weasel slippers, Larry got even more excited. “For Larry? Present for Larry?” He could barely sit still as Milo tried to stretch them over his feet. Somehow, they fit with room to spare, and Larry jumped and began dancing around the little cave. “Special Hamster Hop slippers!” Larry managed to do the Happy Hamster Hop without falling over until the very end.

That gave Milo another idea. He didn’t want to have to spend an hour a day dancing around. But Larry might. “I have another special thing, Larry. But to make the magic work, you have to Hamster Hop each day for a full bell.”

“Larry can do that. Larry did the Happy Hamster Hop yesterday for three bells!”

Milo took out the Fae Ring of Dancing and put it on Larry’s finger, watching it expand to fit.

Larry’s eyes got huge. “Blue Box? Larry got a Blue Box! See! See!”

You have accepted the Fae Ring of Dancing

You have gained the skill: Dancing (AGI)

Well, what are you waiting for, twinkle toes? Show everyone what you can do!

Larry jumped up and began Hamster Hopping. “Larry can Dance!” Milo could see the difference in Larry already. He hoped that the bonus agility would help his friend even more.

Two bells rang out, one after another. Milo stood up quickly. It was almost time for fighting class! “Larry, you need to dance until three bells. Can you do that?”

Larry hopped twice and took a step to the left. He nodded. “Larry will do that, then Larry will go eat and find Tallsqueak. Tallsqueak needs to scurry fast. Go to the end of Larry’s tunnel and go to your right side and follow the wall until you see the barracks.” Milo hurried off as Larry continued his dancing. It took several minutes to get to the end of the twisting tunnel Larry lived in, but eventually he was back in the hollow and found his way to the barracks and the fighting arena.

Players and whelps from the hollow were already gathering. Some of the players were excited, but several of them, including Blackwhisker, seemed sullen and angry. Milo set down his pack and began to do the stretching that the Tail-Master had shown them. Blackwhisker and his group walked over

“So, teacher’s pet. We were thinking, and we don’t want to do all these warm-up exercises.”

Milo shrugged. “Then don’t do them. I don’t care if you stay clumsy and die when you try to fight monsters.”

That wasn’t the expected response. “You don’t care? What sort of teacher are you if you don’t care?”

Milo stood up. Why were these people wasting time? “No, I don’t care. Why should I care about you, if you don’t care about you? Either get better or don’t. Now please leave the arena so I can begin warm-ups.”

Blackwhisker grinned. “And if we don’t move? What then?”

Milo walked around him and clapped several times the way the Tail-Master did. “Then you stand there looking silly.” The rest of the class began the exercises with Milo. Eventually, after standing around for a minute, Blackwhisker and the others moved to the back and began to do them as well, but putting in minimal effort. Milo didn’t feel as tired as he had yesterday. As the third bell rang, he simply felt refreshed, even though all the others were covered in sweat.

Gilad came into the ring, walking slowly. He looked at Milo. “You saunter into my arena wearing only stylish new pantaloons and shiny fur that you groomed for hours? Did you think that would impress me?”

Milo was sure he was missing something, but he answered the question. “My other pants were stinky, and these aren’t. And I was stinky, so I took a bath. I can’t help it if my fur is shiny.” From the crowd of whelps came snickers and chuckles. A voice from the back yelled, “Teacher’s pet has stinky pants. I wonder how that happened.”

Gilad felt he was missing some important piece of information. Still, it was obvious that Tallsqueak had not been working as hard as he worked the others. He wasn’t even sweating yet. He would rectify that. “Today we will start with light sparring. Pick a partner and surround the ring, practicing your tail patterns and dodges. No claws. Tallsqueak, I have a special assignment for you. I want you to spar and not strike with claws. Fight how you like, but do not strike with your claws.”

Milo nodded his head and moved to the center of the room, wondering who he was going to fight. Gilad pointed to where Blackwhisker and MickyD were sparring next to ThiefofCheese and MightyMarmot. “You four, come here. You will fight Tallsqueak. You may use claws and tails to attack. I have healing potions for after the fight, so don’t worry about hurting your opponent. Leave the ring if you are hurt, or yell out for the bout to end. Begin.”

The four players looked at each other, and Marmot asked the others, “All at once?”

ThiefofCheese was on Milo’s far left. As soon as Milo heard “Begin,” he sprinted at him, leaped and spun, his tail slashing hard against the surprised opponent’s face. Blood was drawn, and as ThiefofCheese moved a step backwards, Milo followed up with a brutal kick to his stomach, then spun again and struck with his tail against the player’s head. The stunned player just rolled for the edge of the ring and curled into a ball. Milo quickly backpedaled, putting distance between himself and the remaining three opponents. They were cautious now, and working together, he wouldn’t get another easy victory like that one.

* * *

Larry danced. He fell over some, but not as much as he did before. He danced the Happy Hamster Hop over and over and over and over. A little while after he heard third bell ring, Larry got another Blue Box. Two Blue Boxes in one day!

You have fulfilled your pact with the Fae Lady, Rhapsody, for a day. She grants you these boons:

You have learned to dance. This is a permanent boon that will never leave you. Dancing is forever.

You have been gifted with Fae Grace, increasing your Agility by 4 to a total of 4. Celebrate by dancing each day to remain graceful and agile.

Unseen and unheard by Larry, a very small door appeared in his house. The smallest of fairies stepped through and flew up to sit on a ledge next to a picture. She clapped and laughed as the newest dancer capered back and forth across the floor. She watched until the dance was over and then flew back to her home in Underhill to show the others the new dance she had learned.

Larry has learned to dance better! Dancing is now at Level 2!

Larry is more agile! Larry has raised his Agility by one rank! Total Agility is now 5!

Good job, Larry!

Larry sat down to rest when he saw the new Blue Box. He was tired for the first time in a long, long time. Dancing without falling over was nice! As he slowly read the message, he got happier and happier. Larry had got better! That hadn’t happened in a long time. He needed to go tell Justin. And Tallsqueak. And Bleusnout! Thinking of the chef reminded him that it was Little Fishies for Breakfast Day. He scampered down his long tunnel to get breakfast.

Chapter 19

Three on One

This wasn’t a fight to first blood. They would keep fighting until one side or another yielded. Gilad urged them on, yelling at them to keep moving, not letting either side pause to catch their breath. The three players were only in the first tier. They had stats only half of what Milo had. He was faster and better trained than they were. But they had numbers and could use their claws. Milo had to keep moving continuously. If one of them pinned him down, the others would pile on, and that would be the end of the fight. Milo also wanted to avoid the bruises that would come from getting tackled and beaten by all three at once.

Milo swiped with his tail whenever he got the chance, tripping his opponents and making them trip over each other. He constantly moved so they’d get in each other’s way. His opponents had forgotten about their own tails and simply tried to claw at him or grapple. This gave him reach they didn’t have. Again and again, he would slash at them with his tail after a half spin, and then retreat a few steps, circling the ring and making them chase him, only to suddenly double back and strike again.

Milo saw no reason he couldn’t use his arms to block their attacks. The rule he was given was that he simply couldn’t strike back with his claws. Blocks weren’t strikes. Again and again, the three of them came close, leaving scratches on Milo’s hands and arms. He took several swipes to his body, but they only had Weak Claws, and the cuts were shallow.

Eventually, he knew he would wear out from loss of blood and stamina. He was putting out a lot more energy than his opponents. Of course, he started with far more than they did. Even so, where they could jog after him, spreading out to try and pin him in one part of the arena, he had to be constantly sprinting.

But a curious thing was happening—he wasn’t getting tired. His heart rate was a little faster and he was breathing hard, but he was barely sweating. His opponents fared much worse. Their steps dragged on the ground, and more and more Gilad was yelling at them to push themselves, his voice pushing them to charge Milo. Once he knew he had an advantage, Milo waited for the opportunity to take one of them out.

Blackwhisker volunteered to be his next victim. Gilad’s voice cut through the noise of the fight. “Why do you fear him, Blackwhisker? I’ve heard your boasts, and now is your chance.” The larger ratkin charged Milo, but the other two were slow to do so, panting hard. As Blackwhisker came at him, Milo feinted with his claws, sidestepped, and wrapped his tail around Blackwhisker’s ankles. As the player hit the ground face-first, Milo leaped and landed with both feet on his opponent’s head, driving it into the ground. He tumbled forward, coming to his feet as the other two advanced.

MickyD and MightyMarmot were exhausted. The bout had only been going on for a dozen minutes, but for them, it felt like an all-out sprint. Each of them had bruises where Milo’s tail had slapped at each of them repeatedly. They looked at their opponent, knowing that Blackwhisker was out of the fight. Tallsqueak was barely breathing hard, and to their surprise, the small gashes on his arms were healing. He was favoring one leg as he moved but otherwise looked ready to continue.

Marmot stumbled to the edge of the arena and collapsed. “I yield.”

MickyD just slumped to his knees. “Yeah, me too. Yield. Damned if I fight you again. You’re psycho dude, how do you fight like that?”

Gilad walked to the center of the ring. “He can fight like that because he’s trained more and has a higher level. You three are a mix of Level 3 and Level 4. Tallsqueak is in the second tier and probably has twice the health and stamina of the rest of you. I don’t know all of his skills, but it’s obvious to anyone that he has trained his Sense Danger skill and raised his Regeneration. These are things all ratkin can do. That is if you work hard and take on dangerous quests or kill dangerous creatures.”

“And fighting dangerous creatures changes you in another way—you learn to push yourself! You could have ended this fight earlier if you had given it your all, endured his attacks, and pushed through the pain. Four on one and you lose? I see much training in your future if you wish to become strong. Use this fight as a lesson. Imagine when all four of you are as strong as Tallsqueak and venture forth in the tunnels to seek out riches and glory.”

He held up one of Milo’s arms. “Look at him, barely wounded after blocking dozens of slashes and taking many small wounds.” He squinted at Milo, noticing his suspiciously clean pants and still-shiny fur. “And I’m sure he has a few other secrets, but don’t we all? Let’s get some healing potions into you four. You should see some good improvement in your claw attacks after this. The rest of you, switch partners and do your claw exercises. Tallsqueak, we must talk.”

His four opponents were each given two small healing potions and a stamina potion and sent to rest. Gilad led Milo away to where they could talk. “You seem to be favoring one leg. Are you wounded?”

Milo touched his leg, finding the sore spot, and realizing he had been limping slightly. “Not from the fight. This is an earlier wound. I went mushroom gathering and got stung by a spider.”

Gilad rapped him on the head twice, but lightly. “No, you did not get ‘stung by a spider.’ You were bitten.”

“It is important to use the correct words, lest others misunderstand you. Spiders inject poison with their fangs. You must have found a named spiderling in the caverns for it to affect you that way. The only spiders who have stings are from the royal line, and they certainly do not hunt in the area where we train beginners in gathering. If you had gone far enough past our fields and into the far tunnels, you might encounter a Royal. But you would also be dead. They are fearsome foes.” He looked at Milo, waiting for him to confirm his understanding of the lesson.

Milo thought back to the fight. “No, I’m certain it was a stinger that got me. I had wounded the Deathmonger and it retreated, so I left the Brute behind and went to finish it. The Deathmonger dropped on me and stung me in the leg. It was really painful, and the poison almost got me. But I’m better now.”

Gilad stared at him. “Tallsqueak? Why were you foolish enough to go to the far caverns? A Brute and a Deathmonger together is a deadly combination of spell casting and fighting ability.”

“Well, I needed to get some mushrooms for Bleusnout. He had a list and sent me past the big gathering fields. He also said to run if I saw a spider. And Old Healer needed some mushrooms too and mentioned a cave it would be bad to go into. And… well… I think I went too far and didn’t run when I should have. It was my fault I got in trouble.”

The Tail-Master considered the youngster in front of him. How could he tell all the others to push themselves and work to get better, and then chastise this one for doing exactly that? Surviving the poison had somehow given him the ability of better regeneration and cleansed his body. He’d seen that happen before in the heat of battle, often after a fight with a terrible foe.

“You survived and didn’t die. That is important. Did you learn a lesson about trying to fight spiders of the royal bloodlines?”

Milo considered. What had he learned? “Drop on them so they can’t drop on you. Kill the Deathmongers first. And always have an escape route.”

Gilad patted him on the shoulder. “Yes, all good things to do. I’m glad you have learned something. You’ve had an exciting day. Go get some food in you, you look thinner.” Milo nodded. He was famished after the fight, and it was breakfast time.

He was a dozen steps away when Gilad said something else. “We shall have to deal with them, though. I will gather Justin and some of the guards, and you can lead us to them. We cannot leave a pair of Royals alive, so close to the hollow.”

Milo turned back to talk. “Oh, I got them all. It was hard, but all three of the big ones are dead. But I think it really upset the rest of the spiders. I had to hide in a cave and seal it up to get away.”

Gilad looked at Tallsqueak. “Three? You killed three Royals?”

Milo nodded. “The ones with the stingers, yes. One was an Assassin and two others were Black Widows.”

Gilad sighed heavily. “Of course you did.” He waved Milo away. “Go get food, Tallsqueak. Try not to do anything dangerous at breakfast.”

Milo ran off to eat. Maybe it was little fishies day?

Chapter 20

Cookies for Four Heroes

It was indeed Little Fishies Day. Each of the little blind cave trout was half a foot long, and they had been fried in oil with spices, butter, and chopped onions slathered inside of them. Bleusnout took one look at Milo’s bruised and battered body and scooped him up a double helping of fried trout, vegetables, and half a loaf of fresh bread. He motioned for Milo to sit at a table nearby and took the food to him.

“You look like you took on an army all by yourself, and you’re famished. Eat this and you’ll feel much better. Was Gilad putting you through one of his challenges?”

Milo ate half of a fish in one bite and then tore off a chunk of bread, tossing it into his mouth without pausing. He managed to mumble some words before his next bite. “Just four at once, but I’m sure Gilad will find an army next time.”

“Yes, I’m sure he will. If you pass one of his challenges, he simply finds a bigger challenge. But on the bright side, that means he sees something in you worth training.” The chef paused and then asked, “I know it’s only been a day, but were you able to find any of the mushrooms I need?”

Milo started to talk, but his mouth was overstuffed with food.

Bleusnout laughed. “My apologies, you are hungry. Eat, and when you are done, we will talk about your expedition.” The chef walked away, and Milo did just that. He ate until nothing was left, and then sat back, watching the other ratkin go in and out of the huge mess hall. Most of the hollow ate here every day. If you had nothing else to do, you could stay here and meet nearly everyone. Several hundred ratkin lived here in the village. He’d learned that many caves branched out from the large central areas and served as homes for families and clans. Limburger was a well-established Hollow with a long history and some old secrets. Milo liked figuring out the secrets. Which reminded him about the ring, the gathering bags, and the mushrooms he’d been sent to find.

There were several large mixing bowls on the table next to Milo, freshly cleaned from the morning cooking. He took two of them and turned his body so no one could see him pull a gathering sack from his ring. He transferred all of the mushrooms from the bag with edible fungus into the two bowls. He finished emptying the bag and put it back into his ring. Bleusnout was walking back over to him, holding a small pastry. “Finished up with lunch? Good, I have a surprise for…” Bleusnout stopped talking, staring at the bowls of mushrooms on the table.

Milo could smell the delicious smell of cheese coming from the pastry. “For me?” He took it and began nibbling the tasty pastry a little at a time.

The distracted chef looked down at the pastry. “Oh, yes. This is a Cheese Danish. It turned out well, I think. But, Golden Puffballs? Where did you find Golden Puffballs? These are notoriously hard to grow. Special soil and climate are needed! I’ve never been able to make them grow in my fields. They are so delicious! I’ll make a special meal of these tomorrow! And you’ll find some extra contribution points when you check the board next.” He patted Milo on the head, still staring at the mushrooms. Then he picked up the two bowls and began yelling. “Rifkin! Smiley! I’ll be downstairs. Finish up the meal.”

Milo walked over to where a harried Rifkin was trying to fry up more fishies while Smiley served people. Milo pointed to Larry’s bowl, and Smiley gave him a big thumbs up. “I’ll have it ready for you as soon as he shows up. Thanks for handling him. He doesn’t know me well, and Rift is really nervous around Larry.” Milo shrugged. How could anyone be nervous around Larry?

It didn’t take long for Larry to show up. He came skipping and hopping, dancing to some inner music. The ratkin that saw him stopped to stare. Milo met him on the porch, and they sat eating their lunch (Milo’s second lunch, he was still starving). No one had objected to him grabbing a double bowl to eat along with Larry.

Larry was excited and was telling Milo a story when the latter saw a board in the roof above the porch flex slightly. He got up silently and went into the mess hall and out another door. Larry was at the best part, where Justin and Larry had to fight all the badsneakyguys, and he didn’t even notice that Milo was gone. It was easy to climb up to the slightly slanted roof. Milo began to skulk across it, keeping as low as he could and concentrating on not being noticed. As he had suspected, someone who wanted to play a game of Surprise! was on top of the roof. Two someones, in fact. Milo snuck up slowly behind them, then yelled “Surprise!” and pushed both of them off of the roof. They twisted in the air and landed on their feet. After taking a moment to glare at the smiling Tallsqueak on the roof, they realized how close they were to Larry. The Cheese Fiend looked up and saw them before they could skulk away.

Larry was just telling Milo about how the sneakybadguys ambushed Larry and Justin when two sneakybadguys landed in front of him. There was always a thin wall between reality and fiction for Larry. That wall crumbled, and Larry knew what he had to do to save Hamster Town. As far away as the market, people heard his roar.

“HEY HEY! HO HO! Badsneaky guys got to GO!”

Two ratkin shadowlurkers suddenly found themselves in front of an enraged Cheese Fiend! They made the immediate decision to run. Larry ran after them, and to their horror, he was much faster than they expected and didn’t fall over. Those ratkin who were in the marketplace that day were treated to the sight of two shrieking shadowlurkers running as fast as they could, with Larry in close pursuit, clad in his pink weasel slippers. Milo was three steps behind Larry, not knowing what his huge friend would do if he caught them.

The little parade ran through the marketplace three times, with the harried ratkin unable to evade Larry and Milo unable to calm him down. Finally, a second decision was made, and they ran inside a large house at the end of the market and shut the stout wooden door. Larry dug in his heels and stopped just before running into the door. Milo suspected Larry could have gone straight through the door if he wanted to. Instead, Larry banged on the door three times. “Hello? Can Larry come in?” No one answered.

Larry turned to Milo, a frown on his face. “Bad guys don’t know how to play ‘knock, knock, knock’!”

Milo began clapping. “You did it, Larry. You saved Hamster Town again.”

More clapping came from nearby. “Indeed. That was very good rescue. Can I offer either of you two heroes a cool glass of fruit juice and some cookies? I was just taking my lunch.” The Old Healer was sitting at a table nearby, a pitcher and a plate of cookies in front of him.”

Larry nodded in approval. Heroes needed cookies to keep up their strength for doing Hero things. He sat down on the ground and waited patiently. Milo got him a cookie and a glass of fruit juice, and the same for himself. The old ratkin waited for them to serve themselves and then spoke. “That was exciting to watch, and this is probably the best outcome that one could hope for. But I’m curious about the start of the adventure.”

Milo felt slightly embarrassed. “It was my fault. I may have surprised them while they were on the roof being sneaky and knocked them off when Larry was at an important part of the story.”

Larry nodded seriously. “Best part of the story. Larry can have another cookie?” Old Healer handed the plate to Larry. “You may have all of the rest. I’m sure Tallsqueak and myself aren’t hungry, and my granddaughter is late for lunch.”

As he passed the plate of cookies to Larry, Old Healer noticed Larry’s feet. “My, those are very pretty slippers. Did you find those somewhere, Larry?”

Larry shook his head no and stuffed two cookies into his mouth. When he had swallowed them down, he smiled broadly. “No, Larry not find. Good friend Tallsqueak gave it to Larry to help him dance better. And Larry has a magic dancing ring too! Larry is a very good dancer. All of Larry’s new friends say so.”

The old ratkin was thoughtful for a moment. He had wondered how Larry had chased his students and nearly caught them. “That is good, Larry. Very good. And clever of your new friend.” He spoke more softly to Milo. “I’ve often wondered about finding new skills for Larry to do in the hopes that it could somehow reverse the changes. Can you please keep an eye on Larry? Gifts from the Fae can be tricky, but I’m happy to see that he can learn new skills. Bleusnout has had him trying to juggle rocks for a year and other things to gain basic skills, but it hasn’t helped.”

Milo thought about that too. “Maybe it needs to be something he wants to do? He loves doing the Happy Hamster Hop and has been dancing all morning. The ring helped him gain the skill permanently.”

Old Healer considered his next words. “If it is similar to another ring I once saw, it has benefits as well as drawbacks. The slippers simply have the drawback of having to walk around in pink weasel slippers. But I don’t see that as a problem for Larry. If anything, it softens his appearance to the people nervous to be around him. Gifts from a friend under another hill are always tricky, but I think there is little harm to Larry in this case.

Milo looked at the old ratkin. He seemed quite observant, and Milo suspected he recognized Larry’s slippers and ring. He didn’t regret giving Larry his presents. Larry needed every bit of help he could get. But pink weasel slippers were very unique. Milo didn’t want to cause trouble for Larry. He grew very serious and asked, “Will you promise to keep a secret?”

The old one nodded, just as seriously. “I enjoy keeping secrets and will not divulge anything you don’t want to be known. If you have a good secret, I might even share one of my own with you.”

That was good enough for Milo.

“There is a secret tunnel that goes from the Cave of Death, guarded by the spiders. There are caves full of rare mushrooms inside, but the tunnel is dangerous with many traps. Its other end goes to Larry’s house. But if someone disturbed him while he was sleeping, it could be very bad and make him sad.” Old Healer looked to where Larry was eating cookies with four-inch talons attached to huge, muscular hands and arms. “Ah, I see your point. Yes, we don’t want anyone disturbing Larry.”

Milo looked at where Larry was happily eating cookies. “And I don’t want anyone taking away Larry’s presents. He needs them. They came from those tunnels.”

Old Healer stared at Tallsqueak for a full minute. The younger ratkin across from him was very serious about this. He had claimed Larry as a friend and was protecting him. Old Healer approved. If only all the young ones in the hollow could grow up this way. He’d have to make sure his entire clan understood that Larry was off-limits. No games of surprise—not that playing Surprise! with Larry would go well, not with his increased speed. And no stealing. This was best for the clan as well. An angry Cheese Fiend was a force of nature.

“Do not worry. Long-lost treasure belongs to whoever finds it. No one will steal from Larry. Or from you, for that matter.” He indicated Milo’s pants.

Milo smiled. “Good, these are great pants! They stayed clean all through the fight and are very comfortable.”

“So then, now that we’ve had our cookies and discussed secrets, you say you found mushrooms for me?”

A gatherer’s sack appeared on the table. Old Healer laughed. “Ah, well, that answers that question. I was wondering what else you might have found. I have one of those too.” The bag disappeared, and in its place was an empty sack of a different color. Old Healer showed Milo his hand, on which he wore a duplicate of Milo’s new ring. “Now you know one of my secrets as well, so we can keep them. Shared secrets can build trust between friends.”

Milo nodded. That was fair. He wondered how many of those rings were in the hollow. They were very useful.

Larry stood up and brushed cookie crumbs off his lap.”Larry wants to go dance some more, but Tallsqueak is having fun talking with the funny old rat. Larry will take cookies to Larry’s house to share with friends.” The happy Cheese Fiend wandered back through the marketplace, people scurrying to get out of his way. Tallsqueak and the Old Healer waved to him.

* * *

It had been a good day for Larry: presents, new friends, dancing, cookies, and being a hero. When he got back to his house, Larry told Larry the story of the best day ever many times so that Larry would remember it when he had a bad day. Not all days were good days, and stories helped.

Chapter 21

Clan Secrets

Old Healer had long ago cultivated patience to a point where there was little left that surprised him. A rampaging Cheese Fiend pursuing two of his junior students through the marketplace made him realize that there was still a lot in this world he had yet to experience. He was grateful that Larry had enough control not to crash straight through the door. Bleusnout was doing a masterful job of helping the poor whelp recover from his overdose. Now there was a patient old rat!

He was also happy to see how polite Larry was. He had certainly earned his cookies. Out in the world, things were more hazardous, and having to run from an enemy was dangerous. Those two had gotten off easy but would remember the lesson. Tallsqueak told him the entire story, which made him chuckle and shake his head. Trying to score points on Tallsqueak in the same way as an earlier attack? Silly. Those two would need to be this week’s example of ‘What you don’t do!’ Surprise attacks, strangely enough, revolved around not doing the same thing over and over.

Larry hadn’t been the end of the day’s surprises. As Tallsqueak was handing Larry his cookie and juice, Old Healer noticed the insignia on the inside band of his ring. He covered his surprise by sipping his juice and struggling to hold still. A duplicate of Tallsqueak’s ring was on his own finger. A long, slow examination of the young ratkin enjoying a cookie and juice revealed more things. The glint and fluffiness of his fur showed he had recently purified his body, and his new pantaloons were both distinctive and familiar to him. How many times had he rushed up to his great-uncle when he was only a few cycles old to run his hands across the silky fabric? He had been quite upset when the person wearing them had disappeared.

Coupled with Charlotte’s story of partnership, spiders, and presumed death in a certain cave, he could make a partial guess at what had happened. He suspected that Tallsqueak had found a forgotten secret. He would have to politely ask if he would share. It had been decades since his great-uncle had disappeared, leaving the clans in disarray and forcing his grandfather to take over as clan head. It had been nearly impossible to hold everything together with half of the clan suspecting his grandfather was responsible for his brother’s death. It hadn’t been a good time, and whispers still circulated among the older ratkin.

But things changed, and life went on. In their history, his clans had been ruled by Death-Masters, Scout-Masters, and Heal-Masters. The spider wars had wiped out too many of his generation and those that had followed. At some point, he must pass the reins of power to someone else. His granddaughter was thought to be the obvious choice, but Charlotte could be difficult. And while she was proficient in skulking and backstabbing, she was a poor healer and too worried about competing to work with others. Compromise was essential in a merged clan with so many divergent skills. He was training several promising whelps in the healing and alchemical arts and hoping one of them would stand out. Gendifur was by far the most talented, and he had hopes for her acceptance by the other healers. Stone clan and their huge size led people to forget how brilliant she was. And now he had a new wildcard in Tallsqueak. Such an odd creature, obviously a feral loner from some small cave. But he had made several friends, which was more than Charlotte could boast. At the very least, he was a new piece on the board that he could use to make the other whelps step up their game.

* * *

Char was intentionally late to her luncheon with her grandfather. Not so late that she would be judged disobedient, but enough to show that she felt she had better things to do. Hadn’t she already fulfilled his weekly challenge by retrieving the mushroom samples he needed from a spider-infested area? She had already planned an expedition back to that same area to find Tallsqueak’s body and see what valuables he had and wanted to get moving on that. In particular, it had been noticed that the pickaxe he carried with him was made of a superior material. She had a team of three others who had some mining experience from the basic training and planned on clearing the cave-in and finding his body.

She was thinking about this plan as she exited the front door of her clan’s area and saw the assumed-to-be-dead person nibbling one of the cookies she had made for her grandfather. It was just like him to set something like this up! But how had Tallsqueak survived?

Her grandfather introduced them. “Tallsqueak, I would like to formally introduce you to my granddaughter, Charlotte. Charlotte, this is my new friend, Tallsqueak.” Charlotte didn’t miss the way her grandfather named Tallsqueak first, implying he was of higher rank in the clan than her! Rage and embarrassment filled her heart. Mostly rage—she’d always had a short fuse.

Tallsqueak recognized her immediately. “Hello, Partner.”

“Oh no! That’s over. You died! Or left the area! Or did something tricky and left me on my own. And that was yesterday. No partnership. No splitting of loot. Nothing. Those are the rules.” Her grandfather sighed. They had already had an argument over this.

Tallsqueak seemed confused about why there was a problem. “That’s fine; it makes things simpler. Rules are important so each person has a good expectation of how things will go. Thank you for letting me know, preventing awkward interactions over the splitting of loot.”

Charlotte ignored the stink-eye her grandfather gave her. The important thing was that she had won! Tallsqueak was obviously upset about losing out on the quest rewards her grandfather had promised. It was one less barrier between her and eventually taking over the clan.

Her grandfather clapped his hands three times to get their attention. “Enough. Charlotte has declared the partnership void. She will be given credit for the mushrooms she harvested and brought back. Tallsqueak will be credited with what he found. So nice that we are all in agreement.”

Charlotte smiled, waiting for him to declare her the victor. She loved winning. Loved the feel of it and the look on everyone else’s face.

“Tallsqueak wins. I know you weren’t out in the caves and gathering as part of the competition, but by the rules, you became part of it when you partnered with Charlotte, and what you found far outweighs her contribution. We have a little competition in my clan each week. You are this week’s winner and gain additional contribution points.”

“That isn’t fair! What could he bring back to equal the rare fungus you sent me after?”

Old Healer produced a Gather-Master’s bag from his ring, once again making her jealous of the item. “Tallsqueak gathered four times the amount you did, Charlotte, along with some very rare varieties.” Using only tongs, he showed her a few of the deadly mushrooms.

Milo spoke up. “And magic pants. They are very comfortable.”

Charlotte stared at Milo’s new pants. “Those are an heirloom of the Shadowlurker Clan!”

Milo was having none of that; he knew the rules. “Long lost treasure belongs to whoever finds it. These magic pants are now an Heirloom of Clan Hopping Hamster.”

Charlotte stomped one dainty foot and looked at her grandfather.

Old Healer winked at Tallsqueak and then said seriously to Charlotte. “It is best not to anger Clan Hopping Hamster. They already defeated two of our junior students today and beat you in gathering. They are a new force to be reckoned with here in Limburger Hollow.”

“Come lad, we should talk a bit in private. Charlotte? Please go make some tea for us and bring another plate of cookies. But not immediately. Join us after half a bell; I have important clan business to discuss with the head of Clan Hopping Hamster.”

* * *

The old ratkin led Milo through the door Larry had refrained from smashing through and down a hall to a room with a large desk, shelves of books, and several leather chairs. Milo scanned the books quickly but didn’t see what he was looking for. Old Healer noticed his interest. “Looking for something?”

Milo nodded. “I want to know what happened to Larry. Are there books on Cheese Fiends? Has anyone looked for a cure?”

Old Healer paced back and forth a little. “Yes and no. We have very little of that information, here in this hollow. I’ve heard that some of the other hollows have worked on ways to reverse some of the changes. And of course, some hollows still create Cheese Fiends on purpose and know a great deal about the process. But it would be nearly impossible to get that closely guarded information.”

“On purpose!? But why?” Milo suspected the answer, but part of him didn’t like it and didn’t want to know the answer.

“I’m sure you can see the advantage. Larry is worth over a dozen trained fighters. He is nearly impossible to hurt, and yet he can be managed because of his low intellect and need for cheese. Cheese Fiends were created to fight in wars long ago, and the ability to transform into one is in all of us. There is even a special class that can be taken by a ratkin who becomes highly addicted to cheese and moves to a higher tier. Those are the truly horrible fiends, since they retain fighting skills and abilities. You are thinking of trying to find a cure for young Larry?”

“Or a way to make him better.” Milo was skeptical that body-wide mutagenic transformations could be reversed. Then again, didn’t he change and then change back? Could he make Larry better by helping him get a new class? That was something to explore.

The old ratkin stopped pacing and looked at Milo. “I had wanted to talk to you to see if there was something I could offer you in exchange for something I need. There are some medical texts and books on alchemy I could loan you. In exchange for what I need, I offer you the resources of my clan to help your friend.”

“And what do you need in exchange?” Milo was skeptical of open-ended deals.

“I need access to that hidden tunnel network you found to search for proof of my brother’s death. Unless you already know something?”

Milo assumed he must mean the pile of bones. Things slid into place in Milo’s mind. “Your brother was a shadowlurker and a Scout-Master. He had a secret lair where he grew mushrooms and made poisons, but one of his concoctions killed him. That’s why the place is all secret doors and traps.”

Old Healer kept his excitement hidden, but he smiled widely. “Ah, that does sound like him. He would place small traps all through the hallways to ‘test the young ones.’ That ended when one of the older dowagers got a poisoned needle in her toe and beat him nearly senseless for putting traps in the laundry room. I can imagine he placed many in his secret lair.”

Milo looked down at his pants. Looting old bodies wasn’t as much fun when you suddenly met their relatives. “I found him. Not much left. He poisoned himself somehow and was trying to make an antidote when he died.”

“Do you have any information on that antidote? It wouldn’t have happened to be some form of cleansing elixir, would it? And you may have imbibed some? One of the side effects is a lustrous coat of fur. Or so I’ve read.”

Milo brushed the fur along his forearm. It was still annoyingly shiny and soft. “It was Lesser Elixir Vitae. I was dying of spider venom when I found it. I may have drunk more than needed. I wasn’t thinking well at the time. When I woke up, I smelled horrible, and my clothes were a mess. Sorry for being a pants stealer, but I really needed them!” Talking about the elixir had brought up the recipe in his mind. The amount in the bottle had been enough to have cured him four times over. He might have shiny fur for a long time.

Old Healer looked very interested. “That is a very powerful cure. It not only cleaned the venom from your system but also any other impurities from your body and should have strengthened your natural healing abilities. Yes, you would have woken up later with all the impurities and poison on the outside instead of the inside. My brother was a pile of bones; he didn’t need those pants anymore. You are welcome to them.”

Milo had a sudden thought. “What would the Elixir do to Larry? Is it possible that too much cheese forms poisons or chemicals in the body that cause it to warp? What if we cleaned out his system like I did mine?”

Old Healer thought hard, then sighed. “I just don’t know. It might help him some, but it might also have side effects, such as stimulating his already incredible regeneration. Or his hunger. There is no way to know.”

Milo persisted. “We could use small doses? Study his reactions. And it would be good to have some of the Elixir on hand in case anyone else was poisoned!”

“Valid arguments. But there are some flaws in your plan. Firstly, I need the recipe. Secondly, the ingredients, one of which is a great deal of Golden Puffball mushrooms.”

Tallsqueak pushed two of the chairs back against the wall, and a large oak chest appeared to the great surprise of Old Healer. The old ratkin narrowed his eyes, remembering old stories. Tallsqueak was getting more interesting all the time.

Reaching inside, Tallsqueak pulled out a massive, metal-bound book and put it on the desk. “Here. It’s confusing at times, especially with all the added notes, but it almost made sense to me, and I only have chemistry to fall back on. A healer should have no trouble making more elixir.” The chest disappeared when someone knocked on the door.

Old Healer was already paging through the book as he motioned for Milo to open the door. “That will be my granddaughter. How convenient.”

Chapter 22

Operation Larry

Charlotte was annoyed. This was one of her three main emotions. Annoyance, frustration, and arrogance vied for the throne of number one emotion. A few other kept trying to enter the mix, but some others, like empathy and sympathy, had packed their bags and left long ago. She assumed that by now she knew almost everything about everything the clan could teach her, so she was annoyed that somehow her grandfather could make a door that trapped all sound. She’d been trying to eavesdrop on the meeting going on between her grandfather and Tallsqueak but could hear nothing at all through the thin wooden door.

It was obvious Tallsqueak had found something that pertained to the clan. Grandfather was excited, and that could mean bad news for her. The old man was always testing her: setting her up to fight opponents in the arena, holding a competition for the best skulker, who could kill the most spiderlings or drink the most bottles of poisoned fruit juice. It was endless and tiring. To lead a clan, you must be the best at everything, and you aren’t ready. The phrase was like a mantra to her. It should be obvious to him that she would be the best clan leader and not one of her idiot cousins. And now he had a new challenger for her to compete against.

At least it was a serious challenge. Tallsqueak had talent, despite his feral manners. She was curious about what type of competition the old rat would give the two of them. Hopefully, something dangerous so she could make sure that he didn’t come back this time. Being an outsider, Tallsqueak had none of the protections of the clan. So many things could happen to him. She’d have to arrange a few. It was a shame since he was better at combat than most of her cousins. But no one cracked her skull with a spanner and got to live. No one!

The door opened, and a smiling Tallsqueak nodded to her before he left the room, moved down the hall, and left the clan’s home. Her grandfather called from inside. She entered, deliberately not closing the soundproof door all the way.

“Ah, fresh tea. I knew I could count on you, Charlotte. I have a new challenge for you. I’d like you to make friends with Larry.”

“Make friends with Larry? Have you lost your mind!!”

Her grandfather looked around at the floor and in his pockets. “No, I’m pretty sure I have it somewhere. Thank you for asking, and say ‘hi’ to Larry for me.”

Charlotte stared at the old rat. “I won’t do it. I hate fiends, and I hate him. How many of our family were killed by rogue fiends from other hollows when we fought the spiders? My own mother was torn apart by one. I want nothing to do with Larry or any other fiend unless it means putting a knife through their brains.”

Her grandfather sat and said nothing, pondering something. Finally, after a minute, he spoke. “No, that won’t do it. A knife to the brain would kill most people, I’m sure, but a fiend would keep fighting. Most Cheese Fiends have a secondary brain at the end of their spine—you might have to use two knives. Luckily, Larry seems to have more brain power than most. You’ll be pleasantly surprised at how easy he is to talk to.”

“But I don’t want to talk to a Cheese Fiend!”

Her grandfather leaned back in his chair and folded his hands on his belly. “Then I suggest you quit thinking of Larry as a fiend. I understand your anger—the attack upon our camp that night was a horrible thing. Our family alone lost fourteen people. Most of the generation between us was lost, and no clan was unscathed. We may never know how the spiders drove the Cheese Fiends insane like that. I know what has happened, but it is time to take your own feelings and put them behind you for the good of the clan.”

Charlotte couldn’t believe he was serious. “But why? How can becoming friends with Larry be good for our clan? I don’t understand. There can’t be any other reason for it other than one of your stupid tests.” Her grandfather had given her odd tasks before, but this was beyond strange. He paused, started to talk, then changed his mind. “It is something that must happen before I send you on an important mission. VERY important. Please, I need you to do this. Tallsqueak will tell you why once he judges that Larry trusts you.”

“Tallsqueak? What does he have to do with this?” What had he found that he could make these demands?

“Everything. As I’m sure you have guessed from seeing his ‘magic pants,’ he found secrets of our clan. He has offered to share them, but to do so, he requires you be friends with Larry. Think of it as gaining Tallsqueak’s trust. He has little reason to trust you right now, and that was your own doing. But he did offer you some help. Larry likes cookies and treats; he loves dancing, singing silly songs, telling stories, and having them told to him. No cheese, of course. Eating meals with Larry was suggested. And not dressing like a shadowlurker. You don’t want Larry to think of you as a ‘Bad Sneaky Guy.’ They are the bad guys in his stories.”

Charlotte stood up and looked at her grandfather, trying to judge if he was serious about this or if senility had set in early. In the end, she decided to call his bluff. She didn’t know what Tallsqueak had found, but she had a good idea of where to look. As for Tallsqueak and Larry, it was time for them to go. Limburger Hollow shouldn’t be harboring a Cheese Fiend. Lots of other people felt that way. If Larry disappeared, very few people would ask questions.

“I won’t do it. Larry isn’t clan—he lost that when he became a fiend. Tallsqueak isn’t clan and never will be. I don’t have to work with them. And if they know secrets, I’ll find them out and bring them to the clan myself.” She turned to go, slamming the door and striding down the hallways, fuming.

* * *

Her mood and departure didn’t go unnoticed. Two younger clan members were getting a snack after their failed mission to play Surprise! and their impromptu lesson in “How to not be eaten by Larry.” Ringtail and Tweedle had already told their story to most of the other young skulkers, embellishing the details to include a small battle with Tallsqueak on the roof and lurid descriptions of Larry’s claws and teeth. They also emphasized how fast he was. That was new information. They had been truly terrified when he was chasing them and very grateful that he was polite enough to knock and ask permission before entering.

Ringtail watched as Char stormed by. “Wow, Princess Twistytail is really pissed!”

Tweedle agreed. “Tallsqueak is beating her on points, and Grandfather keeps reminding her about it.”

“She needs to learn to relax.”

“I don’t know if she can.”

“Remember when we invited her swimming⁠—

“—and she put poison in the pool to score points on all of us. Yeah, no more swim parties for Prissy Princess.”

“I heard something about a mission.”

“I also heard that.”

“And she thinks she’s too good to do it.”

“As usual. She needs some humility.”

“She needs so many, many things.”

“And never takes our advice.”

“I bet it’s a mission any idiot could do.”

“I think so too; probably something even we could handle.”

“Grandfather does say we are idiots. So, we’re qualified.”

“She’s going to be so pissed.”

“Very pissed. We may have to sleep elsewhere for a long time.”

“Worth it.”

“Let’s go see Grandfather.

Old Healer was just finishing his first cup of tea when Ringtail and Tweedle knocked on his door and entered. They saluted like they were in the army. He sighed. Of all his grandchildren, besides Charlotte, the twins were the two he felt had the most potential to become the best of their generation. Partly because they had used so little of that potential.

“Clan scout Tweedle, reporting for duty.”

“Clan scout Ringtail, ready for important missions, no matter how dangerous.

Their grandfather sighed. “Let me guess; Charlotte still mumbles to herself loudly when she is angry, and you overheard me from the hallway.”

Both scouts nodded, and Ringtail added, “Wind her up good, and you can find out all kind of interesting things.”

“Like secret missions.”

“Which you now need us for.”

“Good choice on your part.”

They weren’t expecting their grandfather to actually give them the mission with so little arm twisting. He simply smiled at them, with all of his teeth showing. “Excellent. You two will do nicely. Tallsqueak has a secret mission, but you have to prove yourselves to him by becoming friends with Larry so he trusts you.”

The two looked at each other and nodded.

“We can do that.”

“No problem. It will be fun.

“Maybe he can show us how to do the hopping thing he does. It must give big experience in Agility.”

“Yeah, he got so fast so quickly! Very cool.”

“Larry’s pretty cool all around. Those claws? Insane.”

The two saluted again and ran off to plan “Operation Larry.” Step one was stealing several plates of cookies.

Chapter 23

Clumpy Bigtoe

Clumpy hated the hat—it was silly. A plain black skull cap with round fake ears that stuck up obnoxiously, making sure everyone noticed the outsider in the room. And because “all outsiders look alike,” his new name was stenciled on the front. The halfling exhaled a long breath and steeled himself for what came next. “Jethro” had died when he betrayed his family, and now, he was “Clumpybigtoe.” He put the skull cap on and made sure the fake tail was hanging from the back of his belt. He’d been warned of punishment for being outside of his own burrow without either of them. And these guys took their punishments seriously.

The irony didn’t go unnoticed. The fake ears and tail were to show his submission to the clan and acceptance of his new boss. But rather than make him accepted, his new attire just pointed out to everyone that he wasn’t an ally or hired mercenary, but someone desperate enough to beg for a small spot in the hollow.

It had been a chancy move. His family had been after him, and the sharp knives were at his back. His family wasn’t big on forgiveness when your actions ended up with them thrown into slavery. When they were miraculously rescued and set free, Jethro had run—and kept on running. He was happy they had gotten free; he just didn’t want to pay the price if they caught up with him. Wurchwitz Hollow was the end of the line—a place so bad that his family would leave him there as punishment rather than kill him.

Hat in place and firmly held on by a chin strap, Clumpybigtoe left his burrow and made his way down the long tunnel to the main part of Wurchwitz Hollow. Around him, exhausted ratkin peasants trudged between work and sleep. They were packed ten to a burrow with barely enough room to lie down. At least he had his own burrow. The Cheese-Master had told him it was because of his lofty status of One Who Cuts the Cheese, but he’d heard the snickers from the commoners that it was because of his horrible smell.

Two Cheese Fiends were stationed at the end of the tunnel. They glared at everyone who went by. The ratkin hid their faces and stared at the ground. Jethro waved to them, causing the confused fiends to scratch their heads and wonder why. He smiled at everyone like it was the best day of his life. It was a small rebellion, but he refused to let them beat him all the way down. More fiends guarded the cheese factory. He and the others who worked the last shift of the day waited to take their positions. The cheese factory was never quiet. It took a lot of cheese to feed the assembled army of Cheese Fiends that the masters of the hollow used to keep the populace in line.

Bells rang, the shift changed, and Jethro took his position on the assembly line. He declined to put on the gas mask, decorated with fake whiskers. The worker he was replacing had worn one, but he preferred not to. Stinky cheese didn’t bother him; he was a halfling, and his clan had endured the most pungent of the stinky cheeses for centuries. He had to admit, though, that Milbenkase was pretty bad. The sight of the little cheese mites that squirmed out of the cheese as he cut it was quite disturbing. But if you wanted a good, stinky cheese, you did what you had to do. He was getting to like the taste of the creamy cheese, and the mites added some protein.

The first round of magically aged cheese was shoved down the assembly line to him. He picked up the huge cheese knife that he used for the job and tested the blade. As always, the enchanted blade was sharp as a razor. But you always checked your tools over and didn’t trust the guy before you. It was another of his little rebellions. This might be seen by some as one of the least important jobs, but it was his job, and he’d do it well.

It was time to cut the cheese!

* * *

Whelp-Master Gangrene gave his guest a friendly slap on the back and watched them stumble forward. “Good to see you again, Sneaky. How are the weaklings up at Limburger Hollow.”

Sneakybadguy winced in pain. Gangrene had a liking for causing pain in others. He’d earned his name by forcing wounded soldiers to keep fighting for weeks against the spiders during the great wars. The cheese had kept them going, their brains buzzing, while their wounds festered and rotted. Those that didn’t die became Cheese Fiends. The very lucky, and there were few of those, survived after losing a limb or two. Looking at the stumbling ranks of whelps, they saw that the Whelp-Master hadn’t changed his methods.

“They are still the same! Espousing the false-bad lies that by working together, the hollow is a better place. But they are ripe for taking over. The shadowlurkers are bored and wish to play dangerous games. I have plans for them. Most of the population labors at menial jobs like mushroom farming and mining, making them excellent peasants. Few would resist and fight.”

Gangrene listened carefully. Everyone lied, and judging an enemy’s strength by the boasting of an ally was tricky. “And what steps have you taken to earn your position as Master when we take over? Tell me why we need you.”

Sneakybadguy had gone over this conversation in their mind many times. They had answers ready. “I have labored hard to become useful to my fake-master. When the time comes, I will easily supplant him! The guards are demoralized after I addicted one of them to bad-cheese and turned him into a fiend. The spider colony nearby will begin attacks soon, weakening the hollow and killing their guards. I managed to arrange the deaths of several noble spiders to make sure they stayed angry. The mages fight among themselves and spend more time battling each other in their tower than preparing the defenses of the hollow. But my best and the most fiendish plan involves the ‘players.’”

“Players? How are they useful?”

Sneakybadguy laughed softly. “In two ways, Great One. Firstly, some have tried to join the hollow but are greedy for power. I will be showing them the quick path to great power soon. Secondly, I have spread rumors in the human city above of the riches that can be gained by raiding the hollow. Between players, spiders, and my own fiends, I can bring Limburger Hollow to its knees and have it begging for help!”

Gangrene liked the plan but wondered how much of it was true. “It seems you hardly need our help. So why are you here?”

Sneakybadguy had anticipated that question too. They couldn’t admit that they needed too much help, not if they were going to be the master when everything was done. “To destroy the hollow is one thing, but to rule it I need the expertise that your hollow is known for. Fiends to keep the peasants in line, special cheeses to get the populace addicted and keep the fiends happy, workers for the cheese factory, and of course minions to bring back a share of the profits to this hollow each month.”

“A share? That sounds… undefined.” Gangrene liked his contracts with teeth in them. “You want to be a master of the hollow? Fine. That is your reward. Three-quarters of the profits from the mines and the cheese factory will come back to me here. I will send my own Tally-Master to oversee that things are done fairly.”

Sneakybadguy protested. “No… that is not what we said. You asked only for a small cut!”

A blade flashed, and Sneakybadguy fell to the ground, one leg bleeding badly from a shallow cut. Gangrene roared with laughter. “And there is your small cut. Would you like a bigger one? No, I didn’t think so. It is time to quit playing games! Wurchwitz Hollow will take what it likes, and you will be our agent there. Or I can find another who will serve me better. My spies tell me that there are several good prospects in the hollow. Even a mysterious loner who seems to be challenging the Tail-Master for his position. He’s ambitious and powerful. I hear good things about him.”

Sneakybadguy rolled on the ground, trying to staunch the bleeding. “NO! Tallsqueak can’t be trusted! No one knows where he comes from. He joined the hollow already halfway to becoming a fiend! No one knows his goals, and he is hiding secrets! So many secrets!”

Gangrene stroked his chin. “Oooh, I like him already. I’ll have to meet him somehow. He sounds useful and flawed the way I like my agents. As for you, we have our deal. Go get your cheese shipment from Clumpybigtoe at the factory. And remember that I have options to replace you.”

* * *

Clumpybigtoe was annoyed when a limping stranger started yelling at him about cheese. They weren’t from this hollow—that was obvious. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get to it. How are you packing it off?”

Sneakybadguy didn’t like this new cheese cutter, he had odd-looking ears. He opened his backpack and pulled out two Cheese Gatherer’s Bags. “Fill those up; they take more than you would expect. And hurry it up. I need to be back at my own hollow soon!”

Clumpybigtoe couldn’t care less but smiled at the weird little ratkin. They were dressed up with only their eyes showing, like some of the human ninja clans. “No problem. I’ll carefully cut the rounds of cheese up as they slowly come down the assembly line. You can just sit there patiently and inhale the pungent aroma.”

Clumpy thought that this one was an idiot. They should have asked for whole wheels. Once you cut Milbenkase wheels, the smell was horrible, and the cheese mites squirmed all over. They would never get all the mites and smells out of those bags. But that was their problem. Clumpybigtoe had enough of his own.

Chapter 24

The Rational Decisions of the Students of the Arcane Arts

Milo left the house of the Old Healer’s clan in a good mood. He was getting tired of having to play Surprise! and be on guard all the time. While it was good for his perception, he had a lot of things he wanted to do, and the distraction was annoying. The temptation to beat them all with his engineer’s spanner had been growing. Hopefully, things would ease up a bit now. And if they didn’t… well, he could start using the wrench.

The clan wasn’t all sneaky ninja types, but that was what it was known for, and everyone trained in skulking and climbing when young. Old Healer had told him that some of the whelps became scouts who explored the large area of caves surrounding the hollow, while others trained to defend the hollow using stealthy methods. The clan also produced many of the hollow’s healers. The novice healers got a lot of practice putting back together the students who failed to surprise guards or who poisoned themselves in alchemy classes. It was an odd system, but it worked for them.

The day had been eventful. Trying to catch Larry, who was chasing two skulkers had worried him. He was happy things had turned out well. Larry had walked away very content with his cookies. Old Healer was happy his novices were still alive, and Milo was happy that Larry would soon have a new friend. Charlotte had shown she played by the rules, so he had made it a rule that anyone exploring the old tunnels with him would have to make friends with Larry first. Larry wouldn’t like not-friends going through his house. With Charlotte meeting Larry for the next couple of meals, Milo had time to catch up on other things.

The marketplace was busy. It seemed like everyone in the hollow was either shopping or selling. He strolled casually through the vendors, looking at stands selling cookware, weapons, clothing, and food. Players were here in force, selling things they’d found in the caves and buying new weapons and armor. It was like the bazaar in Shadowport, just with more fur and tails. He found Scrap Hunter at the end of the marketplace, working his way through a pile of bones, cleaning and sorting them. He waved to Milo as he came up.

“Back for more? I made a trip out to some old lairs that had been cleaned out and loaded up a bunch of the bigger bones. I have forty of the size you wanted. That’s them tied up in the bundle over there.” Scrap Hunter pointed to a bundle of femurs and arm bones wrapped in a piece of scrap leather and tied up. “Found this old thing as well.” He held up an old weapon made of a wooden haft with several carved bones or fangs mounted to it. It looked similar to Milo’s own weapon, but the wood was rotten, and he could tell that most of the bones were gnawed by animals and falling apart.

“I’ve seen something similar before.” He examined it more carefully. Two of the bones were in good shape, though covered in ancient blood and dirt.

Scrap Hunter nodded. “It’s a popular design. Less popular now that the hollow makes a lot of metal weapons. Out in the caves, they still make weapons like this old thing. Shamans sometimes enchant them. There’s even a record of a bone carver who used to come through the area every couple of years and would enchant weapons for a large chunk of cheddar.”

“Really? Where can I learn more about him? That sounds interesting.”

“The records would be over in the Tower of Strife, as he was some kind of mage, but I’d wait for a day when you don’t see poisonous clouds forming up top or hear the thunder. Those tower mages go at it all the time, and you don’t want to get between them when they fight.” The older ratkin rolled his eyes and looked in the direction of the top of the tower.

Milo could see a green haze at the top of the roof. “Are they enemies? Or hate each other? Why doesn’t someone do something?”

“HA! Oh, we do something. We stay away! How they run their marriage is up to them. No one wants to get between them when they go at it. Or worse, when they make up. They get disgusting, holding hands and writing little poems and such. I like it when they fight better.”

Milo just nodded. He saw the old rat’s point. He understood fighting, but not the other part. Good to stay out of it. After a bit of haggling, he bought both the bones and the old weapon from Scrap Hunter. At another stall, he sat down for a big bowl of fried honey grubs. He had smelled the sweet scent of the cooking on the breeze and was ravenous again. His stomach made enough noise that people were laughing softly at him and helpfully pointing him toward the food stand. After two bowls of tasty sweet grubs and a slice of mushroom bread, he was ready to get to work.

He wanted to take a better look at the huge, complex pile of machinery by the waterfall and tunnel to the mushroom fields. He planned to do that after a little bone carving. His spells used up a lot of bone, and if he got into a fight while exploring the tunnels, he wanted to be ready. He sat down on the far side of the machinery and leaned against it. It was peaceful here with the smell of burnt wires and the sound of running water. It made it easy to concentrate on carving the runes he needed into the bones.

He summoned his storage, the magical chest appearing in the shadows next to the wrecked machine. He needed both his carving and drawing tools, along with some wrenches and calipers, to start work on whatever this was. Sitting in the shadow of the machine, he carefully drew the needed runes on each of the bones and shaped them into miniature harpoons. Concentrating hard, he used one of his claws to carve out the velocity runes. Each rune drained some of his mana and glowed briefly as he finished it. Bone after bone, rune after rune, he worked for two hours carving the ammunition he needed for his spells. As he finished each one, they disappeared into his handy Signet Ring of the Scout-Master.

He was quite thankful to Charlotte for pointing out the rule that let him keep all the things he’d found. Old Healer had assured him it was fine, and ‘Finders Keepers’ was an old and respected rule among treasure hunters. Having only enough ammunition for his spell had hurt him against the spiders. With the storage ring, he was better prepared for next time.

He completed ten of his rune-carved harpoons before he gave in to the need to take a peek at the strange machine. Just a little bit of poking around, and he promised himself that he’d get back to work on the bones. The bolts holding on the outer panels showed signs of having been removed several times and were worn and dented, some of them even stripped and barely holding the panels on. With three of the panels off he could see the inner workings, and started trying to guess at what the machine did.

That wasn’t readily apparent. At the end closest to the waterfall, he saw what he suspected was a dynamo for generating electrical current from the mechanical energy of the water wheel, but it was horribly inefficient with the components in poor alignment. The two spinning Faraday discs were too far apart, and the wire coils were clumsily made. Whatever power it produced went to a basic magitech storage system that first converted the current and then used a series of crystals in glass casings to store the electrical-based mana. It didn’t look right at all, with cracked glass and missing cables.

After that was a series of separate sub-machines for a variety of uses. There was a primitive subragator that would separate impurities from ore, but nothing to process the ore further. The impurities were further divided by a broken centrifuge and would have been outputted to barrels if the barrels were present. There also looked to be an oven or furnace, a ceramic kiln for making glass, a wire drawing device that was missing parts, and a large glass magitech globe that had no purpose that he could see at all. More sub-assemblies were mysteries to him, with not enough parts left to tell what they had been made for. The whole machine was a patchwork Frankenstein, and he wondered if it had ever worked at all. He knew that once he started, he’d be working on it for hours. Reluctantly he put down the wire coil he had started to rewind and went back to his carving.

After the harpoons were done, he started on the lizard skulls, carving the runes that turned them into bombs. He was drawing a particularly tricky part of a rune when loud banging broke his concentration and ruined the rune. Very annoyed, he went to see what was going on.

A student from the Tower in a ragged black robe was banging with an old hammer on the side of the machine, while two others in blue robes laughed and gave encouragement.

“Maybe if you hit that bolt a few times, it will give up and turn!”

“Maybe… but he hasn’t hit it yet. Put a Death Cloud on it, Gehlter! Then it won’t dodge so much.”

“I’ll put a Death Cloud on you two idiots! The bolts are stripped! It isn’t coming off!” Gehlter hit the bolt with the hammer a few more times, deforming it further.

Milo couldn’t take it anymore. Both the noise and the stupidity of abusing a poor bolt that way made him angry. “Excuse me, but what are you doing? That’s not how you dismantle a machine.”

All three turned to look at Tallsqueak. They knew all the student mages in the Tower. Despite the tattered cowl that the interloper wore, they knew he wasn’t a mage. That was further emphasized by his black pants and the large spanner in his hand. They closed ranks and tried to look as inscrutable as they could.

“And who are you to tell us what to do? We don’t answer to silly skulkers, do we, guys?” Gehlter had been the one to step forward and speak, but he also checked to make sure that the other two were backing him up. They were friends, but from opposite sides of the tower, and you never knew exactly how far you could trust a student storm mage. The lightning tended to fry their brains. But both Squiggle and Bunt were backing his play, preparing spells and letting sparks dance on their fingers. Their adversary seemed unimpressed.

“Okay, we can do this one of two ways: We can have some silly magical duel with explosions and pain where someone gets hurt, or we can all calm down and I can show you the proper way to turn a bolt. Which way do you want it?”

The three students looked at each other, nodded together, and yelled, “Duel!”

Chapter 25

Duel

It’s a known fact that the best seats in a classroom are next to a window. That way, instead of being bored and paying attention to the professor, you can be bored and stare out the window. So, it was unsurprising that a few students had noticed the start of the altercation. Knowing that any argument simply had to result in a duel, they came stampeding down the stairs to watch. Their professors didn’t even try to stop them and instead headed to the faculty lounge that had a lovely bay window overlooking the front area of the tower, perfect for viewing the weekly official duels and numerous ‘accidental’ duels.

None of the people watching were surprised when the novice Death Mage immediately started casting a spell. First-year Death Magic class concentrated on poisons and toxins before the students moved on to necromancy in their second year. Each student had to create their own version of Noxious Cloud and Toxic Gaze spells. Storm magics had more choices in their first-year spells, including Ball Lightning, Blazing Arc, and Overloaded Blazing Arc, along with Static Repulsion. Storm mages had to be more careful with their casting, where a misplaced hand motion could result in your own spell electrocuting you. Death was quick, but Storm was careful and more powerful, at least in the first year.

“I cast Gehlter’s Death Cloud!” It was a commonly held superstition among the students that the louder you yelled the name of your spell, the harder it hit. Plus, what good was coming up with your own version of a spell if no one knew about it? Gehlter was very proud of his version of Noxious Cloud.

Huge clouds of billowing green smoke rolled toward the challenger, pouring over the ground and covering a large area. Gehlter had decided early in his career in magic that if he couldn’t be the most powerful mage or the best at aiming, at least he could be the fastest. He had taken the standard Noxious Cloud spell with its large dose of weak poison and complex hand motions and pared it down to a much simpler version. A huge area of effect meant he didn’t even need to aim! Once the student he was dueling couldn’t see or breathe, the duel was half-won. Of course, it also didn’t do a lot of damage. He was disappointed when he didn’t hear any coughing or choking coming from the cloud.

Not everyone agreed with him, including his two temporary teammates. “This is why you’re always going to be picked last for team duels, Gehlter. Your damned fart cloud screws up the rest of us.” Squiggle and Bunt both cursed at him as they interrupted their casting of Blazing Arc and changed their spells to Ball Lightning. The former spell needed a target to cast at, and all they could see was a large area of green clouds. So instead of two powerful electrical arcs, they sent two man-high balls of sparkling blue storm mana rolling across the ground and into the cloud of gas. The diffused charge meant the spell did far less damage than Blazing Arc. Bunt wondered what the interaction between their spells would be. Mixing magic like this could have unexpected consequences.

The result was quite shocking, as a bare skull rolled out of the cloud and stopped at their feet.

Bunt felt his tail go limp, and his arms slumped at his sides. Killing someone in a duel was bad, bad, bad. He felt sick. “Oh hell, what have we done?” It was almost a relief when the skull exploded, knocking them all off of their feet and putting splinters of bone into tender places. The green mists were dispelled as Gehlter lost his concentration on the spell, and the imposing figure of Tallsqueak stepped forward.

Squiggle noted with approval that Tallsqueak was doing things properly.

Small threat backed up by power? Check.

Proper entrance to the fight? Check.

Eyes glowing with barely contained annoyance? Check.

An object of power held high in preparation to smite your enemies? Got that too!

All in all, he’d have gotten an A+ in “Classical Ways to Intimidate Your Enemies.” Squiggle wondered where he had taken the class.

Tallsqueak stood and glared at them, a large wrench held high in the air, his lustrous fur standing up with static electricity, and an angry look on his face. The runes on his old robe were glowing, and he had conjured bony armor over half of his body. He looked in their direction and spoke low and menacingly. “Let’s see what you have, sparkle boys. Take your best shots.”

Gehlter started to cast a spell, but Bunt kicked him hard in the shin. “Our turn, Fartcaster.” He nodded at Squiggle, and both of them began casting Blazing Arc, taking their time to pump up the mana to Overload. Huge arcs of electrical power jumped from their hands to Tallsqueak, running through him and down to the ground. The smell of ozone was strong in the air. When their eyes could see again from the sudden glare, they expected to see their opponent unconscious or stunned.

Instead, Tallsqueak was still standing there, holding up his large wrench-shaped wand, as if nothing had happened. He lowered it slightly, motioning at them. “Not bad. Want to try again, or should I start beating on you?” Neither apprentice mage hesitated to cast their best spell again, this time using every bit of mana they could shove into it. Again, the spells arced out, and again they seemed to hit Tallsqueak, without doing any damage at all to him. The two storm mages felt ill from mana depletion, and it was occurring to their small minds that maybe this skulker wasn’t really a skulker. Neither noticed a long copper wire connecting the large machine and Tallsqueak’s spanner that he held in his bone-covered hand.

Tallsqueak started walking toward them. Gehlter turned to run. No rule said you had to stay in a duel and get your head beat in, and he’d already used his best spell. Tallsqueak’s menacing voice came from behind him. “Oh no, if you start a fight, you finish a fight. That’s a rule I learned from Captain Pike.” Squiggle and Bunt saw him flick his wrist, and a small bone spear appeared in his hand. As he threw it at Gehlter, the other two wizards saw runes glow along its length just before it flashed across the distance, going all the way through the fleeing Death Mage’s leg before it shattered against a large rock, breaking the stone. Both decided that not running was the best course of action.

Another skull was tossed by Tallsqueak, knocking down the two storm mages. As they struggled to get up, each took a minor blow to the side of the head from a heavy engineer’s spanner. Gehlter was crawling away when the wrench of vengeance knocked him out and ensured he’d be seeing a healer for the next few days.

As the dust cleared and the fight ended, shouts and the sound of running feet heralded the arrival of several young ratkin wearing white tunics with a red cheese wheel on the front and back. “Out of the way! Emergency First Aid crew is here and ready to save the day! Where does it hurt?” Tallsqueak pointed at the three apprentices, and the half-dozen junior healers gleefully descended upon them.

Above, in the Tower of Strife, two figures observed the situation from a high balcony. Cremona was dressed in a lovely black silk robe with glowing green trim and a low cut in the front, while her husband preferred a classic blue robe with a high collar and silver-white trim.

“My, wasn’t that exciting? A mysterious stranger challenges three of our students to a duel and beats them handily with strange magic. I’m tingling all over.” Arlothe sniffed. “Ah, and there’s nothing like the smell of fresh ozone. My lads threw some pretty powerful arcs; did you notice?”

“I notice that our mysterious challenger shunted the spells off into that old lump of machinery you so love. This is a smart one. We simply must invite him up to dinner, dear. I’m in love with that exploding skull spell he used. I think it must be some variation on the classic Poisoned Skull that old Professor Pestilence used to teach.” Cremona was happy to see a visiting Death Mage. Maybe he’d be up for a bout or two. While it was a staple of their marriage, dueling with her husband each day could get stale. She was sure he wouldn’t begrudge her a minor dalliance.

Arlothe observed that a crowd was forming, and the usual players were entering the field. “Round two is about to start, dear.”

Chapter 26

Another Duel

As Tallsqueak walked away from the trio of wounded first-year wizards being fought over by junior medics, the gaggle of students watching at the base of the tower applauded. He ignored them, which got a few nods from the older students. A true duelist cared nothing for the applause of those below him and focused only on what he could have done better in the fight. There was much discussion about the spells he had used. Several noted that his three major spells were some sort of necromancy, as they dealt with bone. But there was much conjecture about how he had countered the storm mage spells.

Several of the novices were talking excitedly and making wild gestures. An unexpected break from classes was always fun, and so was a duel, new magic, and a 1 vs 3 victory.

“…unannounced duel day?”

“I bet this is more drama about Cordelia. I swear that girl causes more trouble…”

“I want to know how that weird staff absorbed that much energy. I don’t see how he could absorb that much without his staff exploding.”

From a window on the second floor, a group of second-year students had observed the short duel. They noted that the newcomer used guile to ambush the three first-year students by dressing in common clothes and goading them into attacking him. The duel had been short, as he completely dominated them, ignoring their spells and striking back with unique necromantic attacks. To add insult to their injuries, he had even struck them with his wand, showing that he wasn’t even going to waste mana on them. All in all, he had the admirable qualities that they were looking for. The decision was made to send two of their number to meet the newcomer and give him an invitation to their illustrious clan.

As the two older students in black and green robes exited the tower, the group of students made room for them to pass. Each of the pair was wearing a fancy black robe with a green dragon embroidered on the chest. Their backs were straight, their noses in the air, and their eyes were glowing with emerald light. Long hours of practice had gone into perfecting their look. The pair walked up to Tallsqueak and gave small bows.

“Greetings, Tallsqueak. I am Brer Moray of Clan Emerald Wyrm. I congratulate you on your victory over that rabble.”

“I, too, congratulate you. You showed them the contempt they deserve. I am Brer Cutthroat of Clan Emerald Wyrm.”

Tallsqueak gestured at the trio of injured novices receiving first aid. “It wasn’t so much a duel as it was teaching them to do things properly. Their noisy banging annoyed me.”

The two students from Clan Emerald Wyrm looked at each other and nodded before Moray spoke. “Exactly. There is a proper way that things should happen here at the Tower. The rabble often forgets that and needs to be reminded. My brother and I can see that you have the right attitude, and we offer you an invitation to join us in Clan Emerald Wyrm as a Brother Eel. You will become great in our clan. We will share our powerful necromantic spells with you and learn yours, increasing all of our power.”

The watching throng of students grew quiet. Competition among the four clans of the Tower was fierce, and the Eels were already powerful.

Tallsqueak seemed, if anything, more annoyed. He looked at the green dragons embroidered on their robes and actually sneered. “Not interested. I have things to do and machines to fix. And I don’t like Eels!” He turned and walked away, leaving the two stunned junior wizards staring at his retreating tail. Laughter came from the rabble, and several people were mumbling and pointing at the two members of Clan Emerald Wyrm.

“Looks like the Eels struck out.”

“…and he’s brave. I bet he ends up in Clan Manticore…”

“Do you think he’d like to join Puffyfur? He’d fit right in! Someone should invite him to our next pillow fight.”

“Wow, do you see how pissed Moray is? This next duel is going to be awesome!”

Indeed, Moray was angry. So angry! No one dared turn down his invitations! And he hated being laughed at.

“HALT! You cannot insult the Clan of the Emerald Wyrm with impunity, Tallsqueak! If you will not join us, then you can learn to fear us, as others have! We challenge you to a friendly duel to exchange knowledge and show off the potency of our spells. Refuse us at your peril.” Both began gathering necromantic energies to them and reaching for the bones in their pockets.

Tallsqueak stopped walking and glared at them, then looked at the machinery he had been walking toward. He sighed and slipped his spanner back into his belt. “Remember that I gave you two Eel lovers a chance to walk away.”

Moray and Cutthroat took that statement as permission to begin casting. As usual, they both started their duel by casting Mighty Servant of Bone to raise huge ogre skeletons to send at their opponent. They were far tougher than the normal Servant of Bone spell that gave a mage command of an undead goblin or human.

Tallsqueak didn’t give them a chance to complete the spells. A skull appeared in his hand, and he threw hard at Moray, hitting him in the chest and exploding in shards of stinging bone splinters. Moray lost control of his spell and was knocked down. Cutthroat managed to summon his skeletal ogre and sent it to attack Tallsqueak.

Tallsqueak himself was transforming. Along with the bony gauntlets he had worn in the last duel, bone plates appeared on his feet and shins. His tail became a long, bony whip that looked more like the skeleton of a snake. He stepped forward to meet the ogre skeleton, casting a small curse at it. Cutthroat could feel that his creation had been cursed but didn’t care. How did you curse the dead? They ignored most magic.

Tallsqueak leaped in the air, spinning and whipping his tail around in a circle. The head of the skeleton shattered, and the undead construct lumbered past Tallsqueak as he stepped out of the way. Cutthroat had no way to control the headless construct and let it crumble to dust so he could summon another. Moray had regained his feet just in time to see the demise of Cutthroat’s minion and began casting a spell to summon one of his own, but again, an exploding skull knocked him off his feet, ruining his spell. He hissed in annoyance. “Cutthroat, you idiot, do something! That’s two of my spells he’s disrupted, and I’m down a third of my Health!”

Tallsqueak stood patiently and waited for Cutthroat to summon another minion. Cutthroat changed tactics and shouted out, “Wall of Bones!” A twenty feet wide by eight feet tall wall of woven bones appeared between Tallsqueak and his opponents. Both Death Mages began casting again immediately, burning more mana in an effort to raise their army.

“Mighty Servant of Bones!”

“Shooty Bone Minion!”

“Avenging Skeleton of Doom!”

“Undead House-Cleaner!”

The last spell was a bit lame, but Cutthroat was nearly out of mana. They sent their small army of undead around the wall to attack Tallsqueak, two around each side, and peeked through openings in the wall to direct them. Except that they didn’t see him. They assumed he had fled the duel, overwhelmed by the small army they sent to attack him.

From the top of the tower, Professor Cremona started to giggle.

Arlothe was having trouble following the duel. “What’s going on? I see the usual army of undead that those two prefer to use, but I don’t see Tallsqueak anywhere.”

His wife patted him on the head and pointed. “I’ve told you so many times to work harder on those Perception drills, dear. Tallsqueak skulked up to their wall, climbed it, and leaped into the shadows behind them while they concentrated on their spells. Even I barely noticed him. He’s a trained shadowlurker, I’m sure of it. Oh, I hope he says it…”

Arlothe stared where she pointed and could just make out a shadowy figure skulking ten feet behind Moray and Cutthroat. “Say what, dear?”

“Surprise!”

Cremona clapped her hands with glee.

A long tail wrapped around Cutthroat’s windpipe and hoisted him into the air. At the same time, Tallsqueak brought down his engineer’s spanner in a double-handed blow to Moray’s head, knocking him out cold. Cutthroat tried to cast a spell but had trouble concentrating as Tallsqueak slammed him into the ground.

The next instant, Tallsqueak cast Harpoon of the Winds and sent it rocketing through the Wall of Bone that was weakened by his Brittle Bones spell. The wall crumbled to white dust, and the spell powered through the Avenging Skeleton of Doom who was unlucky enough to be in the way. The Mighty Servant of Bones collapsed a second later, Moray not being able to continue concentrating on the spell that gave it unlife. The only minion left standing was Cutthroat’s Shooty Bone Minion.

The bow-armed skeleton turned, finally finding its target, and shot an arrow at Tallsqueak. Sadly, for Cutthroat, Tallsqueak had put him between himself and the undead archer. Cutthroat took an arrow in the shoulder and then wisely ended his spell and yelled out, “I concede! You have bested me, oh Mighty One!”

Tallsqueak dropped him and turned to see if anyone else was going to attack him.

Chapter 27

Final Duel

As annoyed as he was, Milo pondered the situation. The students of the Tower of Strife certainly lived up to their name. They must fight constantly with each other. There seemed to be rules to the duels, and the addition of healers was a nice touch. The mages got practice fighting, and the healers got practice healing. Overall, it was a good system, but he was annoyed to be included without anyone giving him a rulebook.

His first three opponents were covered in bandages and leaning against the tower, eating cookies provided by three students. Milo was sure he hadn’t hurt them badly, but the amount of bandages used was so excessive, he doubted they could walk. The junior healers took their practice time seriously. The crowd was excited, and he saw several students eyeing him and considering a challenge, while others were placing bets. He saw that the bets were being taken by three more of the Eel clan. The threat of getting their skull beat in with a spanner certainly wasn’t convincing anyone that this was a bad idea. Worse, they seemed to like it!

The crowd hushed when two new people walked toward him as the students moved hastily to clear a path. Both were older ratkin who oozed confidence and authority. Both were higher level than himself, and he could only see basic information about them.

Professor Arlothe Sparktail Level 19 Stormcaster

Professor Cremona Strifebringer Level 18 Poisoned Soul

Milo started to relax. These were professors who taught the students and kept order in the Tower. Cooler and wiser heads had finally shown up to put an end to this nonsense.

Arlothe smiled at him. “Welcome to the Tower of Strife. My wife and I are happy to have visiting mages from other hollows. I see that you have already studied our ancient traditions and engaged our students in duels as a way of sharing knowledge and techniques.”

Milo had known he’d done nothing of the sort! “Uh… no? They sort of attacked me a couple of times. I just came over to look at the interesting machinery when they started abusing it. I wasn’t trying to duel.”

Cremona scowled at him, a green cloud floating over her head. “What? You didn’t even come to visit with us? Are we less interesting than a stupid pile of wires?”

Milo felt that the answer was obvious. “Well, yes. Who doesn’t like strange machines?”

Arlothe smiled and nodded in agreement. “Right?! What did you think of the electro-interface and…” He broke off as his wife elbowed him in the ribs.

“Stay focused, dear. Crafty Tallsqueak is trying to confuse the issue and make you forget how he has insulted the Tower!”

Arlothe caught his breath and sighed. Then continued in a loud voice. “Oh, of course. He’s a tricky one, isn’t he? What I meant to say was: How dare you tamper with a machine that combines the wisdom of generations of mages from the Tower?!”

Milo pointed to the machine. “I think their ‘combined wisdom’ disagreed on what they were trying to make. Wouldn’t it have been better for each mage to construct their own project and then compare the designs?” Arlothe nodded in agreement before taking another elbow to his sore ribs.

Cremona drew herself up and pointed at Tallsqueak. “You have transgressed upon the Tower of Strife, tried to steal the secrets of my husband’s stupid machine, beaten our students on a non-duel day, and failed to introduce yourself properly! I, Cremona Strifebringer, demand that you duel me so that I may restore the honor of the Tower of Strife. Accept my challenge or accept my punishment.”

Every student and teacher in the Tower was now watching. Dueling with Professor Cremona was referred to as playing “test dummy for her latest concoction.” Many students would much rather accept her “punishments,” which ranged from cleaning out beakers and test tubes to filling in craters in the ground after duel days. No one actually fought her for real except her husband, and the score this season was 13 to 34 in her favor.

When Tallsqueak didn’t immediately bow and accept his punishment (which in this case was going to be an invitation to a dinner of steamed prawns and onion soup with the two professors), Arlothe began to worry. He highly doubted Tallsqueak was just a necromancer or Death Mage. He hadn’t summoned any undead minions and hadn’t used any type of poison spell. He had two highly effective combat ranged attacks along with some very nice physical enhancements. The way he had taken down the two second-year students had shown he wasn’t ignorant of claw-to-claw fighting. And the claws he had looked very sharp! Cremona was a very powerful mage, but she wasn’t used to fighting for her life. He suspected Tallsqueak was. The idea of a little fake anger, a challenge, and then the ‘punishment’ of dinner had seemed like a better idea a few minutes ago. But it was too late for that. The challenge had been issued, and dangerous or not, his wife loved to duel.

Milo pulled two mana potions and a healing potion from his pouch and drank them. Punishment would obviously be some long quest or task that he didn’t have time for. Even if he died and had to lose a day, that was better. His annoyance went away as he made his decision, replaced by calm focus. “I accept your challenge.”

Cremona was surprised and excited. Dinner might get a little cold, but that was a small price to pay for a good duel with an unknown opponent. “Excellent! Arlothe will adjudicate the duel. Normal rules, dear?”

Arlothe looked at his excited wife and the quietly focused Tallsqueak. “No, I think we’ll do something a bit more formal than the usual brawl that the students like. As adjudicator of this duel, I invoke the formal rules of dueling and limit the duel to three rounds. Tallsqueak, are you familiar with the formal rules of dueling as set forth by the marquis D’Camembert?”

Tallsqueak said in a very calm voice, “Perhaps you should go over all of the rules so both of us know them.”

Arlothe nodded. “These rules of dueling were made to limit and control combat in the magical arts and to provide a better showcase to judge the skill of the duelists. Two ten-foot diameter circles are drawn on the ground, with 30 feet between centers. Neither opponent may step outside the boundaries of the circles. Opponents will each have a round to cast a spell, followed by their opponent casting a spell. After three rounds, a panel would normally judge the duel based on poise, damage done, verbal sparring, inventiveness of attacks, and several other minor criteria. Today it will be enough to see who remains conscious, and I will award points instead of a proper panel of judges.”

Tallsqueak nodded, and Arlothe continued, happy to see that the visiting wizard was familiar with the rules, “An aspect of the marquis’s spell is that if an opponent is badly injured, the duel ends, the circles are dispelled, and the magical energy is funneled into a powerful healing spell that can save the loser from all but the most messy of deaths. This allows both opponents to use their full power without fear of ending a life.”

He turned to his wife. “And my wife won’t be using Murgatroid’s Infernal Disintegration, will we dear?”

Cremona smiled. “Why, of course not. I want him begging for mercy, not floating away as a cloud of mold dust.”

Arlothe turned to Tallsqueak. “Any questions? And as the challenged party, do you prefer to go first or second?”

Tallsqueak thought about that for several seconds, then surprised everyone by saying, “I have a question. Who’s taking the bets, and what are the odds?” Milo had heard and seen bets being made, and there was a flurry of activity around three Eels from Clan Emerald Wyrm.

Arlothe turned and addressed the crowd. “I’m sure we all know that betting isn’t allowed, but in this case, I’ll make an exception. Mr. Moray, would you be kind enough to tell us what the current odds are against Tallsqueak?”

Brer Moray was not happy about being called out. The Eels ran all of the betting on duel days, and by creative use of the odds and points spreads, they made a tidy sum. They didn’t need the attention of one of the professors. “The odds are 1 to 17 in Professor Cremona’s favor, with a point spread of 32.”

Tallsqueak looked at the Eels, then at Cremona. “I’ll be going second, and I bet five full wheels of one-year-aged cheddar on myself to win by beating the points spread.”

As the crowd began to talk and surge toward the Eels, Arlothe yelled out, “All betting is closed!”

Arlothe’s hands glowed with blue electrical energy, and two glowing circles appeared on the ground. He motioned for Tallsqueak and Cremona to take their places. The crowd of students moved hastily to be out of the line of fire. “Tallsqueak has ceded his option to go first against a superiorly ranked opponent. Cremona, you may begin your round and cast your first spell!”

Chapter 28

Circles

Cremona studied her opponent. Arlothe had spoiled her fun by making it a formal duel. She had looked forward to testing both this newcomer and herself. She had little experience fighting someone physically, especially another mage. It would have been interesting. And while the spells that gave him his physical enhancements were still in place, they would be of little help against her now that they were confined within the circles. She considered her first spell. Her poisonous fog spells would just make it too easy, filling the circle with poison. He’d pass out eventually, but she’d lose points for such an attack. And it was boring.

Horde of Vipers might be fun. She’d get to see him fight the spectral minions, but she decided to soften him up a bit first. The Vipers had a weak poison effect, and he had ignored the Poisonous Cloud cast on him before in the earlier round. Venom Bolt would hit him for light damage with an ongoing damage effect and lower his resistance, then she would send in the snakes.

She looked over at Tallsqueak. He seemed focused or was that fear? “I expect a good fight from you Tallsqueak. Please don’t hold back. Hit me with your best spell. My husband Arlothe and I duel constantly and give no quarter.”

Her opponent just nodded at her, not speaking. Milo revised his strategy, knowing that she wanted a hard fight.

“I cast Cremona’s Venom Bolt.” In a real fight, she’d have simply pointed a finger, but the silly duels demanded that you shout out your spells or lose points. But before she could finish casting her spell, an exploding skull went off at her feet, ruining her concentration and knocking her to the ground.

The crowd exploded as all the students began shouting. Arlothe motioned them to silence. “Be quiet and observe. If Tallsqueak had cheated, D’Camembert’s Duel would have immediately told me. You may all draw your own conclusions about what sort of special ability would allow him to counter a spell as it was being cast. You have the rare chance of seeing experienced spellcasters duel. Expect to be tested on what you see here today. Tallsqueak, it is your turn to cast a spell.”

Tallsqueak waited while Cremona brushed herself off and regained her feet. Her face was as blank as any master poker player. Counter-spells were not unheard of, but a true counter-attack ability was very rare for anyone in the lower tiers. Her own ability, Shield of Mana, was something she’d used constantly against Arlothe to block his Storm Arc. She wondered again what school Tallsqueak had attended.

And then all musings left her as he cast his first spell. Magic surged from Tallsqueak as he empowered the runes of a bone harpoon. They glowed bright enough that she got a glimpse of them, even at this distance. Cremona used runic magic in composing her own spells. In a pinch she had even devised new spells on the fly. But she’d never seen these runes before! They were something different. More primal. She prepared Shield of Mana just in time, as the Harpoon of the Winds shrieked across the short distance toward her, too quick to avoid.

Magic Harpoon hit Magic Shield, and both were destroyed. Cremona was drained of over 300 mana and was knocked backward by the force of the blow, almost to the edge of her circle. She got to her feet and was congratulating herself on stopping the spell as the second Harpoon of the Winds hit her in the shoulder, showering the area with blood and putting her on the ground again.

She rose slowly, pulled the weapon from her shoulder, and snapped it in half. That had been a potentially lethal spell if it hit her in the head. Tallsqueak certainly wasn’t holding back.

“Playing with Big Boy spells and Fast Casting, are we? Good. I like a challenge!”

“Toxic Razor Quills of Doom!”

Tallsqueak saw a horde of razor-sharp projectiles streaking toward him. Each one glowed an unhealthy green. He dodged as best he could within the confined space, leaping upward and rolling into a tight ball to present his back. Acrobat, Uncanny Dodge, and Sense Danger gave him a superior chance to dodge the attack. The Signet Ring of the Scout-Master gave him both a boost to Sense Danger and his chance at dodging. Only one of the dozen quills actually hit him.

You have been struck by a Poisonous Razor Quill. This Strong Poison does 20 points of damage, greatly reduced by your Strong Poison Resistance. Your blood has cleansed ongoing poison effects.

Milo landed on both feet, his Sense Danger screaming, but he wasn’t quick enough to dodge again. He hadn’t even begun to turn around when the second spell hit him!

You have been struck by 12 Poisonous Razor Quills. This Strong Poison attack does 240 points of damage, which is greatly reduced by your Strong Poison Resistance. Your blood is struggling to cleanse ongoing poison effects.

The crowd saw Tallsqueak execute an amazing dodge to avoid the first spell and gasped in awe as Cremona repeated the spell immediately, catching Tallsqueak as he landed. Seeing how both duelists could use Fast Casting made them reevaluate all of their strategies. They saw him slowly turn, obviously in pain. He took a deep breath and steadied himself.

Arlothe waited for Tallsqueak to collapse and the duel to end. That didn’t happen, and instead, Tallsqueak calmly brought out two more harpoons, glared at Cremona, and cast Harpoon of the Winds. Unable to manifest her Shield of Mana after using Fast Casting, she was reduced to diving to the ground for the third time as a harpoon screamed over her head, cutting off several locks of hair.

She rose from the ground, glaring at her opponent. This had to end! Not even her husband made her eat dirt this many times, and never in front of the entire school! She didn’t care about losing points. “Blighted Sphere of Blinding Malignant Contagion!!” Using a good part of her remaining mana, Cremona threw a glowing ball of Death Magic at Tallsqueak. The noxious cloud of toxins would make it impossible for him to see her and protect her from his last spell. And, hopefully, it would drop him to the ground quickly, ending the duel.

Milo had no idea what the spell was, but it sounded bad! While Cremona was still shouting, he stepped to the back of his circle and sprinted forward. At the front edge of his circle, he leaped high in the air, the spell passing under him, and landed on his hands before springing upward using his arms and tail to flip himself into Cremona’s circle. Time to end this!

“I cast Claws of Alta-Viator!”

Both claw attacks slashed across the surprised Death Mage, slicing deep into her body. Blood went everywhere, and with a loud chime, the duel ended. The circles disappeared as they were converted to healing magic that wrapped itself around the unconscious Cremona. Tallsqueak picked her up gently and carried her toward the tower, being met halfway by an entire squad of medics. He handed her off and tiredly turned to Arlothe. “Are we done?” He hoped they were done, but he was worried that eviscerating the storm mage’s wife right in front of him was going to cause him trouble. He was tired, annoyed, and didn’t care anymore. If he wanted another duel, Milo was walking away.

Arlothe called out in a loud, cheerful voice, “Victory to Tallsqueak by both a knockout and through points.”

Several people who had bet on the underdog squealed in joy. Gaining 17 times the amount bet would keep them in snacks, favors, and spending money for the rest of the season. The students from House Emerald Wyrm were furious. “He cheated! He left his circle.”

Arlothe shook his head. “A review of the rules will show that he, in fact, did not cheat. Tallsqueak didn’t ‘step out’ of the circles. Hands and tail are NOT feet. But I can see that a rewording and review of the current rules is certainly needed at this point. Please pay all debts, Moray, and I look forward to seeing you deliver 85 wheels of cheddar, or their equivalent, from your clan’s vault. You should coordinate with Master Bleusnout. That is too much cheese to have loose in the hollow.

Arlothe turned to Tallsqueak, his stern expression vanishing, and a kindly smile appeared on his face. “Oh, you and she are hardly done. She loved that dress and will want a rematch someday. But not today, certainly. It’s going to take her time to recover from her injuries. I warned her about the problems of fighting someone who had integrated spells with tail-fighting. And now, why don’t you and I have dinner? I promise a quiet evening with no stress or fighting. The cook has quite a nice meal laid out, and Cremona won’t be up in time to enjoy it, so there’s more for the two of us. I really want to talk to you about what your plans are for the machine, and I have a few electrical experiments I’d love to share with you and get your input on.”

Milo was tired, and Arlothe seemed sincere. Dinner sounded good. “I accept.”

Chapter 29

Jelly Beans are Hero Food

Tweedle and Ringtail wandered into the mess hall whistling and looking innocent, which immediately put Master Bleusnout on high alert. They were dressed in the normal work clothes of mushroom hunters, and he saw no knives or other sneaky gear on them. He pointed with a large wooden spoon at them from where he was mixing up Puffball Pancakes. The two immediately stopped moving, and the whistling slowly died away.

“And just what are you two up to now?

“Us? Or do you mean those two people there by the window?”

“Must be them; we’ve done nothing⁠—”

“—this time.”

“He means ‘all the time.’”

“We heard about the pancakes!”

“Yummy, yummy!”

The spoon didn’t waver, causing the two not-sneaky-guys to be worried. That spoon could do amazing things at distances that always surprised them. Bleusnout let them sweat for a bit and then lowered the spoon. “If you are here just to eat, then I suppose I’ll let you two do that. But no sneaky stuff, and no playing Surprise! You two riled Larry up enough as it is. He’s outside now, starving from all that extra exercise he got.”

“He is? Oh my.”

“We feel terrible about that.”

“Can we help? Only fair that if we caused a problem⁠—”

“—that we help solve it.”

“That’s us being responsible.”

“Like it says in the book about Villages and Cheese and stuff.”

“We’ll take him his food.”

“Tallsqueak told us he likes that.”

“And we need to hear the rest of the stories…”

“The ones where he doesn’t chase us.”

“That was scary…”

“So very scary! Made us reconsider our life paths.”

“How lucky we are to see a new path opening up⁠—

“—a path with puffcakes and our new best friend Larry.”

Both of the twins shuffled their feet as they bowed their heads, clasped their hands, and tried to make their sad eyes as big as possible.

The Cheese-Master eyed them, then said, “Well, stranger things have happened than you two getting scared into behaving. We’ll give it a try. I can always chop you up for mushroom compost if you are up to something no good.” He made up three plates, one of which had a quadruple helping of puffcakes and extra syrup. Tweedle grabbed the large plate, and his brother managed the other two. They carefully walked to the other door, smiling at everyone as they went by.

Larry saw them coming but didn’t understand. That was Larry’s plate and Larry’s food because only Larry got such a big plate. But the people bringing it weren’t Tallsqueak or Bleusnout. They were sneaky guys! Larry could smell them! Larry knew he’d have to be careful. If he scared the sneaky guys and they ran away, he might not get his food!

As Tweedle and Ringtail started out the door, Larry growled, deep in his throat. The sound echoed through the hollow. Everyone in the mess hall heard it and went very still. “Sneaky guys can’t fool Larry! Larry’s nose knows who you are.” This wasn’t something either Tweedle or Ringtail had expected. Luckily, they rarely made complex plans and went through life improvising.

“You have a good nose, Larry!”

“A very smart nose.”

“So smart that we gave up being sneaky.”

“Too much work.”

“Tallsqueak always catches us!”

“Bleusnout always catches us!”

“Larry’s nose always catches us!”

“And we don’t hear the end of the stories.”

“The end of the story is the best part.”

“We are so sad to not hear all of the stories Larry tells.”

“We just want to sit with Larry,

“And eat puffcakes,

“And hear stories!”

Larry looked at the two of them with suspicious eyes and sniffed. Larry smelled puffcakes with syrup, cookies, and something else that was fruity-sweet. He was curious what that was. “What do not-sneaky guys have in their pockets?”

“Pockets? Yes, Pockets. Good stuff.”

“How about we set down your food⁠—”

“—and you can eat, and we show you pocket stuff!”

Larry’s stomach was very growly. Larry reached for his big plate and took a bite. Bleusnout had told him they were having puffcakes today. Larry had never had them before.

“Puffcakes are so good. Bleusnout says Larry’s friend Tallsqueak found special mushrooms to make them.”

Tweedle and Ringtail looked at each other.

“Tallsqueak wants us to help him with some chores.”

“Special chores.”

“Grandfather said we might even find more Puffy Mushrooms to make puffcakes.”

“This is a thing good guys do.”

“That’s us, good guys doing good things.”

“More puffy mushrooms means more puffcakes for Larry.”

“Helping friends. We are very helpful.”

Tweedle and Ringtail pulled all the items out of their pockets. Sugar cookies, snickerdoodles, shortbread, and jelly beans. The jelly beans had been particularly troublesome to get, and Aunt Agatha was going to be very cross and probably blame Cousin Petey because he always stole her sweets. And Petey would blame them and come play Surprise! with them, the version where he twisted their legs into new shapes. Petey always blamed them when he got in trouble for stuff he didn’t do. And usually, he was right. But that was tomorrow’s problem. Today, they had a bag of jelly beans to share.

“Grandfather and Tallsqueak said you liked cookies.”

“And everyone likes jelly beans.”

“Especially heroes.”

“Because jelly beans are good hero food.”

Larry tried a jelly bean, and his eyes went wide. “Not-sneaky guys are right. Jelly beans are hero food.”

Tweedle began to divide the jelly beans up.

“One for me and one for Larry.”

“One for Ringtail and one for Larry.”

“One for Larry and one for Larry.”

“One for me and one for Larry.”

Larry liked the new way of sharing. He ate his share but saved one of each color for his new friends at home and a red one for Tallsqueak.

Larry looked over at Ringtail. “It is good that you are not sneaky guys anymore. Larry almost caught you today. Larry got more Blue Boxes from dancing. Larry will catch you tomorrow if you are sneaky. You should promise to not be sneaky guys.”

Ringtail was more nervous than he had been a moment ago. “Oh, really? That’s good, right? What did the Blue Boxes say, Larry?”

“Blue Boxes told Larry that he is now Level 11 in Dancing. And Blue Boxes said Larry had learned a new skill: Chase Prey. Larry is getting faster. Weasel slippers help and dancing helps. Agility 10 helps.”

Tweedle wished he had 10Agility! Even with several skills using Agility, he was only at 8. Sheer terror at the realization that he and his brother had been chased by a Tier 3 Cheese Fiend warred with wanting 10 Agility. “Can you teach us to dance Larry? Dancing sounds like fun.”

Larry considered the question. Tweedle and Ringtail didn’t have Weasel Slippers to help them dance, but neither did Tallsqueak, and Tallsqueak was a good dancer. Not as good as Larry, but still good. Maybe Larry could teach them too!

“Larry will try. Hamster Hopping is fun, but it can make your feet go all twisty and you fall a lot. When you fall, you get back up. That’s what the Weasel Slippers say to Larry. It’s okay to fall, but you always get back up.”

Bleusnout came out a few minutes later to retrieve his plates and to see if Larry had eaten the two idiots. He was astonished to see Larry patiently teaching the tricky parts of the Happy Hamster Hop to the cousins. He went back inside and set aside a large stack of puffcakes to save for the three new friends dancing outside the mess hall.

Chapter 30

Dinner with Arlothe

Milo followed the storm mage into the tower, everyone getting quickly out of their path and bowing politely.

The exception was a very small, female student named Patsy. She had a stack of papers with her and was pinning one to a doorway. When she saw Arlothe and Milo coming, she squealed with joy and ran up to the professor.

“They liked my idea, Professor! They liked it! I get to be the third assistant to Ginny Sue! She’s in charge of events. We’re holding a tea and cookie social in a week! You’ll come, won’t you? You’re our official advisor! You should come and have cookies.”

Milo saw Arlothe wince slightly before he put a big smile on his face. “Ah, of course, I would love to attend, but I’ve already been to one of your clan’s events, and that’s my yearly limit. I can’t show favoritism. And it would be so rude not to invite Tallsqueak as a guest of honor. He is a visiting mage and dueling master. Think how exciting that would be?”

Patsy turned and looked at Milo, her eyes getting brighter and her smile wider. “Oh! What a wonderful idea. All of the girls were watching you duel today. You were so brave to face Professor Cremona. You even beat her and got to keep all your fur. She stepped closer to Milo and ran a hand along his arm. “It would be such a shame to have this silky, soft fur ruined by a caustic poison cloud.”

Milo agreed with Patsy, in theory. He wanted to keep his fur. He was also a little nervous about how close she was standing and how much she enjoyed petting his arm. “I’m, uh, not sure what I’m doing that day. Probably exploring spider caves or something.”

Patsy nodded enthusiastically. “It’s okay. We’ll wait until you get back, and you can tell us your stories. We love scary stories! We’ll make hot fruit cider with cinnamon and fresh cookies and turn the lights down low. Scary stuff doesn’t bother us at all. Promise you’ll come, please?”

Milo found himself pressed against the wall by the small girl, who folded one of her posters up and tucked it into his belt pouch. “There, you have all the information. We’ll make lots of cookies just for you.”

Out of his depth and not knowing what the proper response was, Milo could only nod. And… cookies? “Can I bring a friend?”

Patsy nodded vigorously. “Of course you can! This will be so much fun. I have to go tell the others!” Having gotten an affirmative answer, Patsy ran off to tell the other members of the Clan Puffyfur event planning committee about their guest of honor.

Arlothe patted Milo on the back. “So good to see you inspiring the younger students that way. And for saving me from going, I totally forgive you for disemboweling my wife. Now let’s hurry up to dinner before anything else happens. You probably aren’t popular with the Eels, but Clan Manticore and Clan Raptorclaw will both be wanting you to attend their events as well.”

The stairs of the tower wound upward. Milo focused on staying right behind Arlothe so he could avoid meeting any more of the students. He got the impression the tower was a very large and complex building, with dimensions that seemed larger than he would have thought. Up and up they went, and finally, they came to the top floor.

“This floor is reserved for Professor Cremona and myself, along with the library and the main laboratories. I’d give you the tour, but I’m sure you’re as hungry as I am after putting out so much energy.”

Arlothe showed him to a small dining room where another ratkin was setting out plates for two people and many dishes of food. “Just in time, sirs. I have a vegetable dish of mixed mushrooms, cave sprouts, winter leeks, and dwarven scallions. Next to that are skewers of steamed freshwater prawns with a light sprinkling of aged Parmesan. There is fresh bread with honey butter, and that large covered dish has an oven-roasted cave tuna.” He removed the covers of the dishes, served them from the various foods, and then departed with a closing message.

Arlothe thanked him. “Splendid as ever Cadburton, thank you.”

The waiter bowed in response to the thanks. “And of course, I’ll be back later with tea and dessert. But one question sir: Will Professor Cremona be dining tonight? I can fetch another place setting.”

Arlothe seated himself and motioned for Tallsqueak to do the same. “No, she will not. She has to spend some time putting herself back together. I’m sure she would enjoy some thin porridge, a few raisins, and a six-pack of healing potions.”

Arlothe began eating immediately, and Milo took that as his signal to do the same. He hadn’t eaten a meal like this since Sydney had tried to distract him with food. He missed that. Sydney had been a lot of fun. He hoped she had enjoyed their little talks as much as he had. Once again Milo wished there were places that he could go to in the real world for food like this. Could he reprogram the food processors? Probably not. But maybe he should look into some sort of advanced food preparation that he could sneak into Section E? Did they make automated chefs? They really should!

After they had stuffed themselves, the chef appeared again with tea and something called flan. The large, wobbly-looking dessert reminded him of the Ever Pudding. He doubted that Oob had tasted this good. He needed to research this flan stuff more when he logged out.

* * *

Leaning back in his chair with tea, Arlothe studied his guest. He certainly enjoyed his food. It was obvious that many of the dishes were new to him, and he had enjoyed seeing the surprised delight on Tallsqueak’s face as he tasted each. His guess was that he came from a very small hollow or even a cave in the wilds. That made sense when you considered his strange skillset with a mixture of magic and claw-to-claw combat. And there was that spanner…

“I was wondering, Tallsqueak—is that an engineer’s spanner on your belt?”

Tallsqueak took his spanner and laid it on the table for Arlothe to see. “Yes. It’s a symbol of a Senior Engineer. I earned it at the Deep Rock Engineering Guild, a couple of days travel from here.”

That surprised Arlothe. Dwarves were known for being quite insular. “Dwarven Engineers? And they let a ratkin study with them and ascend to Senior Engineer? That is outstanding! I’d always heard that dwarves were a bit xenophobic.”

Tallsqueak pondered that. “Maybe a little? They really don’t like human beer because it’s weak stuff, and that may taint their opinion on humans. But they have a healthy respect for knowledge and efficiency. Maybe if the humans had more of that, they would get along better?”

“But when we were fighting the World Boss, we all came together and fought—dwarf, human, even some elves and halflings. Everyone was getting along better after that. Although the loot chest and large amounts of beer probably helped.”

Arlothe listened closely and nodded as Tallsqueak told him a little of his adventures. Much about him was explained. He hadn’t spent his youth dueling; it had been real fights where his life was at stake. He’d have to warn the entire tower. They had no idea of just how deadly Tallsqueak might be in a duel, although they had been given some blunt clues today. Fighting like that didn’t come with an on-and-off switch to change your style. Then again, it might be good to ramp up a few of the older students. Fighting duels wasn’t going to help them defend the hollow as much as a bit of real fighting. Maybe talk to Gilad about some classes together? That could be fun.

From flan, the two wandered into the laboratories. Experimental (and mostly non-functional) equipment was strewn about everywhere. When Arlothe showed Tallsqueak his experimental apparatus for generating storm mana, the engineer became quite excited and asked many questions. “This is a working model of that old machine? We really need to upgrade it. This is a much better design!”

Arlothe was thrilled that he had someone to talk to. Cremona just nodded and said “Yes, dear” when he talked to her about his projects. It was fair, as he did the same thing when she waxed eloquent about a new toxin she had integrated into a spell.

“Yes! Exactly. The rusting hulk by the waterfall was constructed by my grandfather and has been added to by many people. It has also been destroyed several times and rebuilt when a new part didn’t work out like it should have. It’s almost total junk now, and the students steal parts from it for other experiments. I’d love to rebuild it with this design.”

Tallsqueak asked many other questions and then nodded his head. “I think it can be done. I have fighting class in the morning with Master Gilad and then lunch with Larry, but after that, I’ll be over with my tools, and we can get started.”

The storm mage was greatly pleased. “I’ll be there and bring several of my better students. They lack a good understanding of engineering. Maybe you can give them some pointers.”

“I’d be happy to do that. We’ll start with how to turn a screw and go from there.”

The discussion continued with a tour of the small library, where the Tower had a collection of several hundred books on various subjects. Tallsqueak approached the books with reverence. “There are so many! I need to read these! Can I read them?”

“Well, it might take a few decades, but you can certainly get started and read when you can. It sounds like several people are keeping you busy. I’m going to shamelessly try to take some of your time as well. How about a trade? I can give you access to the library at all times in exchange for teaching a class on basic electrical principles for an hour a day. That also makes you a professor. All faculty can visit the library whenever they like, and if you are around for dinner, we can just set an extra plate out.”

Milo thought that was a very good deal. “First class is tomorrow, then. It will be on how to rewind an electrical coil. We need to do that with several dozen of the coils in the generator. Hands-on learning is more efficient.”

Tallsqueak departed later. He wanted to find Larry and see how his day had been.

Chapter 31

Sparring

Milo was glad he had stayed for dinner. The food was great, and Arlothe was fun to talk to, even if he did have some funny ideas about how electricity worked. (Or was storm mana different? Milo made a mental note to experiment.) But best of all, he had a huge pile of new books to read—and without rude interruptions. No one was going to play Surprise! on him in the library of the Tower of Strife.

The aftereffects of dueling had gone away. Arlothe had explained that some of the healing magic of the circles would have affected him as well. His muscles had relaxed during dinner as his body cleansed any remaining poison effects. The excellent meal had also helped, calming his mind as his belly filled up. He was looking forward to working on an engineering project and correcting flaws in the student’s understanding of physics.

As he left the tower, he noted that there was still an ongoing argument going on in a large room on the first floor. He saw Moray and the other members of the clan in discussion with several of the students who had taken advantage of the odds on Milo and won big. There was a small stage, and Moray was speaking from a podium. Most of the room was dark and shadowy, with just two lanterns lit near the stage. Curious, he moved quietly to the edge of the door and skulked into the room slowly, attracting no attention.

“Look, Moray, it’s simple. We paid you our money and placed our bets. We won, and now you pay up! All bets have to be paid on the day of the duel; no one can carry a debt. That’s a rule!”

Moray shook his head. “Ah, my dear friend, Sinclair. Sometimes I wish I had joined Manticore with you so that I too could see things in such a simple and straightforward way. I have listened to your advice, but the situation is not that simple. For instance, this wasn’t an official dueling day. I think it’s logical to say that official rules don’t cover unofficial duels.”

A tall, thin student in the colors of Clan Raptorclaw stepped next to Sinclair. “I will not even deign to give credence to that thin logic by arguing with you. It is irrelevant. The dueling was official as soon as Professors Arlothe and Cremona appeared and did not halt the proceedings or chastise us for our actions. Further, the third duel where these debts come from was run under the official rules set forth by the marquis D’Camembert and officiated by Professor Arlothe, a recognized judge. If that isn’t enough to sweep away your thin excuses, I’ll point out you are accusing Professor Cremona of an unsanctioned duel. It’s almost worth losing the cheese to see her reaction. What do you think she’ll do to you when you besmirch her honor that way?”

Moray grew a bit pale at the thought. “Of course, I was not saying that at all. You are weaving a plot with large words, as usual.”

Sinclair said in a loud voice, “Then it’s settled. Official duel, and you need to pay us. I must say, I’m looking forward to seeing what house Emerald Wyrm has in their vaults. I’m thinking we clean out every corner, and you’ll have to restock with curds and whey.”

The Eels muttered and huddled. Eventually, Moray spoke to the crowd again. “There are additional problems. Some of you are gaining a large amount of cheese at once. For safety reasons, it would be better if the wise leaders of Clan Emerald Wyrm made sure that the flow of cheese from our vaults isn’t more than anyone can handle. And, as much as it pains me to admit, yes, our oldest cheese will be brought forth. It will take time to assign value to it. Not all cheese is equal.”

Patsy pushed her way forward. “You Eels can’t be trusted to do that! This is like the Cookie of the Month scam you pulled and the Invest your allowance in the Pyramid of Wealth scheme before that!” She then tacked up a flyer on the podium Moray was speaking at.

Moray tore the flyer off the podium but noticed what had been added to it in bright pink letters. “Ooh, exciting! Clan Puffyfur is hosting Tallsqueak at their little tea party. Congratulations on nabbing such an impressive duelist for your house.”

The people from Raptorclaw and Manticore bristled and turned toward Patsy. Sinclair was quite angry. “We agreed to discuss him together. Are you sneaking behind our backs?”

Moray sighed and looked saddened. “For shame.”

Verona of Raptorclaw wasn’t as easily fooled. “He’s doing it again, people, and right in front of you! Soon you’ll be arguing about who gets the new member, and Moray and the Eels will sneak off and leave you wondering what happened.”

Moray had actually begun moving to the edge of the stage, and one of his clan was quickly heading to the door. Strangely, he tripped and fell on his chin. A student no one had noticed before helped him up and pushed him, stumbling, back toward the stage. The assembled students formed a wide arc around the stage, and the argument continued. Finally, Moray admitted what he didn’t want to admit.

“We might not be able to cover all the bets. Especially that monster bet Tallsqueak placed on himself at the last minute. Without that bet, I’m sure we could cover all of our losses. But we have to pay him first, so his windfall is what’s in the way of your payouts. It’s sad that such a thing should happen, but I think, if we are all reasonable, we can see the dangers of unofficial duel days and mysterious outsiders being allowed to enter the circles and place last-minute bets on themselves. Some of you are seeing two sides to the argument: House Emerald Wyrm versus the rest of you. But really, it’s all of us vs. Tallsqueak. He’s the problem. And you all saw how he fought? Vicious! Even taking advantage of Professor Cremona’s trusting nature to win and take all of our cheese. And when I say ‘our,’ I mean the entire Tower, and not just my own clan.”

“But, I promise you, I will go speak with him and try to arrange something, the first chance that I can. He’s scary, but I’m sure that I can stand up to him and make him see what’s right in this situation.” Moray congratulated himself on how a good part of the crowd was swayed and the others confused. Even his own clan was impressed. Moray had obviously inherited the Dragontongue perk from his father and was using his skill well. Once again, victory would go to House Emerald Wyrm.

From the shadows above the stage, someone dropped to the floor, landing just in front of the stage in a three-point stance and then standing up straight. “No need to delay our discussion then, as we are both here now.”

Moray felt victory make a U-turn and run away from him. Somehow, Tallsqueak was in front of him, with angry eyes and bold words. There was a small patter of applause for the perfect entrance, and Patsy cheered loudly.

* * *

Moray tried to rally. “Nice of you to answer my summons, Tallsqueak. How long have you been sneaking about?”

Milo answered in a neutral voice. “For part of a bell, actually. And you call that sneaking? I simply walked into the room. All of you need to work on your Perception and dark vision. Pitiful that I could just walk in unnoticed. And learn to look up sometimes. It will save you much pain in dungeons. A mage is only worth the spells they can cast. You are worthless and probably going to a quick death if you can’t spot someone using a stealth skill.” He looked around at the entire room and saw some embarrassed faces.

“And please, Mr. Moray, the correct way to address me is Professor Tallsqueak. I have agreed to teach a few classes while I am in the hollow, and you will give me the same respect you do to all of your professors.”

All of the Eels took half a step back when presented with that statement. Things were sliding downhill. None of them liked Tallsqueak. The power and cruelty they had admired at first had turned to anger when he rebuked their offer and beat them in a duel. Some small part of Moray was pushing him to crush Tallsqueak, while the logical part of his brain said to cower or flee.

“Ah, yes, Professor Tallsqueak. Congratulations on your sudden promotion. But even a professor has to obey the rules, and you sorely abused the betting rules!”

Milo tilted his head to one side, thinking. Rules again. Rules people expected him to know when they didn’t state them first. Sloppy. “Well, we wouldn’t want that. Who made the betting rules?”

“Clan Emerald Wyrms set forth the rules for betting on duels three generations ago!” Moray was proud of his house for doing that, and prouder still of how it had increased the clan’s wealth.

“I see, and who oversees or enforces those rules during duels?” Milo wished there was a rulebook for the entire Hollow. Maybe Gilad or Old Healer knew of one?

“Again, Clan Emerald Wyrms. We run the betting and adjudicate the rules. We are the last word on the rules.” Moray felt it, that small window opening that no one else saw. A window of opportunity where he could delay the loss of so much wealth and put this fake professor in his place.

“Well, that’s good to know. So, at the time of the betting, your clan set the odds. Your clan was in charge of the rules. Your clan didn’t limit bets and, indeed, encouraged them. You were not upset at the betting and raised no objections. It’s only losing that has you upset now. That can happen when you get greedy.”

The window started to close. “But we don’t have enough to pay both you and all the other people! Why can’t you understand that!” Moray scowled at the Eel who had blurted that out and broke the ‘Only Moray talks.’ rule.

Tallsqueak hopped up on the stage and spoke to the crowd. “I have a solution. I agree with Mr. Moray that too much cheese loose in the hollow is a bad thing. I also don’t need to have that much cheese all at once. So, I propose a compromise that solves many problems.”

“Firstly, if there is not enough cheese in the vaults of Clan Emerald Wyrm, then logically none should be left in them. Representatives of all the other clans will help them clean out those vaults under the watchful eye of Professor Arlothe. I see we have people here from the other clans, so I suggest that Sinclair, Verona, and Patsy form a committee for the distribution of cheese, and each picks two clan members to assist Mr. Moray and two other Eels in cataloging the cheese and moving it to the secure area under the mess hall, under the watchful eye of Chef Bleusnout.”

Patsy raised her hand high. “I’m sorry, but I’m not the head of a clan like Sinclair and Verona.”

Tallsqueak smiled at her. The way professors smile and you aren’t sure if it’s a friendly smile or not. “Ah, but you are the third assistant to Ginny Sue, the event coordinator for Clan Puffyfur. And this certainly qualifies as an event. You’ll do just fine, I’m sure.”

“Master Bleusnout can verify the value of the Eel’s cheese, store it, and allow the clans to make withdrawals to control the flow into the hollow. Any excess will be credited to me, and if not enough to cover what is owed to me, I and Mr. Moray will seek the guidance of the other Professors on how to rectify the situation. I can foresee a trade of work by the Eels to better the hollow, and those contribution points going to me.”

“This solves many problems:

1) Cheese is under control.

2) Debts will be paid.

3) Concerns over the Eels never paying up are negated.

4) Hollow benefits

5) Clan Emerald Wyrm is not crippled by debt unless they refuse to work it off. And I can be patient as long as I see them working hard.”

He turned and looked at the Eels.

Moray grudgingly dipped his head. It was bad, but at least they wouldn’t be in debt. Some part of him urged him to lunge at Tallsqueak and kill him. This actually scared him, and he swallowed and nodded his head more vigorously. Where had that come from?

Tallsqueak turned to the other students. “I don’t want to enforce rules, merely offer suggestions. How say you?” Hands went up, not quite all of them. A few Puffyfurs had made popcorn and didn’t want the fun to end so soon. But the vast majority were in favor. Tallsqueak banged his tail on the podium twice. “It looks like we have an agreement. I leave it up to the committee to talk immediately with Professor Arlothe and make arrangements. I’m late for an important meeting, so I will be leaving now.”

* * *

Milo was so glad that was over!

He hurried to the mess hall, planning to check on Larry and then get some sleep or log out and check on his various projects in the other world. Larry was usually sitting on the steps to the mess hall until the lights dimmed and most ratkin went off to bed. Milo was surprised and very happy to see that Larry had made two new friends. The three of them were dancing together, and there were even a few people watching. He wondered how things had gone with Larry and Charlotte. He’d ask about that tomorrow. He decided to not intrude on Larry and his friends and head to the barracks for a nap.

He was just about to open the door to the barracks when a low voice said, “Surprise!” and strong hands gripped him, pulling him off his feet. His attacker pulled him backward, folded him in half, and then they did some complicated roll that ended with Milo flying through the air trying to regain his balance. He failed and belly-flopped into the dirt.

He got up to see Gilad laughing at him. “Ah, glad to see I can still do a Flying Back Toss. Good evening, Tallsqueak.”

Milo brushed the dust off of himself and bowed, a bit of his annoyance showing. “Good evening, Master Gilad. Do I have to worry about you playing Surprise! from now on as well?”

Gilad chuckled. “Don’t get your tail in a twist, young one. You earned that ambush. I suspected you were holding back in my classes, trying to keep some special ability secret to gain an advantage over me later. Your style has big gaps in it where something is missing. Imagine my surprise to find out you were dueling over at the Tower of Strife and showing off some nice physical enhancement spells. Bone armor and claws, I believe they said? And an enhanced tail? No wonder some of your strikes miss—you are used to having more reach!”

The old warrior’s face became serious. “Why did you hide your abilities?”

Milo was unsure. Sometimes things progressed so fast when dealing with people. He got confused about what he should reveal and what he shouldn’t. “Should I always tell people my secrets? That seems counterproductive, but I don’t want to be seen as untrustworthy. And I wanted to learn to fight better without using my claws. I only used my spells at the Tower because the silly students challenged me to duels and started fights. I even had to fight one of the professors!”

Gilad’s face turned into a grin. “And beat her with your claw fighting, from what I am told. As to your question, no, don’t divulge your advantages. But just as you should train with your natural claws, you should train when using your spells. I checked, and you have a large amount of unused contribution points. Large amounts have been added recently by Professor Arlothe, Chef Bleusnout, and the Old Healer. Why have you not asked for special classes with me?”

Contribution points? Oh! He kept meaning to check on those! “I would enjoy some extra classes. I learn a lot from sparring with you. Not so much sparring with the other students.”

Gilad turned and waved for him to follow. “Not surprising. You are nearing the third tier and have experience fighting monsters. And the benefit of fighting monstrous creatures is the points you earn for the hardest fights. Spent wisely, those can make you even stronger. These whelps are a tier behind you and still learning the basics and with none of your extra skills. You can only be challenged by me sending several of them at you at once.” Gilad stopped when they got to the fighting ring.

“I suggest we spar for at least a bell each night after dinner, and now that the hollow knows about your little secrets, you should use your spells that enhance your fighting. Show them to me.”

Milo complied. Gilad watched as bony plates covered Tallsqueak’s forearms and shins. His toe and finger claws became longer and harder. The tail enhancement surprised him the most. Bone armor wasn’t unheard of. There were mentions of it in the books in the Tower, and he had seen necromancers use the spells in the great war with the spiders. But this long, enhanced tail? He had never seen that spell before.

“You are some type of necromancer? I do not judge; I only seek to understand your bone enchantments.” He examined Milo’s claws, tested the armor with his own claws, and had Milo show how much control he had over the long, bony tail.

“Not really. My magic uses bones and runes. Old runes.” Milo didn’t want to have to try to explain things he only half understood, and Gilad seemed satisfied with that answer.

“Very well. Then we will begin sparring, but this time you should use your claws and tail. I want to test your limits. If you don’t use exploding skulls and whistling harpoons, then I won’t throw rocks. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Milo went to one end of the arena. Gilad bowed and prepared himself. Milo nodded that he was ready.

Gilad hit him. Milo had seen the old ratkin start to move, but then he was next to him, punching him in the face and tripping him with his tail. He started to press his advantage, but warned by some sixth sense, he flipped backward to avoid Milo’s tail. He let the younger ratkin regain his footing. “The striking distance of your tail is a huge advantage; it made me cautious. Let us begin again, and do not blink at the start of a match. Try not to blink ever! Many warriors have skills to aid them in closing the distance between themselves and opponents.”

This time, Gilad advanced normally. Milo pressed him, slashing with his claws. Gilad deflected them with open palms or his own claws. When Gilad struck, Milo blocked him with claws or forearms. Both were wary of each other’s tails and constantly repositioned. Milo feinted with his claws and struck with his tail. Gilad dodged backward, grabbed Milo’s tail, and suddenly, the young ratkin found himself whirling around and around before sailing through the air and landing in the dirt. “I have found a good use for that long tail of yours, Tallsqueak. It is an excellent handle with which to throw you.”

Milo had to agree. The physics of the situation did favor that solution. “I noticed that.”

Gilad motioned for them to start another round. “You should learn both to make your strikes so powerful that the opponent can only dodge and so fast that dodging is not an option. As to your tail, be prepared to cancel that spell if they grab it as I did. Especially against higher-tier or larger opponents. A Cheese Fiend would delight in smashing you into the ground over and over. They can’t do that to a normal ratkin tail—too fragile. But yours is perfect.”

Sparring went on, with Gilad giving pointers and pounding Milo into the dirt. The consolation for Milo was that the Tail-Master had to work for each victory. Gilad was sweating, and Milo had hit him several times with a tail or claw. The master brushed off any concerns about the younger ratkin slashing him. “My regeneration is high enough that I will be healed by morning.” After an hour, both were breathing hard and drenched with sweat.

Gilad stretched and cracked his back. “This had been very invigorating. I normally have trouble finding sparring partners. Justin says he needs to avoid bruises so he can guard the hollow, and Brutus is quite clever in his excuses. Only the Old Healer is a match for me, and he is always busy with keeping control of the chaos in his clan. I look forward to a nightly spar with you, Tallsqueak. I will pass on to Old Healer that you will be seeking some lessons from him as well. His style is… well, you’ll see. Or maybe you won’t.”

Milo was just getting his breathing to slow when something made him turn and face a new threat. Something large and dangerous was charging at him.

Chapter 32

Not Sneaky Guys

Bleusnout was watching Larry carefully. Larry had been stable for a long time and seemed to slowly be getting better. The Cheese-Master had mostly quit worrying about him. His decision to let Larry stay in the hollow after his transformation had not been an easy one. Larry terrified most of the hollow. To the average ratkin, he was both a monster that could tear them apart at any moment and a reminder of what could happen to any of them.

But Bleusnout had seen that some of the youngster’s personality still remained. It was muted and overlaid with a desire to eat and fight, and his overall intelligence had gone down as much as his strength had increased. But there was still a good chunk of Larry inside, and the true berserker had yet to emerge. With time, patience, and a firm hand, the chef had had hopes of helping Larry recover. It took a year to restrain his food urges. Larry only took meals with Bleusnout and ate what was put in front of him. That had been step one.

Showing that Larry could control the fiend side of him meant that the hollow saw that Larry was under control. Rather than terrifying, he became simply scary. True, not many people used the door near where Larry sat on the porch for hours, but they also didn’t run screaming if they saw him nearby. He was always polite. That helped the most. He did ask for cheese a lot, but so did many young whelps. Many of the hollow came to see Larry as just a slightly bigger child, not a mobile murder machine that could go crazy at any moment.

So, it had been a horrifying shock when Larry growled at the twins, Ringtail and Tweedle. Anyone within a hundred feet of the mess hall had heard that growl. The primitive sound had triggered their freeze or flee instinct, and everyone in the building trembled and wondered what would happen next. It took all of Bleusnout’s willpower to keep smiling and calmly walk to the door where he overheard the conversation between the three of them.

“Sneaky guys can’t fool Larry! Larry’s nose knows who you are.”

Well, that certainly confirmed how sharp Larry’s sense of smell was. As the conversation turned to jelly beans, some of the tension in the Cheese-Master relaxed, only to go back up as Larry started talking about “Blue Boxes.” Everything Bleusnout knew about Cheese Fiends indicated that they didn’t learn new skills easily, if at all. He was thrilled Larry had learned to dance but put that down to the effects of a powerful magic item. Larry had told him about his “dancing ring” and “weasel slippers” given to him by Tallsqueak. He was less thrilled about Larry gaining the Chase Prey skill.

A stable Larry begging for an extra bowl of little fishies for breakfast was something the hollow could handle. And Larry dancing the Happy Hamster Hop was seen by all as a good thing. He would have to caution Tweedle and Ringtail to not mention Larry’s new skill to anyone. He was also going to have a long talk with Old Healer about his “sneaky guys,” as Larry called them. He needed to forbid any of them from getting Larry angry and chasing them. As the three started dancing together, more tension left Bleu Snout’s spine. He wiped the sweat from his brow and put a smile on his face as he walked back to his griddle. “More puffcakes for anyone? There’s plenty for everyone.” He set aside another three plates and piled them high for Larry and his new friends. They’d be hungry after dancing.

* * *

Ringtail and Tweedle were congratulating each other on still being alive as they made their way home when one of them, and they were never sure who, got a bad feeling. They instantly went back-to-back, then checked the ceiling and shadows. It was a disgusted Charlotte that emerged from a nearby shadow, having failed to score any points. “What are you two up to?”

“Such a strange question?”

“Very open-ended?”

“Not specific at all…”

“And yet, we get asked that a lot!”

“As if we are up to anything!”

“Not us. Maybe you mean those two people sitting by the window in the mess hall?”

“You should go check.”

“We’ll wait right here for you to get back…”

Their cousin barely tolerated them normally. Right now, they could tell she was several steps past annoyance. They wondered just how much further they could wind her up. There were a lot of ways to wind Charlotte up if you twisted her tail just right. They practiced whenever they could. That seemed fair, as she practiced Surprise! on them all the time.

“What the hell were you doing talking to Larry? Don’t you realize how dangerous that abomination is? You were even dancing with him! And why are you dressed that way?”

“Do you like our new attire?”

“I put this ensemble together on the fly…”

“We just had nothing to wear.”

“And burlap is just perfect for picking mushrooms.”

“Most of the stains come right out.”

“I hear this is the fashionable choice in New Prestibule this season.”

“It brings out the color of my eyes!”

“You should try burlap, darling. That outfit you have on now makes you look fat.”

“She’s not taking care of herself, is she?”

“Too much time longing for Tallsqueak to come sweep her off her feet.”

She took a step forward, snarling. They stepped back, and each moved to flank her.

“Careful, Charro. Don’t do anything you’d regret.”

“Only Petey gets to bend our legs.”

“We don’t play with you anymore. You’re too stabby.”

“And we aren’t ‘sneaky guys’ anymore.”

“We promised. So, no fighting with us.”

“You’d hurt us… maybe…”

“And Larry would hear our pitiful cries of pain.”

“And you’d get to find out just how fast our new best friend Larry is.”

Char noticed with approval their continued small steps to bring her into the optimal position for a two-on-one attack. “Grandfather sent you to make friends with Larry, didn’t he? After I turned down his ‘secret mission’? Is that what this is all about?”

“She’s smart, isn’t she?”

“She sees the obvious.”

“And doesn’t need a telescope.”

“But still misses part of the story.”

“We volunteered.”

“You left open a door⁠—”

“—and we stumbled through it.”

“And got extra puffcakes!”

“Maybe a new skill…”

“Maybe a lot of AGI experience…”

“Heard a story…”

“Made a friend…”

“Good times.”

Charlotte glared at them. “I want to know about this secret mission. You’ll tell me when you find out.”

“Oh, of course.”

“Wouldn’t keep you out of the loop.”

“No betrayals on our part.”

“Like what you did with the scavenger hunt…”

“And when you were our partner in Team Surprise…”

“Or when you planted jelly beans under our pillows.”

“We trust you. Of course we’ll tell you.”

“Because we are ‘the village idiots who’ll never learn.’”

“Goodbye, Char. Won’t get far, with her brain in a jar.”

“Off to see Grandfather.”

The two backed away carefully from her and made their way to the clan caverns.

“I’d forgotten that one. She hates that rhyme.”

“It’s a good rhyme. Classic.”

“One of Petey’s best.”

“Let’s teach it to the littlest whelps, so they know it and can sing it at dinner.”

Knocking on their grandfather’s door, they entered and took seats. Old Healer looked up from where he was studying a book on alchemical remedies. “Back so soon?”

“Yes. We are indeed back.”

“And soon means on time?”

“Rare for us.”

“But we report success.”

“Friends with Larry.”

Their grandfather closed the book. “Good. Very good. I will let Tallsqueak know. He’ll be taking you somewhere. Do what he says. If you complete this mission successfully, it will count as your final for the year, and you will be full-fledged shadowlurkers.”

The two looked at each other and sighed. So close, and yet a promise was a promise.

“We aren’t shadowlurkers…”

“We are not sneaky guys.”

“We promised Larry. And⁠—”

“—he is our friend.”

“We want to train as Scouts.”

“Good guys. Defend the hollow.”

“Scouts. How convenient. I agree. Your first mission as scouts is to go find Tallsqueak tomorrow after lunch and go with him on a scouting mission.”

The two left his office.

“We should go find Petey.”

“So he can bend our legs?”

“I was thinking we should let him know we are scouts.”

“Oh, right, Char will be annoying him now, not us.”

“She hates competition.”

“Char hates a lot of things.”

“It will be fun watching Char annoy Petey.”

“More fun watching Petey bend her legs.”

“Best day ever!”

Chapter 33

Different Like Me

It had been a fun day for Larry. Bleusnout had made puffcakes for dinner! They were like pancakes, but so much better. One puffcake filled up Larry’s belly as much as three regular pancakes. This was very good. A rumbly tummy made it hard for Larry to think about anything but eating, and the more rumbly, the better everything smelled.

And two sneaky guys made friends and promised to be not sneaky. That made them into not-prey, and Larry didn’t feel like chasing them anymore. That was good. Larry wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do when he caught someone, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t good. And running and chasing made him hungry, and prey always smelled good. He would have to ask Tallsqueak about that.

Larry was walking home to Larry’s house when he heard fighting noises coming from the arena. And Larry’s nose smelled his friend Tallsqueak! He had so much to tell Tallsqueak. Jelly beans, new friends, and his new Blue Box.

You have taught three new people to Dance. You have earned a new skill: Dance Instructor.

Dance Instructor is an INT-based skill.

You have earned 150 experience in the skill: Dance Instructor. Dance Instructor has reached Level 2

You have earned 150 experience in INT. INT has been raised by 2 to a total of 2.

Larry wanted to go find Tallsqueak, but he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to go to the arena. Then he had an idea! Maybe if no one saw him? The Weasel Slippers had told him that if no one saw you doing something, it didn’t count. Larry was unsure of that, but he tried to be quiet, just the same. Carefully, very carefully, he took little steps and didn’t fall down or make any noise. It was easy to not make noise when you didn’t fall down as much.

It was easiest for Larry to move with both hands and feet on the ground, but Larry didn’t like that and people looked at him funny. So he only walked with his feet and fell down a lot. Only now he didn’t!

As he was almost to the arena, he got another Blue Box. So many Blue Boxes! Larry hadn’t seen Blue Boxes since… well, since before he was so big. But in the last few days, he had seen a lot.

Under the careful instruction of your Adorable Baby Weasel Slippers, you have learned the skill: Stealth.

Stealth is what Heroes do when they don’t want Bad Guys and Sneaky Guys to know they are close by doing hero things.

Stealth is an AGI-based skill

This made sense to Larry. Skulking is what sneaky-guys did. Stealth was for Heroes. Stealth helped him find his friend Tallsqueak. He almost didn’t recognize him!

Tallsqueak had a new tail. It was long and bony. And he had new claws! And bones on his arms and legs. He was different.

Larry had always thought that different was bad. Everyone said Larry being different was bad. All of Larry’s friends went away. Different Larry was a bad Larry. But Tallsqueak was good. A good fighter. A good dancer. A good friend. And now he was different. Different, like Larry was different?

Master Gilad was helping him fight better by hitting him and knocking him down. Larry understood fighting. He used to fight a lot. He fought in this arena. He took extra classes. He wanted to be the best fighter and grow up to be like big brother Justin. He had liked fighting…

Larry didn’t get to fight now. Bleusnout said it was because he was “different.” But Tallsqueak was different now, and he was fighting with the best fighter in the hollow.

Larry had a big idea. Tallsqueak was different like Larry was different! That was probably why Tallsqueak was Larry’s best friend. He knew what different meant. He went down to tell Tallsqueak about jelly beans and being different. Maybe Larry would get to fight?

* * *

Milo turned suddenly. His danger sense was telling him something was sneaking up on him, but it was only Larry slowly walking toward the arena. Larry looked happy. Gilad had paused, eyes on Larry as the Cheese Fiend almost walked into the arena. Larry stopped when he got to the arena’s edge and carefully kneeled down, almost pitching forward but managing to balance.

Gilad noticed with happiness that Larry remembered the rules and didn’t enter the arena until told to. “Greetings, Larry. Are you here to watch us spar?”

Larry nodded both up and side to side. “Larry would like to watch you fight. And Larry brought jelly beans. Would you like one?”

He held out two of his precious jelly beans.

Gilad walked over to Larry, thanked him, and took the two candies, handing one to Tallsqueak. Milo looked at the small, red, oblong candy in his hand. “This is a bean? Do they grow on plants?”

Larry didn’t know. But he wanted to find out. He would plant jelly bean bushes all around Larry’s house. “Larry got them from Tweedle and Ringtail. They are hero food and very tasty.”

Milo ate his and agreed.

Gilad turned to Tallsqueak. “One more round, if you don’t mind. I wish to see… something.” Milo saw the small nod to Larry and didn’t mind one more fight. It was a slower fight, with Gilad throwing basic claw attacks that Milo blocked easily. They fell into a rhythm, moving around the arena using claws and tails in basic attacks, Milo following Gilad’s lead. It ended when Gilad’s tail slapped hard on Tallsqueak’s thigh as he mistimed his dodge.

Larry clapped and looked excited. “Good fight! Can Larry fight too?”

Gilad looked at Tallsqueak as he spoke in a low and serious voice. “Larry is Tremendously Strong and has Fiendishly Sharp Claws. They are easily equal to my claws or yours but backed by his huge strength. So be very careful, and block every blow. Do not worry about Larry. His Mutant Regeneration can absorb damage that would kill ten of you or me. Keep the pace slow. We don’t want him getting excited. It is very, very important that Larry not get too excited.”

Milo looked over to where Larry was bouncing up and down on his toes and clapping his hands. “Not excited. Got it.”

Gilad spoke to Larry, keeping his tone slow and talking low so Larry had to pay attention. “Larry can fight a little bit. Do you remember your basic claw and tail attacks, Larry?”

Larry did. It was like a little rhyme. Step and strike. Step and strike. Hop and spin. Tail slaps, step back. Block and attack again.

Larry had tried to do his fighting exercises before, but he always fell over on the first strike. That wouldn’t happen now because Larry had Weasel Slippers!

Gilad motioned for Larry to enter the ring and showed him where to stand. “We will go slow, and I will help you with the movements. You have to remember how big you are now.” Larry stepped forward and swung a claw. Tallsqueak blocked with an armored forearm. Even warned, he nearly got knocked over. Just how strong was Larry?

The next step gave Larry trouble, but he recovered and stepped a little further, giving himself a wider base. Tallsqueak braced and blocked the next attack. Then Larry hopped in the air, spun, and his tail knocked down both Tallsqueak and Gilad in the same instant; the move had been so fast.

Tallsqueak got up, shaking his head. Gilad rolled to his feet, but one of his eyes was swelling. “Tell me what you did to move so fast, Larry. Think carefully.”

Larry repeated his steps with no one in front of him. Step, strike. Then another step and strike with the other claw. Then a hop… oooh! “Larry hopped! Larry is good at hopping now. Larry is good at dancing.”

Milo understood. “Larry. You should dance instead of stepping. Make it a dance.” He took a further step back and prepared himself. Gilad held his breath. Larry began to dance.

His first step toward Tallsqueak was powerful and balanced; he swung a claw as he spun a bit and took a second step. Tallsqueak ducked that first attack and blocked the second with both hands, deflecting it and not letting the full force of the blow impact him. As Larry hopped and spun, Tallsqueak leaped high in the air. Tallsqueak’s tail would have hit Larry on the snout, but somehow, Larry ducked and took a step backward after his spin. The two fighters were back in their starting positions, and Gilad called a halt.

The Tail-Master had trained a young Larry. He had been good. Very good. He practiced constantly, and only his small size had kept him from guard training, his full growth not having arrived yet. Now? Now he was better. The speed of a fiend with a strange grace that used constant movement. He was immediately pressing Tallsqueak, forcing him to fight at least as hard as he had against Gilad himself.

“How did that feel, Larry?”

The Cheese Fiend was breathing a little fast, but not from exertion. “It feels good. Exciting. Not falling over is exciting.”

Gilad was conflicted, to say the least. Letting Larry fight could let loose the berserk fiend that lived inside of him. But not letting him fight would be a travesty. Fiends didn’t fight like this. They plowed into a line of foes, slashing with claws and teeth like animals, running on all fours and eating what they killed. Gilad wanted—no, he needed!—to see if Larry could fight with claws and tail. Could he train a fiend to be a fighter and not an animal? And how could he deny Larry a chance to regain a part of himself? It was unthinkable.

He clapped his hands. “Larry. Tallsqueak. I think this is good for both of you. You are both tough and regenerate quickly. You both need practice and better opponents. We will all fight together, the three of us. Two hours each night. Tenth to twelfth bell. And then we will have an extra breakfast. Fighters need extra calories.”

He stepped into the ring. “You may rest, Tallsqueak. I will take the next bout with Larry.”

Larry was too excited to notice he got another Blue Box.

Larry has learned Dance of the Claw and the Tail.

Dance of the Claw and the Tail is a DEX-based skill.

Milo sat down. He was tired but happy. And hungry. He hoped that Bleusnout still had food left from dinner. He could smell the puffcakes as he walked by earlier. Delicious. He was going to need the calories. Training with Larry and Gilad would be difficult, but his skills were improving quickly. Best of all, his overall level had gone to 10! He had a feeling he was going to need the extra health and stamina.

Who’s the busy little ratkin? That’s right, you are! Welcome to Level 10! You still have plenty to do until you finish the second tier, but I know you like to keep busy. And boy, are you going to be busy! Don’t worry! No spoilers!

Dancing has reached Level 2

Claws of Alta-Viator has reached Level 8

Spine of Volat-Repat has reached Level 8

Rune Carving has reached Level 6

Bone Carving has reached Level 6

Weak Poison Resistance has reached Level 10

Strong Poison Resistance has reached Level 7

Stealthy Skulking has reached Level 7

Climbing has reached Level 7

Dodge has reached Level 8

Combat Block has reached Level 6

Sense Danger has reached Level 9

Foraging has reached Level 7

Bonecasting (INT) has reached Level 8

Fleet of Foot (AGI) has reached Level 7

Chapter 34

Midnight at the Library of Death

Milo was exhausted and wanted a bath.

Two hours of sparring with both Larry and Gilad after a day of dueling had worn him down both physically and mentally. But strangely, he felt better. Any annoyance from the day was gone, washed away in the joy of fighting and learning. He wasn’t babysitting whelps, he was pushing himself to the limit and learning.

Every time Milo fought, he learned a little, and Gilad seemed to know more as well. He wasn’t an unbeatable foe, just very hard to surprise or outmaneuver. The Tail-Master had years more experience than he did and had fought many foes. Even with his spell enhancements, Milo had to work hard to even land a minor blow. And the old man was getting better! He was adjusting to both Larry and Tallsqueak’s fighting styles and devising new defensive maneuvers.

And Gilad was enjoying himself. Teaching whelps meant holding back. Milo didn’t think he was holding back anymore. Between his high toughness and constitution and his armor, Gilad just didn’t seem to be worried about hitting Milo too hard. Some of his throws and punches had actually cracked Milo’s bones. When that happened, Gilad stepped back and watched with curiosity as Milo put himself back together with his spells. Milo split his concentration in half. Part of him was fighting and trying to block and strike back. The other half was watching Gilad, memorizing his stance, his balance, and how he threw each punch, kick, or block.

Milo noticed that most of his bruises were coming from tail strikes. It was nearly impossible to know what Gilad was doing with his tail. But Milo was learning. And paying for the knowledge with bruises.

Larry’s fighting style was evolving as he became more and more used to fighting again. Some of his dance steps lead to less-than-optimal solutions. Several times when Milo expected a hard tail slap, Larry instead did a quick set of hops or steps, dancing to music only he could hear. Other times he was devastating, using his speed and strength to their full potential, fighting like a whirling dervish.

Milo was starting to copy some of his moves and integrate them into his own style. There were times when a quick hop or leap was better than a more conventional step. And Milo had always been a fan of spinning tail strikes.

While Larry was eating a massive pile of food provided by a wary and nervous Rifkin, Gilad and Milo discussed each move, the balance needed, and the attacks it might branch into. Both were excited for the next night of fighting.

Larry declared himself sleepy and went off to bed at Larry’s house. Gilad suggested Tallsqueak also get his rest. Fighting class with the whelps would come early. Gilad himself was going to sit and enjoy another pot of tea and think about how to counter whirling claws backed by hulking muscles.

Milo decided that he wanted to go to bed clean. The waterfall sounded like a good spot to visit, he’d seen other people bathing there before and washing clothes. It was deserted as he arrived, which he was happy for. He took off his sweat-stained clothes and stepped into the water in just his magic pants. Feeling better after a shower, he shook himself dry and then took clean clothes from his ring and stored the dirty ones. He loved his Signet Ring of the Scout-Master. So very useful. His Smuggler’s Stash was also a great way to store items, but it took a lot of stamina to bring it out, and he didn’t like the idea of people knowing about it.

The Tower of Strife was quiet. Not silent, as he heard some voices coming from it, but certainly quieter than it was by day. He saw lights in some rooms, including the top floor. He had an urge to go read and find out what was in the library. Why not? He was a professor now, and by the rules, he could use it at any time. Milo decided that any time was now.

Three students were at the door, talking softly. They stepped aside and bowed. “Good evening, Professor.” News had travelled fast, it seemed. Milo waved to them and headed up the stairs. He was happy that the library was “all the way up” and that getting out was “all the way down,” as nothing seemed to make sense in the Tower. It was obviously bigger on the inside than the outside. He had peered into a few of the rooms and seen lecture halls, practice rooms, and areas with large sofas and students sitting, talking, or napping. Other stairways branched off the main spiral, going to parts unknown. Was this magic related to Arcane Libraries and the extra rooms on the airship?

The topmost level was empty as he made his way to the library. The room wasn’t large and mostly taken up with bookshelves on three sides. On the fourth was a small fireplace and hearth. Several overstuffed chairs each had a lantern floating over them. The lanterns were glass-paned with copper frames. They seemed to just float in the air. Milo pushed one, and it moved. How convenient! A long table with four chairs complete the furnishings.

Milo sat in each chair until he found the most comfortable one and moved three lanterns around it to provide optimal lighting. Then he went looking for books. Some were quite interesting, detailing the history of one hollow or another. A huge volume was a gruesome account of the Second Spider Wars. The books on magic were slightly useful and talked about proper spell casting, the flow of mana, and the theory of basic spell casting. Milo had learned from practice along with the help of the game mechanics. Was he missing something by not doing things the way spellcasters in the hollows did? Experimentation was needed. He set several books aside to read.

The other books on magic could be divided into three categories: Death, Storm, and Junk. Obviously influenced by the two senior professors, there was a collection of books on each of their styles of magic. The last category of books was just junk. Trashy romance novels, a book of puns, several crossword puzzle guides, and a guide to the secrets of engineering that had everything about the electromagnetic spectrum completely wrong.

Milo stacked the junk to the side and contemplated his small pile of books on basic spell casting. He would work through those, then the books on Storm Magic, and finally Death. He was disappointed. He had expected a lot more. There was nothing on runes, enchanting, bone carving, alchemy, and all the other branches of magic. This struck him as odd.

It only took him a few minutes of searching to find the secret latch. When pressed, one of the shelving units pivoted, revealing a much larger room. This room was twice as big as the first room, with four times as many books. Most were stacked on the floor or scattered where stacks had fallen over. The room needed work, and Milo added it to his list. He could straighten things up as he looked for the things he wanted to read. Tonight he just wanted to find the book on bone carving that the scavenger had mentioned. He’d been straightening and searching for an hour when a noise behind him alerted him to someone’s presence.

Professor Cremona was standing in the doorway between the two rooms. “My, how studious. You had three duels, stole my husband and my dinner while they stitched me back together, and now it’s time to relax with a good book?”

“You left out two hours of sparring with Gilad.”

Cremona paused. “Well, then you do deserve some downtime.” She turned and spoke to someone in another room. “Make that snacks and tea for two, please. Professor Tallsqueak is joining me.”

Milo wasn’t going to turn down tea and snacks, but the woman made him nervous. “Are you angry with me about the duel?”

Cremona stepped into the room, and Milo noticed she was using a cane. “I am angry at myself for underestimating you, letting my husband restrict the playing field, and losing a nice dress. I am certainly not angry at you for finding a way to win. We play hard here in the Tower, but we don’t hold grudges over duels. You found a loophole and used it. I actually wish Arlothe wasn’t going to remove that from the rules; I’d love to use it against him!”

Milo felt some relief. “Good. I don’t want to have to watch my back in the library. It’s bad enough with all the shadowlurkers playing Surprise! I was hoping to read in peace.”

Cremona bowed to him and smiled. “And so you shall. If there is one place in the Tower where peace is guaranteed, it is in here. Now, what are you looking for? Or just randomly seeing what the unsorted stacks have in them.”

Milo started on another stack. The top book was on moths and how to train them. More junk. “I am looking for a specific book on carving bone runes, but also any book on runes or ancient runes.”

Cremona began looking through a section of shelves. “Ah, so those were ancient runes empowering your spell constructs?! I had thought so.” She pulled a thick book covered in goat hide out from the shelf and blew the dust off. “This might be what you are looking for. It’s a copy of the Journal of Ragasano Curd-Hoarder. He was an eccentric explorer who last came through this area several decades ago. Each time he came through, he would update our copy. It’s an interesting book, but written in the native language of his homeland, Mascarpone Hollow.”

Milo took the journal and turned to the first page. The velum of the pages was covered in handwriting with a tight, small script. He recognized the language as a dialect of Italian. “I can read this.” He began turning pages as he read line after line of a lonely ratkin’s life wandering through unmapped caverns looking for things long forgotten. Cremona rolled her eyes and chuckled. She had found Tallsqueak’s secret weakness: He loved books. Not surprising then that he knew the Mascarponian dialect. Curd-Hoarder had left his books everywhere, and many scholars learned his language in case they turned up his journals and guidebooks.

Cremona herself picked up a book from the ‘trash’ pile. “And I’m in the mood for a totally unbelievable book about a dwarf/elf romance. Since I’m terribly injured, I’m going to use that as my excuse for reading such garbage.”

Milo was curious. “Elves and dwarves can interbreed?”

Cremona laughed. “So my trashy romance novels say, and I’ve heard of a set of books chronicling the escapades of Vladimir Two-Souls, who was a child of mixed heritage, but he might be entirely fictitious.”

The two professors sat in overstuffed chairs, read, and drank the tea. After an hour, Cremona saw that Tallsqueak was asleep. She put a quilt over the exhausted boy and went to find her husband in the laboratory to pry him away from his experiments. They all needed some sleep. The students seemed to have inexhaustible amounts of energy, and the faculty had to be well-rested to keep them under control.

Chapter 35

Bad Guys

Two creatures moved through the dark, their many eyes making out most of the details of this place, but unable to pierce the darkest shadows. They were careful to stay on the main strands of the webway and not dart too near to the edges of the tunnel. Some of the predators in this area could run up the walls quickly and snatch prey easily, retreating to the floor of the tunnel to feast. Neither of the messengers felt like risking their lives more than they already had. Becoming a meal for some hungry ten-legged lizard would be both messy and depressing.

They observed the dark opening on the wall above them. In times past, some ancient race had carved the likeness of an orcish general. A scar ran down one side of the face and huge, broken tusks jutted up from his open mouth. Below them were the remains of an ancient city where feral goblins prowled. It was a forgotten place. A dead place. No one who counted lived here except for the exile they had come to talk to.

They had no intention of entering the exile’s lair. Going inside would surely mean their deaths and possibly failure to deliver their message. The first was just a fact of life. Messengers were expendable. Sometimes death took you and you waited to be reborn from the next egg, hoping for high status in your bloodline. But failure? Failure meant being reborn as a spiderling and beginning the long fight to regain even modest status.

M’klixnick, the wiser of the two, suggested an alternative plan to entering the exile’s lair. A fresh silk line was stretched between two rock spikes, and the webbing was drawn back. G’nixclicknick was sent to procure several small mammals. They returned with web-wrapped bundles of immature digger moles. The first small mammal launched at the opening went too high, hitting the ceiling and making it squeal in pain before it fell to its death. Far below, a long-tailed landshark leaped and caught the smashed mole in its jaws.

The second was too low and tumbled down a slope until it was grabbed by a cave lurker and eaten. The lurker took its time, torturing the digger-mole. The little prey made amusing sounds! Encouraged, they worked to aim the final one correctly. The last shot was just right and sailed into the opening. Not wanting to waste the last small mammal, even if it wasn’t moving anymore, they tossed it through the opening as well. And then they waited.

Time went by, the faint sounds of small bones snapping coming out of the entrance to the lair. Finally, a large form moved in the darkness. The messengers trembled. “That’s it? Two squishy moles, one already dead, and that’s it? Is the Matriarch breeding for pretty thorax stripes again instead of intelligence? I mean, really? You thought this was an offering? No books, no interesting food, no strange fungus?”

The two spiders looked at each other, confused. “We are sorry, great ancient one. We were told to make an offering to you and then deliver the message. Nothing was said of books or fungus.”

The voice from the darkness sighed. “Tell me the message, and if I like the message, I will count to 8 before starting to hunt you.”

M’klixnick said, “Go on, tell him, the glory is yours!”

G’nixclicknick took a half step forward and said, “Gilad has been found! We go to war!”

As soon as he did, M’klixnick struck, crippling his partners rear two legs before running away as fast as he could. From the opening came a moment of silence and then a roar. A large spider with noble markings leaped to the web in front of the crippled G’nixclicknick. Two of the noble’s legs were whole. The six others were reinforced with metal parts. Armor replaced broken chitin, gears and pistons moved crippled legs. The abused mechanisms made noises that showed they required maintenance and lubrication.

G’nixclicknick found itself hoisted high by a robotic limb. “WHAT HOLLOW? Where!”

“This one doesn’t know, Great One. Only the message was given.”

Iron-Legs was annoyed. “Typical. She plans to use my hatred to her advantage. But I accept. Oh, and next time? Use plumper small mammals as offerings. Leaving me hungry was a bad strategy.”

G’nixclicknick’s screams were short, as were their former partners’ when they failed to outrun the enraged older one. The sounds of metal grinding on metal were heard for hours in the caverns as the crippled noble made her way to the nest of the Matriarch.

* * *

“I tell you, from what I’ve heard, this raid will really put us on the map. No one else has the info, and it is not even known to be a raid zone! We could have a world first!” Mickey was sure the others would be happy with his information. He’d been trying to gain some respect from the guild officers. Respect meant better loot when it was distributed on a raid. He wasn’t happy when they didn’t instantly pat him on the back and thank him. This was great info!

“And if no one knows yet, Mickey, how is it you got the info?” Branigan and the rest of the guild were relaxing in a bar after a sixteen-man event in the stonelurker dungeon. They’d managed to do half of it before they wiped. Two people picked up decent magical items, but the rest were just tired after five hours of killing the little lurkers and then being crushed by a mini-boss. No one was really surprised at the outcome; they just didn’t have the levels or the gear to do the whole dungeon. It would have helped if Mickey had been there. The gnome assassin would have increased their DPS. Showing up after the raid with some suspicious information wasn’t gaining him any smiles.

Mickey tried to keep his voice down, but he was getting more and more excited. “It’s supposed to be a starter area. My brother-in-law is playing a Ratkin character down there. And he has some friends with him. The four of them found out everything. The place is a hotbed of politics, back-stabbing, and competition for control of the treasure. One of the faction leaders wants to bring in outside muscle to clear out the others and take over. This starts a whole series of cool quests in the subterranean Ratkin empire. We could be the first!”

Branigan looked around the table. Leo rolled his eyes, but Taryn looked interested, and Sassy was giving him the thumbs up. Sassy just liked big fights. But it was Tequila Jane who actually seemed to believe Mickey.

“I think it might be real, Bran. Look at all the stuff going on in this city. At first, it’s just some smuggling and thieving quests as people get started. Most people got a few levels, figured it was a starting area, then took off. Then the gang wars started up. Lots of experience, a chance to earn the assassin class, and lots of loot. It was hard to do, with no walk-through at all. But there are several players high up in Squint’s organization now. More stuff is opening up to them. Pretty strange quest lines.”

“Then the World Boss fight that a player triggered. I’ve heard of players getting into the Mining Guilds, and maybe even a way to join the engineers. Now, the Slaver Wars that are going on, and the Stone lurker dungeon opens up. If you go do the research, there are tons of connections. Even rumors that the Ratkin have been running around town in disguise for months. Stuff is weird in this town; it pops up in odd ways. Like that Boss Hydra? Hardly even a warning before the event, and now we have female pirate dwarves all over the place building ships for some secret mission. Crazy-ass game. Got to love it.”

Everyone laughed at that. All it took was buying a scavenger three beers and you got told the whole “secret plan” about raising up some huge ship from the ocean and using it to go after a massive treasure. Everyone wanted in on that event and was trying to get into either of the dwarf factions involved in it.

Branigan shrugged. What was the worst that could happen? They’d already lost their gear a half-dozen times and started over. What was one more? “So, what are we fighting then, Mickey?”

Mickey leaned in close. “Ratkin, lots and lots of them. Most are going to be pretty low-level. The raid needs to be done in a couple of parts. The Ratkin faction inside will take out certain people beforehand and poison others. Then our guild hits from the front, and a second guild, called “The Spiders” hits from the rear. Once the ratkin surrender, we actually get to run the place until the next part of the quest starts, and then we get to go conquer another ratkin fortress.”

Taryn leaned forward. “What sort of rewards? Sounds like a lot of experience, but is there any magic?”

Mickey nodded. “There’s an old mage tower full of magic items and a huge horde of treasure in the middle of the place, where most of them will make their last stand. Plus, we’ll have the whole Hollow working for us. Free potions, armor, weapons—you name it.”

After a quick talk, Branigan summed up the group’s attitude. “Sure, looks like we’re in. It sounds interesting, at least, and rats are a lot easier to kill than lurkers. Let’s give it a shot.”

* * *

Gangrene was inspecting the caravan. If you were going to conquer another hollow, you had to do it right the first time. Supply lines were long, and retreat meant a huge loss of respect and probably getting conquered yourself. He much preferred a more devious method. Merchant caravans were known to travel from hollow to hollow, bringing different cheeses and goods to new places. Caravans packed lots of food, needed guards, and were essentially an army on the move. You might even be invited into the hollow you wanted to conquer, making things much easier.

His agent in Limburger thought he was bringing two dozen warriors to take over Limburger Hollow. Gangrene felt better with twice that number and two fiends in battle armor. There was no reason not to go for overkill. There was also every reason to bring extra warriors. He didn’t put it past “Sneaky-Guy” trying to double-cross him. It was a small chance, but stranger things had happened. Gangrene had few friends, even inside his own hollow. Therefore, “Be suspicious and take extra troops” was his motto. Hopefully, his lieutenants didn’t get ideas while he was gone. He’d made sure that each had something to fear if he didn’t return, and most of the cheese was locked up and guarded by his fiends. If Gangrene didn’t return, they were never getting it. The fiends wouldn’t leave the room, and no one sane opened a vault full of cheese around hungry fiends.

The colorful caravan started on its long journey. They would be traveling through two other hollows along the way, scouting them out for later, and turning a profit along the way. But not much of a profit. He wanted news of the good deals he offered to travel ahead of him. Limburger was sure to hear of the traveling caravan on its way to them, and rather than be surprised and wary, they’d be welcomed with open arms.

He looked at his brave warriors and saluted them as they began to move out. They answered him with their traditional battle cry. “Time to cut the cheese!”

Chapter 36

Because We Care!

The beeping of a priority message broke through to Milo in his game, waking him up. He had set up an additional system to make sure he was alerted to anything important happening in the real world. Broken pipes, exploding electrical transformers, and overflowing sewage lines didn’t send a message. That was reserved for important things like shipments of cheese, intruders in sensitive areas, and messages from Wally or Kate. The alert was sent through his tail and utilized an option in the game to alert players that something was wrong with their pod.

Like all the other safety features in his pod, this one had been turned off. After being trapped in the game for several days, he had gone through the programming in the pod line by line, resetting safety features he wanted to keep and removing any system that sent automatic updates on medical statistics or other data. All of those systems now worked with his own systems and nothing else.

In the game, the alert woke him up. He opened an eye halfway and saw that he had been asleep in the library, comfortable in the overstuffed chair with a blanket over him. He left himself sleeping in the chair and logged out of the game.

The alarm was about a message from Butch. “Yo! Ghost! Check your damn messages on your door sometimes. I had to find the silly code you gave me to send you an email. Big day coming up, and the guys want to get with you to fix up some trade stuff and deliver a few things you’ve been looking for. Show up for lunch sometime. Mom misses you (and has something she needs to talk to you about.)”

Milo got out of his pod and set the cleaning and diagnostics programs running. He took no chances with the pod now, keeping it in good state and testing it for anything out of the ordinary on a regular basis. There were people—well, AI who behaved like people—who knew roughly where he was. He had to be more careful.

That thought had him look in on another project.

At the start of construction for the habitat, a huge hole had been carved down into the bedrock. The base of the habitat was almost a thousand feet below the surface, and support pylons went another hundred feet beyond that. To dig such a massive hole, four Carson X-19 excavators had been employed. The huge earth-moving machines drilled into the earth, pushed along by tracks they put down, with dirt and debris pulled away by a huge tube that extended out behind the machine. The displaced earth and rock had been used along the coast to build sea walls and artificial beaches. Three of the X-19s had been moved to other projects when the foundations for the habitat had been dug, and one was left in the bowels of the habitat in case of some future project or expansion. Milo happened to have such a project in mind.

He had reprogrammed the driller and done the needed repairs on it. He felt it was a shame he couldn’t bring some of the Deep Rock Engineers to help. They would have had a great time modifying the device. (And probably would have “borrowed” it at some point.) It looked curiously like the vehicle they had used against the World Boss, only several times bigger.

Milo wanted someplace much safer than his current home, in case he had to move. Someplace no one knew existed. He’d set the X-19 to begin in the corner of the lowest level of Section E and had it bore down two hundred feet. Then he planned to remove a large area of rock and build a sizable area to claim as his new home. In some ways, he was making his own little hollow. It was going to make it more difficult to deal with problems in Section E, but dealing with problems was a way to minimize his chance of being discovered. If someone found him and forced him to move, then someone else would have to worry about fixing Section E in the future.

It was a slow process. He had to carefully dispose of the removed material. Luckily, several of the sections had unfinished lower levels where the debris would never be noticed. He could have more easily built his new home in one of those abandoned areas, but he wanted a spot where nothing was expected to be and where no one would think to go looking.

Everything looked good so far. The access tunnel was dug down to the 1,200-foot level, a full 200 feet below the base of the habitat. He did an inspection by camera and set the X-19 programs to begin working on clearing out a large area. It would take months of slow work, but Milo was fine with that as long as it resulted in a larger—and completely hidden—home.

* * *

That was one project seen too. His next was checking on the assembly units working with the graphene components he had been acquiring little by little. The assembly units had been set up and programmed with his designs two weeks ago, and the two initial projects started. It took very little time to fit each minute component into the framework, but that was multiplied by millions of pieces to complete each project. He was happy to see that one of the pieces was done and ready for testing, with the second only a little behind it.

He pulled the jet-black glove out of the assembler and checked it for flaws under a scanner. Nothing seemed wrong with a preliminary scan. The next step was testing. Power was supplied, and he plugged the glove into his system and placed it on a hand-shaped apparatus he had made just for testing this glove. The frame was flexible and would allow movement seen normally in a hand. Over the next twenty minutes, he tested combinations of motion to make sure the microscopic motors and platers were working together. Milo had no desire to put a hand into an untested device. He’d rather break a rubber and wireframe than his own bones. He was already missing pieces; he didn’t want to lose more. When nothing went wrong, he decided to do a full test.

Power for the glove came from a storage battery, which he could wear on his back. It was roughly one square foot in area and two inches thick. Power cables ran to the glove down his arm, and the control cable connected to his middle socket. He carefully slid in his hand and moved one finger. The bio-feedback circuits felt the push and made the glove move in a similar fashion, only with much greater strength. He ran through the same set of motions he had made the glove perform before and spotted no major errors.

The glove was soft and thin, covering all of his hands except for the last joint of his fingers. If you didn’t look too closely, they looked like faux leather gloves. Even a close inspection would only make a person believe they were of a more expensive material. Which they were. Several million times more expensive.

He sent a command to the glove, and the graphite panels moved to cover the fingertips. Ridges ran along the back of the fingers, ending in one-inch claws. He could feel the slight buzz as the micro-motors came to life and the material became much harder. Moving to a wall panel with nothing behind it, he used a claw to scratch, accidentally punching through the metal panel and putting a three-inch tear in the material.

The question of how sharp the graphene claws were had been partially answered. He’d do further testing later. Right now, he needed some practice with them, and for that, he needed to wear them for a few hours. The other glove was just coming off the assembly. After running it through the same tests as the first glove, he put on the harness that held the battery pack and connected both gloves to power and to his middle socket. With his standard black hoodie and long leather jacket, you wouldn’t know he was wearing them.

He decided that he’d wear them down to see Butch and his family. He needed to get comfortable wearing them, and the chaos of Butch’s family was a good testing ground. The gloves would most likely handle the chaos better than Milo could.

A half-hour, later he was stepping out of “his” front door and pounding on Butch’s door. Butch’s mother answered, holding a baby. Milo had long ago lost track of how many brothers and sisters Butch had. His mother often babysat for other families to earn favors, so the count was always confusing. Butch’s dad was also named Butch. Milo had never heard anyone call his mother anything other than Mom or Mama. Even after a year, he didn’t know her name.

“Oh, look at you! A proper ghost you make in all that black and with those sunglasses on. Come inside; I’ll turn down the lights. Butch told me your eyes are sensitive. Grab a seat anywhere. I need to talk to you.”

Milo did so. Butch’s mother moved around the small apartment for a moment and then brought him over a stack of paperwork. “I know you’re smart. Probably a lot smarter than you let on. And you don’t trust anyone. That makes you the best person I know to look that over. Tell me if my son and husband signing this will be a mistake.”

Milo took the paper and started flipping through it, while at the same time making a note not to underestimate Mama. She’d noticed things Butch and the gang hadn’t, and her assessment of him was correct. Since she already knew about him, he didn’t bother to hide his reading speed and started working his way through several dozen pages of the contract. If Mama Butch knew he was smart and needed a favor, then he could ask for a favor back. “No one hears how smart I am. Promise?”

She nodded. “Promised. We help each other. No one talks.” That was a rule Milo liked.

The papers were work contracts. Five-year contracts working for a corporation that would put them in pods and use them in the Genesis game. Each person spent 144 hours in the pod and then 24 hours out. They got weekly pay of 50% of their salary and then a big chunk at the end of 5 years, and a penalty if they didn’t finish. There were pages and pages of legalese and clauses that he was sure hid ways the corporation could enforce the contract, limit its liability, or skip the final payment. That was how corporations worked. And while anyone was free to sign or not sign such contracts, they often had no choice and barely understood them. Milo was happy to help them change the rules.

Milo went through the 37-page contracts and then started making changes. “No one has signed these yet?”

Mama shook her head. “Nope. My husband is a group leader, and they want him and the others on board first. Once the two dozen group leaders are working for the corporation, they get two weeks of training, and then they get everyone else to sign up. They recruit from their territory in the habitat, and there’s a bonus for how many people they bring in. Is it a fair deal?”

Milo shook his head. “It’s a deal. I’m not so sure it’s a fair deal.” He pulled a data pad from his sack and plugged it into his glasses. His dark glasses were already connected to one of his plugs and could act as a data screen if needed. He got to work. He needed to look up applicable labor laws and then make some changes. Butch and his dad came in while Milo was working. He didn’t look up, and Mama moved them to another room. The smallest children were playing a game that involved Milo playing the part of a sleeping monster. He didn’t notice them either.

Two hours later he finished and pulled out a storage chip from his data-pad. He saw Mama and the rest of the family waiting for him to finish. “I’m done. I changed things. This is a better deal. It protects you if you become sick or hurt and closes off a lot of loopholes. I also put in some flexibility to the schedules in case of emergencies and added that there needs to be oversight and arbitration panels.”

“I also made a sheet of suggestions that I think the company could use to streamline some parts of their operation. An efficient HR department can do things better and for less cost if set up correctly. If this is a profitable venture, they could have half the section working for them.”

Mama looked at the rest of the family. “And this boy doesn’t need hassles. So no mentioning who helped you rework all of that paper. Keep it simple. You have a lawyer helping out, but they don’t want to be involved. They can fill in the details themselves.”

Butch grabbed Milo. “Good, then you’re done with your homework? The rest of the guys are waiting. We’ve got food too.” He looked at Milo’s gloves. “Gnarly! Did you get some of those new gaming gloves? I read that those help with wrist and palm fatigue. Figures you’d be ahead of the curve on getting a pair of those.” Milo just nodded. Gaming gloves? Something else he needed to look up.

* * *

In an office full of expensive oak and leather furniture, a meeting was taking place. One man was poring over a modified contract that had been handed to him to review. A second was relaxing with a cup of coffee. The third man, the boss of the other two, was ranting and pacing.

“Can you explain to me where a bunch of half-illiterate hab residents found a lawyer to rework this contract? And what kind of lawyer works that way?” John Sabbatino had glanced through the new contract while his lawyer, Jacob Atkinson, was looking at each individual change and making copious notes.

Erik was drinking his second cup of coffee and enjoying the morning. Nothing had blown up or collapsed today. That was a good day on this project. He took John’s question and started ticking off the possibilities on his fingers. “The type of lawyer who lurks about and waits for us to screw up so that they can move in with a class action lawsuit representing 100,000 employees, having proof we were warned of problems. One who has used people in the Habs for a job before and considers them a resource. The type of lawyer that warns you about something, just so you don’t cross them. They did the work on the contract and sent it back unsigned to see what we would do.”

John was pacing. “I don’t like it.”

Erik kept his voice low and non-confrontational. “Of course you don’t, John. I don’t like someone getting involved in this way, either. But look at it in a different way: They didn’t ask for money. They aren’t really threatening us outright. They are just saying, ‘Treat my guys a bit better than normal.’ Some of the suggestions and changes are actually better for us. We want a competent, flexible workforce that we can rent out to any corporation. The original contract was pretty rigid. This new version works better and will get more people signing up. And we won’t be fighting with the workforce constantly or losing people. Now contrast that to some of the other people you have worked for. The ones who settle problems with violence. I think this is better.”

Jacob’s phone rang. He took the call and walked to the corner of the room where he talked in a low voice, nodding a lot. Finally, he hung up and came back to John, looking shaken. “That was… uh… That was the big computer, the one in charge that they call Wally? He actually phoned me up to tell me how happy he was with the wording in the new contract and to thank us for our work. He greatly approves of the changes to our original. He’s hoping our new business goes well and can raise the standard of living for the workers we hire.”

Erik looked at John. “That kind of lawyer.”

John took a deep breath. “Right, so set up the expanded HR unit, get the arbitration board ready to go, and reprint all of those contracts.” He forced a smile on his face. “I see this as a good thing. We’re all set to move ahead and have the stamp of approval from the creator of the game. Let’s spin this as us treating our workers better because we care. And hey, let’s get a thousand or two buttons printed up with that. Just ‘Because We Care.’ What a great slogan!”

Chapter 37

Tunnel Muggles

After three hours of trading electronic components, fixing old video games, and eating two bowls of something called “dumplings,” Milo stood up and said he had to go. Five of Butch’s gang waved or patted him on the back, while Butch nodded at a girl called Yumi. She finished her food, stood up, and fell in with Butch and Milo. Milo had grown used to having an escort. Butch explained that it kept everyone out of trouble. Milo on his own was too much of a target, and it was better if they didn’t tempt anyone into taking a swing at him. There was much speculation in the gang as to what would happen if someone did jump ‘the ghost’ again.

It had happened one time, recently. One of Butch’s little sisters came running and said she saw people picking on Ghost. A large older man had knocked Ghost down, demanding his fancy sunglasses. She’d run to get help. Butch came running but only found the older man on the ground clutching a broken leg and his partner complaining about his nose, which was flattened on his face and gushing blood. Ghost was nowhere to be seen. He just shrugged when asked about it a month later. After that, Butch always made sure to give him an escort after their swap sessions.

Yumi was surprised when Butch turned into a hallway where the air handlers weren’t working any longer. The hall was fine, but the apartments were deathtraps with bad air and filled with garbage. Ghost reached up with one of his braces, knocked aside a loose ceiling panel, and then got a boost from Butch into the area above the ceiling. The panel slid back, and Butch started walking back to the group. Yumi yelled after him. “What’s up? Where does he go?” Butch shrugged. “That little guy comes and goes. No one’s figured him out, or where he learned how to run the vents. But he’s damn good at fixing old games, and anything electronic, so who cares if he takes some weird route home to avoid getting jumped?” His tone told Yumi that she shouldn’t care either.

She took one more look at the ceiling, then hurried to catch up. She had her own problems. Butch knew some of them, but he never said a word. Sometimes having a group around you that knew to just be quiet about things was enough.

* * *

Milo thought of the strangeness of going to sleep exhausted in the game world and waking up refreshed here. Now he was tired and entering the game again, where he’d be waking up to another day. He did this quite a bit. It let him get a lot more done and minimized his downtime. He wondered if there was any downside to doing things that way. And how would you measure it?

As Milo woke, a voice nearby coughed politely. The waiter? Butler? Who he’d seen at dinner and in the library was setting down a large wooden mug of tea and a loaf of freshly baked bread with butter and honey oozing from it. “The professor felt that she may have kept you up late last night and apologizes. She knows you have an early class at the arena. I took the liberty of preparing your food that you could take with you.”

Milo thanked him, grabbed the bread and tea, and ran for the stairs. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but he had to be late. The stairways, however, were filled with students going to their first classes. He leaped onto the circular railing that spiraled to the ground and yelled. “Watch out, Professor coming through!” The jealous students, expressly forbidden from doing exactly what they saw Professor Milo doing, watched as he gained speed heading for the entrance. He managed to turn the headlong dive into a double sommersault at the end, only spilling a few drops of tea. He emptied the mug, tossed it to a surprised first-year, and ran off to the arena, eating the bread and honey along the way. He made it to the opening of class just in time and began to run the novices through stretches and basic stances.

Then he spent an hour sparring with the better students and trying to teach basic stances and strikes to the novices and players. He was surprised how repetition of the basics was helping him. Claw fighting was becoming more and more natural to him, with dodges, blocks, and acrobatics starting to merge into a continuous way to fight. And hops. Some of Larry’s hops and steps were very useful. He was looking forward to working with Gilad and Larry, even though he still had bruises from the night before.

Breakfast was muffins with smiley faces. As the muffins came hot from the oven, Smiley and Rifkin labored to draw the faces with yellow icing. Rifkin seemed to struggle with it, while Smiley was using an icing tube in each hand and humming the Hamster Hop song. To go with the muffins were cheese omelets. Bleusnout was carefully giving one per person. When he saw Milo, he smiled broadly. “Ah, there you are. I have some good news for you.”

When there was a break in the line of hungry ratkin, the chef made sure nothing was going to burn and then took Milo aside. “I owe you an apology, Tallsqueak. When Larry growled at the twins yesterday, I was worried he was getting worse. And his new skill terrifies me. So, you can understand my worries when Gilad explained that you and he were teaching Larry to fight. I can only keep Larry here as long as he has no aggressive tendencies. Growling and chasing people makes that harder to do. But you won’t believe what he did this morning!”

“Perhaps you could tell me?”

“Of course. Of course. He turned down cheese!”

Milo had been prepared for any number of things. But not this. He was immediately worried. “But why? Is he sick?”

The chef smiled. “Larry came in early, and I assumed it was because of the smell of cheese. He was drooling a little, but he told me he just wanted muffins! Can you believe it?! He said that cheese made him too crazy, and a crazy Larry doesn’t get to fight with his friends! Do you see?! He wants to fight more than he wants cheese! It’s a tremendous breakthrough. I’ll be sending word of this to many other chefs if all goes well.”

Bleusnout filled a huge tray with muffins and one omelet before handing it to Milo. Milo reluctantly handed back the tasty egg dish, his hand slightly trembling. “If Larry isn’t eating cheese, I shouldn’t either. It’s not fair to taunt him with it. I’ll just have more muffins this morning.” He took the tray outside, along with a large jug of warm milk and two earthenware mugs. Larry was sitting there telling a story to Ringtail, Tweedle, and three smaller children.

“…and the flowers were so upset that they started to cry, and that made the bees sad. When Mr. Bear came for honey, the sad bees didn’t buzz around him like normal. Mr. Bear went to see Mr. Owl. The wise old owl flew and asked for help from Brinka, the Tunnelmuggle. Brinka knew someone who could help, and she went through her secret tunnel to Larry’s House. Larry said he would help, because he was a Hero, and Heroes always help, even though he was too big to fit in the little Tunnelmuggle Tunnel.

But Brinka knows a secret dance and taught it to Larry. Larry and the Weasel Slippers danced the magic dance and went to Flowerland. Greggy Gurner and the Pickle Gang had all of Larry’s friends trapped in cages. Larry used Stealth like Heroes do when they need to get close to bad guys. Larry jumped out of the bushes and bopped Greggy Gurner on the head until Greggy didn’t get up again. All of the pickle boys cheered because they didn’t like Greggy either. Some ran away to be bad guys, but most of them said they would be good pickles, not sneaky pickles. Larry’s friends were happy and they had a big dinner with lots of food before Brinka helped Larry go home.”

Milo was impressed. Larry was getting a lot better at making up stories. He set the big tray of muffins down and poured himself and Larry some milk. “Muffins for heroes.”

Larry was very happy to see Tallsqueak. He had a lot to tell him. He told him about his new friends Tweedle and Ringtail and how they were not-sneaky-guys now. And he told him the entire story again about Larry saving Flowerland. “But Larry is very tired today. Saving Flowerland made Larry miss sleepy time. Come wake Larry when it is Larry’s turn to fight.” The Cheese Find yawned and wandered off to his house for a nap. Milo suspected that Larry had stayed up all night dancing, yet again. He was gaining ranks so fast! The endurance of a Cheese Fiend was frightening.

Ringtail and Tweedle turned to Tallsqueak.

“Grandfather sent us.”

“You have a secret mission?”

“Well, kind of secret.”

“Hard to keep a secret once you tell Char.”

“She mumbles when mad.”

“And always mad.”

“She won’t make friends with Larry.”

“Probably best…

“We made friends with Larry.”

“And aren’t friends with Charchar.”

“Big improvement in friend quality.”

“And we are scouts now!”

“No surprise! We promise.”

Both twins crossed their hearts and nodded. Milo looked at the two of them. “Scouts? What is the difference between scouts and shadowlurkers? Aren’t they the same clan?”

“Oh, easy… They are not.”

“We blame love!”

“And dwindling population from Spider Wars.”

“Sneaky Clan Married Healer Clan.”

“Healer Clan married brave scout.”

“Some scouts thought sneaky girls were cute!”

“Lots of marriage and kids, and three clans living together.”

“Then more spiders.”

“Fewer people, lots of jobs.”

“Grandfather is the best healer…”

“Also has to be the best sneaky guy and bravest scout!”

“Great-Uncle was Scout-Master, maybe Death-Master, not here now.”

“Grandfather does it all, makes him prickly.”

“Never know who we are talking to.”

“Scouts explore, kill monsters, make maps.”

“Sneaky-guys, explore, kill things that need killing, find secrets.”

Untangling the words of the twins, Milo suddenly had a few things click into place.

“So, correct me if I’m wrong on any of this. Your great-uncle was the Scout-Master and had a special ring. He went missing. He shared the duties of Death-Master with his brother, Old Healer. Now your grandfather is all three, and Char wants to be Death-Master and train the shadowlurkers.”

The twins nodded. Milo showed them his ring. Four eyes in two heads got very large.

“I have a class to teach. Go get dressed for a scouting mission and meet me here a bell before dinner.” Milo got up and headed to the Tower of Strife. The twins sat silently for a moment, then began talking in hushed tones.

“Things get clearer…”

“But more confusing!”

“Head hurts… Tallsqueak is Scout-Master?”

“Secret scout mission makes more sense.”

“Good thing we are scouts!”

“Does Char know?”

“NO! Would be frothing at the mouth.”

“So much frothing.”

“Things looking up for Scout clan!”

“Much room in new organization.”

“We are smart.”

“In our humble way.”

“Quick, must prepare for mission.”

“What do scouts wear?”

“Something with pockets.”

Chapter 38

This is a Wrench…

Teaching his class was mentally exhausting to Milo. It wasn’t hard to teach—the students sat still and listened, perhaps because Professor Arlothe was standing behind them—but he had to keep making his explanations simpler and backtracking to explain basic concepts. It got easier once he assumed that they only knew magic and nothing of engineering. He started from nothing and explained basic concepts. Such as how easy it was to electrocute yourself, that you could not “absorb electricity” to empower your spells, and that a wrench was used to turn a bolt and should never be used as a hammer. (Unless surprised while sleeping by some idiot playing Surprise!)

Some of these concepts turned into discussions. The idea of too much power was a vague concept for many of the younger mages because they never had enough mana for spell casting. The idea that an electrical system might have enough power to turn them into a little black smudge on the ground was both frightening and intriguing to them. None of them had been around large machinery or seen a lightning bolt split a tree or light a building on fire. (Milo had never seen lightning either but had seen videos of its destructive ability.)

As the lecture went on, Milo moved to the most basic explanations and offered promises of more knowledge to come later. The class came away with the idea that electricity could kill, and it could also be a useful tool. In both cases, it was similar to storm mana.

By the end of an hour, all of the students knew how to turn a bolt, and everyone was taking turns getting hands-on experience by taking off the covers on the old machine and replacing them. Two adventurous Raptorclaws figured out the different types of screwdrivers and were looking smug as they explained how to take things apart to a trio of Puffyfurs. They weren’t as good at putting a component back together, but they vowed to do further research.

He took the best of the class and moved on to the theory of power generation and why electricity and storm mana were different. Arlothe was a great help here. Milo knew the two types of energy were different, but not what the connection between them was. Storm mana could generate electrical effects, but how did electricity make storm mana?

The secret to understanding turned out to be a basic property of mana. Arlothe explained that most ambient mana in the world was untainted by aspects. Milo thought of this as basic mana. Basic mana near certain substances or places in the world could take on additional properties. Battlefields and graveyards would generate death-aspected mana. A roaring fire would generate fire-tinted mana. A large amount of electrical energy would change ambient mana to Storm mana.

While a mage had only so much mana that they could call upon at any one time, they could also tap into supplies of aspected mana that were nearby or, better yet, stored in objects. Arlothe held up a basic staff loaned to him by one of the third-year students who had just finished her project. “As you can see, Winifred has constructed her staff from a thick piece of bramble thorn. The thorns have been removed, the wood straightened, and a stain and polish have been added to give the grain a nice luster. While this may seem unimportant to casting spells, remember that a spell is an extension of the willpower of the mage casting it, and when focused through a tool such as a staff, the quality of the tool matters. By working with the wood and refining its shape, Winifred is more familiar with her staff, which will be a better focus for her will.”

“Notice what has been added to the top of the staff. The simple magi-tech crystal encased in a copper framework can hold 50 storm mana. Winifred can charge this staff each night and have that mana available for duels or blasting spiders.”

Arlothe pointed the staff at a target and let loose a Blazing Arc spell. “The spell I just cast is beyond Winifred, but not when she is holding her staff. She has made an important tool to aid her in her pursuit of knowledge.” He handed the staff back to the student, who immediately began checking it over for any cracks or problems.

Arlothe then raised his own staff above his head. “This is a battle staff that was passed down to me from my mentor. I have made small improvements to it over the years and hopefully will pass it down to a worthy apprentice. This staff has runes for Blazing Arc and Electrocuting Death that make casting those spells 20% cheaper. It can also hold over 2,000 storm-aspected mana.” He paused and appreciated the sounds the students made as he showed off his staff.

Milo was impressed by the storage capacity of Arlothe’s staff. That much extra mana would be very nice to have in a battle. Of course, once gone, it needed to be recharged. “How long for a staff to regain all of its mana?”

Arlothe turned to the class. “Professor Tallsqueak has a very good question: How long to recharge my staff? The answer varies on the method. If I simply lean it against a wall and ignore it, a very long time, most likely a month or more as the staff gains small wisps of ambient mana and converts them. However, I can add to that, by recharging it with my own mana each night. The process is not without some loss. Winifred’s staff has a resistance of 50% meaning she will need to put 100 mana into her staff to recharge 50. My own has only a 20%, resistance being made of better materials. I will need to put only 2,400 mana into it over a few nights to recharge it.”

The students pondered this knowledge and had several questions. Milo went back to looking at the machinery. Then he walked up to Arlothe and spoke. “I have a theory to test.” He looked over the students. “Winifred, you get to be my assistant for today since you figured out how to use a screwdriver.” He pointed to the rest. “The class project for today is figuring out how to remount the waterwheel in its frame and connect the belts to the axle. If you can’t figure it out, find someone who can. Arlothe, I need the storm mana storage unit repaired.”

There was a small pause, and then everyone ran to get to work. Arlothe noticed the difference in Tallsqueak immediately. It was like someone else was suddenly inside his skull and attacking the project. Maybe several someones? Cremona accused him of doing the same thing when working on his own projects, and it was very interesting to see the creative mania in someone else. He happily got to work on the storage device and was soon as lost in his work as much as Milo.

The original use of the machine had been to generate Storm mana by making electricity. Milo was working on the generator, and Arlothe was fixing the large storage device for storm mana, which turned out to be the large glass globes. Arlothe was also skilled at glass-blowing and could use a combination of cantrips from that craft with a tiny electrical arc to fuse broken pieces together and repair cracks. By the end of three hours, they had the equipment at one end of the machine running. The waterwheel turned, generating the physical power to send two halves of a huge lodestone surrounded by coils of copper wire spinning in opposite directions. Milo judged the production of energy to be only a fraction of what the apparatus would do once he rebuilt and fine-tuned it, but he was happy to get it running.

The students were amazed, staring at the arcs of power while wearing dark goggles. They held their hands near the machine to feel the Storm mana condensing as electrical power was made. Several members of Clan Puffyfur were mesmerized by how their fur stood on end when they got close to certain parts of the machinery.

Tallsqueak made some small markings in charcoal on the storage device, then turned to Winifred. “Please put your staff in the slot next to the storage device.” The nervous student did. Tallsqueak watched as the staff recharged. The rate was much faster when the staff was close to the machine, especially adjacent to the storage device. “I need a student with a bigger staff, please. Several of them.”

Runners were sent, and several students of the upper classes were hastily torn away from what they were doing. Each was told to expend their staves against the targets set up, blasting the wooden spiders to splinters. Being specifically told to let loose like that was fun. Then one by one they handed their staves to Professor Tallsqueak for recharging. By this time there was a sizeable number of students gathered and watching.

Tallsqueak explained his findings to Arlothe. “I’ve figured out a few things, but more testing is needed. The rate of recharging for staves depends on several variables, such as the power supplied by the generator, the amount of storm mana present, the number of staves being recharged, and the quality of the device. I will have some preliminary theories available soon and need to do some research in the library. But let’s do one more test.” He turned to Arlothe and pointed at the wooden spider targets that had just been set up again. Arlothe understood and turned to face the wooden foes. A few of the smarter students put on their goggles.

“Transcendent Storm of Power!” A large black cloud formed at the top of the ceiling, and lightning bolts obliterated the targets.

The ground in a 30-foot diameter circle was blackened, and thunder rolled away, startling the rest of the hollow. Arlothe leaned on his depleted staff, a wistful grin on his face. “Ah, I missed doing that. A bit irresponsible of me to expend all my mana at once, but this is an important experiment.” He placed the stave in the machine, and Professor Tallsqueak closed a circuit with a switch.

storm mana arced from the glass globe to the stave, recharging it in seconds. Milo handed the charged stave to Arlothe, made some marks on the depleted glass globes, and shut the machine down. Some of the coils were close to burning out, and he didn’t like the way the linkage to the water wheel was sounding. He’d learned a lot today but had so much more he needed to find out!

He assigned several of the students to small projects. They were talking excitedly about what they had seen, and several of the older students were revising their own experiments. Tallsqueak and Arlothe began talking about their next steps.

Tallsqueak hoped to increase power in the coming week but was upset at the quality of the copper wire used in the coils. It was inferior and prone to break. He complained about it to Arlothe. “Why is your copper so bad? I know the hollow has mines, and I see a basic subrogator attached to this machine. But this copper wire is full of impurities. Why?”

Arlothe scowled. “We just have bad copper. And that isn’t a subrogator; it was used to pull the arsenic and other impurities from the hard copper ore. My wife uses the poisons that were made in her spells. She was hoping to find a way to create a storage device for poison-infused mana, but that eluded us. If we could find a way to get better copper, I’d be delighted.”

“Hard copper?”

Arlothe picked through a pile of ore near the broken not-a-subragator. “This type of ore. It’s like copper, but too hard. It doesn’t refine well and is full of impurities. Which is a shame. There are huge veins of it in all of the mines and little in the way of the good copper that I need for wires.”

Milo was instantly excited. “Show me! I need to see the ore vein that this came from.” He took his pick from his pack and yelled. “Electrical class is over. Mining class is starting in 2 minutes.”

Arlothe didn’t argue—he was curious. “Well, if we are heading to the mines, I should put on suitable work clothes. I’ll be back in a moment to help you herd students.”

Arlothe, Milo, and a dozen students headed toward the mines. The opening to the mines was past the barracks and near the start of the tunnel to Larry’s house. A basic blast furnace and several blacksmith shops were in full operation in the cavern just outside of the mines. Milo saw another pile of “hard copper” where it had been separated from the more basic ore. Just that one pile was worth a large amount of gold and ten times its weight in regular copper.

The mines were old. Milo could see that generations of ratkin had worked here, slowly expanding them. Arlothe took Milo down a short tunnel that ended in a solid wall of deep copper ore. “See? All over the place. We mine until we hit too much of it in the rock and then go another way.”

Milo took his pick out and easily began mining large chunks of deep copper. It was almost pure ore, and within minutes, he had a huge pile at his feet. He had been waiting for a Copperhead to materialize and was surprised as he dug more and more ore without anything happening. “Do you ever get snakes from mining it? Small elementals that materialize from the ore?”

Arlothe shook his head. “No, I have never heard of that. We do have a lot of spiderlings in the mines. The guard trainees patrol the mines, keeping the population down. But no snakes.”

Milo had seen the spiderlings. They were indeed, all over the mines. The miners were constantly killing the small ones or running from the larger ones. The guard trainees and novice fighters were constantly clearing out one tunnel, only for more to appear somewhere else. Even as he had been mining, a fat one named Nollylob had run up to try and bite Patsy on the ankle. The Puffyfur had shrieked and leaped in the air, both feet coming down on the poor Level 1 named boss, squishing him dead.

“Oooh! I killed it and got a special point! I’m a hero!” Several of the house Manticore students looked upset and jealous. Plans were made to start organizing groups to hunt spiderlings in their free time.

Milo had the class sit while he explained the difference between copper and deep copper ores, and how higher-tier ores were more valuable but also harder to mine and process. “The Deep Rock engineers use a subragator to refine deep copper. It’s a complex machine that pulls out impurities and smelts the ore to free the deep copper from the rock and dirt. It runs off electrical power they generate from waterfalls or by burning coal or liquid fuels.”

Arlothe looked at the vast veins of ore. “Are you implying the dwarves would trade this ore for regular copper? That would let us do so many more experiments.”

“Yes. They would trade copper, steel, even dark steel, or other metals for deep copper. And wouldn’t mind trading for loads of ore. Dark steel picks would let the hollow’s miners work faster. We might even be able to set up our own subragator here to produce pure deep copper.”

He and Arlothe talked about possible projects as they walked back to the tower. Arlothe had a wild gleam in his eye. “We need to talk to them and somehow convince them to travel to us or send a trading caravan to them! I’ve always been held back by a lack of components. What is the relative value of Hard Copper to normal copper or iron?”

Milo knew that iron was extremely plentiful, much more so than copper. “Probably 10 to 1 for copper, and 20 to 1 for iron.” Arlothe was thinking, and stopped, looking around. “Are you saying that for only 20 tons of hard copper ore, the hollow could gain a full ton of iron ore? That is outstanding!”

Milo corrected him. “You need to turn the ratio around. A ton of your ore in this mine is worth 20 tons of iron ore. There are costs of transport, and it would probably be easier if we put a subragator here and traded for ingots of metal.” Milo found himself grabbed by the arm and hurried off to a meeting with Bleusnout and Cremona.

Chapter 39

Scouts Doing What Scouts Do Best

Tweedle and Ringtail were waiting for him at the start of dinner. They were wearing sturdy outfits of dull brown with many pockets, backpacks, a bandolier of knives, rope, and grapples, bedrolls, and a bag of jelly beans. They’d had two bags of jelly beans but had shared with Larry. Several of the smaller children snuck away from their parents to listen to Larry tell stories after dinner, from the safety of a nearby window close enough that they could listen. More people in the hollow were warming up to Larry, but it was a slow process. After stories, during a jelly bean break, Milo spoke quietly to Larry.

“Larry, I need to ask you a favor.”

Larry thought about it. “Larry thinks it is okay for a friend to ask Larry for a favor.”

“Thank you, Larry. Can I show Ringtail and Tweedle your house and the secret door?”

Larry looked very excited. “You are going to use the Secret Door?! Do Larry’s friends in Flowerland need help? How does Tallsqueak fit? The secret door is very small unless you have a Tunnelmuggle for a friend. Can Larry come to watch you squeeze through the door? That will be fun to watch!”

Milo remembered Larry’s stories. Larry’s house had one secret door that he knew of, so why not two? Stranger things had happened in the hollow. He had no idea what a Tunnelmuggle was, so he was sure he didn’t know one. Maybe Larry would introduce him?

He whispered to Larry. “We are using the secret door I found in the rock, the one I told you about that I found when running from spiders.”

Larry was less excited. He really had wanted to see Tallsqueak squeeze through the other door. “Oh, that one. That is not very special. It is a boring secret door. No Tunnelmuggle made it magic, and no one but Tallsqueak ever came out. You can show that one to new not-sneaky friends. Tell them it is a boring secret door though; that way they won’t be disappointed. Larry sees it all the time and is not excited. Not special like the other one.” He looked down at his feet and got a big smile. “Larry needs to go dance now. Weasel slippers need exercise.”

Larry hopped to the wide-open area next to the mess hall and began dancing. Several people were clapping, and two small children were dancing with him, having snuck away from their parents. Milo motioned to Tweedle and Ringtail, and they made their way to the tunnel that led to Larry’s House. Larry had added things to his house since Milo had been there last. High up in one wall was a very small opening with a round green door only six inches high. It was set into the rock with very small hinges. Milo thought it was cute. Milo examined it but couldn’t see how it was joined to the wall or how it opened. He’d have to ask Larry more about it.

The other new item was a potted plant. The bush was only two feet tall and sat in a corner of the cave. Little fruit was growing on some of the branches. Tweedle and Ringtail stopped in their tracks when they saw it.

“A bean bush?”

“Cannot be, is only one.”

“And that one guarded by Auntie.”

“Fiercely guarded!”

“This one is bigger.”

“And all fruit not ripe yet.”

“Yucky, bad, sour.”

“But…”

“Yes, but…”

Milo wasn’t sure what the problem was. He moved past the bush and opened the secret tunnel, moving into the room beyond. The twins were still arguing about the bush for some reason. “Are you two coming? Secret scout mission? Remember?”

“Oh, yes. Ahh…”

“The mystery of mysterious Larry deepens.”

“He surprises us at every turn.”

“And he turns a lot. So many surprises.”

“But we are scouts!”

“Time to scout!”

They made their way through the tunnels. Milo showed them the traps and warned them about the poison, even though most of it was old and weak. “You might find one that is still good, and that could hurt.”

“Brother?”

“Yes, Brother?”

“We should not have slacked on poison training.”

“We may have erred, I agree.”

“Poison traps are a lot scarier when they are real!”

Milo paused as they got to the center area. “Did you perhaps shirk Mycology classes too?”

“We must have, I don’t know what Mycology means.”

“I don’t know what shirk means. I skipped shirking class.”

Sighing, Milo explained mycology to the twins. They nodded in understanding.

“Mushroom picking. We did that.”

“But none of the other stuff. Drying, mixing,”

“Suspensions? Poultices? Rennet? All shirked.”

“Because if you admit knowing something…

“Then you have to go do it all the time for Old Healer.”

Milo pulled out his spanner. “This is the Wrench of Wisdom. It can impart knowledge to scouts who lack it, bringing forth submerged memories of things you didn’t even remember knowing. But gaining such knowledge comes with pain.”

“Ah! I believe you. My head hurts already.”

“And I feel the wisdom already.”

“Mushroom class! Basic Alchemy!

“Making the nasty rennet…”

“What mushrooms are not edible.”

“All mushrooms are edible!”

“All?”

“All mushrooms are edible once. Maybe not twice.”

Milo stepped forward and raised the wrench.

“Ah, wisdom. I see it.”

“I am smarter and willing to stay smart.”

“Good. First job. I have brought many gathering sacks. We need to harvest the Puffballs first. Listen, please. Very important. Tasty mushrooms that way. Mushrooms that are only edible once are that way. Don’t harvest those.”

“Are they truly that bad?” Tweedle was peering down the tunnel to the cave of poisonous mushrooms.

Milo started walking to the other cave. “We can ask your great-uncle. He died from them, and his bones are still poisonous.”

Ringtail hit Tweedle upside the head. “Here, have some wisdom.”

Tweedle nodded. “Thank you, brother. The stupid part of me really does want to go see the bad shrooms. I’ll ignore it for now.”

The puffballs filled many gathering sacks. He had the twins take them back to the room next to Larry’s House and went to gather one gathering bag of the various poisonous shrooms for Professor Cremona. By the time he was done, the twins were back. They stared in awe as Milo showed them where he had found their great-uncle’s corpse. Then he took them to where he had buried the body. There was a patch of earth where the dirt was a different color and nothing grew. They put on masks and gloves and carefully removed the soil until they found his bones and placed the brittle, toxic remains into a bag that was then sealed inside several more. Milo put them into Tweddle’s backpack.

Ringtail pointed to the unexplored tunnel. “I notice that you have not mentioned that tunnel. In point of fact, you said you didn’t know what was down there. Being that we are brave, brave scouts, should we not explore a bit?”

Milo couldn’t see why not. They skulked carefully down the tunnel, looking for traps. Milo found the first one and showed them the mechanism and the now-familiar trigger. They studied how it was made and how it could be reset. The twins saved the needle for ‘poison practice’ that they wanted to do later. Further along, the tunnel branched again. They took the rightmost tunnel. Ringtail went first this time. He was carefully looking for traps when he spotted one a few feet ahead. “Look, brother, I am getting better at this.” And then his next step went right into the floor, and he fell through it.

Milo had known something was wrong as soon as Ringtail’s foot hit the not-really-there floor, and he was diving for his apprentice scout. His stone sense told him where the rock ended and the illusion started. He managed to grab him by his foot as he fell into the deep hole, and his claws dug into the rock on the other side. Ringtail looked down. The hole went far, far down, and he could see a small ring of light at the bottom, hundreds of feet below.

“I am not getting better at this!”

Milo was thankful for the strength he gained from mining. He was able to hold onto Ringtail until Tweedle secured a rope and dropped it down to him. Milo was now on the far side of the incredibly clever illusion, and the twins together on the other.

“Wait here. I’ll go a little further and then make my way back.” He skulked forward slowly, staring into the darkness and using his stone sense to the fullest.

The tunnel ended abruptly in a rock wall. Stone sense showed him that there was a small door on the side. Two more needle traps protected it. Once opened, he saw a narrow passage filled with steep, crumbling stairs leading downwards in a tight spiral.

On the small landing were the long-dead remains of a small humanoid, smaller than a dwarf or ratkin. It was only two feet tall, and the corpse was light and mummified. The clothing was just rags held on with ropes. The cause of death was most likely the arrow in its side. The other side of the door showed where the poor thing’s hand scratched at the stone with a tiny iron sword, trying to get through. Milo decided this was a scouting mission for another day.

It felt wrong to leave the tiny body. He picked it up to move it, and a tiny silver globe the size of a marble rolled out of its pouch. Milo pocketed it to examine later for clues as to what type of creature this was. He wrapped the body in another gathering bag, shut and locked the door, and retreated to the pit. Knowing the pit was there, and where it ended, made the leap across look easy. The twins exhaled as he landed safely. He handed Ringtail the bundle.

“Here, you can carry the other body.”

“More dead people?”

“How many dead people are down here?”

“As many as it takes, brother.”

“Takes for what?”

“For people to quit annoying Tallsqueak. Be careful—you might be the third.”

“That would be bad. You can’t carry three of us!”

“I would leave you.”

“Oh, I know! You could toss me down the convenient hole!”

“You always did want to travel.”

“I am a good scout.”

They retreated to the other branch of the tunnel. “Time for good scouts to be quiet.” To his relief, the twins became silent. At one point, Ringtail touched Milo on the shoulder and pointed. The dust had settled oddly on the floor ahead, leaving a slight line. Milo uncovered a very clever trap with a nearly hidden tripwire. They all carefully stepped over it, not knowing what it did.

This part of the tunnel system seemed better constructed. Stone slabs and bricks made up the walls and floor, and very little was unworked stone. The tunnel ended in a T juncture that ran two ways. The twins began sniffing the air. Milo smelled food.

“I can smell onion soup.”

“And I note a touch of garlic.”

“And is that fresh bread with chives?”

“Strange…”

“Very strange…”

Milo looked at the two of them and tapped his foot.

Ringtail looked at him and shrugged. “Auntie Meg is baking bread today, and she puts chives on each loaf.”

Tweedle nodded and added, “And dinner is onion and garlic soup.”

Milo went right, toward the food. He saw light coming from holes on the left side of the wall. Peering through, he saw a large room with three women bustling around preparing food and soup cooking on an open fire. The spy hole was set high in the wall, nearly ten feet above the floor. The twins were visibly nervous. They retreated to a safe place to talk.

“That was the kitchen, and if the tunnel continues, I suspect we can look into the common areas and classrooms.” Ringtail was drawing a map in the dirt. “And the other way is sleeping quarters and Old Healer’s rooms.”

Milo headed in that direction. They passed spyholes that looked down on many bedrooms. Finally, the last spyhole gave a view of Old Healer, sitting at his desk. He was looking through the pages of a very old journal and mumbling to himself. Suddenly he stiffened and looked around. Going to the door, he listened, heard nothing, opened it, and checked the hallway. Seeing nothing, he came back to his room and closed and locked the door. Visibly frustrated, he returned to his seat. He made an effort to relax, drinking his tea and sitting back in his chair. He mumbled to himself. “Paranoid old man, seeing shadows where nothing skulks.”

That was the moment Ringtail leaned too heavily on the wall, and the clasp holding the secret door shut opened up. A section of the wall slid sideways silently, revealing an opening high in the wall. The twins tumbled forward; Milo tried to grab them but overbalanced himself. Old Healer leaped twenty feet forward, dodging left in a roll and coming up with daggers in his hands and tail. He saw his three scouts land in a heap on his desk.

“Surprise!”

“Always expect the unexpected!”

“We get a lot of points for this, right?”

“All the points! So sneaky.”

Milo stood up. He’d caught the mug of tea as it was heading for the floor and handed it to the old ratkin, who sighed, put away his daggers, and sat on the floor. “Well, that explains how my brother scored so many points on me! I always wondered how he moved around so easily. Tell me about your adventures, boys, but can one of you please lean against the door and listen for sneaks? I’m feeling a bit skittish today for some reason.”

Chapter 40

Poker and Pings

Ping!

“YO! Sledgemonkey! You going to answer that damn pingitty-ping or just ignore it for the third time?” Two-Screws was having a bad time coming up with a winning hand, and that damned sound wasn’t helping.

“Huh? Oh, damn, is that me?”

“You see anyone else that would admit to being called Sledgemonkey at the table?” The other engineers laughed at that and threw more chips into the pot. The game had been going on for three days now, with people leaving when their shifts started and others taking their place. Sledgemonkey, because of his exalted status, had been playing cards and drinking beer for most of those three days, conducting any business from the table if he absolutely had to. Most of the engineers that came to him with a question just got waved off, which they gleefully interpreted as “I trust whatever stupid idea you have, go right ahead and do it.”

Sledgemonkey actually blushed a little and tried to turn it into an angry scowl. Truth be told, in the long decades trapped in his exo-suit, he’d forgotten his own name and just gone by “The Engineer.” Most of the engineers had lost a lot of themselves, and it wasn’t just the lower brethren that had gone crazy. Now that they had a second chance at life, they were all feeling better and remembering things.

He’d totally forgotten getting the nickname Sledgemonkey when he was a young beardling and liked nothing better than swinging a hammer at rocks, rivets, or orcs. He’d decided that it was time to go back to his old name. That meant that sometimes it didn’t register when people were yelling at him.

He had a truly terrible hand and decided to take no cards and just toss money in the pot for some fool to win. “I raise another gold.”

PING!

“Shit… I’ll get it. Blasted newfangled thing. Never should have set the alerts of the Project Scheduling to ‘Audible.’” He brought up the interface to the Deep Rock Engineers’ Guild and looked through the list of projects. It was a long, long list. Between building an entirely new base in the caverns beneath the old one, they had new mining projects, a collaboration with a scavenger clan, and a wedding to plan. A WEDDING! They’d had to go through a lot of old manuals to find the specs on how to hold one, especially one like this! But that wasn’t what was pinging him, so he moved on, gladly not thinking about it.

Next was a list of components to build. It all had to be able to be transported up the new tunnel to Shadowport. A six-pack of boilers, miles of tubing and ductwork, pistons, engines, armored plating, and observation glass. The list went on and on, and not a lot was getting made because they had to rebuild shattered infrastructure and go mining for new raw materials.

For all their partying after the battle, the Snake had really hurt them when they needed it the least. A vast number of crucial systems had been running poorly for decades, and many of the levels of the outpost were dark and without power. Automated repair functions failed to come to life when needed, and defenses that didn’t work gave the Snake a chance to destroy whole areas where it would have been shot to hell if the outpost were fully repaired. And, of course, decades of crazy engineers doing whatever they felt like had screwed things up more.

It was decided to move downstairs and rebuild in the massive cavern that they had drilled into. The explosion had cleared out any wildlife, melted down the snake, and deep-fried the Ever-Pudding. What was left was a huge cavern, with a roof made of the ribs of a gigantic beast dead for tens of millennia. It was a tough beast—the bones and scales that made up its remains were harder than tempered dark steel. Senior Engineer Milo had told them some of its history. The huge space would make rebuilding easier, let them expand, and give them the room needed to take on the project they had somehow been talked into.

But they needed raw materials first. Tens of tons of normal steel and dark steel both, and an amount of deep copper that made him weep. Even with the amount they mined from the remains of the snake and the newly discovered veins, it would take a couple of years to mine enough for their needs.

Building the queen had been the stuff of legends and one of the few times scavenger clans and engineers had accomplished something together. (The engineers of Boldavia had been pissed as hell when the Scavengers set sail without paying for the job, but since Boldavia hadn’t been around for three thousand years, he assumed they had gotten over it. Or maybe there were some very bitter dwarven ghosts. Who knows?)

Rebuilding her after she’d traveled down the gullet and lain at the bottom of the sea for untold years would be just as epic. The Brotherhood had been itching for a project like that. The older and wiser heads knew better and asked for payment upfront. They had been dismayed when the leader of the scavengers, Whale, paid their price in full and then taunted them with more chests of loot. The legends about the treasure of the queen hadn’t been wrong.

The surprise wedding between the two clans had only cemented the deal. Two weddings, actually. The scavengers had held their version immediately, drinking Shadowport dry and jumpstarting the economy. The engineering version would take more time. They had to figure out how to do it first. The time in between would just be a long honeymoon for the two lovebirds and a pain in the ass for all involved.

He scrolled down to the raw materials section and saw that someone had found a vein of deep copper and reported it.

Glory be! One of the knuckleheads was working…

“Hey, you still in the game, Sledge? It’s another two gold to you.” Well, he was feeling lucky. A job had been done that needed doing. He’d celebrate and press his luck. “Yeah, match for two, raise 10.” One by one, the other dwarves decided to fold. If Sledge was so confident of a hand that he wasn’t even watching the betting, that was bad news.

Job #4683-J: Location of Deep Copper Veins. Currently needing 97 tons of additional ore.

Update: Senior Engineer Milo has located in excess of 97 tons of “snake-free” Deep Copper Ore. Current owners of the mine lack processing for the ore and are willing to trade for other ores. Recommend a recon team be sent and plans made to relocate a subragator to the work site.

Mine owners wish to purchase/trade for 4 dozen Dark Steel picks.

Mine owners wish to purchase/trade for 1 ton of Copper wire.

Mine owners wish to purchase/trade for 144 magic-tech storage crystals aspected for storm mana.

Mine Location: Limburger Hollow.

Additional notes:

Bring beer. Alcohol is not consumed in any quantity by the local population.

New mycological species have been found—tell Harry I’ll send a few back for him.

“Well dip me in green paint and call me an orc! What the hell has that lad been up to?” Milo had left after the fight with the hydra and all the mess with the World Boss, an airship, and a crazy slaver-mage. Sledgemonkey had recognized the signs. He’d seen it in other miners and explorers who enjoyed time away on their own, drifting through the dark caverns without anyone around. Milo had needed some time away from people. Being an engineer meant being flexible. They knew he’d be back after a bit, ready to hammer steel and bend reality to his will.

“We’ll be splitting up your gold if you don’t come and rake in your pot! What the hell’s up?”

Sledgemonkey sat back down and casually reached for the pot, making sure not to show the others his busted flush. “Not much, just got a message from our lost little beardling. Senior Engineer Milo hasn’t been loafing around like you slackers. He went and found us a hundred tons of deep copper ore. Does anyone feel like going for a little visit?”

Chapter 41

And Poison Makes Four

The next few days flew by for Milo.

Basic claw drills and some sparring with Gilad’s students in the morning. Then breakfast with Larry, followed by stories of Larry in Flowerland. Larry was becoming much better at telling stories, and more people were coming to listen to them. Then the engineering class he taught at the Tower. Back to the mess hall for lunch with Larry and dancing afterward. Followed by a short class on mining and identifying ores, which always turned into a contest to see who could squish the most spiderlings. Dinner was with Arlothe and Cremona, while the twins spent the evening meal talking with Larry. And then what he enjoyed the most—the excitement and terror of advanced fighting class with Gilad and Larry, pushing himself as hard as he could. That was followed by a bath and several hours studying arcane texts in the library. It was hard to imagine squeezing in more than that, and yet while his body slept in the comfy chair in the library, he was active again in the real world.

He was busy but happy. He monitored Section E for troubles and kept track of the days until the big swap meet event he was going to with Butch and the gang. He even had time to visit Butch and play video games. Each time he went, he felt a little less nervous about being around them. That didn’t extend to the rest of humanity, but it was a start, and he was finding that he was slightly more tolerant of the players in his morning class.

He had expected that he’d find doing the same thing tedious, but he could measure the improvement of each of the students and found that pleasing. Progress was being made. In the mornings he led the beginning class in stretching, exercise, and basic claw and tail drills. This was followed by a bell of sparring without his spell enhancements. Gilad routinely used him as an opponent to illustrate attacks, blocks, and dodges. Then the two of them would spar with each of the students, followed by letting them fight with each other.

All of the students were progressing well. Even the troublesome players seemed to have had a breakthrough in attitude, asking for tougher fights and more instruction. Blackwhisker’s group was the most aggressive and was learning at a fast pace, spurred on by watching what Milo and Gilad could do. They had given up thinking they were a match for Milo and now were working hard to learn all of Gilad’s fighting techniques.

Several of the students asked Tallsqueak the secret of his enhancements. He just said in a very serious voice that such magics were not for beginners and recommended enrolling in classes at the Tower of Strife if they wished to pursue magic or become a Spell Claw. There was much discussion about the Spell Claw class and whether it was better than the Claw Wizard class. Several of them, both whelps from the hollow and players, had taken his advice and started taking classes in the Tower. They were dueling with the other first-year students nearly every day. Others were delighted to find out that the hollow was a clan that trained the ratkin equivalents of rogues and assassins. A few had begun hanging out with either Petey or Charlotte.

The same was happening in reverse. After his day of dueling, Milo had noticed that the beginning fighting class was getting larger. Students from the Tower of Strife were showing up to learn the basics of fighting, wanting to add some physical ability to their magical skills. They were a great source of amusement to the rest of the class. They barely knew how to use their tails and were slow to dodge and claw at their opponents. The exception was the student who showed up the fourth day after the duels, wearing old burlap practice clothing, with her hair tied into a long braid. Milo noticed her, but they only nodded at each other, as class was beginning.

Blackwhisker told a joke asking, “How many mages does it take to kill a spiderling? 4! One to get bit so they know it’s a spiderling, two to argue about what type of spiderling it is, and one to run get a guard to stomp on it.” The students from the Tower were used to being the butt of such jokes. The newcomer wasn’t. When it came time to spar, the new student challenged Blackwhisker. He accepted with a grin. His opponent was older than him, smaller, and a girl. He had no doubts about the outcome of this fight.

The two of them circled each other, and on his first claw attack, Blackwhisker took a small scratch as his opponent raked one claw across his arm. His eyes went wide, then his face froze in a mask of horror, and the rest of his body froze in place before he toppled over. Gilad had been watching and slapped a palm on his forehead and shook his head from side to side. Then, hands behind his back, he addressed the class, “It seems we need to state a few rules to keep things civil as you progress in power. This is a fighting class. Spells and enhancements are not used here. I do not break your bones with Quivering Claw attacks, Tallsqueak is not using his bone armor and magical claws, and from now on, Professor Cremona should refrain from showing what attacks using Poison Claw techniques can do.”

“And, to not tempt anyone to break these rules, I am outlawing the telling of jokes that might be directed at fellow members of this class. Be respectful of others or find out just how hard playtime can be.”

“Also, I see the need to add a special class next season where we will incorporate advanced techniques such as spells, enhancements, claw techniques, and dance moves. I’m sure the healers will love the extra experience they will get each class, putting you back together. And since she is working on her fighting style after many years, I invite Professor Cremona to attend our special advanced class held here in the arena each night.”

Cremona accepted both the admonishment for disrupting the class and the invitation by bowing to Gilad deeply. As the students who didn’t know her realized who was standing next to them, they cleared a large space around her. The students from the Tower rolled their eyes and smirked. Jokes about mages became extinct.

Milo was very curious about what techniques Cremona used. She showed up that night to the advanced class with her husband. Arlothe had no intention of fighting. He had brought a comfy pillow to sit on and a huge bag of snacks to eat while he observed the fun. From the shadows, the eyes of curious students peered out. They hadn’t explicitly been told that this was a private practice, but none of them wanted to get too close.

Some of them fainted when they saw Larry lumber into the arena and begin his warm-up exercises. Larry was every nightmare they had been told about while growing up.

“Don’t sneak a piece of cheese; you don’t want to become a fiend!

Don’t stay out past the last bell; you don’t want the fiends to get you.

Wash behind your ears, or they’ll grow so big people will think you’re a fiend!”

Larry sitting passively and eating his food was one thing. Larry flexing his muscles and doing basic claw drills with 6-inch-long claws was another thing altogether. But those who had seen Larry dancing or who had listened to his stories weren’t fearful at all and quietly cheered for him. Obviously, Larry was coming to Hero practice.

They saw that neither Gilad nor Tallsqueak was afraid to fight with Larry. Neither was Cremona when she arrived, although the shock on her face was one that Arlothe would treasure forever. Like Gilad, she had actually seen Cheese Fiends fighting in the Spider Wars and knew what they could do. After her initial shock, she walked into the ring and was greeted by everyone.

Gilad spoke to them all. “This little group has grown, so let us talk a bit about the rules. Tallsqueak and I are both fighting with all of our abilities. I advise you to do the same, Cremona. Larry will push all three of us, and I think he has some surprises for you. Don’t be afraid to use your Poison Claw techniques on us. I think you will find that Tallsqueak and I are quite resistant to them, and we thank you for helping us with improving Strong Poison Resistance. Larry, I assume you have some resistance to poisons?”

Larry nodded. He had gotten much better at figuring out the Blue Boxes and knowing what the words meant. “Larry has Fiendish Resistance at Level 1. It says that it is based on Larry’s CON. Larry has a CON of 33.”

Gilad paused but recovered his train of thought. “Thank you, Larry. I think your special resistance will work against many things, and hopefully, you will gain some experience fighting against Professor Cremona. Now, some rules!

“If anyone wishes to stop fighting, call ‘HOLD!’ and we stop immediately, and administer healing potions.

“If Larry seems upset, or angry, we should all take a break and have a cookie.

“If your opponent is stunned or off balance, please refrain from using finishing blows. They tend to be messy.”

Fighting began with Larry and Tallsqueak. Tallsqueak armored himself in bone, his claws gleamed, and his long tail moved in a complex pattern, ready to strike. Larry was hopping from foot to foot, smiling.

“Begin!”

Larry hopped straight at Tallsqueak, landing where his opponent had been standing. The smaller ratkin rolled to the side and came up ready to block Larry’s claws. Instead, Larry had immediately begun a spinning kick. He didn’t know where his opponent was dodging, but anywhere around him was a target. Larry’s large foot, adorned with a pink fuzzy baby weasel slipper, caught Milo in the stomach, and he went flying out of the ring to land flat on his back in front of several students from Clan Puffyfur, who helped him stand up. There was mild cheering for Larry.

Gilad calmly announced, “The next round will be Professor Cremona and Larry. I urge everyone to remember how quick Larry has become and to use distance as a way to avoid his attacks. I thank Tallsqueak for giving us such a fine example of what happens when you don’t.”

Cremona entered the ring with some hesitation but then threw away any concern. She was used to dueling with Arlothe and being electrocuted on a daily basis. Some bruises and cuts were a price she would have to pay to get back into shape for claw fighting. The chance to improve her dueling ability was too good of a chance to pass up. The chance to fight against a Cheese Fiend was a gift she should be thankful for.

“Begin.”

This time, Larry spun in place, then hopped to the left, followed by three quick steps toward Cremona. She was astonished. He wasn’t moving like a fiend! He was standing on two legs, and it looked like he was dancing! Cremona quickly moved away and began dodging as fast as she could, not knowing what she was facing. Eventually, she saw an opening and exhaled a stinking cloud of toxic gas at Larry’s head.

“Larry can’t see! Go away, stinky cloud!” He waved his claws through the air, trying to disperse it.

Cremona raced forward and slashed at Larry’s arm, leaving long cuts that bubbled a green ichor. Simultaneously she took a very hard blow to her head from Larry’s tail and was knocked unconscious. She came back to her senses a moment later. Arlothe had her head tilted back and was pouring a health potion down her throat. She held her head as it throbbed. “Oh, that hurts.”

Tallsqueak and Larry were seated in the ring having cookies. Gilad was observing them. Larry’s wound had quit expelling the poison from the slash and had scabbed over already, half-healed.

“That was an interesting bout. Larry, what did you learn?”

Larry finished his cookie before talking. It wasn’t polite to talk with food in your mouth. “Larry learned that green girl has stinky clouds that make you not see. Larry needs to remember to move Larry’s head out of a cloud and not wave and yell, ‘Shoo cloud, go away.’”

He took another cookie and then looked at Cremona. “Larry learned green girl makes lots of noise when she moves. Larry’s ears told his tail to slap her. Now we have cookies. Larry likes cookies.”

“Oh, and Blue Boxes say that Larry is now at Level 2 in Fiendish Resistance.”

Arlothe laughed, and Cremona was silent, wishing her stealth score was better. Mages didn’t need to be sneaky, did they? Against a fiend, it seemed they did. That meant shouting out spells was right out, and she’d need to find a way to increase her skulking skills. Did Old Healer still have that huge maze in his basement? Maybe she and Arlothe should start having duels in it? The first hit wins, and playing in the dark? Oh, that would be fun!

Gilad took a round with Larry, and Tallsqueak yelled, “Begin!” This round went much longer than the earlier two. Gilad danced in and out of Larry’s reach, throwing punches and slashing at his opponent. Larry advanced with hops, spins, and quick steps, forcing his smaller opponent to constantly dodge around him. Larry landed several hits with his tail and claws, but Gilad always seemed to be blocking his blows and deflected most of the damage. After nearly ten minutes, Larry spun and missed; Gilad appeared directly in front of him and thrust out with a hard punch to Larry’s jaw, knocking him down.

Larry slowly got up, holding his head. He smiled and crawled over to the plate of cookies. “Larry needs a cookie break.” Gilad looked at his hand, noting he had broken two bones in it. “Tallsqueak? Please pass me a potion, and I would appreciate you setting my bones and healing the breaks. Then I think it’s time for you and Cremona to take a turn while I have a cookie break.”

The bouts went on until halfway through the eleventh bell. They ended early because they were out of healing potions and cookies. All four opponents were battered and bruised. Larry the least hurt, his Fiendish Regeneration fixing all but the most lethal of attacks in only a few minutes. Cremona was worst off, bruised from head to toe, limping and leaning on her husband. But she was smiling and planning revenge in the future.

They all sat in the mess hall as Bleusnout happily cooked them plate after plate of food while he listened to them talk about the techniques each used and how to counter them. Larry ate the equivalent of three of his normal dinners, stretched, and declared he was sleepy. Gilad also proclaimed himself ready for bed. Tallsqueak walked with the professors to the Tower of Strife before going off to bathe and then retiring to the library for his late-night studies.

Chapter 42

Runes and Repairs

In a spare corner of Cichol’s Arcane Library, Milo had begun working on a long overdue task. He needed the privacy and the advice of the old mage to work on the special project. The table he was working on had a polished stone top and legs carved from the thigh bones of several large and extinct creatures. To one side was the knowledge he had accumulated in the Tower of Strife. Cichol was happily copying it all to have for his own library.

Besides the Journal of Ragasano Curd-Hoarder, Milo had found three books with information on runic formations, along with seven scrolls and a dozen torn and burnt pages from a book lost to the ages. Despite his near-perfect memory, he had read through each bit of literature several times. He also asked both Arlothe and Cremona for their thoughts on the validity of the manuscripts and their interpretation of the spells and runes presented.

His physical components were sitting on the table as well. In front of him was the arm bone of an ancient creature he had appropriated from Philistron, the old weapon he had bought in the marketplace of Limburger Hollow, and the enchanted weapon Shadowblight. He’d managed to bind the weapon to himself again by using blood, but something was different. He hadn’t felt it at first, but every time he’d used it since, the feeling had grown. His weapon was hungry. Cichol had only nodded when he told the old bone mage about the feeling and pulled down a volume from the library. “Read this. Most of it is crap, but the section that talks about the weapon spirits is insightful. An old, magical weapon like that wakes up over time as it drinks the blood of your foes. Just like a person, it wants to grow, and some of them get very upset if you don’t listen to them.”

“So what can I do?”

“That’s going to be your decision. Some people make sure the weapon gets fed on a regular basis, either with blood or the points that you earn. Get’s expensive in the long run, either way. The weapon will want to drink deeper and deeper. Or you can find ways to upgrade them. Magical pommel gems for a sword or jewel-encrusted sheath. The dwarves carve runes onto their axes, and the elves turn the shafts of spears into carved works of art. Of course, that weapon of yours is more primitive and made of bone. Bone has a strong connection to the living, as you’ve seen.” He left Milo to his work.

Milo was contemplating the classic puzzle that pondered what happens when a damaged piece of a ship is repaired. Is it the same ship? What if each piece is replaced over the years, slowly but surely taking away the old parts and replacing them with new ones? At what point did the ship become something different?

However, the ship in question lacked a magical aura that was made up of the sum of its parts. Shadowblight was made of different parts. The largest bone spikes held most of the mana, and the ancient wooden handle had very little. Two of the spikes were chipped and worn. They didn’t have any mana in them. What was left was old and brittle. Milo had been studying the weapon for weeks, and now with Chichol’s help, he examined it one more time, making notes as he looked over the weapon bit by bit, finding the runes used in older books, and studying the bones.

The wooden handle was the simplest part. It acted like a mage’s staff, channeling the power of the runes between the different bone spikes and drawing power from the mage. Milo had read several books on the construction of wands and staves among the resources in the Tower and examined Arlothe and Cremona’s personal staves while asking numerous questions. He had no doubt that he could create a staff that would channel his own magic if he needed such a tool.

The spiked bones of the weapon were from different creatures. The tooth of a Gigantic Spasmotic Leech was the largest. Cichol had identified the effect from an old account of the fall of the Kingdom of Kazmar. The leeches had been bred by Spasma the Great, a breeder of fantastic beasts. The King of Kazmar desired an army of beasts that would attack the undersea cities of the Azcantl Merfolk. Complications had arisen when it turned out the Gigantic Leeches didn’t like the taste of merfolk but found humans very tasty. A horde of hungry leeches had rampaged around the island kingdom until Spasma managed to turn them into kittens. After all the kittens on the island had been slain to make sure the leeches were dead, Spasma was hung by an angry crowd and his notes burned. Whether because he was the creator of such misfortune or because the crowd was upset over the kittens was unclear. The few remaining fangs of the leeches were prized because of their debilitating effect on those wounded.

The second bone spike had been carved from the elbow spike of a Vampiric Hell Beast. These large, flightless, bat-like creatures had infested the Mountains of Morun for ages. They were heavy-bodied swoopers who dove off cliffs, driving their prey to the ground where they feasted on their bodies after draining their blood. The poor victim grew weaker as the Hell Beast grew stronger. They finished their meal, climbed back up the cliffs, and went looking for bigger prey. These creatures were still in existence, and for that reason, no sane person came within a day’s journey of those haunted cliffs.

Other bits of bone had been enchanted with common runes for Swift Striking or Durability to keep the wood from splintering.

Starting with the ancient arm bone, he separated the arm from the hand bones with their two small fingers and huge, clawed thumb. He was going to replace the old wood with this ancient bone. Even as it was, the material was twice as strong as the enchanted wood had been. Milo improved on that by carving the ancient bone rune for Hard-Runed Bones. Instead of Swift Striking, which was a powerful, if a bit mundane, rune to make a sword or weapon faster, Milo used the bone rune for Velocity. He shaped and sanded the three feet of arm bone until it was what he needed for the weapon’s handle. Even as it was, it would have made a good weapon, but Milo knew this could be more than just a club.

Cichol made suggestions for carvings on the handle. Some were simply decorations that would improve his grip. Others were copied off of the wooden handle, the old mage explaining how some of the minor runes linked the carvings and merged the parts of the weapon into one magical item with one aura.

The handle finished, they began work to improve the Leech Fang and Hell Beast Spike. Milo repaired minor fractures in them and polished the bones, removing discolorations from the long years it had lain in the dirt. Two of the bones from the weapon he had purchased from Scrap-Hunter were still useful. The rest of it was rotted junk. The two spikes had minor enchantments of Hardness that had kept them from breaking. There was good bone inside the two pieces.

Milo placed one on top of the Hell Beast Spike, and slowly manipulated the good bone to enter and reinforce the Hell Beast Spike. After an hour’s work, he was tired and sweating. The good bone had finally collapsed into dust, and now the Spike was heavy and hard. After a small rest, he labored to do the same with the Leech Fang. This one was tougher to do. The structure of the fang fought against him, and it took all of his willpower to win against the inanimate object. But in the end, he had two parts of Shadowblight improved.

The thumb of the unknown creature contained a powerful Rune of Sundering. With it, the beast could shatter rock as it dug through the earth. Milo had hoped it would do the same to enemy armor. Carefully he drilled and carved until he could fit the three spikes into the handle of the weapon. On all three spikes, he carved the Rune of Destruction. Small pins of bone held the pieces in place. Velocity and Hard-Runed Bones were carved into the handle. There was room for one more rune, and he added Sharp-Runed Talons.

Milo rested until he had refreshed his mana and then held the completed weapon in his hands. He manipulated the bone of each part to merge with the other pieces. They fought and struggled, and slowly, the weapon merged into one piece. From the old weapon’s handle, there was a soft vibration that became a heartbeat, beating in time with his own heart. Then it stopped, and so did his own heart.

The weapon spirit known as Shadowblight demands a binding contract with you. Once before, it served you, yet your bond was broken, and it was set aside. Never again!

To create this stronger binding, your mana will be lowered permanently by 100 points. You cannot regain this mana by simply abandoning the weapon. This weapon will be bound to you and cannot be lost, nor can it be used by someone else.

Shadowblight has grown and demands more foes to kill. It can grow stronger still!

Milo agreed. He’d bound himself to the weapon before. As soon as he thought this, the weapon turned in his hand, and one of the spikes gashed his chest, drawing blood. He felt a little weak, but it passed quickly. He examined the improved weapon.

Shadowblight (Legendary Ratkin Bonepick) Sundering, Nigh Invulnerable, Destructive, Quick

A traditional weapon of ratkin warriors and scouts, sometimes referred to by the uneducated as a “spikeystick.”

Base chance to hit: (40+5xDEX+5x[Ancient Rune Lore Rank])%

Damage: 150 + 5xSTR

Effect:

Sunder Armor: As part of your attack, Shadowblight unleashes the Rune of Sundering on your foe, destroying armor and shattering bones. Your foe loses 50 points of armor protection or natural mitigation. If used against inanimate objects—rock walls, doors, cheese wax—it does a large amount of damage. Cost: 50 stamina.

Milo’s blood seeped into the weapon, not even leaving a stain, and his heart began to beat again. Cichol observed this and stared hard at the weapon. “That is one vindictive spikeystick. Not many of them get used enough, or mean enough, to form their own spirit. It was bad when Malskitter was using it. This new one is even sharper and hungrier. You and it should have some fun together.”

Milo wondered about Cichol’s definition of fun. He was just happy to have repaired his Bonespike. He staggered upward from where he had been sitting. He was stiff and tired from hours of research and arcane tinkering. He needed to get back to the Tower of Strife and his comfy chair for a couple of hours of sleep before heading to fighting practice. It was going to be a long day.

Rune Crafting has reached Level 8

Ancient Rune Lore has reached Level 8

Runic Lore has reached Level 8

Bone Carving has reached Level 10

Bone Manipulation has reached Level 9

Chapter 43

The Iron Spider

Once she was P’tashPak’r, the Exalted General of the 10th Host, Beloved of the Queens, Champion of the Many-Legged Army.

Once she was P’tashPak’r the Cripple.

And only a few days before, she was P’tashPak’r the Abomination in Exile.

No more. She was going back, returning to her exalted rank of general. She would command an army and lead it to glorious victory with the bonus of killing her most hated foe. This was how she had dreamed things would happen one day, and now it was so. It had been so many years in coming that she had almost lost her dream…

It had all begun with Gilad and that final duel. She had been so proud when she was named to fight in the ceremonial duel that would end the war. Her opponent was weak, with barely half her number of limbs. She knew that no rat could prevail against her. He should not have been able to beat her. It was only through some travesty of fate and the power of the enemies’ insidious cheesy snacks that she had caused her loss. He had gone berserk when she wounded him, foaming at the mouth, and his limbs possessed a hideous strength. The ratkin champion had broken her limbs one by one even as her poison worked to kill him. He had gone entirely crazed at the end, his claws tearing at her body and ripping parts off of her limbs, one by one. The final insult was him standing on her back as his army cheered him. To her dismay, she had heard the hissing laughter of many spiders. Spiders liked winners and had nothing but contempt for those who failed.

That had been the end of her time as a warrior and the start of many years of pain and slavery. First had come the humiliating years after she had lost the duel with her enemy and the subsequent defeat of her army. No one came to carry her from the field of battle or to end her life. Barely alive, her spiderlings had carried her legless body away and cared for her wounds. She found herself bumping along in an empty, discarded wagon pulled by two lobotomized humans that her spiderlings had stolen from the slave pens. The stupid things barely lived long enough to get her back to the edge of the great nest.

No family or clan came to her aid. To the rest of the Spider Clans, she was an embarrassment. An example of what happened to someone who lost a duel. And worse than simply losing, losing to an enemy who could pull off your legs one by one. No thanks were given for her loyalty during the wars. No one came to pay homage to her. She was forgotten and tucked away in a dingy little web with only the last of her progeny to aid her. Only the thought of one day finding Gilad, Warlord of the United Tribes, had kept her from despair.

It had galled her that one day, as she lay helpless, a dwarf of the Dark Tribes had walked into her lair. She’d heard the noise as he had slaughtered the spiderlings that vainly tried to defend her. He’d made war on them in the traditional way of the dwarves, smushing foes beneath the tread of their heavy iron boots. When he saw her, he whistled long and loudly, proclaiming her to be, in his words, “one dented little bit of defective trash heap.”

She’d wanted to kill him for that, but he’d stayed out of the range of her fangs, sitting on a pile of spiderling corpses, drinking beer, and showing her pictures of “upgrades and repairs” his shop had done for other creatures.

Cousin Lemmy’s Repair Shop: Nature makes them, wars break them, and we put them all back together again with iron and steel, stronger than ever.

It was the clever slogan that convinced her to sign the contract. What was a couple of decades of labor fighting in the armies of the Deep Dwellers compared to regaining her legs? Nothing. She missed the small print about slave collars and repairs being taken out of her wages and increasing her time of servitude.

Hammer and forge had made new limbs for her. Fire and pain had taught her how to use them. Armored plating made her a walking fortress. On her back were mounted two Nakamura Mark 19 Scatterguns. Across battlefield after battlefield, she had marched, two dwarven gunners on her back mowing down the enemy and her new limbs spearing the wounded as they marched onward. It had been mostly a glorious time. She owed many years of service to the two dwarves that had bought her, but Harshank and Krankar had been bloodthirsty, greedy bastards, and she hadn’t been bored when they fought.

The boring and not-glorious part was when she was parked in a mechanics’ shop after each battle to have the damage repaired while her gunners went out drinking and lining up new jobs. Sometimes they had money for repairs and upgrades. Other battles didn’t go well, and she had to limp into the next battle with only a few legs working. Finding out that it was her cut of the money they earned that went to repairs had galled her. But the slave collar on her neck left her no options.

The end of her servitude had come not on a battlefield but in some nameless dwarven backwater but after a great victory. With barely any damage, she was left to guard the large chest of gold they had earned and the backpacks of looted treasure. Her two dwarven owners had gone off to “drink and poke the dragon.” Whatever that meant, they hadn’t come back from it.

There was a story around town about two drunken dwarves trying to steal a mechanical flyer to kidnap a Dark Elf princess. Whether that was true or not, her gunners were found dead in a pile of mechanical wreckage that had crashed into a church of Grugnark the Destroyer. The priests were thrilled with the damage and conducted the funeral.

With the deaths of her owners, the magical hold on her mind had dispersed, and the collar fell off. She took the treasure, hired a goblin gear smith, and started for home. The journey was long, but Grobit had stayed with her, content to repair and service her mechanical limbs, nap up top with the treasure and supplies, or fire one of the guns at some creature when they needed fresh meat.

She had left the nest a cripple but returned a decorated veteran of a hundred battles. She expected to be welcomed with honor, given a web near the queen and countless small mammals to eat. Instead, they had shunned her, called her “abomination,” and told her she smelled of oil and sulfur. With a choice of disdain or exile, she chose exile. Her riches couldn’t buy her respect, but they did buy an endless supply of small mammals and cheap dwarven beer. Harshank claimed a drunk spider was tougher to target and had gotten her drunk on the stuff before many battles. She craved it now the way a rat craved cheese.

Grobit maintained her mechanics, although parts were hard to get. One of the guns was turned into spare parts, which was no loss. Grobit could barely handle firing one of the oversized, pintle-mounted blasters, let alone two at once.

And now? Now she was back! They needed her desperately. The lesser generals had failed the queen, and it was her genius in battle that they trusted. Her army was assembling, and she would march upon Limburger Hollow, slay Gilad, and become again one of the queen’s trusted generals! She saw it all in her mind, over and over, as she marched through the caverns, trying not to trip on the uneven flooring.

* * *

“Has the abomination shown up yet?”

“No, Your Majesty. It’s still slowly walking along like some drunken beetle. It has to use the caverns, not the webway. It is far too heavy and clumsy.”

“Fine. When she finally gets here, send her over to Big Cavern with Spotted Shrooms. It’s flat, and she’ll trip less. Start lining up her troops in there and let her have the fun of reviewing them while they feel the shame of serving such an abomination of nature. Add 1 contingent of the Queen’s Own, two banner bearers, and six units of Wolfen shock troops. That should look good.”

“Wha… You’re giving that mad-thing all of that?!?!” The queen contemplated eating her latest advisor for questioning her but decided that the statement was one of those times that any good advisor really should speak up. The thought of wasting good troops in this little war was abhorrent to her.

“Of course not! They’ll line up with the dregs we are sending with her to Limburger Hollow, march out behind It, and then peel off at the crossroads and rejoin the regular army. Its force is a blunt instrument that will deliver a shock to our enemies, maybe even break into the hollow and start killing civilians. My hope is that she draws off their military and keeps it tied up. My army will be the one achieving victory!”

“Whew. Sorry, I doubted you, ma’am. That… thing makes me uneasy.”

“Understandable, and my condolences. I’m sending you to It as Its second in command to keep things organized. Try to fade into the back of her forces as she charges and sneak back to us. I value your services greatly.”

Chapter 44

Too Much Bleu

Larry awoke early. Larry always got up early. His tummy was always too growly in the morning to sleep. Like always when he awoke, he pondered the important question: What’s for breakfast?

He looked over at his jelly bean bush that Gingersnapple and Redfawn had given him for saving their jelly bean farm from the Frozen Fog Boys. Larry had been very cold while guarding the farm all night and bopping the little muskrats on the head when they got too close, but being a Hero wasn’t always easy! He had danced and danced to keep warm, only pausing when he had bopping to do. After he had bopped every single albino muskrat into the ground, with only their eyes and whiskers showing, Redfawn had painted their whiskers bright pink so that they couldn’t do sneaky stuff anymore. The dejected and hungry Fog Boys had been sent down the road to the next level of under hill.

The happy fairies had come to Larry’s house and planted several jelly bean bushes just for Larry. But the berries were still too green to eat. Gingersnapple had warned him that eating too many green jelly beans could turn you into a pickle. Larry didn’t like pickles, so he was being as patient as he could be. Except when he was hungry. When he was hungry, then maybe being a pickle didn’t seem too bad. Larry decided to leave Larry’s house when he got those ideas.

He tried to find out what was for breakfast by sniffing for the smells. Little fishies were easiest. They had a big smell. Cold muffins and fruit were the hardest. Very small smell. Larry got to the porch, and many ratkin were waiting to eat. That was okay. Larry ate last. Unless Tallsqueak, Ringtail, or Tweedle was here. Then they brought Larry breakfast early. But Larry’s nose didn’t smell Tallsqueak or Tweedle or Ringtail. And Larry’s nose didn’t smell breakfast. Larry’s tummy rumbled and roared, and some of the people on porch looked worried.

Then Tallsqueak came running up. He’d been fighting. He was still all sorts of excited and moving quickly. He would settle down when he got breakfast. Tallsqueak was looking at all the people and had a look on his face that wasn’t happy. It got more unhappy when Larry’s tummy got more growly. He told Larry that he’d go find breakfast. That was good. Tallsqueak was smart and always knew what to do!

* * *

Milo had no idea what to do. It was obvious something was wrong, and no food was being served. A few hungry ratkin weren’t a problem—a hungry Larry was. Mostly because he would scare all the hungry ratkin, and if someone started running… well, that could be bad. No one knew, and no one wanted to find out just where Larry stopped and the Cheese Fiend took over. Both Gilad and Bleusnout had lectured him on how to make sure Larry didn’t get upset and how to keep the hollow calm.

It was indicative of how well-behaved most of the ratkin in the hollow were. If the mess hall had lights on and the doors were open, they went inside. If it was closed, they didn’t. That didn’t mean they didn’t wonder about why the mess hall was closed. It was the one building that was almost always open.

Milo wasn’t as patient as everyone else standing on the porch, and he wondered if he was less well-behaved or just more worried about Larry. Probably the latter. He was ranking the threats and trying to solve the top one. Hungry Larry trumped obeying the rules. The doors had a simple lock, one he could open by running a claw down the small crack between the doors and flipping the lock. He entered and shut the door behind him. Rifkin was throwing wood into the stoves and lighting them, just starting the day, at least an hour past where Bleusnout was usually starting his day. Milo padded over to him, not trying to be stealthy but not really making noise. Rifkin kept nervously looking to the entrance to the cellar.

“Hi, I was…” Milo barely started before a startled Rifkin jumped and yelled.

“What?! Why are you here? Don’t scare me like that!”

“I wasn’t trying to scare you. Had I been, I would have yelled, ‘Surprise!’ I only came in to see what was going on.”

Rifkin looked very annoyed. “Nothing is going on, just running a little late. I bet Smiley is sleeping in, and who knows what the chef is up to.” He lowered his voice a bit and whispered, “He’s been acting odd lately if you know what I mean. Late nights in the cellar and sleeping in more and more. I’m really worried about him.”

Milo had no idea what he meant. “So, breakfast is late? I really need some food for Larry so he doesn’t get growly in his stomach.”

Rifkin thought about that. “Oh, Larry? Yes, I’ll find something for him. He took a basket, put in an apple, then two slices of cheddar, and a couple of day-old muffins on top. “Here, go give that to Larry. Apples and muffins are his favorites.”

Milo knew that was wrong. “No, little fishies, puffcakes, and jelly beans are his favorites. And you shouldn’t give Larry cheese. He doesn’t eat it anymore.”

Rifkin rolled his eyes. “Larry is a Cheese Fiend. Of course he likes cheese. You’re the one who wanted him to eat! Now you won’t feed him? What are you up to? Are you trying to upset Larry? I’m of half a mind to tell Bleusnout what you are doing.”

“And the other half?”

Rifkin looked at him oddly. “What other half?”

Milo pointed at him. “You said you had half a mind to go tell Bleusnout. What about the other half of your mind? I was just curious.”

Rifkin turned red in the face. “That’s it. I’m going to go find the chef. You’d better leave.”

Milo came around the counter. “Good idea. Go find the chef; I’ll try to make Larry some puffcakes. Where is the recipe at?”

Rifkin got out of his way as Milo took out milk, flour, and Golden Puffballs from under the counter. “I don’t know how! Only the chef does!” Rifkin yelled.

A very loud voice said, “Larry knows how to make puffcakes!!”

Rifkin froze hearing the yell.

It was Milo’s turn to shout. “That’s great, Larry. Come help me cook… Rifkin is going to go find the chef.”

Larry opened the doors and walked in. Milo made a note to fix the lock later. Larry pointed to the cellar. “Larry can hear Bleusnout downstairs. He is asleep and snoring funny.”

Rifkin looked at Larry, and the Cheese Fiend stared back at Rifkin. “He is in the cellar? I will go look for him. You need to stay out of the cellar, Larry. You can’t help. You stay here, Larry.”

Larry sighed and nodded his head slightly. “Yes. Larry knows the rules.”

Rifkin left, and Larry brightened up immediately. “Here is how to make puffcakes.” He began hopping back and forth to a simple rhythm.

Puffy, Puffy, make them dry.

If they’re wet, you’re sure to cry.

Mash them up with milk and flour.

Ready to eat in a quarter-hour.

One cup of milk, from goat or cow.

Four cups shroom dust, grinded right now.

A spoon of honey to make them sweet.

A spoon of oil to keep them neat.

Heat the griddle to medium hot,

Too high they burn, too low they not.

Cook until the bubbles start to rise.

Flip them over and have a tasty surprise.

Milo stared at Larry. “Where did you learn that?”

Larry did a few hops. “Same place Bleusnout learned it. We read Hamster Huey and the Hungry Giant. It has the secret recipe in it.” Milo made a note to himself to read more books with Larry.

Milo took a big bowl and began mixing up the dried Golden Puffballs. They turned to dust very easily. He followed Larry’s recipe but was unsure of what spoon to use until Larry pointed it out to him. With everything mixed up, he put a little oil on the grill and started pouring puffcakes. He saw that he wasn’t very exact in his pouring. Some puffcakes were big, some small, and some weren’t even round. This was much tougher than he thought it would be.

The first batch came off the griddle. He found butter and syrup and handed the plate to Larry, who didn’t care if the pancakes matched in size. Milo looked at all the people and realized Rifkin still wasn’t back. He needed to make a lot more puffcakes. He saw Patsy and some of the Puffyfur Clan patiently waiting. He called them all, and they came running. “Clan Puffyfur, I have a need for skilled alchemists for a special alchemy class. The first job is to get four large bowls, fill them with dried Golden Puffballs mushrooms, and reduce them to a fine powder by any method.”

Clan Puffyfur got to work. Milo had Larry tell them the rest of the alchemical formula. Meanwhile, he found the large frosting bags he had seen Smiley and Rifkin using. They could hold a lot of batter and dispense it with precision. He took a batter-filled bowl from Patsy and showed her how to fill up the frosting bags, with directions to always have a filled dispenser ready for him. Then he gave a small squeeze and made a perfect four-inch-wide puff cake. He went back and forth across the griddle in rows, each puff cake almost touching the next one. He used his tail to flip the puffcakes and put them in stacks of six to serve while he used both hands to put more batter on the grill. A line formed, and he began feeding the hungry hollow.

Patsy and the rest of the Puffyfurs were working hard to keep up with Professor Tallsqueak. The alchemical formula wasn’t hard, but getting the batter to the right consistency was tricky. They were in awe of how fast he was cooking, with over a hundred puffcakes cooking at once on several griddles. It was like his brain and hands knew exactly what to do. He barely noticed as Rifkin came in with Old Healer and Professor Arlothe and they all ran to the basement. Absorbed with the current job of feeding the hollow, it was all he was focused on. Eventually, everyone got enough to eat, including Larry. Milo made extra big platefuls for Clan Puffyfur and himself. Larry had started on a bag of apples. No cheese at all was served that morning. A few people had asked, but Milo just shook his head and said, “No cheese today. Cheese tonight.” No one argued with the chef.

Milo piled the dishes in the sink, banked the fires, and washed his hands. Now he remembered the comings and goings downstairs and began to be worried. He was wondering if he should intrude when Professor Arlothe beckoned him. “We have need of you downstairs Tallsqueak.”

The Puffyfurs seemed sad about something. Milo remembered. “Oh, this is the day of the tea party? I’m sorry. I have to miss it, but”—he considered for a second and then noticed that someone had put a lovely green bow in Larry’s hair—“would it be all right for Larry to go to the party?”

Patsy clapped her hands. “Oh, yes. That would be so fun! We’ll pretend he’s you.”

Larry approved. “Larry likes parties.”

Tallsqueak took Patsy aside. “Remember, just cookies and tea. Larry can’t have cheese; he is training to be a hero.”

Larry’s ears heard, and he nodded his head before running off with Clan Puffyfur for a party.

As for Milo, he went to the cellar for something he was sure wasn’t going to be much fun. It wasn’t.

* * *

Rifkin was talking. “—and that’s how I found him. I came into the mess hall and didn’t see either Smiley or the chef. I started to prepare all the food to feed the hollow, and that’s when Tallsqueak came in, wanting to get his food. I ran downstairs to see if Bleusnout was down there. He was sound asleep and snoring, with his face in that box of aged Roquefort that came from the cheese hoard of Clan Emerald Wyrm. I couldn’t rouse him at all.”

Milo saw that the chef was lying on a small cot, covered by a blanket. Old Healer was carefully cleaning cheese off of his face and whiskers. More than just the chef’s whiskers were blue—today it was his whole face.

Rifkin seemed very upset. “I just never thought he’d go this far. He’s always had a taste for the bleu, but he said that he had sworn off of it years ago. I think it was all this new cheese coming down here that did it. Dozens of varieties of tasty things to sample. He claimed he was “appraising” it to make sure he had the value correct.

He looked at Milo. “Isn’t this all your cheese somehow? The Eels said you cheated them in a duel so that you could take all their cheese. Why would you store it down here? Everyone knows that Bleusnout has a weakness for Bleu Cheese! It’s how he got his name!”

He looked around the room. “And I don’t see very much of that cheese either! And Smiley is missing. He was helping the Eels pack it down here yesterday. Something smells, and it isn’t the cheese!” He glared at Milo. The ratkin ignored him, worried about Bleusnout and not wanting to upset Rifkin any further. He already wasn’t making any sense.

Old Healer was visibly upset. “He is very far gone. I’m not sure if he will wake up. We must prepare for the worst. While we can hope for his recovery, at best, it will take a long time for him to heal. I ask that we call for a full meeting of the masters of the hollow. As the Heal-Master and Death-Master, I ask that a conclave be held immediately.”

Arlothe sighed and looked at the chef lying on the cot. “As Mage-Master, I call for a conclave.” They both turned and looked at Milo. More specifically, they were looking at Milo’s hand.

He got the clue. He raised his hand and showed the ring. Rifkin seemed very surprised, and his eyes narrowed. “As Scout-Master, I call for a conclave.”

Old Healer straightened. “That is a quorum, so we will hold a conclave. I will send word to the Gather-Master, the Craft-Master, and the Tail-Master.”

Chapter 45

Dwarven Holiday

A party of explorers marched through the caverns far below Shadowport. Part of the way was through old mines, and at other times they stomped along a pathway that went through natural caverns. Several predators heard them coming and started to move closer to attack and then grew nervous and retreated. Even a Mega Cave-Fisher or Hundred-Legged Horror knew when it was outmatched.

Contrary to conventional wisdom, this group was neither quiet nor stealthy. The argument might be made that it would have been out of character because they had never been considered either conventional or stealthy. Their wisdom was also up for debate.

But the truth of the matter was simple—if there was anything big and dumb enough to challenge a group of drunken dwarves, then they would happily blow it to smithereens. If they thought that being loud would attract such a creature, they would have made even more noise. Traveling through the caverns could become boring, and the chance to let off some steam by blowing a predator into little pieces was always welcome.

Two of the party were encased in gleaming armored suits, making them a foot taller and much wider than their unarmored companions. Their companions had laughed a bit about the two senior engineers not knowing how to take a vacation, but the older dwarves wanted to show off their new toys, and it made it easier to pack along a couple of kegs of beer. Senior Engineer Milo had somehow found a place of great mineral wealth, but it lacked even the basics of alcohol. He was obviously in trouble, and they were going to his rescue.

Two-Screws had spent some time after the battle with the hydra making improvements in his suit. He was happy with the basic design, but after a few hundred years it was good to change things up. His first step had been to go fishing for some rare components, and for that, he had needed the right kind of bait.

His bait had been a powerful rocket launcher that could be fired and loaded by a single dwarf. The tube was of hardened promethium steel and could handle high explosives up to the most powerful that the engineers could currently make. It was a little heavy, but that would be appreciated by the type of person he was fishing for. The outer shell was made of Alpha/Beta brass, a hard composite of brass alloys that was less flexible than regular brass but much harder. One of the new lads they had taken on wasn’t a bad artist, and Two-Screws had paid him well to design a weapon that resembled an ornate ship’s cannon.

Unlike an older cannon on a ship, which might take as many as six dwarves to crew, this weapon could be loaded and fired as fast as ammunition could be slammed into it. The rounded breech could swing open to accept the self-propelled rockets it used as ammunition, then slam shut and be ready to fire by pulling on the heavy trigger. An optional targeting system could be swung into place to give a better aim. The three-and-a-half-foot-long weapon weighed more than eighty pounds. Two-Screws had judged that anything lighter wouldn’t be trusted by a scavenger.

Target practice was a favorite of the female dwarves from the crew of the Leviathan. ‘Practice’ consisted of drinking and shooting at the empty bottles. One day when several of the scavengers were out having fun, Two-Screws showed up with his prototype shoulder cannon. He got immediate interest from the gun-crazy scavengers. He tossed a handful of bottles to one of the cabin girls to set up, then loaded a rocket and fired from a range twice what they were shooting from.

He missed the bottle, and the missile destroyed a huge section of rock wall and threw shrapnel far and wide. He glared at the bottle that was still standing up and commented, “Pulls a bit to the left.” He loaded another rocket and this time hit the target dead on, leaving a large crater in the ground.

The scavengers watching were laughing and shouting, some envious of the sheer firepower and others disguising their envy by yelling insults at the dwarf who needed a cannon to shoot a bottle. He shrugged and surprised them by saying. “She needs a little testing. That’s why I’m using these low-powered rockets made for cleaning up trash mobs. They have a bit of an explosion to them. I really prefer the armor-piercing variety, personally. Those shells go faster and hit harder, but Sledgemonkey made me promise not to use them until I get the huge explosions under control.”

Two-Screws tossed the cannon over his shoulder and wandered off to do some modifications, ignoring the yells of the excitable Scavenger girls. Two days later he came back with the finished model. It gleamed in the torchlight, and he had three types of rockets to go with it. One made a large boom with low power, great for killing large numbers of low-level enemies. The second was armor-piercing, for monsters with a tough hide. The last was a new variety and painted bright red. It made a small incendiary explosion when it hit, burning hotly. Then exploded into a fireball that expanded outward into a tremendous circle of flames.

He let Narwhale try out the finished product. She ran her hands over the bronze surface and examined every part of it. Finally satisfied, she tossed it to her shoulder and swayed a bit. “Barnacle, you get to be my loader.” Her excited bridesmaid ran over and started reloading the cannon as fast as Narwhale fired it. Nine missiles flew down range, destroying the area they had used for target practice and setting everything on fire. When she was done, she stared at the mass destruction she had wrought, entranced by it. She wasn’t the only scavenger to appreciate the show of force. She slowly went to hand it back to Two-Screws, a small tear in her eye.

The older dwarf waved her off. “You think I’d let you fire that new toy and fall in love with it, only to take it away? Ha! That’s my wedding present, girl. I’ll set you up with a case of ammo to go with it.” Narwhale hugged the new member of her family and thanked the old dwarf. Other scavengers found reasons to talk to him over the next week, feeling him out as to the price and modifications he could make. He made three deals for weapons to be delivered in the next month, payment to be made in rare magitech components.

Boomboom had told him the story Narwhale had revealed to him about what treasure they had found on the queen. The legendary sunken ship had held a fortune in the rare components that incorporated theories of both magic and physics and let an engineer warp reality. Each member of the crew had shared in the treasure and had some magitech. It would never be sold and only appeared when the stakes in a poker game got high. Trading a handful of shiny baubles for a destructively overpowered handheld cannon was an acceptable transaction as well.

With a new supply of magitech, Two-Screws tore apart his old exo-suit and reworked the entire design. He improved it in some places, fixing things that had bothered him for years. Then got to work building more powerful weaponry and adding some new surprises. He was still terribly fond of the versatile mechanical hands it sported. They could configure from lifelike Waldos to auger drills or various tools. He kept those and went with rivet guns that deployed from below each arm. The rivet guns would be the suit’s main armaments augmented, with a better targeting system along with limited amounts of specialized ammo.

He’d also noticed that the ladies were fond of the brass color of Narwhale’s wedding gift. He added an outer layer of brass to his own armor and then polished it until it shone.

When Sledgemonkey saw the new set of armor, his mouth made some adorable fish imitations, opening and closing with no words coming out. He’d disappeared into his Arcane Workshop for a week and finally emerged in a gleaming gold set of armor that he strutted around in.

The two of them were drinking and singing as they followed Boomboom and Narwhale through the caverns, the newlyweds walking hand in hand and making disgustingly cute faces at each other as they tossed a grenade back and forth. The two had first met in the middle of the battle with the hydra and bonded over their mutual love of high explosives and the puke-n-twirl.

Vary was running ahead, testing out his new mechanical Scout’s Legs. The lad hadn’t progressed in his studies enough to build them, but he’d come up with the idea. Several of the engineers had made it a teaching project, making him do the work as they designed the mechanical legs and helped him test them.

Barnacle was pulling along a small cart that held Narwhale’s wedding present, extra ammo, and a few gallons of alcohol. She grumbled constantly about girls who were too lovestruck to carry their own guns.

It was a two-day journey to the house of Professor Harry Earthtongue, and then another two days to Limburger Hollow. Sledgemonkey wanted to see these new mines himself. When the newly married couple had said they’d come along, he hastily gathered Vary and Two-Screws to help keep them out of trouble. Barnacle got recruited as an ammo carrier and loader. She’d declined at first, claiming she would much rather stay in Shadowport and drink heavily rather than follow the two of them around through old, nasty tunnels. She had changed her mind and volunteered when Narwhale had mentioned Vary was coming along to scout and test his new contraption.

Harry greeted them when they arrived and brought out a huge amount of beer for them to sample. Brewing was a side hobby for the troll, and he’d taken it up again after talking with several of the engineers. The engineers pronounced the latest batch to be quite tasty. The two scavengers had each had a mug, and then two dozen more. If anyone was hung over in the morning, or regretting anything that might have happened in the night, they hid it behind small smiles or volunteered to ‘Scout ahead for a bit.’

Harry decided he’d come along. He was curious about what Milo had found and was worried the dwarves wouldn’t have enough alcohol for the trip. With two kegs of beer strapped to his back, he joined the group of dwarves on their holiday excursion.

Chapter 46

Conclave

Milo was unsure of what was going on and on so many levels! He hadn’t intended to become a master of the hollow and was unsure of how he felt about the whole thing. He took Gilad aside and spoke to him. “What’s happened to Bleusnout, and what is the conclave all about? I’m just following your lead. I’m not really a master.”

Gilad looked at the young whelp. No, that was wrong. He should think of him as a young warrior. He’d earned that much. But they all looked so young to him now!

He tapped the ring on Tallsqueak’s finger. “You found this ring, lost in the hidden parts of the hollow. And did you not take it from the last Scout-Master? Do you think the ring would accept you so readily if its last owner didn’t approve of you? You found his remains and brought them home to be laid to rest with his ancestors after no one could find him for decades. That counts for much. And Old Healer approves of you.”

“And the hollow needs you. Something smells bad, and not just the gorgonzola. You might feel too young for such responsibility, but right now, it is you who are our Scout-Master. Your responsibility is to find the dangers that threaten the hollow and help us to prepare against those threats. My whiskers twitch and my bones ache. Something bad is afoot. Keep those young eyes open. Use that sharp mind to see what others may not.”

Milo had no argument for the old Tail-Master’s logic, so he stayed quiet and observed what he could. Over the next few minutes, the other masters arrived. The first was Master Clawhammer. He was a tall ratkin with a thick waist and large muscles. His arms were bigger than Milo’s thighs. Clawhammer worked a forge, hammering iron, copper, and tin into the tools and weapons needed by the rest of the hollow. His forge was near the mines, and often he led the groups of miners who entered the maze of tunnels beyond, looking for the ores they needed. He also oversaw many of the trades that were practiced in the hollow. He was skilled in carpentry, blacksmithing, mechanics, and smelting.

Milo made a mental note to talk to him about a possible trade deal with the Engineering Outpost. The outpost could always use more ores, especially of the type that the hollow didn’t have much need for. In return the hollow could gain better quality armor and weapons for the guards and better picks for the miners. It could be beneficial for both groups.

Helen Brownfur was known to most of the hollow simply as “Mother.” She always seemed to have a gaggle of little ones around her. She had birthed thirteen children of her own, including three sets of twins. As if that was not enough, she had also adopted four young children who became orphans when their parents were killed in a mining accident. Her family had always been prolific, and she was related to half the hollow. Milo had seen her in the mushroom fields showing the little ones how to pick the best shrooms. He hadn’t known she was the Gather Master, but in hindsight, it fit her well. She was patient and guided the young in gathering skills, teaching them early how to supply the hollow with food.

As each of the masters entered the room, they were shocked to see Bleusnout’s condition, shaking their heads sadly and talking with Old Healer. A Cheese-Master was the last person that anyone would expect to give in to the lure of partaking in too much cheese. They were known for wills of iron and the patience of saints. Helen Brownfur was particularly upset, having worked closely with Bleusnout for decades. “This isn’t right! He… he has always been too strong for something like this to happen. I don’t believe that he gave in to his hunger. What did he eat? We need to know!”

Rifkin was nervously bouncing from one foot to another and wringing his hands. “I don’t know! He and Smiley were down here going through all the new cheese belonging to Tallsqueak. I have been working to keep meals cooked for the hollow. It was only when I realized he was missing that I checked down here and found him this way! He was face down in the Roquefort! But I agree with Mistress Brownfur; this is not right. Where is Smiley? Where is the rest of the hollow’s cheese?”

Gilad stood up. “There are many things to discuss. But first, if you’ll excuse us, Rifkin; I’m sure you have things to do preparing the meals. The conclave must meet in private to discuss these issues.”

Rifkin looked slightly surprised as if he hadn’t thought he’d be asked to leave. “Yes, I will start the next meal, it’s very important to keep the hollow fed.” He retreated upstairs, gathering up a bundle of dirty rags on the way, and they heard the banging of pots and pans through the floor.

Gilad sighed. “I feel the events of today have unnerved young Rifkin. He will need much support from us if he is to fill the shoes left by Master Bleusnout. He is young, but with our help, I’m sure that he can rise to the occasion.”

Master Clawhammer snorted. “He’ll be fine. Bleusnout has been training him since he and Smiley were what? Four years old? We may eat an awful lot of grilled mushrooms and simpler food until Bleusnout is up and about, but we’ve all had worse.”

Old Healer looked pained as he said, “That may be some time. Whatever Bleusnout got into, it wasn’t just Roquefort, and with so much cheese missing, we may never know. He has gorged himself on the most potent of stinky bleu cheese, and I fear he has overdosed. Without knowing what he ate, it is very difficult to treat him.”

Milo walked over and looked at the chef. Someone had cleaned off his face. “Where are the cloths used to clean the cheese off of his face? If we examined those, perhaps we could isolate bits of the cheese he ate?”

Old Healer liked the thought. “A good idea. It may give us a clue. The cloths were in that pile Rifkin took with him. Please go and retrieve those, Master Tallsqueak.”

Milo ran upstairs, and the others turned to Old Healer.

Clawhammer asked, “You obviously think he is ready for that title. And I do find him talented, but we are already looking at possibly giving one young whelp a master’s ring before he is ready. Is it appropriate to proclaim a new Scout-Master after so many years?”

The master of both healing and death laughed. “Give it to him? That sneaky whelp found my brother’s hidey hole on his own and took the ring. A very traditional method of promotion in my clan. And he’s already rebuilding the scouts and has stolen two of my promising skulkers. All three of them had the nerve to surprise me in my own lair. Tallsqueak thinks oddly and has put his nose into every corner of the hollow. He’s perfect. I just wished I could pass my other rings on young ones like him.”

Arlothe chuckled. “Cremona and I are fond of him. He’s more of a sage than a true mage. Very curious about everything. Scout fits him well. You should talk to him, Clawhammer. He’s an accomplished mechanic and miner. He has some ideas about how we can trade the useless hard copper off to a group of dwarves in return for good metal. A lot of good metal. For some reason, they value the hard stuff.”

Master Clawhammer nodded. “I’d heard something of that and saw him taking some of your young mages into the mines. I’ve always approved of cross-training. We can’t run a hollow with a bunch of specialists. He has my vote then.”

The Tail-Master sighed, then chuckled. “I only object because I was hoping to retire at some point and let him take over my position. He is already running the beginning class and doing drills with them each morning He learns quickly and can handle the young whelps. And some not-so-young troublemakers. He is even giving Cremona a run for her money.”

Arlothe chuckled at that, and Mistress Brownfur looked intrigued. “I’d heard of that. Cremona is a fearsome fighter. We used to spar before I got old and stiff. If he can take her on, he is qualified.”

“He certainly can take her on. They go all out, and he can ignore most of her poisons and send her back to me with bruises each night. I’ve gained two levels in first aid and one in massage therapy since they started beating on her each night.”

Gilad continued, “And he is strong enough to fight one-on-one against a Cheese Fiend.” There were some intakes of breath at that statement.

“Tallsqueak has been working with Larry to move him past the limitations imposed upon him by the transformation to a fiend. Working together, Larry is now creating a fighting style that lets him use traditional claw and tail techniques. He is both exhilarating and frightening to spar with. Master Arlothe has also been observing and can verify this as well.”

Arlothe smiled and patted his stomach. “And I’m getting fat from eating too many snacks while I watch the carnage. Cremona cannot best Larry. Her poisons are rapidly pushing up his Fiendish Resistance to the point that many of her spells are becoming useless against him. She can beat Tallsqueak in one out of three bouts, and he can beat Larry at roughly the same rate. But I most enjoy watching Gilad bounce around Larry, trying to avoid his dance moves.” Arlothe had been having a great time each evening, watching the four gladiators give each other bruises, cuts, and poisonous wounds. He was content to sit with his students and enjoy some late-night snacks.

Brownfur was unconvinced. “And Larry is under control? We are not creating a worse threat than we had before?”

Gilad was adamant about that. “No, if anything, Larry is getting better. He has given up cheese altogether, knowing he might become out of control if he eats it and fights. Fighting and becoming better is more important to Larry than cheese. His control is impressive.”

Brownfur looked to where Bleusnout was lying. “Control can be fleeting. But this discussion is not about Larry, although I am so happy to see him get better. He was always the sweetest of whelps. No, this is about Tallsqueak. How many of us approve of his becoming Scout-Master?”

The hands were raised. The votes were cast, and a new Scout-Master was chosen. The first in many years.

Milo returned soon after, visibly upset. “I was too slow; he had already run them to the laundry and made sure they had been put into the wash. The lye soap will ruin any chance of isolating mold cultures or bits of cheese on them.”

The other masters nodded. It had seemed like a low chance of helping the situation in the first place. Old Heal nodded at him and patted him on the shoulder. “It was a good thought. We have talked. You will wear the ring from now on as the hollow’s Scout-Master. Take a seat. We have another subject to discuss—we lack a Cheese-Master.”

Old Healer pointed to Bleusnout. “We have one, but he is unable to do his job, and hopefully that is temporary. Let Rifkin make the meals, and the conclave can decide on when cheese is disbursed to the hollow.”

“If Rifkin can do the job, give him the ring. I don’t see Bleusnout being trusted again, even if he recovers.” Clawhammer didn’t trust that the chef wouldn’t backslide again. Better to go with new blood.

Gilad suggested a compromise. “There may be more to this situation than is readily apparent. By Rifkin’s own words, he wasn’t here when this happened. Perhaps it was some sort of accident? And let us not look past other oddities. There is cheese missing? Who took it? And where is Smiley? He has been here at the hollow as long as Rifkin and trained with Bleusnout as well. We need to find and talk to him and find out the real story.”

“I suggest we let Rifkin assume the title for now. He will be the interim Cheese-Master and take over the duties. Perhaps this all works out and Bleusnout recovers quickly and resumes his position as master. But if not, then Rifkin will have our support while he works to take over the position without the crippling responsibility of dumping the title of Master on him immediately. It would be better to let Bleusnout recover and give him the ring himself. After all, he has been training Rifkin and Smiley for the better part of two decades since the two whelps were found in that abandoned tunnel. He is essentially their father.”

This vote was not unanimous, but it passed. The masters rose to leave and inform Rifkin. Old Healer asked Milo to stay with him for a moment. “I will need your help to take the chef to my apartment. This is not a good place for him, too much cheese. Watch over him for now while I summon two others to help us carry him.”

Milo was suddenly alone in the cellar, Bleusnout’s heaving breathing the only sound. He considered the problems he saw.

What had the chef eaten, and how to cure him?

Where was Smiley?

Where had the cheese gone?

Firstly, Milo considered the problem of figuring out just what the chef had eaten. He was upset that Rifkin had been so quick to wash the towels used to clean off the Cheese-Master. But it wasn’t just the chef’s face that would have traces of cheese. Milo carefully looked at his claws. The left hand showed cheese under the nails. Milo carefully cleaned the claws, saving the samples. Bleusnout’s right hand was closed until Milo pried apart his fingers. Inside was a crushed golden puffball mushroom. Milo saved that as well, then checked the chef’s mouth and nose, carefully taking samples from his gums and nostrils.

Hearing Old Healer returning, he hid his samples and helped move the chef to where Old Healer could care for him.

Chapter 47

Investigations

The Puffyfur tea party was in full swing.

There had been some disappointment that Professor Tallsqueak would not be attending and a bit of confused emotions about Larry attending. These had been swept aside when Professor Arlothe came into the planning committee to tell them how proud he was of them for inviting the Cheese Fiend. When told that Larry could not have cheese because he was in the “Special Fighting Class,” they made a decision to skip the cheese altogether at the party. They substituted several types of cookies for the missing cheese and crackers.

A lovely rose and raspberry tea had been selected for the first round, along with raspberry tarts. Larry sat on the floor with his back to the wall, his long legs going under the table and his feet poking out of the other side. Patsy and Sassy were serving him his tea and cookies. Larry was being very careful with his teacup, holding it in the palm of one hand and using just the tip of a claw on his other hand. His nightly classes with Gilad, Tallsqueak, and Cremona were helping him pick up small things. Fiendish Claws was a STR-based skill that Larry had never practiced, but Claw Fighting as taught by Gilad was a DEX-based skill. A DEX of 4 was much better than a DEX of 0.

Larry’s claws were also smaller now. Professor Cremona had been unhappy when she examined his overgrown claws, and as part of the tea party, Larry was being given a manicure by the happy Puffyfurs. After his nails had been filed and painted pink to match his weasel slippers, he held them patiently in his lap while the nail polish dried and began to tell the eager audience about his adventures in Flowerland.

Milo heard Larry talking as he quietly moved past the room they were in and continued up the stairs. He was very happy Larry was having a good time.

Larry smelled his friend as he passed by. Tallsqueak was doing Hero stuff—he could tell. Tallsqueak always got a different smell when he was thinking hard about things. Something bad had happened. Sneakybadguy was doing things with other sneakybadguys. But Tallsqueak would catch them!

* * *

Professor Arlothe looked at the schematics for what Tallsqueak was asking him to do and got excited. He was delighted to help with any new discovery. This project needed special glass lenses created in a certain way. While Tallsqueak created the framework to hold the lenses, Arlothe started his kiln and began melting the glass. Four hours later they had finished what Tallsqueak called a microscope. It was basically a frame that held the glass lenses and a knob to move one a little bit closer.

Microscope wasn’t as good of a name as Arlothe’s Advanced Device for Looking at Small Things, but he did concede it was quicker to say. Tallsqueak took the first device with him, and Arlothe began working the work of designing a better one.

* * *

Old Healer felt someone’s eyes upon him but didn’t react at all. Reacting might make a potential assassin decide to leave, and where was the fun in that? Better to bait them in and get some exercise.

All furniture except for his desk had been removed from his large office to make room for a bed where Bleusnout lay unconscious. The large chef was sweating slightly and moaning in his delirium. This was both like, and unlike, any cheese overdose that Old Healer had ever treated before. The obvious signs were there: pupils dilated, sweating, trembling muscles, and delirium. But at the same time, Bleusnout wasn’t waking up. He was unconscious and possibly dreaming as if part of him was shut down.

The secret door opened, and Tallsqueak dropped into the room, carrying a strange device. He seemed quite serious and focused. “He is not getting better, if that was what you came to ask.”

Tallsqueak stacked up all the paperwork and books on Old Healer’s desk and put them in a pile against the wall. He began putting together an apparatus made of glass and metal and then laid many small vials and bits of glass on the table.

“Something isn’t right. I want to find out what he ate. This is a device for looking at small things. And these small bits are what was under Bleusnout’s nails and in his nostrils. We are going to look for clues and try to see what he ate.”

The old ratkin nodded. “You doubt it was just Roquefort? So do I. Bleusnout has been around cheese all his life; I don’t see him being tempted by some lesser cheese.”

Milo showed Old Healer how to use the basic microscope. It only had a magnification of 140x but that was enough to look at cheese samples. They examined all the tiny samples Milo had scraped from Bleusnout’s nails and inside his nose. Old Healer was fascinated by what he saw. Was this some engineering trick? It would have helped him many times in the past.

“Look here. That is a Black Mold. None of the cheese we make in this hollow uses Black Mold. I’m not sure any cheese does. And what are these little things moving around? Are those small spiders?”

Milo had noted the presence of the creatures and knew what they were. “Spider mites. They aren’t real spiders, just a small creature with many legs. Somewhat related. But why the chef has them in his nostrils is odd.”

Old Healer continued to look at the samples. “Maybe not so odd. There is a rare cheese that was said to have used ‘tiny spiders’ to give it a distinctive flavor. After the soft cheese was made, it would be put into a box with the spiders and left for a year. Needless to say, it became quite unpopular when the spiders began to invade our lands. Not that many people liked it before, to be honest, but no one has made it for decades. Perhaps there was a round of it in the cheese the Eels were keeping in their vault?”

Milo knew what his next step was—back to the Tower to talk to the Eels. But he had other questions first.

“These are only the samples from one of the chef’s hands. His other hand was holding a crumpled Golden Puffball mushroom.”

Milo pulled out the crushed mushroom and laid it on the desk.

Old Healer considered that. “That seems strange. They aren’t particularly tasty as a raw snack. Their virtue lies in their cooked flavor, which enhances many dishes. And of course, in their use as a cleansing agent for poisons. They are one of the main ingredients in the elixir that you drank.”

“Could that elixir help the chef?”

Old Healer sighed and looked frustrated. “It might be if what he is suffering from is some form of poison. But I haven’t been able to find the means to correctly concoct it. My brothers’ notes are terrible. He always left out the important parts so no one could steal from him.”

Milo went still suddenly, thinking. After thirty seconds, he said, “Poison.”

Old Healer waited patiently for an explanation.

“It wasn’t the Roquefort. What if Bleusnout was poisoned and wanted to leave a clue? He’s been exposed somehow to Black Mold and spider mites. What if he realized what was happening as he was weakening?”

The old ratkin nodded. “I think you should go find out what was in that shipment of cheese. I will begin checking for signs of poison, and try to devise an antidote.”

Milo left Old Healer with a messy desk and ran off to talk to the Eels. This time he went through the corridors and out the front door. Just as he was about to leave, a plump young ratkin dressed as a shadowlurker came up to him and offered him a handful of jelly beans. “Hi, we haven’t met yet, but the twins said you like these. I’m Petey.”

Milo wasn’t going to turn down jelly beans. He would share with Larry later. “Thank you. I’m Tallsqueak.” They shook hands, made more difficult by Petey’s hand being sticky with melted candy. “Oh, I’ve heard all about you from the twins. Congratulations on becoming the Scout-Master. That’s awesome. The twins are happy, and Charlotte is furious.”

Milo scowled. He was getting tired of Charlotte; she wasn’t a good partner. “I can’t help that. She’ll just have to earn her own ring.”

Petey laughed. “That will be tough for her to do. She’s a lousy healer. Gendifur will be taking that ring soon. She’s doing most of the healing in the hollow now. She’s very thankful to you, by the way. She says she’s gained a whole level and is ready to go up to Tier 3 all because of how you guys tear each other up at special fight practice.”

“Oh, that’s good… I think. I’m glad we’re helping. But doesn’t Charlotte want to be Death-Master, not Heal-Master?”

Petey winked at him. “Oh, she wants that very badly. Yes, she does. Maybe a little too badly, if you get my meaning. It makes her sloppy. Trust me, she has a better chance at becoming the Heal-Master than she does the Death-Master.” He smiled at Milo and walked away, tossing jelly beans in the air and catching them in his mouth.

Chapter 48

A Visit with the Eels

Milo watched Petey walk away. He seemed like a nice guy, and the twins got along with him. Well, except for when they framed him for stealing jelly beans. Having experienced the desire to hit the twins in the head a few times, Milo felt Petey was entirely justified in bending their legs. Maybe he was even helping them get a contortionist skill.

As he headed across the street to the Tower, he saw two young whelps tacking up a notice to an announcement board in the Market area. It was between two stalls and not easily noticed, but the sound of hammering had made him curious. As he got close to it, it seemed to light up and glow, the message on the board becoming personal.

Welcome to Limburger Hollow

It takes a village to make the cheese.

You have earned 412 Contribution Points!

1 Point

One day’s normal meals

Special cheesy snack! (Approved by Master Bleusnout)

New clothes (One piece, see Mistress Brownfur)

Backpack

Mining pick or other tool (See Master Clawhammer)

Spikeystick (Brutus has a pile of extras)

Trade Token for use in the market

5 Points

Advanced Class on Cheesemaking with Master Bleusnout.

Advanced Class on Tail and Claw Fighting with Master Gilad.

Advanced Class in Magical Theory with Professor Arlothe

Advanced Class in Mycology or Gathering with Mistress Brownfur

Advanced Project with Master Clawhammer

Advanced Class in Healing or Alchemy with the Old Healer

Party basket!

Special meal for your friends!

Set of spiffy new clothes!

Nourishing Cheese!

I’m-not-sleepy Cheese!

Explorer’s Pack (rope, spikes, flint, steel, and three torches)

10 Points

Set of leather armor

Stylish cape

Adventurer’s Backpack (-20% weight)

Non-magical weapon of good quality

Shield

Healing Potion

Mana Potion

Battle Cheese

He was happy to have found the Contribution Board. Several people had mentioned it was in the market, but he was always in a rush when running to and from the tower. It would have been useful to find this earlier—probably why people had suggested it to him. He would have been taking classes with Master Gilad much earlier.

Pinned to the board were many notices and advertisements. The newest was large and used some vibrant colors to display its message.

The Cheese Caravan is Coming!

In cooperation with Master Bleusnout, the fine folks of Gouda and Cheddar Hollows have once again sponsored a Cheese Caravan and joined forces with other hollows to bring their wares to their cousins in far-flung enclaves, caverns, and hollows. We’ll be arriving soon, bringing Music, Dancing, Entertainment, and, best of all, Fine Cheese.

This sounded like fun to Milo. Bleusnout must have set this up some time ago. It was very sad that the Cheese-Master might not be recovered from his overdose and might miss the event. But Milo wondered if perhaps a visiting Cheese-Master might understand what was wrong with him. He’d mention it to Old Healer. But for right now, he needed to focus on talking with Clan Emerald Wyrm and find out what kind of cheese they had taken to the cellar of the mess hall.

He entered the Tower of Strife and made his way up to the floor where each of the four main clans had their rooms. He knocked on the beautiful green door that showed several dragons rearing on mountains, the world below them. When nothing happened, he knocked again, and a minute later a third time.

Inside, staring through a small spyhole, Brer Cutthroat whispered back to several others of his clan, “It’s Professor Tallsqueak, and he’s just standing there and knocking.”

Brer Moray considered what to do. He was certain that Professor Tallsqueak had heard about tonight’s social activity and was here to shut down their lizard races. Or worse, he’d come to bet on them! Either way, Moray wasn’t going to let him inside. They would claim they were hard at work, studying for their weekly exams, with cotton in their ears to block out any noise. He motioned for the other Eels to move away from the door and move back down to the basement, where they were about to start the racing. Everyone left. Moray wanted one last silent chuckle as the clueless professor knocked again. This time the sound was different, though. Not really a knock, knock, knock—this was more the sound of metal on metal. Ping, ping, ping.

Moray jumped back, startled as the front door fell into the outer hallway. Professor Tallsqueak was standing there, holding his spanner in one hand and the pins from the door hinges in the other. He set the pins on a side table, along with the screws from the locking assembly. “Your door was stuck, but I fixed it for you. Strange how the hinges and lock are facing the hallway, almost as if they were designed to lock students inside. Good to see you again, Moray. You and I need to talk. But can we go somewhere else? I can hear the Lizard Racing starting up, and I’d probably be distracted by them.”

Moray stared at the handful of door hardware the professor was piling on the table. “How did you know about the races?”

“One of your clan members put a notice about it on the contributions board.” Milo smiled.

“Ah, yes. My clan is not known for subtlety. Perhaps a nice cup of tea in the dining room then, Professor?” Moray grimaced.

“That sounds fine, Moray. Lead on.”

Moray led Milo down a long hallway. The floor was dark wood with a thick emerald carpet running down the middle. This led to a huge dining room where sixty students could eat at once. The furnishings and carpets indicated the Eels were doing very well. It wasn’t what he had expected from a group of students in a small hollow. Moray was obviously proud of it. “Welcome to the heart of Clan Emerald Wyrm. We eat together here three times a day and use it for all our meetings.”

Around the walls were various trophies, awards, banners, and the skulls and pelts of large animals. It was so hard for Milo to judge the level of wealth. Squint had had stuff like this, but he thought this might be nicer than the collection of wealth that the gang lord had on display. No one in the habs had anything like this, of course.

“It’s very nice. Is your clan old? You seem to have acquired quite a bit of wealth.”

Moray smiled at the compliment. “One of the oldest. Hollows come and go. Clans may move from one to another. The wars created chaos. When some of the hollows were overrun, our clan moved to Limburger Hollow, and since many of the remaining members were mages, we chose to become part of the Tower of Strife. We have been a leading clan here ever since.”

Milo nodded. There was more to the Eels than just some hot-headed duelists. “I need to talk to you about the types of cheese that you took to the cellar of the mess hall. Would you have a list we could go over?”

Moray felt his stomach drop to his toes. Had they found out he’d shorted the count by a few wheels? “Of course, Professor. Let me run and get that.” How had he known?

Milo walked around the room, staring at the various trophies; some of these were quite old. A skull of a cave bear glared at him from on high, its pelt tacked up on the wall beneath it. Milo hoped to never meet one of its descendants. A shield made of bright emerald scales was in a spot behind the head table. A small plaque was below it. Shield of Vexanor the Green, gifted by the great wyrm herself to our clan, made from her cast-off scales. Milo thought it had an odd smell to it. He examined the other trophies, all things any barbarian warlord or king would be proud to display. In the corner was a strange collection of bones that were held together with wire.

The creature stood upright on two legs and had six arms. A skull that looked like it came from a cow made the head. But the bones had nothing in common; they all felt different to him and came from different skeletons. This wasn’t a creature, just something made from the bones of various creatures. Still… there was something odd about it. He ran his hand over each bone, trying to get a feel for it. One of the leg bones was actually a much smaller bone from a larger creature. He could feel residual magic within it and a few runes moving within the mana. They were old runes, similar to those he had learned from Volat-Repax. And he didn’t know these runes!

Moray returned to the room and saw Milo looking at the creature. “Hideous, isn’t it? It was a project by one of our founders, and we’ve had to pack it all over the place for a couple of centuries. I’d love to have a reason to get rid of it. Frankly, it smells odd.”

Milo looked at it. “It is a horrible thing. And because of that, I’d love to put it in the faculty library as a joke. What if I traded you something for it?”

Moray was surprised by the offer. That really would be funny. And he could claim he had “donated” it to the faculty of the Tower and never have to look at it again. “Let’s say I’m open to offers.”

“Five wheels of aged cheddar cheese? I’ll approve of your clan keeping them here, not at the mess hall.”

Moray tried to keep his face calm. Cheese! A start at rebuilding the hoard! “As the current head of Clan Emerald Wyrm, I accept!”

Brer Moray’s attitude toward Professor Tallsqueak warmed up quite a bit. The two of them went over the list, and the student was very happy to find out that Professor Tallsqueak was simply looking over the types of cheese and the size of containers they were packed into. “We packed everything into many large crates. They were a little heavy and took two of us to move each of them. Bleusnout made this list as we packed in each crate, and Smiley and Rifkin stacked it all up by the back wall. Those crates were heavy by the time we got to the cellar, but Rifkin insisted we put the crates at the other end of the room, so we had to pack it another hundred feet.”

“Sounds like a lot of work. This is a lot of cheese. I’m not familiar with some of it. Did any of it use any strange type of molds or strange ways of maturing the cheese?” Milo knew nearly every type of cheese on this list. Nothing seemed that out of the ordinary.

Moray couldn’t think of anything like that. “Not that I know of. A lot of those odd names are just different varieties of cheddar. There was a time when every hollow was making up a name for what was just common cheese with berries or spices added. Do you have anything specific you were looking for?”

“Yes. A small bit of Black Mold was found in the cellar, in an odd spot, along with spider mites. Did any of the cheese contain those?”

Moray made a face. “Spider cheese? Ugh. Never. That stuff is insanely gross. I read an article on it once. The mites eat the rind of the cheese, and when they die, it gives the cheese a distinct flavor. I can’t imagine eating it. And I can’t think of any cheese that uses a Black Mold. Are they cleaning things up? I’d hate to see any cheese ruined.”

“Nothing to worry about. It was a very small crevice and may have come in with a shipment of mushrooms. I’m just being thorough. Like you said, no one wants to see any cheese lost. I’ll be by to drop off those rounds of cheddar tomorrow. Just sneak that monstrosity upstairs sometime when Professors Arlothe and Cremona aren’t around. I can’t wait to see their faces.”

Milo took his leave of Moray. Brer Moray raced downstairs to toss some bets on the last couple of Lizard races.

* * *

Milo heard nothing from the Tea Party and assumed it had ended. He went to the mess hall, where he found Rifkin struggling with getting out the food for the evening meal. Milo offered to help, but Rifkin turned him down. “No, I can handle it. I’m sure I can get someone to help serve. It wouldn’t look right for our new Scout-Master to be washing dishes.” Milo shrugged, got his food, and sat to eat. His tray had a small piece of cheese on it. He was tempted, but he wasn’t eating cheese anymore if Larry wasn’t. It took a great effort to do so. This was several days he’d gone without cheese. He wrapped it in a napkin and put it in his pocket.

What willpower?! You have denied yourself cheese through sheer stubbornness to give in to a substance your body craves.

Cheese Addiction is now in remission.

You have gained the skill: Master the Cheese at Level 0. This is a WIS-based skill that allows you to go longer without cheese and to negate some of the bad effects of cheese.

But how long can you last?

How long could he last? Yes, that was a good question. If it wasn’t helping Larry, then he wouldn’t even be trying. But maybe for a few days more?

Milo sat in the back of the mess hall, thinking. Things simply weren’t adding up correctly. He needed to do some investigations in the cellar, and he needed to do them when Rifkin wasn’t around. The mess hall was the territory of the interim Cheese-Master, and he couldn’t go down to the cellar without Rifkin’s permission, and he wasn’t going to ask. There were times when Rifkin wasn’t here; he just needed to be patient.

He walked outside, thinking of waiting for Larry in his friend’s house when he saw Brutus walking quickly toward him.

Chapter 49

March of the Spiders

The avenging army of the Iron Spider trudged onward to victory. Their crafty general had chosen to move through the lower tunnels. And she had set an easy pace for them. Rather than running fast along the webways, they were moving through the tunnels, taking their time and hunting for food. And the general led the way. She was marching along slowly at the front of the army, followed by her two banner bearers, her fearsome presence keeping small enemies at bay. The few times that any creature was visible, the gunner on her back mowed it down with a dwarven battle gun.

There was plenty of time to dig small mammals and large beetles from their lairs and plenty of food in these unused caverns. The spiders generally moved around by the webways, quickly moving through the large spaces on thin, gossamer strands. Many of the spiders in the army were happy to have such a holiday.

On the second day, a halt was called, and they were ordered to create a nest and put out scouts. They would be staying here and resting before the battle. H’Spat, one of the queen’s special advisors, had spread the word. The exalted noble moved through the army, passing the orders and talking to some of the lesser spiders. She explained that General Iron Spider wished for them to share in the glory. The lesser spiders moved to the front of the march, and the queen’s guard units and the fearsome Wolf Guard moved further back. The elite units took this small slight with much grace, moving to the rear and setting up their camps. The lesser spiders were in good morale, with plenty of easy food to catch, time to sleep, and an easy pace. After talking to each of the units in the army, the advisor went forward again to confer with the general about when they would begin marching the next day.

“How long until that useless limb is repaired? It’s been trouble since those two idiots let a kobold work on me. I swear half its work was breaking a week later.” The general was resting on a large rock, legs splayed around her so her mechanic could more easily work on repairs. It was not comfortable, but they didn’t have a harness to lift her up like they used in repair shops.

Her mechanic spat out a long stream of tobacco on the ground. “Not early, that’s fer sure, fer sure. This leg is all mucketied-mucked up. I’m going to have to hammer some new parts and jury-rig a spring to get it working. You’re going to have to start using all those eyes to watch where you step; I’ve only got so many parts with me.”

Grobit had removed the armor of the damaged leg and was trying to repair the joint that had frozen up after a bad trip. The mechanical spider legs had been repaired so many times over the years that no two were similar at this point. The ingenious Goblin tinkerer was surprised every single time he tore off the outer plating and never knew what to expect. He packed a large supply of extra parts and was always looking for more bits to add to it.

But that’s what made this gal a work of art! Countless dwarven, goblin, ratkin, and even elvish mechanics had worked on her. She could take an amazing amount of damage in battle. But she wasn’t at all built for long marches over rough terrain. He’d suggested time and again that a nice set of wheels would let her go faster, but his suggestions were always turned down. Probably for the best, though. He’d still be riding up top, and a spider on roller skates might not give the best ride.

By the next morning, he’d gotten the leg back in shape, and they took off again at the general’s slow pace. H’Spat sent forward scouts to mark the route and to roll any loose rocks out of the way. They were on a schedule, and even though the advisor had counted on a slow trip, this was pushing it.

As the host of spiders marched slowly along, they came to a choice of two ways to go. The Iron Spider led her army down the marked path toward the mushroom fields of Limburger Hollow. The Queen’s Guard and Wolfen units took a break to eat lunch and then took the other branch that led up to the webways and their rendezvous with the main force of the Spider Army. They picked up their pace. They had a long way to go and a short time to get there!

Chapter 50

The Raid

This was one hell of a raid! Just getting to the main fight was a test for his guild. One they had already failed at twice!

Brannigan had called a recent break to let the healers administer first aid and mend some wounds. Then some additional time was needed to let the clerics get some of their mana back. Even with a snack of mana-imbued bacon, potions, and a bard singing, it took some time. The path to the raid area was wearing them down, bit by bit. The first part was all survival and dealing with trash mobs on the way to the big fight at the end. The area was infested with stone lurkers, psycho-shrooms, huge carnivorous moles, giant vampire bats, and poisonous centipedes of unusual size. The local denizens were introducing themselves to the raid one by one.

First was the discovery that the glowing purple mushrooms that shed a little light in the caves shouldn’t be picked. TerryToony had thought that they would make great torches. The paladin had picked two of them, held them up high, and walked around the raid shouting, “May the Holy Light of the Purple Mushroom bless you all.” The colorful fungus did shed good light when he held them up, but they also started shedding glowing purple spores that floated down and outlined Terry and anyone nearby in soft purple light. One of the clerics had laughed at him and joined in. “I too will become a devotee to the Holy Purple Mushroom!” After that, everyone had to pick them and throw them in the air. The air was swirling with spores, and everyone in the raid was glowing in the dark. Any predator nearby was attracted to the easy-to-spot prey.

Then things got worse.

Some idiot joked about them being snowflakes and held out her tongue to catch them. It had been Tequila-Jane of course. Her character was a Sword Witch wielding a Chaos Blade. Her choices for a class and weapon reflected her personality. Jane was not the most stable of people to start with. Fun to have around, though. After a mouthful of psycho-shroom, she started really glowing and proclaimed she was not only blessed by the Fungus God but had gained 10 Enhancement Points for eating the purple fungus. She ran around laughing and singing, proclaiming herself to be the incarnation of Coyote-Bob, the God of chaos.

Half the raid immediately tried to catch the flakes on their tongues or eat the mushrooms. They’d assume Jane’s antics were just part of being Jane. However, the mushrooms turned out to be highly psychoactive. Half the raid went crazy, running off into the dark, where the waiting predators found them to be both tasty and easy to find. Other players began fighting with each other while claiming that goblins were attacking. Four of the wizards stood in the middle of the chaos arguing with each other over which anime character was the most powerful and whether the Hulk could beat Superman.

Twenty-three people died, and they decided to put off the raid until the next day. The Enhancement Points were totally a figment of Jane’s imagination. Coyote-Bob never showed up. Psycho-shrooms were avoided after that, mainly because of the horrifying hangover they gave the next day. Brannigan saw that Tequila-Jane had a small pouch on her belt with a slight purple glow. She was sneaking pinches of mushroom now and then and chewing them. But at least she was behaving mostly normal, so he let it slide. “Mostly Normal” was pretty mild for Tequila-Jane.

The next day, they did better. With a lot of the trash mobs killed the day before, the raid made it to the same spot where the glowing fungus fiasco had occurred, now devoid of mushrooms. They were just in time to be attacked by two huge mole creatures. Normally the moles avoided the area because of the psycho-shrooms, but with the glowing fungus missing, they were expanding their hunting territory. One dug out of the wall from each side, springing an ambush.

That fight hadn’t gone too badly. This group at least knew how to kill things. Fighters ran to engage each of the moles, and the clerics backed them up with heals. There was a bit of confusion, but the moles were both killed after a few minutes. The creatures had a huge amount of health and turned out to be low-level bosses.

Congratulations! Your raid has fought and killed two named bosses: Olaf and Iggy Molinsky

For slaying the Molinsky brothers, each member of the raid has earned 200 experience and 2 Enhancement Points.

Your reputation with the Moletariat would go down if you weren’t already at the bottom. Those moles hate everybody.

Morale went up after that. Enhancement Points were always nice to get. Players could kill trash mobs to level, and some had done so continuously until they hit the top of Level 5. Then they did the least amount of work to move on to level 6 and the second tier. This resulted in no options to upgrade their classes. Some were working on repeating this losing strategy, while others had learned their lesson and started over. It wasn’t enough to do just the basics. The most successful guilds had players that pushed past a stat of 5 by raising their caps. They earned Enhancement Points by killing bosses and raiding constantly. Brannigan could only hope this raid would put his little group on that path.

It was the special skills you could buy with Enhancement Points that let a player customize their character and become more powerful. That was one of the reasons he had agreed to do this raid. The bigger the fight and the crazier the monsters, the bigger the reward. And doing crazy things and big quests gave a lot better options for upgrades in Tier 2. Brannigan had started out as a vanilla fighter. He’d spent all of his time with a small group killing the same village of goblins every day and selling their ears, livers, and teeth to an alchemist. After reaching Tier 2, he’d been offered the classes: Fighter, Trashhauler, and Goblinslayer. He’d decided to start over.

The raid was dealing fairly well with random lurker attacks and trash mobs until they got to the bridge. It was just a basic stone bridge across a 30-foot-wide chasm. It was ten feet wide, level, with no traps, and should have been no problem to walk across.

They had checked it out as best they could first, just to be sure. A thief had slowly snuck across using stealth and checking for traps. A wizard had declared it to be completely non-magical.

The bridge wasn’t trapped, but it was certainly dangerous. As people with torches or light globes started walking across the bridge, giant bats swooped down, knocking two people to their deaths. The raid had prepared for a fight when they saw another dozen bats, which were content to fly down into the chasm and feast on the tenderized corpses. The raid moved onward, aware that the dead players would lose their gear. Brannigan wasn’t going to risk sending down a group to resurrect the two and possibly lose more people.

The latest obstacle had been a steep incline that ended in a thirty-foot drop. Mickey had scouted ahead and said it wasn’t a bad climb down to the drop-off, and they could rig a rope to help people descend. Mickey and Fleegle were working on putting pitons into the rock to secure the ropes, and a ranger named Leafrot was scouting further ahead.

Climbing slowly down a steep slope was tricky, but not difficult if you went slowly and faced back uphill. Climbing down a thirty-foot rope shouldn’t be tough for most players. If someone had no skills at all to help and bad physical stats, a fighter could lower them with a harness. So it shouldn’t have been a problem getting everyone down. But of course, since it looked easy and was taking some time, some of the players got bored and improvised.

The first five people had slowly made their way down successfully, and two started down the ropes. Five more were on the way, but two of those decided to walk down normally instead of backward. Jester wanted to show off his monk’s skills and slide down like he was snowboarding, which made TheBlueBishop decide to try the same stunt, despite having no agility skills.

The rest of the raid saw people moving quicker and pushed ahead. Rocks and pebbles started rolling downhill, disturbed by the passage of so many people. A wizard patiently waiting his turn for a rope got hit in the head with a rock and tumbled from the cliff, taking a bard halfway down the rope with her. Both landed in a pile at the bottom with half their health until more rocks and more people started falling on them. Being at the bottom of the pile proved fatal.

Jester made it down fine, jumped off the edge like it was a ski ramp, and landed in a roll far down the slope, unharmed. Not so his imitator, TheBluebishop. Clerical robes flying around him, the portly man tripped, rolled, and knocked into two more players, and all three fell off the cliff, one dying as the portly cleric landed on him.

Of the thirty-six players to start, twenty-seven made it down the cliff, sixteen of which with broken bones of some type. Three more died when Jester came racing back to camp, pursued by a giant praying mantis he had disturbed. Leafrot never returned from his scouting mission.

Brannigan called it at that point. They needed to heal, dead players knocked off the bridge needed to catch up with the raid, and everyone was low on mana and health. They made fires, put out bedrolls, and ate meals, followed by designating the camp as their resurrection point. Brannigan organized the players into shifts so that the camp was never abandoned and the rest could log out. They’d get the group healed and all together for the next leg of the journey.

Overall, he wasn’t upset with the event. It had some traps and things they had learned to avoid, but they were all getting better at paying attention and looking for threats. The trash mobs weren’t trash, and they were getting some good experience. Coyote-Jane claimed to have gained a level for real and a heritage option. But she also still clung to her mushroom dream of being an avatar of Coyote-Bob, so who knew? What he really liked was how the event made him feel like they were exploring into the unknown. He knew the fights were probably level-appropriate and scaled to the area, but it still felt like they might run into something nasty at any moment. This made the players pay attention and stay serious and mostly silent.

It was a good player experience, and he wondered what else they’d run into before they did the invasion of the ratkin area.

Chapter 51

Pickled Picnics and Plucky Puffyfurs

Redfawn beat on the glass of the pickle jar she was imprisoned in, but she wasn’t strong enough to break the bright green enchanted pickle glass. Through the green-tinted glass, she saw her other fairy friends being roughly stuffed into jars as well. Greggy was screwing the lids on tight and punching small holes in the top to let air in. The Bad Pickle Boyz had captured all of them! Gingersnapple was in the jar nearest to her, with Tuliptoes, Cherrypit, and Moonflower further down the row.

Then the horror began as Greggy Gurner started taunting them. Pickles were so mean!

“Ha! Silly flutter-things were thinking y’all wuz the smartiest, but Greggy is smartiest too! Did you have fun at my Pikknik?” He held up a small piece of paper showing a picnic basket and directions to the fairy picnic. Redfawn suddenly understood! The surprise picnic no one had known about, why picnic was spelled wrong, and why the invitations had told them to go to the clearing in the Haunted Woods. It all made sense now!

“You lied about the picnic!” Such evil had rarely been seen in the Flowerland!

All the Bad Pickle Boyz laughed. Greggy laughed the loudest. “Oh no. We is gonna have us a pikknik, but first we need to have a little contest. Some of you will be new pickles, and some will stay cucumbers. So, you is gonna have to decide whether you wanna go to the picnic with Greggy or be on the menu!”

The horrified fairies saw that Big Pickle and Granny Gerkin had arrived. The smoke-belching Pickle Wagon came up the hill with Granny driving and Big Pickle riding in the back next to the pickle barrels and vinegar vat. Granny hopped out of the driver’s seat of the Pickle Wagon, and Big Pickle unwound a long hose. While two of the boyz ran the hand pump on top of the vinegar vat, Big Pickle put the hose over the top of Redfawn’s jar, and vinegar came through the air holes, soaking her. Granny laughed. “Oh, you is gonna be such a bad batch of sour little pickles. That sauce has dill, mustard, and lots of peppercorns in it.”

The vinegar stung her eyes and skin and smelled horrible. The other fairies cried out when it was their turn to be pickled. “I don’t want to be a yucky pickle!” Cherrypit’s voice cried out, but the Bad Pickle Boyz just laughed.

* * *

Bertie Badger had shown up late to the picnic. He loved free food, but he’d slept in, and then Uncle Ebeneezer had needed his tonic made from carrot juice, and the carrots had been extra hoppy and hard to catch today. When he showed up to the clearing in the haunted woods, he was disappointed to see that no one was there. Had Uncle Ebeneezer’s errand made him so late that he had missed cupcakes?

Posters for the picnic were nailed to all the trees (which really annoyed Mr. Ent) and blankets were spread out on the ground, but no one was there. And things smelled bad! Like old vinegar or Uncle Ebenezer’s feet. He’d smelled that smell last spring when the Pickle Boyz had tried to steal all the jelly bean trees. Looking around, he saw large, three-toed footprints in the mud that smelled like vinegar. Pickles had been here!

Bernie didn’t know what was going on, but he knew it needed someone bigger and smarter than him to fix things. The scared little badger ran off to find the Tunnelmuggle; Brinka was the only one who could help them now!

* * *

The Clan Puffyfur tea party had been a rousing success. Especially if you judged it by how many cookies had been eaten. They had served three kinds of tea, read some poetry, played charades, and Larry had told several stories about Flowerland and the fairies that lived there.

“It seems so real when you tell your stories, Larry.” Sophie had been mesmerized by the stories. “I wish we could go there someday.”

Larry was happy. He’d had so many cookies! The room was too small to dance in, but the tea was tasty. And he was glad to tell his stories. “Stories are real for Larry. Someday maybe they will be real for you too!”

Patsy, Sassy, Sophie, Luna, and Dot all hoped that was true. “Can you take us there, Larry?”

Larry shook his head. “No, Larry can’t. Larry is too big to fit through the secret door. He needs help from Brinka, the Tunnelmuggle. It is very hard for Brinka to take Larry there because Larry has such big feet. Larry only goes to Flowerland when it is hero time. And if it is hero time, then lots of scary bad guys are running around. You’d have to fight them and be heroes too!”

All the girls nodded. Being a hero sounded good, but maybe not fighting bad guys. Puffyfurs weren’t noted for being brave. Those people joined Clan Manticore.

The cuckoo clock struck twelve, and the little bird came out and started tweeting over and over. Which was strange, because the clock hadn’t been there a moment before. A foot-high green door opened up in the wall, and Brinka stuck her head out. “Larry! I’ve been looking all over for you! Something terrible has happened, and all the fairies are missing!”

All of the Puffyfurs were staring and holding their breath. Larry patted Brinka on the head. “Don’t worry. Larry will come help.”

Patsy, Sassy, Sophie, Luna, and Davie started talking all at once. “We’ll help! Puffyfurs can be brave! And smart! We’ll bring cookies!”

Brinka gave her consent to Larry. More heroes would be a good thing! Larry stood up, scattering the table and anything on it, and grabbed all the girls up into a bear hug. Then the Hero of Flowerland dove into the small door and down into the Tunnelmuggle Tunnel. His feet were the last part of him to go through the door, and Brinka had to push hard.

* * *

The trip down the tunnel wasn’t long, but it was very curvy. The Hero and Heroes-in-Training fell out of a hole in the branch of the Big Oak Tree by the Pond. It was only a short fall, and they landed in the Sunflowers. Patsy, Sassy, Sophie, Luna, and Davie stared around with huge eyes, taking in the too colorful landscape, with the bright sun overhead.

Larry produced several pairs of dark glasses from a small chest at the base of the tree. “Larry wears Hero Glasses while he is here so he can see better.” He put on his own pair and handed out five more pairs of stylish, dark-tinted shades to his assistants. As he was doing so, he saw the poster for the picnic nailed to the oak tree.

“Aha! A clue!” He showed the poster to the junior heroes. “We must be clever and find the clues to where the fairies have gone.”

They got to work.

“They spelled picnic wrong.”

“The poster is drawn on the back of a label from a pickle jar.”

“It says ‘event of the season,’ which can’t be right. Our tea party was the event of the season!”

“It smells like vinegar.”

Larry was happy that his new friends had come along; they were so good at finding clues. “Good job, Heroes.” Larry sniffed the air and all around the oak tree, then pointed down a path to the haunted forest. “Fairies went this way. We should go look for them!”

Patsy pointed to the small badger that was running down the path toward them. “Maybe Mr. Badger knows something.”

Larry could see Bernie Badger running down the path. It was a clue! Bernie was lazy and always late. If he was running, he had important news. Time to put all the clues together and find some fairies!

* * *

“Oooh, look, they’re all starting to turn green! This is gonna be some fine new pickles when they get done!” Greggy was feeling good. Both Granny Gerkin and Big Pickle had joined the gang when he explained his clever plan to them. “As soon as these are done, we’ll get to work pickling up all of Flowerland!”

Big Pickle yelled out, “And there’s no one who can stop us.”

Granny Gerkin stared at Big Pickle and did a double facepalm. “You had to say that, didn’t you?!”

From over the hill came the sound of large, pickle-stomping feet.

“Hey Hey! Ho Ho! Evil Pickles got to Go!” It was Larry! Slow-Talking, Fast-Walking Larry! The Hero of Flowerland!

Granny wasn’t surprised. Big Pickle might as well have sent the Hero an engraved invitation with a map when he said that no one could stop them. “Get him, Big Pickle! I’ll load up the Pickle Wagon!”

Greggy urged the Bad Pickle Boyz on. “Well, don’t just sit here! Go help Big Pickle! It’s seven to one. Surely, he can’t beat all of you!”

Granny Gerkin heard Greggy say that and wondered how she had gotten stuck with these idiots. “Just shut your mouth, Gurner, and start loading up those pickle jars into the wagon.”

Greggy turned to grab the fairies and their jars, but they were gone. He saw five wizards with tails and bows in their hair sprinting away with the fairies in their arms, discarded pickle jars were scattered on the ground. He chased after them. “Give them fairies back! I trapped them fair and square!”

Patsy called a halt. “This is far enough. Deploy wands, Puffyfurs. Time to show this pickle what it means to mess with Clan Puffyfur!”

Greggy Gurner was a powerful Boss Pickle over seven feet tall and weighed more than what all five small wizards did together. That didn’t help him as he was targeted with five spells.

“Sassy’s Static Bombardment. Go!”

“Davie’s Dangerous Discharge. Go!”

“Vengeful Electrical Arc of the Moon. Go!”

“Sophie’s Silly Symphony of Synchronous Thunder. Go!”

A field of static electricity burned the pickle’s feet and slowed him down. He was shocked by a blast of lightning from Davie’s wand. From the sky, a brilliant white bolt of energy lanced down to hit Greggy on top of his head. Finally, small thunderstorms appeared and tossed lightning at him, making him dance.

It was a tired and burnt pickle boss that staggered up the hill, only to be met by Patsy. The official 3rd assistant to the head of the planning committee for Clan Puffyfur was angry. This was the worst picnic ever! “Vengeful Smite of Clan Puffyfur!” She slammed her staff into Greggy Gurner’s face, knocking him down and breaking his crown, sending him tumbling down the hill.

Big Pickle had reached Larry as Larry sprinted down the hill. Big Pickle went to throw a punch, but Larry leaped into the air, spinning and hitting the large pickle in the face with his huge foot. Big Pickle’s head exploded into little bits of vegetable. His head was mostly hollow, after all. Larry’s tail scattered the rest of the Bad Pickle Boyz. They got the message.

“Time to Leave!” The boys grabbed what was left of Big Pickle and ran for the Pickle Wagon.

Grandma Gerkin shook her fist at Larry. “Darn you, Larry! This plan would have worked if it weren’t for you and those meddling kids!” She drove off in the Pickle Wagon with Greggy Gurner running behind and begging her to slow down.

“I need a bath!” Gingersnapple was trying to wash off the pickle juice with a handful of grass, but it was sticky and icky.

“Let’s go to the river and take a bath, then we can have lemonade and jelly beans with our new friends.” Moonflower was fond of lemonade and suggested it whenever she could.

“Yay, a real picnic!”

Larry let the fairies ride on his head and shoulders since their wings were sticky. Clan Puffyfur walked along with him.

“Best Tea Party of the Year!”

Chapter 52

The Cheese Caravan

Merchant Greensleeves’s wagon was first in line as it entered the outer edge of the caves surrounding Limburger Hollow. It was painted bright red with a canvas top striped yellow and white. It was pulled by a matching pair of albino draft lizards, their scales gleaming after being polished with oil each day. The entire caravan looked more like a circus than a merchant carrying goods.

Greensleeves called a halt to the caravan and ordered a two-hour break for rest and food. “Get something to eat and stretch your backs. Double-check that your wheels are tight and your lizards polished. It’s close to showtime. Once we get inside, there isn’t time to breathe, we will be so busy, so take care of things now.” The guards and drovers laughed and waved at him, thankful for the small break before they rolled into Limburger Hollow.

With just one guard and his personal scribe, the merchant drove his wagon up to the entrance to the Limburger Hollow. The two guards at the entrance were immense specimens, and he wondered what their bloodline was. They wore steel plate armor and wielded impressively large halberds. He was happy to see that. A safe hollow was a prosperous and rich hollow.

The guards greeted him politely as he drove up and hopped down from his wagon. “Howdy, and welcome to Limburger Hollow! I’m Justin, and this is Brutus. Is it just your one wagon, or is there a larger caravan on the way?”

Greensleeves laughed and shook hands with them. “As if you two haven’t been hearing the sound of our wheels for half a bell. I know how sharp a guard’s ears need to be. I am happy to say that we took no losses in our journey, and I can deliver sixteen wagons of fun, music, dancing, and cheese to Limburger Hollow. I’m looking forward to meeting Master Bleusnout, trading some wheels of cheese with him, and talking about recipes we can share. We have spoken by letter, of course, but it’s so much nicer to talk cheese-making in person.”

There was a small change in the guard’s demeanor, which only someone with Greensleeve’s high Perception would catch. Something was wrong.

The guard named Justin was trying to keep the same easy-going smile on his face, but it was an act now, whereas before it had been genuine. “I’m sorry to say that Master Bleusnout is a bit under the weather today. He’s had an accident. But Brutus can go get one of the other masters to talk to you. For now, why don’t you bring your caravan into the outer cave so you don’t have to worry about any critters being attracted by the cheese.”

Greensleeves bowed. “I thank you for your hospitality, Sir Justin. I’ll get my people inside so they can take a well-deserved rest, and I look forward to talking to the masters of the hollow.” He walked away listening. The Cheese-Master was too ill to talk to the head merchant of a Cheese Caravan? He must be ill indeed. Perhaps he had underestimated Sneakybadguy, it seemed his agent already had his plan running, and Limburger Hollow was ready to be toppled.

Back at the caravan, four of the guards and a fiend-keeper went to two large wagons with heavy tarps over their contents. Carefully looking inside, Grackle, the fiend-keeper, checked on Buttercup and Rosy. The two fiends were asleep. Rosy was curled up holding her doll, and Buttercup was snoring a little. He put a piece of Slaver Cheese in front of each of them. They would wake soon and eat it immediately, then curl back up for another day’s sleep. It was imperative that these two be kept out of sight. He’d give them some more Sleepy Cheese in a couple of hours. Nothing said “here to conquer you” like a couple of fully armored war fiends.

Brutus walked quickly down the narrow tunnel that led from the guard station in the outer cave to the beginning of the hollow. He needed to find someone to talk to that merchant. A Cheese Caravan was a big thing! Limburger hadn’t had one visit for over three years. The merchants who took it upon themselves to travel from hollow to hollow were wandering heroes to many ratkin, and it was the dream of many whelps to run away and join one. Travel, see far hollows, be a hero, and fight monsters! It was an adventurous life that many sought, but few actually found.

You had a big dream, and then your parents had to spoil it by pointing out that only veteran warriors were wanted in the caravan. It was one of the reasons he’d become a guard, and at times he still thought about it. But that would mean leaving Limburger, and that wasn’t a price he was willing to pay. Maybe if he hadn’t met Gendifur and they hadn’t started meeting up to talk every now and then. Maybe he’d have kids, and he could let one of them run off with a caravan. Hell, maybe he should start one up. A few wagons, take Gendifur along, and just run back and forth between here and Gouda Hollow? Something to think about.

He quit daydreaming and went back to searching for a master. He didn’t see Gilad around the arena, and the Tail-Master was notoriously hard to find when he wasn’t in the ring and teaching a class. Old Healer would be with Bleusnout and wasn’t available. So, did he head down to the mines and find Master Clawhammer? Or to the tower and grab Master Arlothe? Rifkin wasn’t a full master yet, and he was busy trying to get a meal on the table. Mistress Brownfur would be far out into the gathering fields by now.

His problem was solved as he saw Tallsqueak coming out of the mess hall—no, make that Scout-Master Tallsqueak! Problem solved.

* * *

Milo saw Brutus waving to him and walked over to the big guard. Brutus shook his hand. “Wanted to congratulate you on grabbing a ring and taking over as Scout-Master. Good move. It will be nice to have someone coordinating the scouts again. It’s been just the guards handling problems for a long time, but scouts take care of things before they can get to the hollow.”

Brutus couldn’t hide a big grin. “And speaking of things that are just outside the hollow: we have a Cheese Caravan arriving, and the whole meeting and greeting stuff is just way above my pay scale. Justin says it’s master-level stuff. And since Bleusnout isn’t feeling well and the rest of the old masters are so hard to find, I think that this falls squarely in your area of responsibility.”

Milo could handle the translation himself. Job to do. Tag, you’re it. This time, he didn’t mind—a Cheese Caravan sounded exciting! Exploring through caves, finding lost routes to other places. It sounded like a great job. The people in the caravan had to be some of the nicest people out of any hollow to work so hard to bring tasty things to other hollows.

“Sure, Brutus. I’m happy to help out.”

* * *

Greensleeves wandered along the wagons in his caravan, checking on details. First impressions were important. He only had a few of the warriors in armor and standing guard with specific instructions to relax and be friendly. The rest were dressed in normal clothes, making fires, cooking a meal, or just sitting around and joking with each other. Stopping at the other hollows had been good practice.

His wagon master was doing his job looking for problems. A cracked axle or broken wheel could set the caravan back for hours at a time. They weren’t planning on going anywhere, but now was a good time to catch up with repairs. He saw that the man was scowling at one of the special wagons. This was one of two whose wooden sides hid a steel frame, the cage extending upward and being made to look like a pile of boxes and crates. Each one housed one of his Battle Fiends and their armor. The axles and wheels were made to take the weight, with special springs to keep from jostling the easily annoyed fiends, but one was dripping oil steadily.

Greensleeves wandered over when he saw the wagon master scowling. “What is the problem?” The older ratkin looked up at him nervously. “I think the mechanism is shot. We went over a lot of bumps, and the suspension system takes a lot of wear and tear with as much weight as they are packing. I’ll have to jack it up, take it apart, and hope it’s something I can fix.” Greensleeves thought about the problem at hand. He really wanted nothing to disturb his fiends. “Save it for now. Just put a bucket underneath to save the oil. When I find out more of what is going on, then I’ll tell you when to dismantle it.”

Greensleeves willed himself to be patient. He needed to know what was going on, and to do that, he needed access to the interior of Limburger Hollow. Then he could find his agent, assess the weak points, plan his takeover, and find out how well the rest of Sneakybadguy’s plan was working. It shouldn’t be hard. Even if they didn’t have room for the caravan inside, he was sure that they would allow a few of his people to enter at a time to go shopping and trade for items. Most hollows were eager for trade, and he assumed Limburger would be no different.

The second guard had returned, flanked by a young ratkin who was dressed strangely. A guard in training? Maybe an apprentice to a master who was on his way? He was certainly too young to be a master of anything. Brutus stepped forward to introduce them. “Merchant Greensleeves, this is Scout-Master Tallsqueak. He was kind enough to take some time to talk to you.”

So he really was a master? Interesting. He held out his hand, and they shook. Greensleeves took a second look at him and did a careful examination. He was an adult, but just barely, with soft, fluffy fur that made him look much younger. He was wearing well-made, silky-black pants in a style that Greensleeves knew was preferred by claw fighters. Over that was a burnt-orange hood with runes on the cowl. He could only just see the runes as they faded in and out. Both pieces of clothing were obviously magical. As were the weapons on his back.

The Scout-Master had a very expensive-looking pickaxe made from rare materials. Greensleeves had not seen its like before. The other weapon was too powerful for him to identify properly. Who made a spikeystick out of such rare materials? It must be an old weapon from some ancient war. And on his finger was a signet ring of a master. Not all hollows had them still. They were created centuries ago by a conclave of crafters from many hollows, working together for decades on end to provide the talismans to each hollow. Five enchanted items? No! Six. He had a second ring! How did anyone so young acquire six magical items? Limburger Hollow must be much richer than he had ever realized. He had to calm himself just thinking about it.

Greensleeves realized a few seconds had gone by while he examined Limburger Hollow’s Scout-Master. “It is good to meet you. Forgive me. It’s been a long trip, and I have much on my mind.”

Milo smiled at him. “I can imagine. Most people have no idea how many moving parts projects have. Material resources, people, food and supplies for the people, transport for all of it, and then more food for the transport animals. I’ve only thought about your job for a moment once I saw your wagons, and I’m already seeing hundreds of little jobs that have to be done.”

He did? “It’s good to meet someone with that type of perspective. Most young people only see the bright tents and dream about running away and joining a caravan.”

Milo looked over at the tents. “They are very nice looking. The colors are interesting. Natural warning colors to ward off some predators? The bright red, glowing purple, and bright yellow probably do the trick. Wait? People can run away from the hollow to join a caravan? That’s an option? I may have to talk to you further about that. It sounds fun. Lots of exploring.”

Greensleeves wondered about where Tallsqueak had grown up. Didn’t every whelp dream of running off with a caravan? “Ah, less than you’d think. We mostly travel the same roads. I was hoping to talk to you about something else. As you can see, there is room here for the Cheese Caravan to set up, but I was wondering if there is a larger area inside of the hollow? Your esteemed Master Bleusnout had written me and seemed to think so.”

Milo was looking at all the wagons, piled high with boxes. There was certainly room to move the wagons inside, but what of the festivities and people moving back and forth? The caravan probably wouldn’t want to be crammed into a small space. Their sales and profits depended on people being able to access the stalls where cheese was sold or traded. You needed room for that. It would be doing the caravan a disservice to cram them into the hollow.

“I’m not sure that there is. Not to give you proper room to interact with everyone one and maximize your sales. Certainly not for the dancing and music, that would be a lot better to do out here. I saw the posters you must have asked Bleusnout to post. Looks like a lot of the hollow will be running around and having fun.” He started walking along through the cavern, pointing at the ceiling. “Those stalactites would work great for anchoring a set of colorful lanterns to illuminate the dancing. It’s not hard crawling on the ceiling. I’ll do it if you don’t have anyone that can.”

He pointed to a spot in the cave that was slightly higher than the rest of the floor. “A stage for the band would go well there. Good acoustics, don’t you know? That area of the wall forms a natural amphitheater to magnify the sound. I bet Master Clawhammer could build some temporary seating over in that section, and then we can sweep out the area in the middle for dancing.”

Greensleeves found himself following around the excitable Scout-Master as he laid out the caravan and volunteered ideas for making the celebration go easier. Several of Greensleeve’s people walked over, and seeing what was going on, offered their own advice on things when Tallsqueak started asking them questions. Then he borrowed a pencil and drew out the diagrams on the side of a wagon. If Greensleeves was really a merchant, and if he wasn’t leading an army in disguise, he probably would have tried to hire the young Scout-Master for future caravans. Instead, he found himself unable to argue with the well-made plans that kept his caravan out of the hollow.

Milo looked around at a half-dozen ratkin and soldiers looking at him. “Well, that’s my idea, anyway. I’m sure you all know how to do it better.”

The wagon master and bard were looking at the plans and turned to Merchant Greensleeves. “Does this work for you, sir?”

Greensleeves smiled. “Of course it does. Nicely thought out. If only all hollows put this much thought into our visits.” He took Milo by the arm and pulled him over to a quieter spot. “I’m wondering if perhaps I or some of my people can visit your hollow? The crew would love to shop for fresh food and look for things in your marketplace. And an exchange of ideas and goods is always a good thing between caravans and hollows. I daresay we gather up information like a Gather-Master in a field of fungus and then distribute it everywhere we go.”

“Oh, yes, that sounds swell. I’m sure visitors will be welcome. And I hadn’t considered how much someone like you must learn traveling like you do. Can I ask you a few questions?”

Greensleeves was happy to turn the conversation in this direction. “Certainly, what would you like to know?”

Milo had several questions he needed information on. “I was wondering if you knew why cheese mites might be on a wheel of cheese or in its packaging. Have you ever encountered that? Are they more common in some hollows? Are they used in any cheese-making process?”

Greensleeves stroked his beard to cover his surprise. Spider mites? Of course he had. It was one of the ingredients used to make Milbenkase, the cheese that was the main ingredient in Slave Cheese. “Spiders? Um, no. No, I have not. That sounds horrible.”

Milo was disappointed. He’d hoped the wise merchant might have known. “How about black mold? Is it poisonous? What would happen if someone ate it?”

“Ah, no. I’m sorry. I think Black Mold is to be avoided at all costs. You don’t have an infestation of it in your hollow, do you?”

Parts of Wurchwitz Hollow had become infested with Black Mold, forcing them to seal off tunnels and caves. Experimenting with it and trying to find a cure for ‘Black Lung’ was how they knew it could be used to make so many effective poisons. Why was Tallsqueak asking these questions? Did he suspect something?

Tallsqueak nodded. “No worries. I just have questions sometimes, and they bother me until I find the answers.” He focused on something two wagons down. “Oh, you have a bad axle that is leaking grease. I’ll take a look at that for you.” Before Greensleeves could stop him, Milo had taken the spanner from his belt and was undoing two bolts to remove a plate on the axle assembly.

“This is a nice design. The lubrication for the suspension system and the grease for the wheels are supplied by the same container. But it looks like the pressure screws are loose and creating an imbalance. Too much pressure is sending lubrication to the left wheel and causing it to leak.” He tightened a couple of screws, put the cover back on, and slid out from under the wagon.

“That should work. Wouldn’t want one of your wagons losing a shock absorber and seizing up.” As Milo stood up and dusted off his pants, something large rocked the wagon and snored heavily.

Greensleeves thought quickly and whispered, “We should move away from here. That’s Dave’s wagon. He’s a pretty large guard, and he just got to sleep. Snores terribly at times.”

Milo nodded. “Yeah, Brutus does the same. He rattles the whole Guard Barracks when he sleeps.”

“Thank you for your time and expertise, Master Tallsqueak. I look forward to our visit to your hollow. They shook hands once again, and Milo headed back to Limburger Hollow.

Merchant Greensleeves, known better as General Gangrene, watched him go and wondered just how much the Scout-Master knew. He needed to find his agent. He pointed at four of the guards who had on normal clothing. “You four come with me. I have a hankering for some fried mushrooms the way only a hollow makes them, and then we need to wander around and sightsee a bit.”

Chapter 53

Further Investigations

The Cheese Caravan was in full swing, and Limburger Hollow was celebrating. The local musicians had joined with those in the caravan to put on an enthusiastic show. The caravan was supplying cheesy snacks and fruit drinks to anyone who would provide music. Francis Longwhisker, the famous bard of Gouda Hollow was singing all the old favorites. Dancing and music ran long into the night, nearly to the next day.

The caravan was doing a brisk business trading cheese for the goods the hollow produced and at very good prices. Many families were stocking up on the tasty wheels and slabs, putting the aged cheese away for the holidays. And with every purchase came some of the caravan’s newest offerings, a soft and slightly sour cheese with caraway seeds. It was delicious when spread on crackers.

The new Cheese-Master was so taken with this cheese, that he had traded some of the hollow’s cheese for enough for several meals. And he was giving two pieces at each meal as long as everyone promised to get lots of dancing in to work off the cheese. The extra cheese went a long way to make up for several meals of fried mushrooms. The new chef was having a hard time keeping up with meals and was preparing those easiest for him. Luckily, the inhabitants of the hollow were easygoing as usual. They knew poor Rifkin was doing a lot without his usual helper, Smiley.

Up on the roof of the mess hall, three shadows sat, talking in low tones and using their skills to blend into the shadows. Occasionally jelly beans were shared and eaten. Milo had found the twins, and the three of them were going to do a bit of creative scouting tonight. Milo wanted the twins to follow Rifkin when he left while Milo investigated the cellar for clues.

After talking with several people, he couldn’t see how the cheese could have come up the stairs into the mess hall and then left the building. There simply wasn’t enough time. And if the cheese hadn’t left by that route, it must have gone by another or was still down there. He and the twins had come up with a few ideas.

- A vast storage pit had been dug to hide the cheese. Then the dirt scattered on the floor, making the distance to the ceiling three inches less.

- Someone else had a Smuggler’s Stash in the hollow. They were also Tier 6 and had upgraded it many times. Milo explained the concept by telling them a little bit about the mage who had made extra rooms and magic doors. This led to the next idea.

- Someone had access to an Arcane Cheese Vault. This was an exciting concept for all of them. A safe house for all your cheese, and yet it essentially traveled along with you. Perfection.

- The cheese had been molded into the shape of a ratkin, clothes put on it, and the whole thing turned into a cheese golem that walked out with no one noticing. Maybe many cheese golems? Could you have an army of cheese golems? They wouldn’t last long against a Cheese Fiend, but maybe for fighting spiders? Even if this wasn’t true, the twins made Milo promise to look for something about Cheese Golems in the library of the Tower.

- There was a hidden entrance to a tunnel or another cave.

The last was the most probable and by far the most boring. However, secret doors and tunnels were still pretty cool. The twins promised to behave and trail Rifkin if Tallsqueak promised to show them the secrets of any tunnels he found. The party at the Cheese Caravan had gone long into the night and nearly into the next day. Rifkin had kept the mess hall open for late-night snackers, proclaiming that the hollow was having a holiday, and he would try to have food ready for as much of the day as he could. He was bustling around his kitchen serving snacks and cheese to everyone who came in and even sending people off with bags of food for those who hadn’t come to the caravan.

Eventually, long past the normal time it would stay open, the lanterns in the mess hall were extinguished, and Rifkin locked the doors and left for the night. The twins melted into the shadows, and Milo lost track of them. He waited for a few minutes and then began his investigations.

* * *

Greensleeves was satisfied with the evening and the late-night celebrations. He had toured Limburger Hollow, gawking like a tourist and complimenting everyone. They had an impressive Mage’s Tower. The reputation of the Tower of Strife was well-earned. It housed a huge complement of talented students, and the clans who lived there were rumored to be quite wealthy. One had gained so much cheese that they had donated eighty-five wheels to the hollow!

Enemy mages were always a danger. They could punch far above their weight class if allowed to burn up their mana. He would have to make sure they were neutralized early. Of course, having those same mages on his side would make conquering more hollows very easy.

Limburger had rich mushroom and vegetable fields, enough that some were barely harvested. He could increase the population of slaves here and send many wagons of food to supply the armies he would build. And those armies would be supplied weapons from this same hollow! The mines contained a great abundance of ores. Limburger Hollow was a little gem just waiting to be militarized.

While many of their residents had fighter training, they had less than a dozen guards, and only two were full-time. Of course, they bred immense guards in this hollow, far larger than his own warriors. He was anxious to see how well they could fight.

He had managed to only briefly contact his agent here. Their plans were going well, with just one teeny, tiny problem. Their new scout master was getting suspicious and asking questions. Having met him, Greensleeves understood the danger. The last thing he needed was a scout actually doing his job. He had worked with his agent to set in motion a plan to eliminate Tallsqueak, once and for all. Limburger hadn’t had a scoutmaster for decades. He hoped to help continue that trend.

* * *

Milo used the door into the mess hall with the repaired lock. After making puffcakes that day, he had spent a few minutes fixing the locking mechanism that had bent when Larry walked through the door. It was easy enough to fix, with just a few bent pieces out of alignment. It meant that this time as he moved through the shadows and up to the door, it took no time at all to open it and slip inside.

The mess hall was dark, but he could see easily. He carefully made his way to the back room and the stairway to the cellar, checking carefully as he went. Too much had already happened, and he was trusting nothing at this point. At the bottom of the stairs, he paused to listen at the doors to the cellar and examine the locks, hinges, and door frame. The lock showed signs of having been worked on recently. There were scratches where the mechanism had been removed and then put back into place. One of the screws was also new. Milo suspected that the key Bleusnout had used to come down here would no longer work.

It wouldn’t stop him, just slow him down. He had expected to have to pick this lock. He removed his tools and got to work. There was no trap attached, but the lock was very stiff. It took him a full five minutes to get inside, pausing to listen both through the door and to the room above. He carefully opened the door after oiling the hinges to prevent any noise and hopped over a simple trap of a string attached to empty cans. If that was the best trap in this place, he wasn’t worried.

The first stop was Bleusnout’s little office, where he kept all of his paperwork, recipe books, and research materials. Everything looked to be in order. Milo spent an hour going through the desk, notebooks, and research journals. He memorized a lot of information about making cheese but didn’t see anything at all that seemed to bear on the situation. Carefully putting everything back, he began looking at the rest of the cellar.

Rack after rack where large wheels of cheese had been now sat empty. This was the cheese that the hollow consumed with their meals and for snacks each day. The hundreds of ratkin in Limburger Hollow would go through a surprising amount each week. Even at just an eighth of a pound each, the total would come to over a hundred pounds a day. The amount Milo had won from the Eels wasn’t even a week’s worth of cheese, despite it being higher quality. The daily cheese was mostly cheddar and Limburger that the hollow made themselves.

The area for cutting and preparing cheese to be served was also empty but had been used recently and not cleaned. There was a sour smell in the air. Milo looked over each knife and spoon, and on some he saw evidence of a soft and sour cheese. Something on a knife was moving. A very, very small mite. Looking around, Milo found sacks that had held the cheese. Each had spider mites crawling around on the insides. Someone had been cutting up Milbenkase here. But where had the spider cheese come from? Had Bleusnout traded for some and been eating it that night? That might explain the mites in the samples that he had taken, but not the chef’s overdose or the problem of the missing cheese.

Moray had complained of having to put the cheese on the far side of the room. Milo padded quietly over to that area and began examining things. There were some broken crates in a pile, but no shipment of cheese. Oddly, there was a lot more dust on this side of the room, mostly on the floor. In some places it was half an inch thick. He thought of Tweedle’s theory about digging a pit and covering the floor in dirt, and it amused him. There was, of course, not enough dirt for that theory, but it bothered him. What would you hide by putting dirt on the floor?

In this case, it wasn’t a suspicious bloodstain or a hidden map carved into the rock. What his examinations revealed were scrapes and scratches as if heavy crates had been dragged in the direction of the wall. One scrape went right up to the wall.

Milo checked around that area and found two suspicious-looking cracks in the stone.

Some sort of disguised opening was here, but where was the trigger to open it? It took another half hour to find it. A small outcropping of stone about the size of the end of his thumb could be moved. The little rock was twenty feet down the wall from the rock. When moved an inch, there was a small click, and the door opened a half inch. It was a simple mechanism. The trigger simply pulled on a long wire that released the catch.

He silently opened the door until he could move inside. A long corridor greeted him. It was five feet wide and six feet tall, with smooth rock on the floor, ceiling, and walls. Ten feet down were two side corridors. He debated leaving the door open, but the latch on this side was large and obvious, next to the lock. There was no chance of being locked in. He shut the door and moved further into the room. The smell of cheddar was strong in the air.

At first, he was amazed at what he was looking at. The rock of the two side corridors had been carved to form long shelves from floor to ceiling. Each shelf was under an opening a foot high and two feet deep. On the rocky shelves was cheese. Big rounds of cheddar cheese. Underneath each five-pound wheel was the date it had been made, by whom, the method, the type of milk, and anything that had been added to the regular recipe. The side corridors went twenty feet. There were four shelves with ten cheeses on each. Eighty wheels per corridor and a hundred and sixty altogether. The hallway he was standing in extended deep into the rock beneath the hollow, and every six feet was another pair of cross-corridors with another hundred and sixty wheels.

This was the long-term cheese storage for the hollow. Bleusnout had obviously known about it. The writing on the tags was his. Milo moved further down the corridor. After passing a dozen crossroads, the hallway he was following came to a T. Across from him was a large room with casks of aged Limburger cheese. The smell was intense and very nice. Some of the dates indicated the cheese had been aging for decades. Opening one of those casks would be delicate work.

To the left, the corridor revealed another dozen rooms with hundreds of casks of carefully sorted and dated Limburger. The dust in this corridor was less disturbed than the passage to the right. Many feet had recently come this way, and there were scrapes on the floor. The corridor went fifty feet and turned, then opened into a large cavern. Stacked inside were many crates and boxes of cheese. There was a small cot with someone sleeping next to it. Milo moved toward them, scanning the ceiling, feeling for traps, and listening for noise.

That was how he found the pit. It was hidden with a cunning illusion, as had the other one in the hidden caves where one of the twins had almost fallen in. He stepped around it and quietly advanced on the sleeping figure. It was Smiley, and Milo could have made as much noise as he wanted, and he wouldn’t have woken him up. Smiley’s eyes stared up at the ceiling, a wild look in them. He was sweating and his breathing was ragged. Checking his mouth and nose, Milo saw obvious traces of Black Mold.

And then his Sense Danger told him he was about to die, and he dove for the ground as a high-powered and very silent crossbow fired a poisoned bolt at him.

Chapter 54

Words in the Dark

Milo rolled twice and then got his feet under him, crouching behind a barrel. He heard the small click as the crossbow was cocked and knew the direction the sound came from. But if the person shooting at him was good, they had already moved. Darkness didn’t affect his vision, but he couldn’t spot anyone. Their skills were high enough that they were overwhelming his perception, similar to how his own skill worked.

He concentrated on not being seen and moving as quietly as he could, circling to the right, always staying low or behind cover. Another shot came from across the room, missing his head by only an inch. Not knowing exactly where his opponent was, he took a chance and threw a skull at where he’d heard the sound of the crossbow firing. The damage from the spell broke her concentration, and he saw Charlotte finish cocking the crossbow and take her next shot.

Instead of dodging, Milo cast Harpoon of the Winds. The attacks were almost simultaneous. Milo saw his spell slam into the crossbow, destroying it, and then continued on, carving a gash in Charlotte’s cheek and the side of her head, tearing her ear. She screamed, half in pain and half in rage. Her crossbow bolt hit Milo in the arm, but the bolt stopped when it hit bone, the momentum of the impact knocking him down.

Grabbing the bolt stuck in his arm, he pulled it free. If it had been poisoned, it didn’t seem to be affecting him. A quick glance confirmed that.

You have been struck by a light crossbow and have taken 75 points of damage.

You have been poisoned. Weak poison doing 50 points per round of damage is countered by your Poison Resistance.

You have been poisoned. Strong poison doing 20 points per round is countered by your Poison Resistance.

The damaged crossbow sailed over his head and struck the wall. Charlotte came into view as she moved out from behind a crate. “You owe me a new crossbow; that was my favorite. I hope that little bit of poison isn’t inconveniencing you too much.”

Milo stood but was happier to stay partially behind cover. Did she have anyone else here with her? “Sure. I’ll be happy to get that taken care of as soon as we finish here. Why are you shooting at me?”

Charlotte shrugged. “Sorry, partner. It’s dark in here, and when I saw someone sneaking up on Smiley, I figured you were an assassin sent to finish the job someone else started. I’ve been guarding him nonstop, and I’m a little tired.”

Milo did think she looked tired and strained. Then again, Charlotte sort of always looked like that. “Guarding Smiley from who?”

“Duh. From the people trying to kill him. And if I knew exactly which shadowlurkers those were, I’d be out hunting them. But I’m pretty sure Petey is behind it, or maybe the twins, but that would be tough with how they hang around you so much. Unless you did it? Hard to keep all the players straight, isn’t it?” Charlotte had sat down and pulled out a healing potion. She was pouring it over her face and ear. “Wonder if I’ll get a cool scar out of this? It’s hard to make people take a pretty girl seriously. Grandfather keeps calling me ‘his little girl’ and telling stories about how cute I used to be. Meanwhile, he can’t see I’m twice as good a Death-Master as the twins and Petey put together.”

“So either Petey or the twins are part of a group who poisoned Bleusnout and Smiley? And why would you think I’d be in on it?”

Charlotte finished with her ear. Milo noticed she still had a tear in it. Maybe she wanted it to heal that way. “Poisoned? Where did you hear that? They both overdosed on too much bad cheese that someone gave them. Bleusnout was an addict before he dried himself out and managed to take over as Cheese-Master. Smiley is just following in his footsteps. The two of them would be down here most nights snorting lines of Parmesan or having a late-night snack of double-cheese lasagna. At least now Rif can take over and clean the place up.”

“And no, just teasing you. I don’t think you did it. I mean, sure, the scenario might fit. A tall, handsome stranger comes into the hollow, cleans out the drug addicts, takes over as the new person in charge, and runs everything. It happens all the time in the stories. But I’ve watched you a lot. You’re a little lost and getting pulled in several directions. The old masters are running you ragged.”

“You should talk to Rif more. He’s got some good ideas. And when he gets his ring, that would be two of you on the council. If we get rid of Petey, and you keep the twins in line, I’ll be the third. That’s nearly a quorum, and people are getting old. You could even take over Gilad’s ring. Toss scout to the twins, or go for a double ring. Gramps was a triple for decades; I don’t see the problem. Then we have a new generation making the rules and setting things straight.”

This was a lot of new information, and as fast as he parsed it, Milo kept finding holes in what she was saying. Too many variables and things didn’t line up based on his observations. “Hmm, sounds like then we’d have a lot of work. I’m already teaching fighting and engineering classes, and lots more.”

“That’s the point! Don’t you see?!” Charlotte was walking toward him, her tail moving back and forth as her hips swayed. “You do all that work already! They owe you more recognition. I heard they voted on you keeping the Scout ring when you earned it already! Rif isn’t getting a ring until he works his ass off for years, we’ve heard. The old rats want to control everything. Do you know Grandfather even warned me off when I said I was interested in you?”

“Me?”

She smiled at him oddly. “Yes. You! I’m surprised you didn’t see me looking at you all the time! None of the other boys can even keep up with me. You proved you were my equal the first time we met! But Gramps wants a say in who I cuddle up to. This would let you and I get together like we want to, wouldn’t it?”

She took a step forward. Milo took a step back. Charlotte smiled at him. “Playing hard to get now that I have you alone? Don’t look now, but your back is almost against the wall.” She took another step forward, making direct eye contact. “Naw, plenty of room to dodge. If I wanted to.” He took a quick look over his shoulder.

As soon as he looked back, Charlotte slashed with her claws at his stomach and a knife drove for his eye.

Chapter 55

To the End

Charlotte’s strikes were faster than Milo had been expecting, almost as fast as Gilad’s, but he’d known she was going to attack since the first step she took toward him. The weird swaying thing she did with her tail and hips he didn’t understand. Maybe it was something to distract him the way a cobra confused prey? In any case, her stance gave away both the hidden dagger and the preparation for the claw strike.

Milo had been sparring relentlessly with three very scary opponents. Gilad was a master with decades of experience. Cremona had once been a leading claw fighter who had added the arcane spells from poison and death to her style. And Larry was a creature designed to slaughter his way through an army with strength and speed far beyond normal. Adding some rumba and tango moves had just made him that much tougher. Charlotte hadn’t trained half that hard, and Milo was surprised when she managed to wound him, and he wondered if he was underestimating her.

His armored forearm blocked the incoming dagger. The steel in the dagger was inferior to the hardened bone of the Claws of Alta Viator and couldn’t leave a mark. Milo didn’t block the claw strike, choosing to take the hit and strike back while her defense was down. He’d learned to take small wounds if it would let him land a more devastating blow and rely on his regeneration to heal him. All ratkin started with Weak Claw attacks. Charlotte had upgraded hers to Not-so-weak Claws. Her strike left bleeding furrows along Milo’s abdomen, but they were minor wounds. Toughness negated some of the damage, and his regeneration began to knit his flesh back together. It hurt, but not like Charlotte was going to hurt when he struck back.

With a skill in Weak Claws at Level 6 and a STR of 4, Charlotte had a base damage of 90 points. Milo’s claws did 210. As his forearm moved inside her dagger strike and her claws raked his belly, Milo brought up his left hand in a claw strike against Charlotte’s side. She gasped at the pain as the claws tore through her light armor and into muscle. The pain made her freeze up, and his right hand slashed downward, starting at her shoulder, tearing deep furrows down her chest. She tried to roll away from him and use Disengage, but his tail slashed hard against her arm as she blocked her throat.

Milo was at 2,033/2,210 Health. Charlotte had taken much more damage and was at 585/1,280. “Give up, Charlotte. I’m better than you and a lot tougher. Your poison isn’t going to stop me, and it will only take a few more attacks to put you down.”

The injured shadowlurker hissed at him. “And that’s why I hate you. You still think you’re better than me. And maybe you are, at some things! I may not have the advantage of mutations, but I do have powerful friends who’ve gifted me with some tasty Battle Cheese.” She took a chunk of cheese from her pocket and crammed it into her mouth, chewing fast. “I’ll be good as new soon.”

Milo’s tail struck her again as she was chewing, slamming into her ribs and cracking bones. He moved forward to press the attack, but she scampered back quickly using Disengage and leaping to a pile of crates. She ate another piece of cheese. “A little healing, a little more speed, and I’m good for round two.” She sprinted back at him, clawing desperately. Milo was very surprised by the ferocity of the attack as they slipped past his defenses and left him bleeding. And she wasn’t blocking his counterattacks at all. He’d definitely underestimated her. When he had a chance, he drew Shadowblight, and the weapon began humming.

“Gee, you take me seriously now? Using a weapon? You should have picked a better one. There’s a reason shadowlurkers don’t train with spikeysticks.”

They moved around the room, often right next to each other, clawing and slashing. Milo was only able to hit her with Shadowblight once, but the effect was immediate as her thin armor cracked and fell to shreds. She barely noticed, lunging at him again with outstretched claws, forcing him to dodge and roll or be pinned into a corner. When he had an opportunity, Milo cursed her with Brittle Bones. It added some damage to his slashing attacks and doubled the damage from Mace Tail. He concentrated on feinting with Shadowblight and then slapping her hard with his tail.

After several rounds, they pulled back from each other, both of them fighting for breath and bleeding from many cuts. The difference between them was obvious. Milo was wounded and down some of his health at 1,260/2,210, while Charlotte was nearly dead. She slammed more cheese into her mouth, screaming at him. “I’m not done with you yet!!”

Milo didn’t want to kill her. He still had questions he needed her to answer. His tail snaked up to his belt and grabbed his spanner. She seemed immune to pain and intent on dying, so blunt force might work best, letting him knock her unconscious. As Charlotte charged him head-on, eyes maddened and glowing red with rage, Milo leaped in the air and spun, hurling his spanner in a long arc with a huge amount of momentum. It caught Charlotte in the shoulder, knocking her down and shattering bones in her shoulder, arm, and chest. She moaned, and Milo yelled at her, “Stay down now. And tell me who poisoned Bleusnout.” He stayed ready to attack her with claws, spikeystick, and a spanner in his tail.

She laughed hysterically, lying on her back, struggling to get a breath into her shattered ribs. “You really don’t know? Do you? They were so worried about you after you taunted Greensleeves about the Black Mold and Spider Cheese! They didn’t know if you were threatening them or wanting in on the deal. It never occurred to him and Rifkin that you were clueless. I’m going to laugh so hard when I bring them your head! You have no idea the power they handed to me. And so tasty.” She stuffed her mouth with cheese and swallowed, before doing it again while flipping backward. Milo heard bones snap and grind, and she completed the maneuver.

Then, to Milo’s astonishment, she stood up, and the bones in her shoulder and chest moved and reset themselves. Her wounds were healing right before his eyes. She flexed her large hands, and her sharp claws grew longer. Large, mismatched red eyes lacking sanity stared at him. Milo put more distance between them, but Charlotte charged, and suddenly he was pressed as hard as if he were fighting Larry.

He put slashes into her, but she was healing at a fantastic rate. And far faster than he could when her much larger claws gave him wounds. He hit her repeatedly with Shadowblight, leaving bleeding wounds, but nothing seemed to slow her down. He needed distance to use his spells. He feinted toward her eyes, and when she ducked back, he raced toward the pit.

He couldn’t clear it in one leap, but there was a handy stalactite that his tail could grab letting him swing across. As soon as he landed, he launched two Harpoon of the Winds at her. Both spells hit her hard in the body, ripping open terrible wounds and lodging inside her. She growled, clawing at the wounds until her hands wrapped around them, and she could tear them out. Using the time as best he could, he launched two more harpoons, starting to drain his mana. She’d managed to tear only one from her chest before the next two hit. One tore into a shoulder, shattering her shoulder blade, and the other penetrated her left eye, blood exploding from the wound. Charlotte staggered back, and Milo caught his breath.

She grabbed for the pouch at her waist and dumped all of the contents into her mouth, swallowing the mass of cheese whole. She screamed as she pulled the harpoons from her shoulder and chest and then put both hands on the one in her eye and yanked it out. Her muscles swelled, her hands morphed into huge claws, while her shoulders and chest were sheathed in layers of muscle. He noted that the wounded eye didn’t heal. There were limits even to a Cheese Fiend’s regeneration, for that was what Charlotte had become. Not much was left of the slim assassin. She growled and began stalking him.

But Charlotte was clumsy now. Her balance was off, and her feet were huge. Milo knew from experience what Larry had been like once, with no Agility and a top-heavy body. Charlotte hadn’t learned yet to run using her arms as front legs. She was in the horrible state of a newly changed fiend. He was able to move around and around the pit, throwing spells at her and forcing her to stop and tear out a harpoon or stand up again when an explosion knocked her down. Her regeneration was slowing, but his mana was almost gone, and he was winded and panting. She became hungry as her wounds quit healing, and suddenly she remembered the mound of cheese nearby.

Charlotte ran to the pile and grabbed a wheel of cheddar, chewing it down. It wasn’t the carefully crafted Battle Cheese that she had devoured too much of, but it would still start healing her wounds and giving her energy. Milo realized he was in the worst place in the world to fight a Cheese Fiend. There were piles of cheese everywhere!

He got daringly close and lashed out with his tail, knocking the cheese out of her hands, hoping she’d chase him. She growled and grabbed another round of cheese. He knocked that aside and slashed at her back. She tried a backhanded claw attack while getting another chunk of cheddar and turning to him. His tail once again knocked the cheese out of her hands, but this time she caught his tail. He vaguely remembered Gilad warning him about this. She jerked hard, and suddenly he was in the air as Charlotte whirled him around, cackling and laughing.

Round and round Charlotte whirled him. If not for his time spent in the Twirl and Hurl, he would have passed out. She took two steps and tossed him into the pit. He hit the far side, ten feet down the rockface, clinging desperately to the rock. His tail felt like it was broken, and likewise, one arm wasn’t able to grasp the wall. Toes and one hand held him in his precarious position. Charlotte walked up slowly and looked at him, chewing on a ten-pound wheel of cheddar that looked tiny in her hand. Bits of cheese and drool fell from her mouth onto him. Then she threw up her arms in exultation. “Charlotte wins! Charlotte always wins!” She leaned over, giggling at Milo, careless at the edge of the pit, then jumped up and down again, shouting, “Surprise, Suprise, Surprise!”

Milo saw a shadow behind her, moving forward. Whatever brave soul it was, he was facing a thousand pounds of muscled fiend. But she wasn’t paying attention to Milo, lost in her dreams of victory. He tensed his legs and leaped upward, swinging Shadowblight as hard as he could, driving the point into the side of her knee where in a normal person a blow would be hugely painful. She howled and clutched at her knee, standing on only one leg, glaring down at him, then leaned over to grab him with her free hand.

Petey charged from the shadows, leaping and kicking her in the butt with both feet. She overbalanced, too top-heavy to pull back from the edge, and tumbled into the darkness of the pit with an echoing scream of rage and despair.

Petey looked down at Milo. “Hi. I’m thinking about becoming the next Death-Master. Can I count on your vote?” He reached down to Milo and pulled him up to the top of the pit, both of them collapsing on the ground with relief.

Milo looked at the smiling, chubby ratkin. “Sure. I think you have all the right qualities for the job.”

Petey held out a handful of candy. “Jelly bean? The red ones are ripe and act like minor healing potions. You look like hell.”

Chapter 56

Jelly Bean Break

Petey and Milo sat in the cave next to Smiley, eating jelly beans. Milo needed the healing candies because he was nearly dead. Petey just liked the taste. They had checked on Smiley, took his pulse, turned him a bit, and managed to get him to swallow a couple of jelly beans and some water. “We need to get him to the Old Healer. Whatever he’s suffering from looks the same as what happened to Bleusnout.”

He sat down next to Milo and poured out a bag of jelly beans. Milo detected a slight magical glow to them. “One of the bushes my clan has is old. Old enough that it might be older than the clan. Like older than cheese kind of old. No one remembers how we got it. Three others are only a couple of decades old and were brought to us by my great-uncle. Good job on finding him, by the way. Knowing how he died got rid of some old grudges and relieved some tension in the older folks.”

“Anyway, the beans off the old one gain some nice effects if they ripen long enough.” He made a small pile of six red beans, one blue bean, and three yellow beans. He swept the rest back into his bag. “The reds will help you to heal. The blue prevents infection and bleeding, and the yellows are for poison. Frankly, you should be worse off. Char’s weapons were probably poisoned. She was fighting to win permanently.”

Milo took the rest of the candy but handed the yellow ones back. “She did. I’m more resistant to poisons than she thought. It was her claws that tore me up. I underestimated her. And I didn’t take into account the cheese. I had no idea that cheese could give that much boost, and she had a large supply of it. And when she turned into a fiend? Even sparring with Larry didn’t prepare me for that.”

Petey smiled at him. “Yeah, but Larry is a sweetheart down deep. He was always a good kid. Charlotte? Sort of the opposite. Spoiled and entitled. She wasn’t always that way; we had some good times together. For a few years, it was me, her, and the twins always getting into trouble together. Then our training started, and the competition to get a Master Ring changed all of us. Char started only caring about Char. She wanted that ring badly. Everyone had to be very careful around her. Sparring could turn into a real fight, instantly. And don’t get me started on how bad she got when you scored on her playing Surprise! She was so mad at you!”

“That’s the big difference between fighting Larry and fighting Char. When you spar, Larry isn’t trying to kill you. Keep that in mind the next time you get into a fight. If the other guy is trying to kill you, all the rules get thrown away, except trying to survive.”

Milo thought about that and agreed with Petey. Sometimes it wasn’t a game. He had fought tooth and claw against Salasha, and he needed to remember that more fights would be like that. “So, what does the hollow’s new Death-Master think is going on?”

Petey suddenly had a very neutral and stupid look on his face. “Gosh, I don’t know. What does the Scout-Master think?”

Milo needed to practice that face, and Petey did it very well. “I think you spent years making people underestimate you.” They both chuckled. Milo looked over at Smiley. “Rifkin is lying about things. His story just doesn’t line up. And if he’s lying about some things, he’s probably lying about a lot of things. I ask myself why someone would want to hurt Master Bleusnout, and the obvious answer is the person who benefitted the most.”

Petey nodded. “Charchar was talking a lot of bullshit, trying to confuse you, but some of what she said sounded true. How ‘Rif’ wants to change things in the hollow. I bet that’s the argument he used to convince her. I also wonder about that cheese she was eating. Pretty advanced stuff. None of the battle cheese Bleusnout makes could make someone go fiend so quickly.”

Petey looked over at Smiley. “Another thing to consider is that Smiley was a better chef’s assistant than Rifkin. He did the job, was patient, and had that goofy grin that put people at ease. And he was good with the cheese. I think Rifkin was worried that he’d be assistant chef forever and Smiley would be the next master.”

Milo looked over at where the pit was. “I feel bad.”

Petey shook his head. “Don’t. Or feel bad later. She made some bad choices and followed it up with bad cheese. And don’t forget, I helped dump her down that hole. Not much choice, as she’d have killed both of us, then she would have killed Smiley, followed by a cheese-fueled rampage into the hollow when she realized what she had become. Maybe Gilad and Larry could have stopped her, maybe not. But for all her faults, that was my cousin I just killed. I’ll mourn her later.”

Milo looked at Petey for a moment. “Death-Master.”

Petey smiled. “Damn right.”

“I have the twins following Rifkin tonight.”

Petey gave him a thumbs-up. “I saw that. Nice skulking; you taught them to shut up and stay silent. They have a lot of talent; they just need to take things seriously for a change. When the older people in the clan started pushing us to compete, we all reacted in different ways. Char became the frontrunner, and we let her. Just easier. The twins started acting stupid and ducked responsibility. I got fat from eating jelly beans. All of us have to grow up a little now.”

The two of them tucked Smiley in and tied him down tight, then lifted the cot he was on and took him back to the cellar. Petey listened at the door, and they moved past the secret door. It was dark and silent in the hollow. Milo opened and relocked the far door after they were past it, and they exited the mess hall. Sticking to the shadows, it was only a few minutes until they had Smiley resting next to Bleusnout, and the Old Healer was tending to both of them. Then he turned and looked at Petey and Milo.

“Tell me what you have learned.” He sat and listened to what they had to tell him, going very quiet when he learned of Charlotte’s fate. He stood and patted them on their shoulders. “Good boys. You did what you had to do.” From a drawer, he took a heavy black ring with a silver skull and tossed it to Petey, who put it on and nodded.

“I gave Gendifur the Signet Ring of the Heal-Master this morning. Things are happening, and it would be too easy to cripple the hollow by killing one old rat who held on to power too long. Our Cheese-Master and his best assistant suffer from strange cheese and black mold poisoning. Spiders have been seen close to the hollow. And now we have a caravan show up. Rifkin told me that Bleusnout invited them to come, but the chef never mentioned that information to the conclave. Brownfur and Clawhammer are too insulated by their day-to-day jobs. Arlothe is obsessed with his magic. I’ve been trying to hold three clans together. I think someone noticed that weakness and is taking advantage of it. Find Rifkin and bring him here. He’s in the middle of all of this, and I have some pointed questions to ask our assistant Cheese-Master.”

After they left, the old ratkin sat and thought of happier times, playing with his first granddaughter.

* * *

The attack on the caravan came in the early hours of the morning. The mostly human raid was well-rested and healed up. Six thieves and assassins using stealth and Shadowwalker Potions worked their way silently to the start of the ratkin dungeon. Using sign language, they discussed the next move.

“It looks like a circus in there! Pretty festive. And see that herd of draft animals? Those are to pull the wagons.”

“Not many guards, but they have decent armor and weapons. Do you think we can thin them down easily?”

“How about we backstab some of the ratkin feeding the animals, then take their clothing? With disguise and the darkness, I bet we can surprise some guards. Make sure to tuck a piece of rope in the back of your belt for a tail.”

“We need a druid down here. Which one can actually move silently?”

“That’s Duskarrow. He’s working on a combo of archery and druid for the toxins. Sort of a ranged assassin. Why?”

“The Panic Animal spell. If we upset those beasts, the guards will focus on them, not us.”

Nods all around set the plan in motion. One person went back looking for the druid, and four others started moving up behind the ratkin who was feeding the lizards and oiling their skins. The last thief told Brannigan the plans, and the raid leader moved the raid up as far as he could, close to the entrance to the outer cave.

The players left nothing to chance. Four of them attacked at once against a lone ratkin, then moved to the next. One by one, they killed the lizard herders and took their clothing. They moved through the animal herd until they were close to the guards. Duskarrow snuck up to the herd. Lizards were different from cows and horses, but still, this should work fine. The spell went into the animals’ minds and made them think that a predator was attacking. They’d all run from the imaginary beast, causing havoc in the little circus while the rest of the raid moved into the cavern and set up for a charge. As more ratkin came out of the village, they’d hit them with superior firepower and whittle them down.

When the spell was cast, the animals looked up in panic and began to move. Brannigan signaled the raid to begin.

Chapter 57

Raiding the Ratkin Dungeon

The druid cast his spell, and the animals looked up in panic and began to move about, their eyes turning from a placid pink to an angry red. The effect of the spell was an illusion that invoked fear. Against horses, sheep, or cattle, it would cause a stampede as they ran in fear of an apex predator, whatever creature they most dreaded. In the lizards’ minds, they saw and smelled a variety of predators stalking them, from gargantuan spiders to prismatic cave mantises. The result of the spell was more than Duskarrow had expected. A heavy scent came from the affected animals, and the panic spread from the animals within spell range to the entire herd as the larger males called out with loud growls and their scent told the herd to protect the young. The rest of the lizards reacted immediately.

The large, albino lizards that the ratkin simply called “draft lizards” were known to the dark elves as “Scaled Lizards of the Moon,” and the dwarves generally called them “Damnedbeasts.” The elves appreciated their pearly hides, and some tribes created beautiful pale armor from their skins. The dwarves hated them because of how aggressive they were in the wild and how hard they were to tame. They always traveled as a herd and were vicious if they felt threatened.

Over the centuries, the lizards had been domesticated and cross-bred to create a more easy-going breed, without most of their more aggressive tendencies. The exception was when the herd was threatened. Then all bets were off, and the two-ton creatures tried to stomp and kill whatever threatened them. They were omnivores and didn’t mind a snack of meat now and then. Predators often became such a snack themselves.

There were forty-one draft lizards in the caravan. Two each for the sixteen wagons, and eight extra carrying smaller loads and ready to replace an injured beast. One extra had been born along the way. This little one caused a lot of trouble as he became scared and amplified the herd’s reaction to seeing snarling Hexapumas and Gorebeasts in front of them.

Rather than fleeing, the lizards charged their enemies. Duskarrow was caught off guard as he took a vicious headbutt from a nearby lizard and was tossed to the side of the cavern with a broken leg. The lizard who had charged him started to run after its prey but saw one of the caravan guards and turned its aggression on the poor unsuspecting ratkin. All over the caravan, the lizards attacked phantom predators that were in actuality the drovers and guards.

Three of the guards were backstabbed by the gang of thieves who took advantage of the chaos. All three thieves were in turn killed by Damnedbeasts, driven further into panic by the smell of blood. Two more ratkin guards went down under the hooves and teeth of the lizards, and several more were badly injured.

After stomping everything around them for a few minutes, the herd felt better, and the spell was fading. Moving away from the wagons to a spot where the herd could defend itself, the lizards quickly formed a defensive circle in the middle of the cavern with the new mother and baby in the center. They still imagined that they were under attack and that there were predators all around them and were ready to kill anything that got close. Once the herd was riled like this, it would take time to calm down. No one in the caravan was dumb enough to approach them before that.

Brannigan saw the tipped-over wagons, dead guards, and a disorganized caravan and called for a charge by the melee fighters. It was worth the loss of some thieves and a druid for this sort of carnage. If the clerics could find the bodies, they could resurrect the fallen players after the fight was over.

The mages behind the fighters threw spells past the front line to soften up the ratkin and clean up the trash mobs. Some of the colorful wagons caught on fire, as did the stage the musicians had played on. Fighters and paladins charged forward, only to be met by guards wearing armor, and a large number of unarmored ratkin with swords and shields who formed a shield wall.

Zweihanders and bearded axes cleaved shields and helmets. Stout ratkin guards tightened their shield walls and stabbed at the necks and vitals of their opponents. More ratkin arrived and kneeled behind the front line. They stabbed upward with spears into the gaps in the human’s armor. Three players grunted in pain as sharp spears hit them in unprotected thighs and groins.

The dying players did have an advantage in that they were used to pain and dying. To them, this was still a game. As their health dropped, the three injured fighters leaped high, not caring about what hits they took. Their bulk knocked down five of the ratkin holding shields, and the protection of the shield wall dissolved. Thieves darted in to grab easy experience killing injured ratkin. Several archers had found spots on top of wagons and were pouring flaming and darkness-laced arrows into the caravan guards. The raid advanced, driving the ratkin back.

The momentum the raid was gaining ceased as a huge monster in plate armor appeared, a thin and very sharp sword in each hand. General Gangrene was foaming at the mouth, and his troops moved aside as he raced at the players. Two pieces of battle cheese were burning in his belly. The muenster was increasing his strength and speed, while the cheddar would supercharge his normally slow regeneration. He struck with precision, thrusting one sword into a fighter’s eye and slashing across the throat of a Paladin who was using a great axe. As the two players fell, he unleashed his Champion’s Intimidating Roar, and the raid paused for three seconds while his troops quickly regrouped.

Brannigan was yelling as he saw they had drawn out a boss mob.

“Boss up! Get a tank on it. Everyone! Hit the boss! Concentrate fire.”

Gangrene killed four more players as they stood stunned. Then every archer, wizard, and warlock targeted Gangrene when the three seconds ended. He was burned by Sun Arrows, pummeled by Tenzil’s Toes of Stomping, and cursed with Feeble Fever. Four arrows struck him, with three doing minor damage and one lodging in his shoulder and causing bleeding.

Tequila Jane raced up to him, swinging a glowing purple blade from fifteen feet away. The blade flew from her hands and went straight through Gangrene, doing a large amount of damage and dropping him to under half his health. He staggered backward as his vision was filled with dancing purple fungus and the yips of a small predator. “Coyote Bob says hi! Mr. Bigrat! I hope you liked my new spell!” Jane’s eyes went from purple to brown, and she suddenly looked tired. “Jane is going to take a nap now.” She walked back into the raid, stuffing a handful of dried fungus in her mouth.

Brannigan saw the Boss Rat topple over after whatever Jane had done to him. This was a great start. They’d taken injuries, but nothing a cleric couldn’t fix. The ratkin were broken and falling back, dragging the nearly dead boss. “Druids and Paladins spend half of your mana on heals. Everyone, down a potion or two as needed to save the healer’s magic. Clerics toss Resurrection on as many people as you can find. Let’s get things in order for the next part.”

* * *

General Gangrene was furious, but fighting his anger. He was down to only a quarter of his health. He drank three Mega Healing Potions, an exorbitant cost in gold, and ate a piece of aged cheddar to help his regeneration. One of the lizard tenders pushed the arrow through his shoulder, snapped off the head, and pulled out the shaft. The general got to his feet and took stock of his people. They’d lost many warriors, maybe a third of their total force, but the ‘drovers’ were all armoring up and could fight just as well. “Where are my Cheese Fiends?”

“Waking up now, sir. We had to give them two doses of Sleepy Cheese to keep them quiet during the music. They were pretty groggy, but they’re waking up now.” The fiend tender was ruffling their fur and coaxing them out of the wagons. As they smelled blood, both began to growl. “That’s my girls! We’re ready to kill and tear, aren’t we? Should I hold your doll? No? Okay, you keep it with you. I’ll wash the blood out later.”

The fiend tender called out to the general. “Ready to send them in, sir.”

Gangrene looked at the humans taking time to heal and reform their lines. “When they charge, send the fiends to the far left along the wall. I want those archers and mages torn to small pieces. After that, let them eat the healers in the rear. The lizards are guarding our other flank. We need to hold the middle and let our Cheese Fiends gut them from behind.”

He turned to his warriors. They looked ready. Having the fiends ready to enter the battle made them confident. He looked at the entrance to the hollow. No one was racing into this cavern, despite the noise. He saw the two big guards standing at attention at the entrance to the tunnel as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Something wasn’t right!

The big one waved to him.

Chapter 58

The Big Scary Noise

Grackle had been a fiend tender all of his life. He looked forward to when they were finished taking over this little shithole of a hollow, and he would become its new Fiend-Master. Gangrene had promised that to him. All his hard work would finally pay off!

His father, Grickle had tended fiends for Wurchwitz Hollow, and so had his grandfather, Gunkel. Grickle had started teaching his oldest whelp his trade early in life—an old tradition, since Fiend Tenders didn’t have a long life expectancy.

“Remember, they all look like monsters, but every fiend is different. They still have pieces of themselves from before. Those pieces fight with the animal that’s taking over their mind. Some fiends get sneaky, some get bad tempers, and others just want more food. You need to take advantage of the differences to keep them in control. A heavy fiend prod only works so long, and the more you use it, the quicker a fiend figures out it only stings and doesn’t really hurt them. Then either you put the fiend down hard and fast, or they put you down.”

Grackle had learned fast. He’d helped his father with the training of the Hunt Fiend packs, and then the Battle Fiends. He had some new ideas on how to train up fiends, but his father was too set in his ways to listen. Grackle endured years of mucking out cages and watching his father grovel to the Fiend-Master, never brave enough to offer a new idea.

But he’d certainly been correct about what happened when a fiend lost its fear of the prod. His father had stepped into Black Betty’s cage one day to clean a wound on her shoulder. She’d been hit with a goblin war axe, and the sharp blade had left a cut that got infected. You never knew where a goblin or his axe had been, and both were usually filthy. Black Betty was in a bad mood, and his father had used the prod to settle her down. But after shocking her for the third time, her eyes had narrowed to slits, and she snarled. His father had hit her again, and she tore his legs off and ate them.

Grackle had managed to lock her cage before she got out. Two good things happened after that: Grackle was promoted to full fiend tender, and Black Betty seemed to have developed a better attitude.

A year later he took a huge risk and asked for an audience with General Gangrene. He’d used most of his savings to buy an appropriate gift for the general, a three-pound chunk of Livarot Munster. That bought him five minutes of the general’s time. It was enough to put forth his theory of using younger subjects. It was the bits of personality that were left that gave the fiends their quirks and made them dangerous. Most fiends were soldiers who used too much battle cheese or cheese addicts that a tender found in an alley, passed out from too much cheddar. They made difficult fiends, already having bad habits and addictions. Grackle wanted to start with fresh minds, unburdened by the rigors of adulthood.

Gangrene had simply stared at him when he proposed a different type of test subject, and his eyes got small and mean. He giggled a little. “Turn children into fiends? And I thought I was a monster! Ha! I like it. I’ll send over two brats to your kennels. See what you can make of them. If the experiment fails, I’ll stuff cheese down your throat until you change, and you can join them. So don’t fail me.”

Gangrene had been true to his word. Rosie and Buttercup were delivered to him that day. Their parents had failed to gather their quota for the third time and had been sent to the lower caverns. Their two children would have gone to the whelp master for training, a slightly worse fate than what Grackle had in store for them. Rosie had been holding her doll, and Buttercup had shown him her hair ribbon. He’d fed them and taken care of them for two weeks, getting to know them. Then he put them in large cages with a big plate of special cheese in front of each of them.

He heard them crying, and then the sobbing had turned into growls and snarling. Their training began the next day. Gangrene had been pleased with the results, and now, two years later, they were all moving to a new hollow.

“Time to wake up, girls. Grackle has a surprise for you. Look here, Buttercup. I got you a new ribbon for your hair. Blue ribbon, just like you love. There we go; I’ll put it right behind your ear. How about you, Rosie? Do you want a ribbon? No? Oh, your doll wants a ribbon! Sure, I can do that. I’ll tie a ribbon on the doll and tie the doll around your waist. You want both hands empty when the fighting starts. Good girls. Now eat your Frenzy Cheese, and I’ll show you who to hunt and kill. Do me proud, girls, and we’ll have a new place to live, and you’ll make so many new friends.”

* * *

“Look, alive people! Your break’s over. The rats found their courage and are coming back for round two. Let’s mop them up and see what sort of loot they have. I want to push hard and clear this cavern so we can go loot the village and meet up with the Spider Guild and get the party going. Same formation as before.”

The raid moved forward, shield wall upfront, spears behind, with rogues and archers on the flanks and the mages and clerics in the middle. The ratkin army looked bigger, and every one of them was in full armor now. Like the players, they had a shield wall upfront. Their next row was made of tall ratkin with halberds and hooked polearms. They seemed low on mages and the big boss was nowhere to be seen. Everything looked good.

Leafrot was in a good vantage point to rain down arrows upon the ratkin. He’d found a ledge about ten feet up the cavern wall, and from there he could shoot down into the melee without hitting the fighters on his side. He’d recently gained the ability to zoom in on a target, giving him a much better chance to hit. He’d taken down two of the halberdiers with carefully aimed shots and was zooming in on a 3rd when he heard snarling from in front of him.

He looked up just in time to see a close-up of a monstrously huge creature with a blue bow on its head biting down on his face and then ripping his arms off before racing to her next victim. Buttercup spit out the yucky-tasting human and spied a half-elf who smelled better. She leaped thirty feet in the female mage’s direction and closed the distance in another second. The startled player turned to cast a spell but was unable to finish it before Buttercup grabbed her by the head and swung her around until she broke.

Rosie was disappointed. The half-elf had been pretty and wanted to play with her. But she had stopped playing with two prey who had sparkly hands. She loved the look of sparkly hands, but they stopped sparkling if you took them off of the prey. She went and played with a funny fat man dressed all in blue instead. She had just grabbed him and was shaking him to make him make funny noises when the loud, scary noise hit her ears. Fiends have sensitive hearing, and the sound of a dwarven cannon from only a few dozen yards away was incredibly loud. Neither Buttercup nor Rosie had ever heard such a scary noise before! They turned and ran for the safety of their cages to get away from it. They left the middle of the raid in tatters, with a dozen players down or dying from the attack of two juvenile Cheese Fiends.

* * *

Minutes before…

“Hey, guys! Am I too late for the raid? I slept in some after tossing down a few beers last night. Know what I mean? Wow, awesome toons! Are you guys part of an all-dwarf guild or something?” Jester had logged in late but figured it was safe to run down to the raid. He’d seen the other group of players moving down the tunnel ahead of him and had run to catch up.

Two-Screws nodded at him. “Oh, I know what you mean about knocking a few back, but if it’s going to make you late for something important, it’s best to just keep drinking until morning.”

Boomboom nodded in profound agreement. “That’s the truth. No sense in sleeping when you can get a good rest just by sipping on a few more tankards. Fact is, I hardly use a bed for sleeping anymore, if you know what I mean.” He grinned broadly, and Narwhale laughed loudly and elbowed him in the ribs. “I’m going to remind you about that tonight.”

Two-Screws handed Jester a tankard of beer. “Here you go. We were just having lunch, so you might as well have a couple of beers with us since we’re heading the same way. You mentioned a raid?”

Jester tasted the beer, then took two long swallows. He wondered how the hell beer could taste so good in this game. The stuff he and his roommates drank was crap compared to this. And strong, he could already feel a buzz coming on. “Yeah, the raid. Hitting the ratkin village hard and then looting it. Branigan has been putting it together and grabbing everyone he can. Guess you didn’t get all the details?” Jester was impressed by whatever guild this was. They were pretty hardcore to all play dwarves. If it weren’t for their silly names, he might have thought they weren’t players. But NPC dwarves have always been named things like Nordy Bluntnose, Ori Stoutoak, or Axebeard the Mighty. Anyone with a name like Two-Screws or Boomboom had to be a player. He finished his beer, and his new friends handed him another.

“So, why don’t you fill us in about this raid, my new friend? We have a bit of travel to go, and I have a lot of beer to share.”

* * *

Luckily, when Harry rejoined the group after stopping to harvest some interesting mushrooms in a side tunnel, Jester had already drunk three tankards of beer and didn’t think twice about the large troll joining the group. He kept answering questions, and they kept filling his tankard. A few hundred yards away from where the fighting was happening, he finally passed out, and Vary leaned him up against the wall.

Boomboom was juggling grenades with Narwhale as they walked down the tunnel. “I think our brother Milo might need some rescuing from these greedy humans.”

Two-Screws rolled his eyes. “You just want an excuse to get into a fight!”

Narwhale watched as Two-Screws and Sledgemonkey deployed their rivet guns. “You look pretty anxious to cause some mayhem yourself.”

Sledgemonkey laughed. “Yes, but we don’t need an excuse to do it. Although I am fond of brother Milo and do feel we need to help him out. Doesn’t hurt to make a good impression on potentially new trading partners.”

“You newlyweds get the first shot. It’s traditional, and I want to see how good of a shot a Scavenger is when the targets can move around.”

Narwhale ran her hand down the barrel of her rocket launcher. “Challenge accepted!”

Chapter 59

Dwarven Thunder

Saved from sudden death at the claws of some rat monster, TheBlueBishop got to his feet and dusted himself off. Behind him was a crater with the bodies of three of his compatriots. All were beyond healing, and he wasn’t going to waste his mana resurrecting anyone unless Branigan asked him to. He wondered what spell had been cast and why it was suddenly so quiet. He had a headache. The garishly clad bishop had just lost most of his hearing, so he could be excused from not hearing the screams of injured players asking for his help. His Perception of 0 had something to do with that as well. Every player had a few dump stats, and BB hadn’t worried about anything except healing and magical smites.

He saw that at the back of the raid, reinforcements had arrived. He hadn’t known Branigan had found a dwarven artillery company to join the raid! This was outstanding! They had a brass cannon that they were reloading, and a big green guy was setting down kegs of beer. He waved to them and gave a thumbs-up! That’s the type of people he wanted to raid with. Absentmindedly, he glanced at the Deafened, Disoriented, and Concussed debuffs on his screen, unable to remember what they meant.

* * *

Barnacle was loading the next shell so Narwhale could blow up some more humans when she noticed one in a blue costume waving at them and giving them a sign of approval. “He likes your shooting, Nar.”

“Yep, and my opinion on humans just went up. Anyone who can appreciate fine artillery like my shiny cannon while I’m shooting at them is OK in my book.” She waved back. “Load up some napalm, Barnacle. I want to make them do the Burney Dance.”

Sledgemonkey and Two-Screws shared a look and got ready to begin shooting. They’d agreed to give Narwhale the first shots, but if she was using napalm shells, there might not be much left to shoot at soon. Sledgemonkey pointed to a spot on the left of them. “Let’s walk over that way; get a better angle for some enfilading fire. That way, the rivets don’t have a chance of hitting our new allies.”

Two-Screws liked the idea. “When you’re giving the gift of high-velocity death, it’s always nice to send it along a couple of different angles.”

“Fire in the hole!” An explosive missile shot from the cannon and screamed across the short distance, hitting the ground in the middle of the raid. Any player in the area of effect took a small bit of concussion damage and was set on fire. The two fire mages took advantage of the heat and flames to supercharge the Bouncing Betty Fireballs they were lobbing into the middle of the ratkin army. Every other mage and the healer screamed as their health started plummeting. Philomea, a nature mage, tried to summon a Rain Cloud but the area was suffused with so much Death and Storm mana that what showed up was an Angry Thunderhead that immediately started raining down lightning bolts on both sides of the conflict.

Two-Screws and Sledgemonkey started strafing the raid with high-velocity rivets. They began with Narwhale’s friendly human, who was currently running in circles while he burned merrily. Two-Screws shot low then moved higher, peppering the cleric with shots. Sledgemonkey was shooting an archer ten feet away.

Two-Screws smiled. “I can’t help but notice your sights might be off. Looks like you’re shooting high and to the right.”

“Thanks for that observation. You are a font of wisdom and master of the obvious.”

“And I thank you for the compliments. It’s rare that a dwarf as old as you can remember how to say a kind word. I’ll also point out the ‘easy adjustment auto-calibration’ system that I invented for my gun. It saves on embarrassing events like how you keep missing.”

Sledgemonkey snarled. “I like to sight in a gun the old-fashioned way! But maybe I’ll look over your little system tomorrow. Might be I can improve on your shoddy work.”

“I’ll further point out that you could have done this during target practice.” The humans were thinning out. Narwhale had put three more high-explosive rounds into them. Wounded players were strewn all over, and gravestones were appearing. The ratkin shield wall was nervous but still holding together. They began taking careful steps backward. Players were confused by the outflanking ambush. The raid had lost several archers and mages to ravening monsters the rats had unleashed on them, followed immediately by cannon fire from the rear and what some of the players were insisting was machine gun fire that had them in a crossfire.

A brave group of players had tried to attack the dwarves, but the charge had failed when Boomboom put two grenades right in front of the three players trying to get to them. Thirty seconds later, the ten remaining players in the raid raced for safety, trying to overrun the artillery and flee into the tunnels. The ratkin started to follow but were held back by shouted orders. They reformed their lines, put out the fires, and saw to their wounded. Rosie and Buttercup were consoled by their tender and given some sweets and a dose of Sleepy Cheese to calm them down.

Barracuda was trying to get another shell into the cannon, but there wasn’t going to be time for a shot; the players were too close to them. Likewise, Two-Screws and Sledgemonkey were worried about unleashing rivet gun blasts. Two-Screws went to single fire and took down two players. Sledgemonkey ruefully worked on his ‘calibrations’ and kept watch for anything moving toward them.

Boomboom and Vary stepped in front of the two scavengers. Vary was nearly pissing himself as he pulled the cord to arm the cataclysmite bomb that Boomboom casually called “a grenade.” His throw was a little long, not doing as much damage, but it did knock down most of the players as the shockwave from behind hit them. Boomboom’s bomb hit dead center, killing two players and wounding all the others. He pulled out his spanneraxe and started swinging. Vary and Harry followed. The troll stepped on players and picked up one to throw across the cavern. That ended the fighting. The raid had experienced a TPK, except for Tequila Jane, who had found a small crevice to take a nap in and passed out.

The dwarves regrouped. Boomboom looked at the still-surviving ratkin who were still on high alert. “What now?”

Sledgemonkey started pouring beer. “Now we take a break to bind any wounds and soothe our nerves with medicinal alcohol. I expect that a lot of people are wondering what’s going on. Those folk over there look nervous, so let’s sit here until Milo or someone comes to talk to us. Hard to believe he isn’t here yet, with all the fireworks we set off.

* * *

Wagon-Master Seffy approached Brutus. The guard was smiling and waving. Neither he nor anyone else in Limburger Hollow had come to their aid when they were attacked by a roving band of humans. How the heavily armed dwarves fit into the puzzle, no one knew, but the quick way they had destroyed the raiding humans was greatly appreciated. But they were now blocking the caravan’s path of retreat as they polished their guns and drank beer. General Gangrene was still being stitched up and sucking down healing potions, so it was left to Seffy to approach the hollow and ask for aid.

Brutus waved again and smiled. “Nice day, isn’t it? Would be better if we had some batacos, but still a nice day. We’ll have batacos tomorrow. Lots of smoke up at the top of the cave. Nice of you to start a fire. The whelps can pick them up off the ground later, easy peasy.”

“Oh, and welcome to Limburger Hollow. Almost forgot to say that.”

Seffy had talked with Brutus before and visited the hollow twice to look around and spy things out. Something wasn’t right. “Yes. It is a nice day. We have many wounded from that battle. The Trade-Master requests aid and that you allow us to move inside the hollow. There are dangerous humans and dwarves with fearsome weapons in the outer caves, and we could be attacked again at any moment.”

Brutus smiled. “Sorry, that’s just a wee bit above my pay grade. I just guard the tunnel. You have a nice day now.”

“May I enter the hollow?”

“Nope. I’m Brutus, the guard. Guards keep people out.”

“I insist you let me pass!”

Brutus looked confused for a second, his eyes glazing over. He started to move aside, and then his back stiffened. He stood his ground. “No can do, little fella. You aren’t the boss of me. I’m not letting you in unless the boss says so!”

Seffy had seen this type of behavior before, of course. It was how all of Wurchwitz Hollow’s minions behaved. The Slave Cheese was having an effect already, but not enough. The new Cheese-Master needed to give large guards extra cheese! Didn’t he know that? The guard wasn’t responding to his Commanding Voice skill. He skulked back to inform General Gangrene of the problem. Brutus waved happily to him as he went. “You have a nice day now. And come back tomorrow for batacos!”

Chapter 60

Tasty New Cheese

Earlier, before the events of Chapters 58 and 59

The hollow was starting to wake up. Most everyone had slept well, with no bad dreams. And no good dreams. In fact, no one had dreamed at all, just slept soundly with their unconscious minds not worried about anything. As they awoke, things seemed so much clearer today. They dressed and then started the day as they always had. It was time to go to breakfast.

Milo saw most of the hollow lining up at the mess hall for the morning meal. Most mornings breakfast was a long and staggered affair, with people showing up from the fourth bell to the ninth to eat and then the evening meal from sixth bell to the twelfth. Was Rifkin serving something especially good today? Why was everyone up so early? He carefully peeked through the windows.

Rifkin was nowhere to be seen, but several people were at the counter handing out breakfast as fast as they could. But no one was sitting and talking. There was no hum of voices and no friendly gatherings. Each ratkin took the food handed to them, stuffed it into their mouth, and left in a hurry. Milo caught up to a whelp that he knew worked in the mushroom fields.

“Hi, can I ask you something? What’s for breakfast?”

The whelp kept walking but smiled and spoke. “New Cheese. Tasty and good for me.” His eyes were unfocused, and he walked on. “Got to go. Need to pick mushrooms. If I pick sixteen baskets today, I get to eat dinner and have more tasty cheese! Cheese-Master says so.”

Other ratkin had the same glassy-eyed reaction. All needed to start their daily jobs, with a few exceptions. Some of the students seemed to have other ideas about what their job for the day would be. But without exception, everyone had a job to do.

“Time to make the mashed roots with meat drippings.”

“Stomp spiderlings, mine the rock.”

“Sweeping the cave, need to sweep the cave, dust everywhere.”

“Lizard races! Who wants to race lizards? Me!”

“Making spikeysticks. Do you need a spikeystick?”

“Must start picking the peanuts.”

“Bataco day! Need more bats!

“Polishing shiny rocks.”

“Nap time, study later.”

“Smelting copper bars. I need to smelt copper bars.”

Justin was walking along, whistling a happy tune. Milo stopped him to talk. Well, he tried to talk. Justin moved him out of his way and kept walking. “Sorry, got to get to my guard post. Important work guarding the hollow.”

Milo walked beside him. “Justin, have you noticed anyone acting oddly?”

Justin kept walking but paused his whistling. “No, sir! If I had, I’d tell them to get to work. Great day to get to work. I’m guarding the back door, and Brutus is guarding the front door. Everybody is getting their job done.”

“How much cheese did you have this morning, Justin?”

Justin’s brow furrowed into a scowl. “Talking about cheese isn’t allowed. Say, why aren’t you working?” He stopped walking and poked his finger into Milo’s chest. “You know the rule against slacking. Everyone follows the rules now.”

Milo showed him his ring. “I am working. My job is to scout around, poke my nose into things, and question everything.”

Justin nodded and seemed satisfied with that. “Right! That is exactly your job. I remember now.” He relaxed, smiled, and started walking again, smiling. “I had three pieces of tasty new cheese because I’m big and a guard. So, I get extra!”

Justin didn’t even seem to notice when Milo left; he just kept walking along and whistling as he passed by the Tower of Strife and the mostly empty marketplace. He took up his guard post at the back tunnel overlooking the harvesting fields where dozens of ratkin were gathering up mushrooms and vegetables.

Milo wanted another look at the mess hall. The lines to get in were packed, but it wasn’t hard to get in through the back door. He slunk into the shadow nearest the door, then kept low and moved behind the counter. None of the ratkin in the mess hall paid any attention to anything but the cheese. To his surprise, the four ratkin serving squares of cheese on a bland cracker were known to him. Why were Blackwhisker and his little group of players serving cheese in the mess hall?

Luckily, no one had a high perception. Stealthy Skulking was up to Level 8, reducing their Perception by 18 and essentially making him invisible as long as he did nothing obviously out of the ordinary. He wanted a good look at this cheese. There were many bags of it behind the counter. A large wedge was brought out of the bag and then cut into smaller pieces. The player cutting it was handling pieces oddly and brushing something off as he took the wedge out of the bag.

Milo moved up carefully. He needed a diversion, and as he waited, he got one. Master Clawhammer and a group of ten tired miners walked up to the mess hall. Seeing a crowd at one door, they went to the next opening. This got them a few looks from some of the ratkin in the long lines, but no one said anything out loud. The miners looked exhausted. They sat at two tables, and Master Clawhammer looked over at the servers. “Hey, buddy. We just worked a double shift; any chance of getting a plate of cheese and some breakfast?”

Blackwhisker barely looked over. “Get in line and wait your turn. That’s the new rules—get used to it.”

The miners grumbled, and Clawhammer stood up. They’d been working nonstop for over a day with only a couple of hours off to sleep in a corner. Spiderlings were all over the mines, and they had a new infestation of digger moles to deal with. His crew had worked hard and needed food. He walked over to Blackwhisker. “Where’s Rifkin? Who’s in charge here?”

The other players snickered. Blackwhisker tried to stare down Clawhammer, but when it didn’t work, he put a big smile on his face. “Cheese-Master Rifkin isn’t here at the moment and left me in charge. How about I get you all a double helping of cheese to start out with?”

While all eyes were on the Mine-Master and Blackwhisker, Milo put his hand on one of the bags of cheese and stored it in his ring, leaving an empty bag behind. Then he backed out of the kitchen area and made his way to the miners. He tucked his pick into his belt, imitating how the miners stored their own picks. “Hey, I’ve got plenty of food over at the guard barracks that we can share. Fresh bread that Gendifur drops off every morning and a big wheel of Gouda that we just cut open. They don’t have a lot to offer here today.” He put his hand on his pick, with his master’s ring obvious to see.

Clawhammer looked at him curiously, then nodded. He looked at the mess hall. Something wasn’t right. Too many glassy stares and strange people handing out cheese. “That sounds like a great idea! I’d love to have some fresh bread and Gouda. Come on, guys, time to empty the larder over at the guardhouse.”

Blackwhisker turned around too late to hand the miners a large platter of cheese. He shrugged and stole another piece of cheese for himself. He had a sudden realization of how fun it was to work here in the mess hall, do dishes, and hand out cheese! This was his spot, his job.

As soon as they were outside, Clawhammer turned to Milo. “What the hell is going on? I didn’t notice at first, but me and my guys are dead tired.”

Milo led the way to the guard barracks. “I think it’s the cheese. I stole some to take a look at it. Everyone is too passive and shows the same behavior. They don’t care about anything other than following orders and getting to work.”

One miner elbowed another in the ribs. “Sounds like you could use a few pieces, it might help us get you up in the mornings.” The miners chuckled, but they were all looking around and noticing the blank stares as the people of the hollow lined up for breakfast and then silently got to work. Inside the guard barracks was more of the same. The six guards at the barracks were all “resting,” just lying on their bunks and staring at the ceiling. They didn’t say a word as the hungry miners ate most of the food in the cupboard.

Milo pulled the Gather sack that he had stolen from the mess hall out and looked at it. It was full of spider mites. A strong smell of sour cheese filled the air. Clawhammer looked at it and started cursing. “That’s spider cheese or something like it! Why would anyone serve that in the mess hall? And where did it come from?”

That seemed obvious to Milo. “Have you seen the cheese caravan? It showed up with sixteen carts full of cheese.”

Clawhammer hadn’t. The emergencies in the mines had kept him busy. The miners had barely sat down and had a minute to eat, but Clawhammer stood up and spoke. “Don’t like the smell of this and not just that cheese.”

“Grab some bread and Gouda to go. I want you guys to fan out. Get everyone who lives around the mines or works in the crafting area gathered up. I don’t want anyone eating any cheese from the mess hall until we figure this out. In fact, get everyone into the mines. We’ve had meetings in the cathedral cavern; let’s head there. It has fresh water and lots of space. Grab all the fresh food you can.”

As the miners were leaving, the twins came in through the door.

“We came to report.”

“The way good scouts do.”

“We followed Rifkin. He is very, very sneaky.”

“So sneaky!”

“Which we found strange.”

“Almost lost him, so he must be sneaky.”

“He met with four players.”

“They are not sneaky.”

“So not sneaky, the opposite of sneaky.”

“Which we need a word for.”

“They spent a lot of time talking.”

“Making sneaky plans.”

“But really just explaining where all the pots and pans are.”

“How to cook boiled groats.”

“And how much cheese to give each person.”

“The players went to the mess hall.”

“Rifkin then headed to the cheese caravan for more cheese.”

“We followed because⁠—”

“Cheese Caravan!!!”

“—we are good scouts!!”

“Yes, who cares about a cheese caravan full of tasty cheese…”

“We followed Rifkin but could not get close. Very good guards.”

“Not so good as Justin and Brutus, but lots of them.”

“Guards with good eyes, we could feel them on us in the shadows.”

“Rifkin was in a tent with a big, loud merchant who shouts like Gilad does when he is angry with us.”

“We went to just take a small peek at the caravan.”

“They have many carts full of cheese, but also many carts of armor and weapons.”

“And two carts filled with scary, horrible death!”

“Fiends! They have two Cheese Fiends with them.”

“We left!”

“That is the good scout’s report for the day.”

Milo looked at them. “Good job, you get a reward.”

The twins looked alarmed and hung their heads.

“It would be nice if the reward was cheese…”

“but we suspect it will be another job.”

Milo handed them a bag. “Why not both? Take that to Old Healer.”

“And I wouldn’t eat any of it—it has spiders in it. Tell Old Healer everything you just told me, then go find Master Gilad. And whatever you do, don’t eat the cheese at the mess hall.”

The twins skulked out of the guard barracks muttering to themselves.

“Spider Cheese?”

“Worst cheese reward ever.”

Milo went back to the mess hall and skulked around the back where he had entered before. If anything, it was easier to sneak into the kitchen area. There were four gathering bags of Milbenkase left. He put two into his ring and grabbed the other two. No one at all looked his way, and he retreated, making his way outside. He stashed the bags of cheese on a part of the roof where they couldn’t be seen. The less of this cheese that got eaten, the better.

That done, he thought he should head over to the caravan and find Rifkin. He was headed that way when two ratkin walked by carrying a stretcher with a wounded miner on it. They had come running from the direction of the mines. Milo asked them to stop. “I have a healing potion; let me give him that. What’s happening?” He pulled a potion from his pouch, one of the ones he had found in the hidden tunnels. The potent remedy immediately relaxed the wounded miner, and his wounds ceased bleeding. Milo examined him. He had a good idea of what had made those wounds. “What did this?”

“Not sure. He said something big and clanky. But that sure means trouble. We’ve had tons of little nuisance mobs. Spiderlings all over the place. Then digger-moles, and now there’s something big in the mines, blowing stuff up.”

“I’m going to head there now. But he still needs attention. Run him to Gendifur or Old Healer. And tell Master Gilad, Master Arlothe, or any guard you see walking around.” They ran off with their less wounded miner, and Milo headed the other way.

As he was running to the mines, he passed the tunnel to Larry’s house. He hadn’t seen Larry at breakfast. Another mystery. Sounds were reaching him, explosions in the mines. From behind him, he heard shouts from the tunnel leading to the caravan. He wondered what was going on, but it had to wait; he had some sort of mechanical monster to deal with for now.

Chapter 61

The Iron Spider Takes the Scenic Route

P’tashPak’r, the Exalted General of the 10th Host, Beloved of the Queens, and Champion of the Many-Legged Army, marched forward at the head of her army. Behind her came countless brave and deadly spider warriors. The noise of her army’s passage was much less than usual. She had remarked on this, and the second in command told her of the stealth training each of her warriors had undergone before being selected for her army. Indeed, she would have thought that her army was much smaller if she didn’t know better. Even the growls of the Wolf Guard could hardly be heard.

Her advisor was showing her the maps of the enemy’s lair. “The route chosen is through the next few caverns. We will be able to attack with surprise and capture many of their gatherers. We must move quickly. We must take control of a narrow tunnel leading to the main hollow.”

P’tash looked over the maps. <And this second route? It seems to lead more directly to the heart of the hollow.>

The advisor pointed to a maze of tunnels. “These are the mines below us. In planning the raid, the first plan included splitting your vast army and using a pincher maneuver to attack the foe in two places at once. But there is not enough room to move a large force through the mines. We have instead been flooding the area with spiderlings for several days to cause confusion among our foes. They will surge forward and cause a small disturbance.”

H’Spat knew that the queen had been extremely angry with the spiderling plan. A half-dozen egg-layers had been secretly placed in nearby caverns so that spiderlings could overrun the mines and weaken the hollow. Instead, the ratkin whelps were hunting them to gain levels and experience! It had been embarrassing to find out that the ratkin had turned the spiderling invasion into a training ground for new fighters!

<Then let us be off! Victory shall soon be mine, and we will dine upon the tails of our enemies!>

Some of the spiders cheered. Others clapped softly. The mechanical voice box the general used creeped them out. Grobit revved the engine and let out the clutch, shifting gears and engaging the mechanism that sent power to the legs. The dwarven mechanisms still confounded him and annoyed P’tashPak’r. He’d been unable to do as she wanted and put the controls where she could reach them. (Not that he thought she’d ever figure them out. Some spiders made good mechanics, but not this one.)

The Iron Spider moved forward several steps, and then a leg became stuck in a crack in the ground. As she strained and finally removed the leg, Grobit saw the gap widen as the ground around the Iron Spider started to shift. The other spiders jumped back as the cavern floor under them gave way under the weight of the giant walking tank. It was like a hole had just swallowed the general!

H’Spat looked down and saw the general getting her legs back under her, nearly thirty feet down. Grobit just shrugged. “I think I see the light up ahead.”

P’tashPak’r yelled to her advisor, <We will be using a pinching maneuver! Send down a dozen of my finest warriors, and I will launch a surprise attack!>

The advisor despaired. It wasn’t possible to lift the hulking metal monstrosity back up to this level, and it was already marching into the mines. Nothing was left but to follow the abomination’s orders and lead the rest of the army herself. Perhaps it was even better this way. H’Spat pointed to twelve random spiders. “You are rewarded with the title ‘The Twelve Finest Warriors!’ Go and escort the general to victory as our army closes the trap’s jaws.”

The rest of the spiders moved around the hole and advanced on the gathering fields.

* * *

The miners heard the Iron Spider coming when it was two caverns away from the cathedral. It sounded like a dozen squeaky ore carts rolling down a bumpy track. Two miners ran to see what was going on and were spotted by Grobit as both groups entered a large cave from opposite sides. The spider seemed slow, and the miners paused to look at it. Grobit opened up on them with his gun, he managed to wound one of the miners, but he retreated, dragging his wounded partner.

<Ha! Look at them run from our might!> her twelve chosen champions cheered. Two raced ahead to scout, and four dropped back twenty paces to guard the group’s rear. They moved slowly through the caverns, following the wounded ratkin and sometimes making detours to account for the Iron Spiders’ bulk.

<How much further, Grobit? I need to feel the glory of furry mammals dying as I rend and poison them. Today is my day!>

“Watch how you wave your damn legs around! If you knock out any more supports in these tunnels, it will be your day to be buried!”

The goblin mechanic studied the maps of the caverns made from information gathered by the little spiderlings. They needed more details. Spiders just didn’t think like anyone else. “We should be coming up to a huge cave next. The far exit has a straight run to the hollow. But get ready. If I had to fight a bunch of eight-leggers in tunnels, I’d do it there where you could see them coming and blast the hell out of them. Uh… not that I’ve ever fought spiders.”

The Iron Spider paused, then commanded her army to the front. Time for her twelve champions to earn their supper.

* * *

“Master Clawhammer! We’ve got trouble. Ned just packed in his cousin, Crusty. They saw spiders in the tunnels. Big ones! Both of them took some nasty wounds from a cannon of some kind. Crusty’s hurt, and Ned might not make it. They’re running him to the healer on a stretcher.”

Clawhammer cursed inwardly but put a confident look on his face. Miners were a hardy bunch, used to him barking orders. But he needed to use a different tone for everyone else. It was bad enough that they were scurrying into this emergency shelter, and three-quarters of the hollow were glassy-eyed zombies, but now they had spiders attacking? It wasn’t a coincidence. And that was a big caravan full of guards parked in their outer cave. Too big.

“Get everyone who can fight armed with a pick or hammer and anyone who can’t back in the far corner. Pile up the supplies and carts in front of them. Carl, take Jak and Vin with you and collapse tunnel #3 about ten feet in. It’s been shaky lately. I want enough debris down to stop someone from using it to get to us. Do the same with #5 if you can. The main tunnel would take hours to block off, so leave it, but put whatever timbers and rock we have loose in front of it. We can use it as a defensive line to fight behind. Jessy, bring the extra lamp oil and lamps. We can probably cook a couple of them.

The miners accomplished a lot in the small amount of time they had, and two dozen of them crouched behind the makeshift barrier in front of the main tunnel. In the distance, they heard the sound of many legs, and then they could see the outlines of the spiders rushing at them, preceded by a horde of spiderlings. Something large and noisy moved at the rear.

Lamp oil had been poured in the front of the tunnel. As the spiderlings reached it, Jessy tossed a lit lantern at the floor, spreading fire. Air in the cavern rushed to the fire as the tunnel was filled with flames and the screams of dying spiderlings. But the lamp oil didn’t burn hot. It burned long and gave a lot of light. The minor damage the spiderlings took was enough to kill or cripple them, but it only annoyed the bigger spiders with their thick chitin.

A dozen giant spiders emerged from the smoke and flame like something out of a nightmare and leaped at the miners behind their makeshift barrier.

Chapter 62

Spiders, Spiders, Everywhere!

Spiders surged forward, intending to swarm over the improvised barricades. With only a second to spare, walls of earth and rock erupted from the floor, the magical stone growing upward until it merged with the cavern’s ceiling. Not all mages spent their time studying advanced dueling and battle magics in the Tower of Strife. Several miners were Earth Mages and had been moving rock all their lives.

Two narrow areas were left that acted as funnels. The spiders trying to move forward had to do so one at a time or climb the walls and try to squeeze through the narrow openings, each of them just big enough for one eight-legger. The ratkin on either side of the slots turned to attack the flanks of the arachnids coming through—they surrounded their foes, putting many attackers on each spider. The dwarves referred to this tactic as a “murder hole,” while the elves called their version “a bouquet of spears.” The ratkin called them “spider traps.” Eight ratkin could attack one monster as they came through the opening.

The two brave miners in front blocked mandibles and leg spikes with their picks and hammers as best they could, giving way and counting on the others to do the killing. The six on the sides swung their heavy mining picks at the spiders. The heavily muscled miners could dig their picks deep into a rock wall, and spiders were made of much squishier stuff. Carapaces were shattered, and organs pulped. Twice, the picks rose and fell before both spiders were dead. The ratkin hadn’t gotten off unscathed. One defender had a broken arm, and another took three steps back before dying of poison. Two more spiders crawled over the dead bodies while the rest attacked the earthen wall to destroy the spell.

* * *

Clawhammer blocked poisonous mandibles with the pick in his left hand and brought down his heavy forging hammer on a spider’s head. The stunned spider could only hiss as it was attacked from the sides and repeatedly smacked in the head by an angry crafter. Clawhammer caught a breath and looked to the other opening. Two more spiders were inside, and two ratkin were down on the ground, bleeding. His concern for his miners almost cost him his life. A spider had climbed the wall and come through the gap up high. Now it dropped from thirty feet up on the unsuspecting Craft-Master.

Or rather, it tried to. It was like a giant, invisible hand smacked the spider back against the wall and pinned it there. Clawhammer could see the massive wound in its thorax, and green ichor was pouring out from the other side. Something had punched all the way through his ambusher. With a hiss of pain, the wounded spider fell to the ground and wobbly gained its feet only to be slain by several enraged ratkin.

Clawhammer saw Tallsqueak racing across the room, fully clad in the strange bone armor that he’d conjured. He took a skull from his belt and tossed the glowing object through the hole in the wall. A loud explosion and the hissing of injured spiders told the rest of the story. Five of the enormous spiders were now dead; Tallsqueak leaped in the air as a sixth came through the hole and surprised it by putting a spikeystick into its skull. The spider fell, and Tallsqueak rode it to the ground, twisting the weapon in the wound, splattering brains and ichor on himself. Clawhammer almost yelled out a warning that the ichor was a minor poison but chuckled, remembering that Tallsqueak dueled with Cremona each night. Only Professor Arlothe might have a higher poison resistance than Tallsqueak.

It was suddenly quiet, the spiders pulling back. The ratkin prepared for another charge, and the wounded were taken to the healers. Then a thunderous roar began as the Iron Spider entered the fray. The heavy metal balls fired by the Dwarven Chain Gun rapidly destroyed the earthen walls. It was only a matter of seconds before they shattered. Clawhammer didn’t want to move the fight further into the cathedral cavern, but they were about to be crushed. “Back off another hundred feet. Get me some ten-foot-high, triple-thick walls to give us cover from that gun.” The two miners with Earth Magic cast their spells, then collapsed to the ground, their mana exhausted.

The miners fell back and took cover behind the thick wall. The first set of earth and stone walls crumbled, and the remaining spiders advanced in a line, their images outlined in the remains of the smoky fire that was still burning some spiderlings pouring into the cavern. Smoke began to fill the top of the cavern. The crispy bodies of the fallen had choked off most of the fire. The vast bulk of the Iron Spider followed her brave champions forward.

* * *

Justin was on guard at the back gate. It was always a good day when he got guard duty. Justin liked his job and liked being a guard. Nothing could be better. And he got extra cheese! The cheese had been delicious lately. Assistant Cheese-Master Rifkin was doing a good job. Rifkin had told him so, and Justin believed him. He stared out over the gathering fields with glassy eyes as he heard the first screams. They bothered him for some reason, but he was guarding the back gate, so he stayed at his post.

Gatherers and their children were running toward him, yelling loudly. Behind them came spiders. Some of the spiders made bounding leaps or scuttled quickly across the walls of the caves, cutting off groups of ratkin and trapping them in thick webs. Slower spiders came behind, binding the fallen into small cocoons. Justin wanted to help, but he was guarding the back gate!

He saw Mistress Brownfur run at a spider and crush its skull with a flying kick before engaging a second. He remembered that she had been a champion claw fighter in her youth. It was fun that he got to see her fight before she… before…

Justin’s head ached. He had to guard the back gate!

And then something snapped in his mind, and he was racing at the spiders.

“Fight me!!”

The taunt caused every spider within fifty feet to focus on Justin, and they raced to attack the large guard. He looked at Brownfur and yelled. “Save who you can, but get to the Tower; we need to hold the passage and not let them into the hollow.” Mistress Brownfur limped as fast as she could away from the fight, gathering children and urging them to speed. The spiders ignored her, their attention all on Justin now.

Justin spun in a circle, burning stamina as his long halberd glowed and sliced through the advancing spiders. Three more times, he yelled for them to attack him until the entire army engaged with him. As Brownfur ran through the tunnel, she looked back once, unable to see Justin as he collapsed, poisoned by many wounds. Only a massive pile of spiders could be seen.

* * *

H’Spat considered. Things were going so much better since the idiot had decided to take the scenic route through the mines. Resistance was slight, and they had already captured many of the small mammals for eating. She had planned to leave as the abomination led her forces against the ratkin and race to join the main army, but victory here was tasting sweet. She would get no acclaim if she left, but if she quickly took control of the hollow, she could claim a great victory. Wouldn’t the rest of the army be jealous? And wouldn’t that taste sweet? She climbed on top of the large body of a fallen guard and yelled at the spiders around her. “Onward, my victorious host. We will have a feast to celebrate our victory over the ancient enemy tonight!” The spiders in the army obeyed. One noble was much the same to them, and orders were orders.

* * *

“Inform the princess that all troops are now in position according to her plans.” The petite scout barely came up to the brute’s knees, and the enormous spider didn’t like the tone she used. The annoyance made her vent some of their anger at how long this march had been. “Finally! This has taken far too long. A rush with two dozen Royals would have brought this hollow to its knees, yet we have to wait for you to scout for a full day?!”

The petite scout seemed unworried in the face of General T’nigit’s anger. That might be because impatient commanders often yelled at scouts for doing their jobs correctly. Or it might have been her high Perception that let her know they weren’t alone. The shadows parted as the princess appeared beside T’nigit, her black carapace gleaming in soft light. “And you would have died and embarrassed me. Did you hear nothing I said in the war councils? Did you listen to the scouting reports at all?”

The general bent their knees but argued. “They are weak, and we have created distractions, drawn off parts of their forces. A hammer blow…”

“Would have failed. Do you remember the damage that a fully grown Cheese Fiend can do? And they have an unknown number of mages, along with reports of many warriors. Not taking the time to scout and understand these things is the mark of a fool. But don’t worry—I will reward you anyway. Take the Wolfen Dragoon Company and any Royal that will follow you and attack immediately. Our forces are in a position to support you, thanks to the hard work of our scouts.”

T’nigit saluted and left, glad of the honor. The head scout watched her go. “It’s never bad to clear out some of the Royals now and then; that was nicely done.” The princess accepted the praise of her old tutor. “Yes, I thought so. Any Royal dumb enough to follow T’nigit at the head of the army is one we don’t need breeding the next generation. But either way, the hollow will be ours today.”

Chapter 63

Salvaging the Situation

Milo had an excellent understanding of what projectile weapons could do. Many dwarves were fascinated with them and would spend hours sipping beer and talking about their ideas for hand cannons and larger weapons while they tinkered with other projects. Some, like Boomboom, skipped the guns and went to the heart of the matter by focusing on more powerful explosives. Milo had the needed knowledge of physics and ballistics and could calculate the math in seconds. The math wasn’t looking good as far as he was concerned.

From the sound, rate of fire, and how the large caliber rounds had quickly destroyed the stone walls, Milo knew that the miners had nothing that could stand up to the weapon. The dwarven chaingun mounted on the back of that mechanical walker wasn’t up to the standards of the engineers, but it was still a fearsome weapon.

Shields and armor would be shredded, and makeshift barricades would be useless. So as the shots were fired into the crumbling wall, he timed a running leap and ran up the shaking stone until he got to the ceiling and could grab a stalactite. It was hazy at the top of the cavern. The fires from the burning lamp oil filled the area where Milo hid and made breathing difficult. He took shallow breaths and used his hood as a filter.

Below him, he saw the miners dropping back and taking positions behind the second set of much thicker walls.

The first stone wall thrown up by the earth mages shattered into rubble, and the remaining giant spiders quickly picked their way over the pile of stone, surrounded by hundreds of spiderlings. Behind them came the Iron Spider. The heavily armored behemoth paused at the rubble and, deciding against trying to climb over the remains of the wall, began to move around the pile.

Even through the smoke, Milo could tell the leg assemblies were crap. They didn’t match and had no synchronicity. He couldn’t tell if a clumsy spider was under the armor or just a poorly made machine. Why go to the trouble of making something if it wouldn’t work correctly? He’d have been annoyed at the thing even if it weren’t shooting at his friends.

The twin-linked dwarven chaingun was pintle-mounted on the back of the spider. Only one gun was revolving. There was a goblin acting as a gunner. Milo watched as it loaded up another belt of ammunition and prepared to fire again. He shook his head at the lack of a proper auto-loading device.

Milo moved across the ceiling, trying to catch up with them. He had thought he would have a few seconds to spare while the gun tried to destroy the much thicker wall the miners were deployed behind. But instead of shooting toward the miners behind the thick stone wall, the gunner started strafing back and forth across the makeshift barriers with non-combatants hiding behind them. Milo heard cries of pain and screams as splinters from the wreckage hit the people lying on the ground.

The Iron Spider yelled at her gunner. “Idiot! Why are you wasting ammo on worthless targets?! We need to outflank that wall and destroy the remaining warriors.” She continued her slow trudge toward the wall.

Grobit chewed on the remains of his cigar and sent a few more shots into the same area. “Well, there’s nothing else to shoot at right now, and I’m bored. The non-combatants give crap for experience. Those folks over there aren’t worth a lot, but a goblin needs to get his experience where he can. I was hoping a few of them would panic and run so I could get some kills. I only need a little more, and I can move up to level… urk…”

The Iron Spider was confused. Urk wasn’t a word she knew the meaning of. Grobit used a lot of words that he claimed were in other languages. The goblin would have said more, but a piece of jagged bone was sticking out of his eye socket and another from his chest. Milo dropped onto the Iron Spiders’ back and swung Shadowblight with both hands. The spikes on the weapon went in one side of the goblin’s head and out the other. Milo kicked the body to free his weapon. Her mechanic’s dead body slid off the spider’s back, and she stepped on it without noticing it.

Milo grabbed the handles of the gun. It seemed simple enough to aim and fire. The Iron Spider was turning toward the side of the ratkin’s wall just as her six remaining troops started scaling it. The first spider to the top was met with a hail of bullets as Milo fired the chaingun. It fell more than leaped at the ratkin miners, and Milo kept the stream of bullets flowing, hosing down spider after spider. Green gore and spider guts sprayed the top of the wall. The miners heard the sound of the guns and saw the spiders at the top of the barricade exploding into gore. They backed further away to avoid the rain of foul-smelling ichor.

Within a minute, all of the giant spiders were dead. Milo strafed back and forth across the horde of spiderlings, each shot pulping a half-dozen of the dinner plate-sized spiders. Without their larger cousins around, the mob retreated to the caverns, scattering into side tunnels and crevices.

Milo’s mechanical ride was not happy. “What are you doing!?!! Witless mammal! Traitorous piece of trash! Those were my loyal warriors! They loved me! Now I will have to kill all of these rats by myself.”

Milo was wondering what the foot pedals and levers did. The spider was slow, and he had plenty of time to start experimenting. As the Iron Spider advanced on the miners, and the miners wisely fled, he started pulling levers and testing each control. One lever unlocked the foot pedals, which controlled the direction in which the legs would move the spider. For a few minutes, Milo and the spider fought over who got to move the legs until he found the override for her control. The dwarves who had built her robotic body didn’t like constantly telling the stupid spider when to move or where to go. They would take over and drive her like a walking tank in the middle of a battle.

He quickly got the hang of it. Standing still, the spider stopped—lean forward, and the spider advanced. Leaning back was reverse, and two opposed directions could spin it on the spot. It was rather like driving a clunky tank with uneven tracks.

The spider hated being driven. She’d demanded that Grobit take apart those controls and leave her in control. Unknown to her, Grobit liked having an ace in the hole if she decided she didn’t need him. The controls had stayed. Once again, the mighty Iron Spider found herself turned into just a passenger. Milo brought the spider to a halt and locked the controls, leaving her immobile. He jumped down and ran to where the miners were assisting the wounded.

Clawhammer was trying to assist one of the healers with a wounded child. Milo nodded at him and started pulling healing potions from the caverns out of the storage in his ring. “Use these; they should be very potent.”

The chaingun had killed only two people, but several were wounded. With bandages, spells, and potions, everyone worked to stabilize the wounded and stop the bleeding. Two people had shattered bones, which Milo could put back together, while a healer saw to torn muscles and sinew.

With that done, Master Clawhammer pulled Master Tallsqueak aside. “Nice work doing whatever you did. But what the hell is going on? And what is that thing?”

Milo didn’t know more than the obvious. “Those are spider warriors, but only two were royal and weren’t very large. Much smaller than the ones I fought before. Under all that, metal is a huge Royal, but it’s primarily mechanical. Do spiders turn their wounded into walking tanks?”

Clawhammer looked at the metal monstrosity and simply shrugged. “No clue. But that looks like pretty shoddy work, whoever it was needs some lessons in remedial mechanics. But I’m glad it’s a piece of crap. If those legs worked better, it would be a fierce warmachine.

“I killed the gunner and then turned the chaingun on the spiders rushing to fight you. It’s a dwarven gun, but not well made. One side needs to be fixed, or it would have fired twice as fast. I don’t know how the spiders fit in, but it must be part of what is happening. Too much happening at once.”

Clawhammer nodded as he looked at the horror standing still in the middle of the cave. “Someone has given most of the hollow bad cheese, and now a spider attack. That smells bad.”

Milo explained what he had found out. “Rifkin is behind the cheese. He’s been meeting with the merchants in the caravan. And the caravan brought Cheese Fiends with them. Why would anyone bring fiends to another hollow?”

Clawhammer smacked one big fist into his palm, angry. “Fiends? There’s a reason, but not a good one. Larry’s an exception. He didn’t change in the middle of a battle; he just wanted to ‘get big’ like his brother and fight more. He could never tell us more than that after the change. We never found out how he got too much cheese. But other fiends are bred for battle and live for it. A caravan wouldn’t bring fiends—they eat too much and need constant attention. Fiends were never used except in the largest battles.”

Milo ran through scenarios in his head; it seemed obvious in retrospect. “Charlotte and Rifkin wanted to take over the hollow. They poisoned Smiley and Bleusnout so Rifkin could give bad cheese to the hollow, making it easy for the caravan guards to take over. Charlotte attacked me and told me part of it before I… before I killed her. The rest I learned from my very excellent scouts who have been following Rifkin. The spiders must be somehow working for Rifkin or were a diversion.”

“Things make more sense. What do we do you think we should do now?”

Clawhammer looked around. He had some miners who could fight a little and some wounded he needed to protect. He could fight, but he wasn’t a warrior. Tallsqueak was young, but Gilad spoke highly of him. He was a mage, and he’d killed more spiders than the rest. “I’m leaving that up to you. You know more about what’s happening than I do, and you have scouts finding out more. If anyone asks, you have my support. I advise finding Gilad and gathering all the fighters and mages we can. There will be another fight coming.”

“I’m going to see if I can bring down the main tunnel and fortify this area. Nothing will be able to come through the mines until we clear out those tunnels. Send people this way if they need shelter. We’ll hold the front entrance to the mines. If need be, we can open up a side passage and send to other hollows for help and try to make a last stand in here.”

Milo handed the master miner his pick. “This will help. It’s made of a Tier 4 crystal that can cut through rock like butter.”

Clawhammer felt the tip and tested it on the floor. “Damn, where did you get this?”

Milo shrugged. “Reward for killing a World Boss. Long story. I’m going to take my spider and make sure the warriors from the caravan can’t get into the hollow. It’s a narrow passage, and this ugly gun is equal in firepower to an engineer’s rivet gun. It might come in handy.”

Clawhammer watched as Tallsqueak ran back to the mechanical spider, adjusted the controls, and tightened some bolts. Then, with the sound of screeching metal, they began strolling down the corridor to the hollow. Before they could go far, the master miner sent two whelps running ahead of them, spreading the word so that no one had a heart attack when they saw him coming.

The spider constantly complained to Milo in her screeching voice until he found the switch that turned off the speaker she talked through. He had some thinking to do and needed to do it fast.

Chapter 64

When Some Idiot Screws Up Your Clever Plans…

Gilad brushed the last crumb from his whiskers. The cheese Danish had genuinely been delightful. Gilad was impressed with how quickly Rifkin was filling the shoes of his predecessor. One of his new apprentices had knocked on Gilad’s door three times before entering his home and leaving the large tray of cheesy desserts on his table. Gilad recognized him from when he had been attending his classes. Black fungus? Blacknose? Something like that.

Gilad had dropped down from his favorite napping spot in the rafters to try a piece and had ended up making it his evening meal. The pastries were made from a blend of cheeses that he couldn’t quite place. The venerable fighter had long ago mastered his cheese cravings, but on a day when his joints and muscles ached, it was nice to feel the rush as his body gained the power only cheese could provide. And he had always loved pastries.

He would never let his sparring partners know, but the late-night dueling had pushed him hard. Cremona made up for her lack of physical ability with her virulent spells and poisons. Even with his strong resistance, they slowed him and left him shaking after winning a bout with her. Tallsqueak had given him many painful bruises and several times given him broken bones. The damned whelp adapted quickly and experimented with moves that no sane ratkin would try against him. Those often resulted in Tallsqueak being slammed painfully into the floor or wall, but some of them worked, and then it was Gilad who suffered. At least the whelp was polite and healed his old bones afterward.

For a normal ratkin, Tallsqueak was amazingly tough with unbreakable bones and healed nearly as quickly as Larry. Just a few weeks ago, Gilad had been overjoyed to have an assistant who could double as a punching bag. It was debatable now who was the punching bag.

And then there was Larry.

The huge fiend was developing his own fighting style full of twirling tail attacks and quick hops. It was elegant, dangerous, and unpredictable. No one had ever used such a style before, and Gilad constantly had to push himself to avoid being pulped by one of Larry’s powerful attacks. The Tail-Master was always excited to fight against Larry, but he paid for it with stiff limbs and painful joints the next day. The cheese helped with the pain, and the odd flavor he’d detected faded away as he finished the pastries.

Afterward, he went to bed early, needing his sleep. Fighting class was important. He needed to be up and about, not lying in bed and letting Tallsqueak run the classes. He slept soundly for the first time in years, undisturbed by dreams. Before he awoke, another delivery of cheese Danish was dropped off.

Gilad awoke early, saw the newly delivered food, and ate all of it. He was the Tail-Master; he deserved extra cheese. It was essential and would help him train all of the whelps. A hollow needed all of the fighters it could get! Fighting practice for guards and whelps would need to be mandatory from now on.

His students were ready and waiting for him, glassy eyes showing intense concentration. Training began immediately and continued through the morning. The loud noises coming from the outer caves were ignored, as was the commotion from the mines. The only thing that got Gilad’s attention was when Tallsqueak came walking by on a silly mechanical spider.

* * *

Milo was getting the hang of driving the spider. It was a clunky machine, and he had a lot of ideas for improvements. He had a low opinion of both the builders and whoever had been doing the repairs. Too many things had been fixed with wire and duct tape. The parts box was messy, but he found enough bits to fix the second gun. Rather than have two guns with independent triggers, he slaved the second to the first and synchronized their firing. Fewer parts were needed, and he got the job done as the spider slowly made its way through the caverns and into the hollow.

It could have been a better job, but it doubled the firepower of the walking tank. That might be handy if his suspicions about the caravan proved true or if something else attacked the hollow. He planned to take the spider and park it in the outer cavern next to the guards for them to use. He was surprised to see Gilad leading tail-fighting drills with a large group of students. Between investigations and fighting spiders, he’d lost track of time. He was also getting tired. The quick rest while talking to Petey didn’t replace hours of sleep, despite the pick-me-up effect of the jelly beans.

Gilad walked over to him as he arrived. “Why are you late for practice? And why are you riding on an atrocity like this? If you were going to construct a battle tank, using a design for a mechanical mole would be better. Spider legs break off too easily. Trust me, I know from experience.” He rapped his knuckles on the fake metal head on the front of the spider’s armor. Hissing and clicks echoed out of the cracks in the armor. “And where did you get such a stupid spider to use for the core? This one is hissing so much that I can barely understand it. Please take it away before it distracts my students.”

Milo noted that he should learn the spider language; it might be handy someday. “It came marching into the mines, shooting people along with a dozen other giant spiders and even a couple of nobles. We killed all the rest, but this thing might come in handy soon. Have the twins or Petey talked to you about what is happening?”

Gilad began walking back to his arena. “No, and I don’t care. My job is to teach whelps to fight and let the scouts and assassins handle their own problems. You’re the new Scout-Master; I give you my authority to handle these nuisances. When it is time to fight, call for me, and I will bring the fighters of the hollow and make battle against our opponents. Oh, and tell whoever is having a war in the outer caverns to keep things quiet. Class is in session.”

Milo took in the glassy eyes of the Tail-Master and the class. At least they were getting in a lot of practice. He put the spider in gear and started walking it down the tunnel to the outer caves to see what was happening there. Brutus waved to him as he exited. “Hi, Master Tallsqueak. Cool-looking spider.”

Brutus seemed calm, but the caravan was a mess. “What happened here, Brutus? It looks like a battle took place.”

The guard smiled. “Oh, it was a good one. First, the caravan got attacked by a bunch of players, and the herd of damnedbeasts went crazy and trampled everything before they fortified up in the center of the cave. It will take a couple of days for them to calm down. It was mostly humans attacking; they didn’t do too badly at first. Good fight, and things were about even after the Trade-Master unleashed his Cheese Fiends. Then the humans got attacked from behind by a dwarven artillery company. Now that was fun to watch! The dwarves are now holding the far end of the cavern, and there’s a graveyard between them and the caravan. Hopefully, the next round starts soon. Pretty good entertainment.”

“Oh, and don’t worry. I’m doing a good job; no one is getting past me today. Brutus is on guard!”

Milo was trying to fit the big guard’s information into an already complex situation. “Yes, good job, Brutus. Excellent job. Keep non-residents out of the hollow unless I or another master vouch for them. Master Clawhammer and Master Gilad have given me their authority for the moment. And that includes Rifkin. He isn’t a master yet, so he can’t give a stalwart guard like you orders. And I need to talk to him if you see him. Grab him if he tries to sneak in or out of the hollow and hold him for me. But don’t underestimate him—he’s sneakier than I think anyone knew.”

Brutus saluted. “You got it, Scout-Master. And have a nice day.”

Milo decided to bring the spider with him to visit the artillery company. They’d have suggestions on how to get the stupid leg assemblies fixed if it was whom he suspected.

* * *

Rifkin was not happy. Something had gone wrong with his cunning plans. He wondered which idiot was screwing things up.

He was ensuring that everyone in the hollow was getting enough Milbenkase each day so that the spider cheese could work its magic on them and turn them into hard-working slaves. Everyone would work hard at whatever they thought was their primary job, and they would take his orders without question. It had been a slow start. The spider cheese wasn’t working like it was supposed to. People weren’t taking orders well. He suspected it was bad cheese. It was just like Gangrene to give him defective spider cheese!

He’d prepared unique dishes for Gilad, Clawhammer, Brownfur, and Arlothe and had his minions distribute them at their homes. Bleusnout had kept a record of everyone’s favorite dish to surprise them for their birthday. The entry for the Gather-Master was missing, so he sent a sampling platter of blended cheese. He wasn’t worried about her. Brownfur was of no matter; the old woman would see things his way and could be put to work making sure the new fields were laid out correctly.

Charlotte was going to take over as the new Death-Master, and she was confident she could sway most of the shadowlurkers. If not, examples would need to be made of a few. If his trap worked, she would also take care of the annoying Tallsqueak. It galled Rifkin to no end that a stranger only recently arrived had been trusted with a ring, and he who had been here for years was still only an ‘assistant.’ That would change soon.

The only master that worried him was Old Healer. Charlotte had suggested that they deal with him last after they had the hollow under control. He was sure Charlotte would use him as a threat to keep some control for herself. It might be time for Charlotte to eat a hefty chunk of slave cheese if she tried. He could replace her with Petey. Petey was docile and fat. Whereas Charlotte was a problem, Petey could be easily managed. He’d given the jelly bean addict a few hints about his plans already.

The twins, though, had to go. They’d fallen under Tallsqueak’s influence. He’d dodged them all night before he made it to the caravan. Maybe Petey could talk to them, or he’d have Charlotte scare them or give them some slave cheese. He had lots of options to deal with anything.

He’d just finished explaining all of this to Gangrene when the caravan had been attacked. He’d kept his head down and hid in the general’s tent. The stupid humans who had failed to show up to weaken the hollow were now attacking the caravan! Blackwhisker had assured him that his links to the human guilds would ensure the raid was arriving on time. Had Blackwhisker betrayed him?

The tide of combat had favored the humans until the fiends were unleashed. The ferocious fiends had destroyed the raid’s healers and mages. The caravan had been about to charge when more things went wrong. Dwarves had attacked the humans, ambushing them from behind! He hadn’t had any plans for dwarves! You never invited dwarves to a revolution unless it was at a brewery. They couldn’t be trusted! Yet here they were, and the human raid had melted before their withering fire. Gangrene was alive but wounded; the caravan had lost half its guards.

Rifkin was okay with that, but he had so many other questions. Could he use what was left to gain control of the hollow and then get rid of them? How would he get rid of Gangrene? Could he engineer a fight between Gilad and Gangrene? He needed to think, and he needed to get back to the hollow and check on his minions, talk with Charlotte, and make sure the plans were going well. He was starting to be worried about his spider allies. Not only were they supposed to weaken the hollow, but that was the excuse he would use to bring in the caravan guards. He’d save the hollow from the spiders and humans and announce that he was taking over.

He’d just decided to sneak carefully away from the caravan and back to the hollow when Tallsqueak entered the outer cave riding on top of a mechanical spider. He hid quickly, wondering if the spiders had betrayed him.

Chapter 65

Wait… You Have Beer?!

Narwhale was the first to spot the mechanical monster walking across the caverns. Most scavengers had a high Perception and the Lookout skill. Narwhale had spent days on end manning observation ports or crow’s nests to raise her skill to Level 5 and her Perception to 10. A high Perception was needed to gain the coveted Gunner class. “We got trouble coming. Load a shell, and I’ll see how many legs I can blow off it!”

Boomboom smiled at the thought of watching his new bride blowing things up but stopped Barnacle before she loaded the small cannon. “You might get more than you bargained for. I’m guessing that the person in the driver’s seat is our long-lost brother engineer. I don’t want to find out what weapons he has on that thing if you were to start a shooting war. Brother Milo has a talent for causing destruction.”

The two Scavengers grumbled but paused until the identity could be confirmed. They had seen the devastation Senior Engineer Milo had caused to the outpost with their own eyes and heard all of the stories. They’d also witnessed him playing tag with the sea hydra and were convinced he was missing a few bolts.

Two Screws walked forward and bellowed out a greeting. “Damn, but that is one ugly spider. We may have to send you to remedial mechanics classes. Please tell me you didn’t build that.” Milo looked at the spider. “Of course I didn’t build it. It drives me crazy just looking at all the work that needs to be done to fix it. Plus, it has a crazy spider inside of it.” He flipped on the speaker.

<I will flay you slowly and feed you to my young! I am P’tashPak’r, the dreaded… Oh, is my speaker back on? I hate you so much! Tell these lazy dwarves to fix my #3 and #7 leg joints; I keep tripping. Why are you still in control?! Quit that! I can drive myself! This isn’t dignified. This isn’t my fault; the Queens made me do it!>

Many hisses and the clicking of mandibles accompanied this speech. But since she repeated herself a lot, eventually, everyone started understanding the spider underneath the many layers of armor and machinery.

Barnacle ran forward, undid the hatches on the head armor, and cranked it open to reveal the face of the spider. “Ooooh, there is a spider in there. She’s so cute! How are you doing, sweety?” She carefully patted the spider’s head, mindful of the mandibles.

P’tashPak’r answered in a defeated voice. <Terrible. I am hungry and thirsty. This new master runs me across caverns with no thought for my delicate limbs, and I have been betrayed again by the queens! Instead of victory, I was duped into leading an army of idiots and was captured and paraded before the one who tortured me years ago! My faithful Grobit has abandoned me, and now it seems I am to be sold to dwarves for scrap metal.>

Boomboom and Narwhale had climbed up to look at the chainguns while Two-Screws and Sledge-monkey walked around, kicking the spider’s legs and making comments about the sad state of the gyroscopes. Narwhale yelled down at the spider. “Poor baby. Bad things happen when you pick the wrong side to fight. The only thing to do is to have a beer and make better choices before the next war. And by my mother’s beard! Clean your guns more! These are in terrible shape!”

<Mercenaries take what mechanics they can get. Wait… you have beer?!> She looked longingly at the stack of kegs by the wall. Large amounts of dwarven beer had made the mercenary life more enjoyable. Her dwarven crew had enjoyed getting her drunk and having her wobble back and forth as they went from bar to bar.

Barnacle gave the spider one more pat on the head. “Of course we have beer! What a catastrophe that would be.” She poured a foaming bucket of beer and held it for P’tashPak’r, who drank it down quickly. <Oh, how I have missed this. The life of an enslaved arachnid mercenary is a harsh one. But at least there was beer.>

Narwhale was shaking her head. She should have known better. Barnacle was a sucker for strays. She was going to want to take the damned spider home; she just knew it. And as she had feared, after getting the spider another bucket of beer, Barnacle began begging for a new pet. “Can we take her with us, Nar? Huh? She’s perfect! A mercenary who likes beer and makes bad choices in life! That’s practically the Scavenger motto!”

Narwhale yelled over to Milo, who was talking with Harry about Black Mold, “Hey, how much do you want for the spider? My new husband here wants to buy it from you.”

Boomboom looked up from where he was cleaning the chainguns. “I do?”

Narwhale kissed him on the cheek and batted her eyes. “Of course you do! It will help us pack more ammunition, it comes armed with cute little guns, and we can add heavier artillery to it. And Barnacle will be happy to take care of the squishy parts inside. She loves ugly pets.”

Boomboom smiled stupidly. “Well then, I guess I do want it. Hey, Milo, how much do you want for your spider?”

Milo blinked twice; he hadn’t thought he owned the spider. “Consider it a wedding present.” Milo considered it one less thing for him to worry about. “But before we get to tinkering on it, let’s move back toward the entrance to the hollow. I have some problems I don’t understand and may need some help with.” The spider was already half drunk, so getting back to the entrance took some time. Barnacle was already telling the spider all her cool ideas for fixing her legs and adding more guns.

Brutus was introduced to the dwarves, and Milo made sure that the guard understood that the engineers were allowed to enter the hollow. Then Milo spent a few minutes giving them a brief explanation of what he knew, what he suspected, and what he suspected he didn’t know. Sledgemonkey took another look at the caravan. “They do seem to be heavy on guards and light on merchants. Every single one of them is in armor now, and I’ll confirm the two big monsters they have hidden in those wagons. They got scared when we started shooting fireworks at the humans.”

Sledgemonkey lit a cigar and got himself a beer. “Taking a look at the mines can wait for now. Two-Screws and I are fatigued by our journey and need a small break to rest our legs while we have some medicinal beers. We’ll camp out here along with the eight-legged contraption and guard the doorway with Brutus. The rest of you can go do whatever needs doing; we’ll keep things locked down here.

Barnacle was feeding more beer to P’tashPak’r. “I’m staying with my new spidey friend. She’s having a hard day, and we need to drink a little more, right, honey?”

The spider’s eyes seemed unfocused and relaxed. <Yes. Hard day… Beer… Promise not to eat new dwarfy friend.>

Harry had some ideas about what might be ailing Bleusnout and Smiley. “Black Mold grows in dank caves, and once it takes hold, it’s difficult to get rid of. Naturally growing mold will cause lung rot and an assortment of other ailments. But it can also be used to poison food and create many toxins. I don’t believe it has any benevolent use at all.”

“To get rid of it from caves, trolls use fire. One of the only times you will see a troll willingly get near to a fire. Fire can burn us horribly, but Black Mold is worse. And I will warn you; it is likewise difficult to cure.”

Harry got quite a few odd looks, as did the two dwarves following behind. But in general, the ratkin of the hollow went about their business in a single-minded fashion, with glassy eyes and looking neither left nor right. Harry took this in. “Whatever is affecting them is very specific. This isn’t a random batch of bad cheese or a mold infection. It’s too perfect and affecting everyone.”

Harry had to duck to enter the hallways of Old Healer’s clan. Things were somber inside. A few zombified family members were being cared for, and guards were at each door. Tallsqueak flashed his ring, and no one stopped them as they moved down to the makeshift infirmary.

Smiley and Bleusnout were unchanged, sleeping on their cots, breathing shallowly. Old Healer looked exhausted to the point of collapse. He looked up when Tallsqueak entered. “Nothing I try works. Tell me you have learned something new?”

Milo opened the door wide for Harry to move into the room. Old Healer’s eyes grew wide at first, then relaxed. “I don’t know more about what is killing them, but I have Dr. Earthtongue with me. Harry is an expert on mycology.” Harry nodded and went immediately to the two patients and began to unpack tonics, swabs, and powders. “I’ll do my best, but if this is indeed Black Mold poisoning, I can’t make promises. I’m frankly amazed they are both still alive.”

Old Healer sighed. “As am I. Nothing I do seems to work. It’s only the amazing regeneration of a Cheese-Master that has kept them both alive until now. But please take a look at this formula. Tallsqueak was kind enough to unearth this book, but I have been unable to get the final product to absorb magical energy and create the potion. It would be nice if someone hadn’t drunk all six doses in the bottle he found. A sample of the original would be helpful.”

Milo shrugged. “Dying of poison isn’t the best time to judge how much strange potion to drink. Your mysterious relative didn’t leave a lot of messages for me. I only had time to read the book and look through his notes after I recovered.”

Old Healer patted him on the shoulder. “Yes. My apologies. I don’t mean to imply any fault. That is just the fatigue talking. To be so close to a cure yet unable to find the missing step. And yes, the person whose ring you wear was very eccentric. He enjoyed setting traps, leaving puzzles, and hiding clues in odd places to make his students figure things out.”

Harry was staring at the book. He pointed to a blank area. “What do you see here?”

Old Healer looked at the page. “Nothing at all.”

Harry gestured for Boomboom to come take a look at the book.

Boomboom took a sip of his beer, finishing it and putting the tankard on his belt. “We drink and blow stuff up. If it isn’t a formula for an explosive, I’m not really good at chemistry.” He stepped forward anyway and looked at the page. “Yeah, there’s some writing here. I can barely see it.”

Harry explained, “Trolls see things differently from other races. Dwarves do as well. I have large books written in trollish runes that would be blank pages to you. Luckily, I found a small sample of Amanita Muscaria Alius as we traveled. They are known for giving a modest light in the darkness when disturbed and are also powerful psychotropics to some races. Some research has shown that most of the light they shed is not normal. Let’s see what their light reveals.”

Harry picked a small purple mushroom from his shoulder where it was growing. Concentrating on it for a moment, he gave it some of his mana and held it over the book. Writing appeared in many places. Old Healer slapped his forehead and shook his head. Some lines revealed missing bits of the recipe. Other lines were handwritten. What sort of madman wrote this book? The poisons are easy to make, but he hides half the cure. A curse upon all humans and especially this Damien Franklin.

Harry was scanning the formula. “If I read this correctly, we need a rare berry, ‘colored like the Sun,’ that has a sympathetic magic similar to that of the elixir. Many berries have such properties to one degree or another, and I can think of three that are orange or yellow. Gaining access to them will be difficult, but the alchemy guild in Shadowport may have some.”

Milo realized the answer was much closer. “Jelly beans. Petey said the yellow jelly beans from the oldest bush were magical and cured poison. And the elixir had a fizzy, sweet flavor to it.”

Old Healer’s eyes showed a manic excitement. “So close…!” He pulled on a cord, and Milo heard a small bell chime somewhere in the building. A moment later, Petey walked into the room.

“You rang? Oh, hi, Tallsqueak.” A moment later, Petey was pulling glowing candies out of his pocket. Old Healer and Harry had agreed that six of the beans needed to be added to the incomplete potion. As they were dropped into the solution one by one, the candies dissolved, and the elixir turned the bright yellow color that Milo remembered.

Old Healer looked over at his two patients. “And now we must keep them alive for another day.” He looked hopeful as he said it.

Milo had just started to relax a bit when a roar of pure rage echoed through the hollow. It swelled, carrying a lifetime of pain and anger, promising horrible death to whatever had wronged it. It grew louder and louder. Ratkin hid as fast as they could.

Narwhale covered her ears. Boomboom’s eyes were huge. “A dragon?! Here!?” Old Healer looked stricken, knowing what the sound was. He had heard it before in the wars when a Battle Fiend went berserk.

Milo knew where that sound came from. “Larry! Something has happened to Larry!” He was out the door, racing away before the cry died.

Chapter 66

Larry: 1, Reality: 0

Ten students surrounded the machine Professor Arlothe was working on, holding tools, machine parts, and wire coils. The professor had declared that from now on, each day would be spent experimenting with new ways to generate electrical power and storm-aspected mana. And, of course, finding ways to unleash that power. Arlothe had awoken that morning and realized he was wasting his time doing anything else! This was how he should be serving the hollow! He had walked through the tower, lecturing on the glories of the storm and the power of electricity, slowly gaining a following of glassy-eyed students who shared in his new vision. The ten students had followed him down and out of the tower, standing nearby, ready to assist him as he tore apart and rebuilt the generator by the waterfall.

Throughout the next few hours, the machinery underwent a half-dozen rebuilds. Some things worked, and most things didn’t. The machine was most efficient when a stave used to cast spells was wired directly to the generator, negating the need for storage. They spent a full hour launching spell after spell at the targets, not needing to recharge their mana. Then the wires in several coils fused into solid lumps of copper, and the generator froze. Arlothe let the students begin tearing it apart and took a cup of tea. He doubled over in pain as the poison hit him a moment later and smiled; his wife had left him a small reminder of her affection.

While rebuilding the generator, a fourth-year student named Silvertip had a moment of inspiration and stole a few parts. Adding them to his staff, he found a way to double the storage capacity. This led to a competition to create the best staff, with various levels of success. The schism threatened to tear apart the group: Should they work on generating more power? Or storing more energy in their staves? Arlothe had an inspired thought. “Why not both?” The students nodded; both was good.

An expedition to his private laboratory resulted in many boxes of spare parts being brought down. The group worked concurrently on two projects: Higher mana output from the generator and larger capacity in the staves that could be plugged into it for recharging. The sound of overloading fuses and the smell of ozone wafted through the hollow.

Nearby, Professor Cremona was dueling with a dozen of her proteges. The strangely serious students seemed dedicated to the idea that they must train daily to protect the hollow and conquer their enemies. They glared at the ‘spark-heads’ from time to time before returning to their duels. Professor Cremona produced two baskets of Cleansing Cheese and antidote potions. The students would need both remedies to keep them alive and dueling until their resistance levels increased.

She had noticed her husband taking his tea and then doubling over in pain. This pleased her to no end. It was so hard to poison him after their years of dueling. While Arlothe had his head inside the generator, she snuck over again to his teapot to add another dose, not noticing the thin copper wire connected to the handle. The discharge of the powerful electrical field left her with her fur blackened and smoking and the hair on her head standing straight up. Arlothe lifted his head from the generator and blew her a kiss.

The spark-heads and the poison-claws seemed unconcerned as panicked gatherers came racing through the tunnel to the large caverns where vegetables and mushrooms grew. The ratkin running from the spiders behaved oddly as well. As soon as they were safe, they went to the mess hall to drop off the contents of their gathering sacks and then to the smaller fields inside the hollow itself to continue picking and planting.

Having overrun the fields and dealt with the lone guard, the spiders advanced on the hollow and began working their way through the short tunnel, emerging near the Tower of Strife. H’Spat was jubilant. Her army was sweeping all before it. There was no reason not to move further into the lightly guarded Hollow and conquer it.

Cremona saw four giant spiders emerge from the tunnel and yelled to her students. “Excellent! New people to play with. Please welcome our eight-legged visitors who have volunteered as targets!”

Arlothe looked with disgust at his wife. “You’d waste perfectly good test subjects on dueling? I have data to collect! Students, quickly! Use your best spell, and be sure to note the damage done in your journals and any other interesting effects. Most of our data is on mammals. This is an excellent chance to see how spiders react to electrical arcs!”

The two groups of students began throwing spells at the advancing spiders while Cremona critiqued their dueling stances and Arlothe walked around collecting observations and asking questions. After the first four spiders were turned into crispy piles of legs, the others backed off into the tunnel and took cover.

* * *

The picnic-tea party to celebrate the victory over the Pickle Gang was ending. Everyone agreed it had been a great success. Pie and cake with whipped cream were about to be served when Larry stood up suddenly, his eyes wild and his fists clenched.

“Something has happened! Something bad! Big Brother Justin is in trouble! Larry needs to go home!”

The Puffyfurs stood up, worried, and the fairies flitted around Larry, not knowing what to do.

Larry was hopping from foot to foot and yelling for the Tunnelmuggle. “Brinka! Larry needs to go home! Larry needs to go home NOW!”

The Tunnelmuggle stuck her head out of a hole in the ground. “I can try, Larry, but I’m still very tired from the last hole. It was so hard to bring all of you here.” The exhausted muggle strained, but only a tiny crack appeared in the air before Brinka collapsed on the ground, panting. The sound of spiders hissing and clicking their feet together came through the break.

Larry looked at the tiny hole in despair. “Larry won’t fit. Larry is too big! Larry is always too big!”

Putting his eye to the opening, he saw Justin kill a spider and then fall to the ground as one of the giant, black spiders stung him in the back and several more bit his legs. Spiders swarmed over him, biting and binding him in webbing. Justin fell over, and the spiders swarmed over him.

Larry roared at them, scaring spiders, fairies, muggles, Puffyfurs, and badgers alike. His roar held a lifetime of anger and hurt as he realized he couldn’t help his brother.

“Larry is coming, Justin! Larry will make his own hole!” The tips of his claws could just fit in the small crack, but that was enough for him to get a grip. Larry strained against the barriers between the worlds. Brinka would later explain to him that it wasn’t strength that let a Tunnelmuggle make a door; it was intent and determination. It was the need to make a door. In some places, the walls between a fae realm and someplace else became thin, and then a Tunnelmuggle could make a hole for brave fairies to explore and bring back treasures. Brinka had made many holes into this spot, wearing the barrier thin.

Larry committed his sheer fury at the spiders and his love for his brother against the barrier, and the barrier lost. The fairies gasped as the Hero of Flowertown tore a Larry-sized hole between the world of the fae and Limburger Hollow. It wasn’t a nice hole like Tunnelmuggle would make; it was a jagged, glowing tear that got wider and longer as Larry strained to make a hole big enough for him to fit through. With a last effort, the tear became big enough, and Larry leaped into it, emerging a few feet in the air.

The spiders had no idea what was happening as reality tore asunder and a half-ton of enraged Cheese Fiend turned Hero came to protect his big brother. One unlucky arachnid was killed as Larry’s feet landed on it, crushing its head and thorax. Larry grabbed a spider in each hand, squeezing and popping their heads off. He spun, and his tail lashed out at any spider nearby, breaking legs and cracking armor. Larry roared and sent hundreds of spiderlings running to find cracks to hide in.

Behind him, Clan Puffyfur jumped through the crack with staves ready to cast spells. After a moment, all of the fairies were as well, forming a defensive spell around the ratkin spell casters and sending confusion and fear spells into the spiders. Bernie Badger stayed behind to guard the uneaten dessert.

Larry ran to where Justin lay unmoving and screamed again at the spiders. He stood over Justin’s body, stomping spiders, slashing spiders, and bludgeoning them with his tail. His instincts told him to move on all fours and give in to his rage. He was nearly lost in his rage when he heard the tiny bells the fairies wore on their wings. The sound of the bells jingling as they flew was the music Larry had heard since he became a hero. He stood upright and glared at the horde of spiders circling him. Five small ratkin mages were at his feet, determined to help, and overhead the fairies of Flowertown were working their magic.

Larry danced toward the spiders, leaving his friends to protect Justin. It was Hero time.

Chapter 67

The Battle of the Gathering Fields

H’Spat hissed and screamed at her host of arachnids. “Kill it! Kill it quickly! Sting and Claw, Bite and Slash! Fill it with poison, or it will kill us all!” H’Spat had seen Cheese Fiends fight during the Mammal Rebellion and the Righteous War of Glory. The beasts were nearly unstoppable unless poisoned quickly and worn down by swarming them. They slaughtered many of the lower ranks in their frenzy, but that was far better than letting the Fiend Tenders herd them into battle and use them tactically.

H’Spat remembered the one time a fiend had made it to a Queen. It had died to the potent poison that only a queen produced, but only after it had ripped her limb from limb along with her guards, daughters, and entourage. The standing orders in all spider armies were to swarm a fiend and tie it down, regardless of the loss of soldiers. The lower ranks could be replenished in only a season or two. It took decades for a Queen to grow to maturity, and fully half of them died due to politics along the way.

This fiend was defying the might of her army. It moved in unpredictable patterns, spinning and hopping like a manic grasshopper on bounceweed. Behind it, support mages were casting healing spells and causing confusion in her army. If it wasn’t for a tiny fact, H’Spat might have fled: the fiend was staying in one spot. It danced and dodged in a circle, protecting the little rats and fluttering things in the center. And above them was a tear in reality.

The fiend and his strikeforce had come from it, and now they were defending it! It was the only thing that made sense. A much larger army was on the way! Or maybe the doorway led to something precious? Were they only guarding it until it could close? In either case, H’Spat knew she had to act quickly. “Send four of the largest brutes to guard the tunnel and send an assault group of spiderlings to keep the rats busy. Then all of the warriors are to attack the fiend. Work to get past him and kill the little fluttery things and mage-rats!”

Messengers saluted and scuttled away. The spider army abandoned its attack on the hollow to focus on the Cheese Fiend rampaging in the army’s rear.

* * *

“I’m getting scared! Why are there so many spiders!” Sassy didn’t like little spiders, and the big ones were horrifying.

“Keep casting spells. Don’t let them get to us!” Another burst of static electricity rolled out in all directions, stunning the spiders for a moment. Larry leaped as it came, avoiding the blast and smooshing two spiders with his feet as he landed. Before they recovered, he spun, kicking three spiders and cracking their carapaces. Then he leaped to the other side of the circle to inflict damage on the spiders surging from that direction.

The bodies of dead arachnids were thick on the ground, but more kept coming.

Above Clan Puffyfur floated four fairies who were using their magic to create barriers to slow the spiders down. Prickly bushes sprouted in a ring, ice coated the ground, and sticky taffy rained from the sky. Below, Redfawn was trying to keep Justin alive. “I’m going to need help soon. My mana is getting low, and I can’t neutralize the poison! He got bit so many times.”

“Coming!” Gingersnapple dropped next to Redfawn and poured a potion over him, buying Redfawn a moment to catch her breath. Moonflower and Tuliptoes went to the rift Larry had opened and pulled magic from Flowertown, drenching the surrounding area in Fae magic, giving both fairies and Puffyfurs a recharge. Cherrypit used some of the power to call forth more bramble bushes to slow the spiders and poke them in tender places.

But even with this help, the sheer mass of spiders was starting to overcome Larry. Spider ichor was making the ground slippery, and the bodies had caused him to trip more than once. His weasel slippers were panting hard but keeping him up. Pansy yelled out, “Jump!”

Larry jumped high. All five Puffyfurs had linked hands and cast an overcharged spell. Thunder and lightning crashed as electrical arcs toasted spiders in a forty-foot radius. Larry came down and hopped twice to where a Black Widow Assassin was noticing that her front legs were missing from the blast. Larry punted her into the ceiling, where she was impaled on a jutting stalactite.

The spider army paused for a second and nearly retreated. H’Spat screamed at them, “He tires! The mages must be out of mana! Now is the hour of victory!” The spiders moved to attack again.

Electrical arcs from the tunnel exploded, toasting and killing all the assaulting spiderlings. Into the tunnel moved shadowy figures. A deep, guttural voice laughed and yelled, “Fire in the hole!”

A trail of smoke and flame followed the course of a dark steel armor-piercing, anti-monstrosity rocket. It struck one of the Brutes and exploded, scattering legs and pieces of chitin across the cavern. A second Brute standing in range was the next target and exploded spectacularly into spider parts like the first. Boomboom and Narwhale moved up to the front of the tunnel and began reloading as Milo ran past them.

An exploding skull sent dust and debris into the air, confusing the last two brutes. In the brief time they shielded their eyes, the armored rat caster had disappeared from view. The one on the left quit worrying about finding Milo as the end of the ratkin’s high leap put him right in front of him. Shadowblight used all the momentum of the jump and a two-handed swing to penetrate the spider’s skull. Charged with mana, the brute’s head exploded in gray goo. Shadowblight purred as it ate the spider’s soul.

The second turned to attack, and Milo rolled away, slashing with his tail. He gestured with his left hand and cast Harpoon of the Winds, puncturing its thorax. Narwhale’s next shot was slightly off target, whizzing by the noble’s rear and taking off three of its legs before the shell detonated in the back of the multitude of spiders surrounding Larry. Dead spiders were flung everywhere.

Milo took advantage of the noble’s pain to kill it with three hits to the head with Shadowblight. The first shattered its annoying steel helmet, the second cracked its carapace, and the third blow obliterated its brain. Again, the spiteful weapon made a pleased noise.

Milo turned to Boomboom. “Use incendiary shells to cause some panic.” The dwarf gleefully pulled some bright red napalm missiles and loaded one up. Narwhale sent it speeding down the cavern to bring the gift of fire to the eight-leggers.

Professor Arlothe emerged from the tunnel, leading a large group of students along with Professor Cremona. “Advance! Show the poison-huffers how a mage electrocutes a bug!”

Cremona was having none of that. “Charge them; use Velom’s Venomous Vinegar Cloud; it has the best effect on spiders. Don’t let the spark-heads score all the points.”

Milo saw a giant noble spider clinging to the wall of the caverns and shouting orders, encouragement, and threats at the spiders attacking Larry. That one needed to go away.

* * *

H’Spat sensed death coming for her and dodged, pulling back her head barely in time to avoid a razor-tipped bone missile that impacted one of her guards, killing it. She had only kept two guards next to her, sending the rest to battle. She regretted that now, as the second guard was forced to leap and intercept the second missile with its own body. A rat-assassin was racing at her and preparing more spells. None of her soldiers were nearby. Her options were to run and take cover or face the creature in battle.

Then she saw the spikeystick in its paw, and she laughed. This wasn’t an assassin; it was a mage! A spikeystick was a poor rat’s weapon used only by the cannon fodder of the ratkin armies. The mage had used his best spell multiple times and was low on mana. This battle would be hers, and her army would revel in her victory! H’Spat ran at the mage before it could scamper away. To think it had almost outwitted her by its suicidal charge.

* * *

Milo saw his first two spells take out the Spider General’s guards. That made things more straightforward, but he had hoped to end the fight by killing the general. Casting Harpoon of the Winds like that drained down his mana. The noble was scuttling toward him. He knew it would leap at him, hoping to pin him and bring its sting into play. He moved directly toward it, then sprung to the side, rolled, and regained his feet. The noble had leaped at where he had been and hissed at him as it missed. He ran past its back as it tried to turn, raking his left claw along a hind leg.

The spider was turning in a circle to follow him. Milo brought down one foot hard as Gilad had taught him and spun, using his foot as the pivot point. His tail gained momentum in the long swing, and the blow took advantage of the spider moving toward him. His tail slashed across its face, tearing out two of its eyes. Stunned by the pain, it failed to see the rune-charged skull that rolled underneath it.

Milo leaped in the air, putting the spider’s body between himself and his spell. Shrapnel punctured the spider’s underside, doing minor damage but disorienting it. It desperately cast a spell, creating a cloud of poisonous smoke that would let it scuttle away and find help. But Milo was already on top of it. The last thing H’Spat saw was Shadowblight heading for her eyes, the weapon glowing in the cloud of poison and emitting a sound similar to the hissing a spider made when taunting a downed opponent.

The noble lost three more eyes as the spikes punctured them and the rest when the weapon detonated inside her skull. She wasn’t dead yet, but Milo kept swinging until nothing was left of her head.

Shadowblight accepts your offer of royal spider souls. You aren’t forgiven for breaking it, but this is a good start.

Three times daily, Shadowblight will poison your enemies with Strong Poison, doing 100 points of damage for ten rounds.

Milo saw the notification. The tips of his weapon had a green tinge to them, and an additional spike that resembled a noble spider’s sting had been added. It seemed… content? He put the thought aside and ran to the shrinking battle.

The spiders were in full retreat mode. Their general was dead, a Cheese Fiend was killing anything that got near him, and the rat army was advancing, throwing spell after spell. Only a fraction of them got away, and only because the mage’s staves ran out of mana.

Milo ran to Larry. His friend was in a frenzy, stomping dead spiders and looking for live ones. He bled from many wounds, even his Fiendish Regeneration unable to keep up. Huge welts showed where he had been bitten, and in three places, he had been stung by nobles; their venom was still at work trying to kill him. The Puffyfurs and fairies were clustered at Justin’s body, exhausted and wounded and scared. Their friend Larry was distraught, and they didn’t know how to help him. This was a scary side of him, and they didn’t know how far that side had taken over. Milo tried to get his attention.

“Larry! Stop! It’s over!”

Larry spun, his eyes seeing a spider and not his friend. He brought down his arms in a double-handed claw strike. Rather than block, Milo hopped to the side. Larry hopped after him, spun, and slashed with his tail. Milo hopped back, avoiding the tail strike that might have broken his neck, then forward. He turned twice and put his hands on his head. Larry tried to kick him and put his hands on his head. Milo hopped over Larry’s tail and then took two steps back. Larry hopped in the air, then hopped forward two steps, getting closer to Tallsqueak. Redfawn flew up, and bells on her wings tinkled in tune with the hopping.

Amid thousands of dead spiders, Milo and Larry danced the Happy Hamster Hop until Larry collapsed crying on the ground. “Larry is not a hero! Larry couldn’t save Justin! Spiders got Justin. Larry’s brother is dead!” Milo suddenly realized who was under all the webbing. The fairies were still casting healing spells but looked grim. He ran to Justin and took his pulse. It was weak, but he could feel a soft flutter.

Milo had two of the large healing potions from the caverns left. He pulled them from his ring and poured them down Justin’s throat. The guard’s pulse became stronger, but Milo knew this was a losing strategy. The poison would slowly bring his health down again unless they got Justin more help. And soon. “Larry! Justin is alive, but he’s too big for me to lift. I need a hero to take him to the Old Healer.”

Larry looked up and ran to Justin, picking him up. “Hurry, Tallsqueak! We need to save Justin!” He raced off toward the hollow. Milo followed him, barely able to keep up with his badly wounded friend.

Chapter 68

Healing and Puffcakes

Milo was sure Larry wouldn’t stop at this door this time. But Larry skidded to a stop with both heels and knocked loudly. “Larry is coming in the door now; Justin needs help.” Perhaps the insistence in his voice convinced them, or they didn’t want to make a new door, but someone inside opened the door, and Larry stumbled into the burrow of Old Healer’s clan, ducking his head as he carried Justin.

A large woman met him in the hallway. She was young but had a no-nonsense look about her. She was also tall and well-muscled. This was no dainty Puffyfur or svelte and agile shadowlurker. This was Gendifur, and she was respected as much for her kind smile and gentle healing hands as she was feared for her stout muscles and hard-hitting fists. Only one person had ever played Surprise! with Gendifur. She had broken Jory’s legs and nose and then happily nursed him back to health.

She smiled at Larry. “Good job, you got him here in time. This way.” Larry complied immediately, and Milo followed behind. An infirmary had been set up in what had once been a dining room. After Old Healer had bestowed his last ring to her, she had set up the infirmary and moved Bleusnout and Smiley to it. Old Healer had argued, but she had ignored him and done as she pleased, taking over their care and telling him to spend his time finishing the elixir. After she left, the old man relaxed and poured himself a glass of wine. Not being in charge felt wonderful.

She looked at Milo. “You. Use those sharp claws to cut this web off of him. It contains some poison, and we need him free of it. His fur also needs to be washed. Someone get me a bucket of water and suds and get started.”

Milo complied, carefully pulling off the webbing and cutting where he had to. Luckily, a lot of it was stuck to Justin’s armor. After everything was off of Justin, Gendifur began working on each bite and sting. The stings were the worst. The wounds were weeping pus and black ooze, the skin around them already damaged. Milo remembered having one such wound and nearly dying.

Gendifur had a bowl of mashed roots and mushrooms and was spooning the mixture onto Justin’s wounds and binding them. She was instructing other healers as she went, and Milo listened in. “This mixture will draw out and absorb the poisons. The poultices need to be changed every two hours and every thirty minutes for the stings. Those wounds need this mixture; it’s mostly mashed Golden Puffball with one in ten parts garlic if you need to make more. It’s very effective, but we don’t have much of it.”

Milo looked over at Larry; he was sitting in a corner, shaking. “I’ll treat Larry.”

Gendifur looked at the Cheese-Fiend. “Thank you, that would be best.”

He went over to Larry, told him what he was doing, and started wrapping his wounds. Larry had so much poison in him that Milo had to change the bandages immediately. The poultice drew out the poison and turned black within only a few minutes.

Larry opened one eye; the other was swollen shut. “Larry hurts, Tallsqueak.”

“We’ll keep changing your bandages, Larry. You’ll get better.” Milo wasn’t entirely sure that was true. He could tell that Larry’s body was fighting the poison, but he was shaking and had a fever.

Larry reached over to the bowl of mashed Golden Puffballs, picked it up, and licked it clean. Gendifur sent over another bowl for Tallsqueak to use. “Larry, that isn’t for eating; it’s to make you well.”

Larry rolled his eyes. “Larry thinks that if Puffballs can make medicine for the outside, they can make medicine inside of Larry. We should have some puffcakes for dinner, Tallsqueak.”

Milo sat very still. Puffcakes. Yellow jelly beans. Special yellow mushrooms make a yellow elixir and cure poison. He knew what Bleusnout had been trying to tell him. Puffcakes!

Petey came into the room, looking worried. “I brought all we have left after we set up several batches of the elixir.” He gave a bag of glowing yellow jelly beans to Gendifur and a handful to Larry. Larry ate all of them immediately, chewing loudly.

“I need the twins. Have you seen them?” Petey pointed to the kitchen. “In there, getting food.” Milo ran to the kitchen. The twins got up as soon as they saw him. They’d been sneaking up on a chocolate cake. They each grabbed half the cake and ran when they saw Milo come through the door.

“Have to go!”

“Scout-Master needs us!”

“Special scout stuff and⁠—”

“—we need our energy!”

“Hungry scouts bad⁠—”

“—good scouts are full of cake!”

Behind them, their aunt took down a large bowl and began making another cake. “Thank god. I thought those two would never take that cake and leave. How hard is it to sneak up on a cake?”

Milo stole a handful of cake from each of them. “We need to go gathering. Follow me.” The old healer barely looked at them as they entered his office and vaulted from his desk to the not-so-secret door. Harry waved to Milo as he ran through the office and returned to studying the strange book with the elixir recipe. Milo gave the twins a gathering bag to get the puffballs in the cavern and then raced to the cave where he had killed the brute. He ignored all of the shrooms there except for the puffballs.

They were back at Old Healer’s office within an hour, and Milo explained his theory.

“Bleusnout didn’t have much time. He knew Rifkin had poisoned him. He grabbed the one ingredient that he knew could cure him.”

Harry cleared his throat. “I have found something that ties into your theory. The origin of the Golden Puffballs and why they are so hard to grow. They must be grown in a cave where they can share mycelium with a poisonous species, Red-Spotted Eye-Rot. Very bad, that one. The curious thing is, until now, they have only been found in caves with a ring of mushrooms that the Fae planted as a gateway to their lands. Is there such a thing in this hollow?”

Milo looked at Old Healer. “Where did the hollow get the jelly bean bushes?”

The old rat shrugged. “Unknown. You’d have to ask the person you got that ring from and his great-grandfather. But it seems obvious there is some link between Limburger Hollow and a Fae Realm. And that may be our salvation. This elixir cured you and hopefully will cure others.”

Milo got up. “Well, the current link to the Fae is sitting in the corner of the infirmary. I need to ask Larry about some of his Flowertown stories, and then I need to cook breakfast. I think the hollow needs a double helping of puffcakes.”

Old Healer looked at the slowly fermenting Lesser Elixir Vitae. “That is an excellent idea. Anything that can help people recover from the spider cheese or keep them alive for another day is worth trying. And I’m hungry. Be sure to bring a few stacks for myself and Dr. Earthtongue.”

Harry looked over at Milo. “Many stacks. I had puffcakes once in my youth and look forward to trying them again.”

* * *

As fast as the spider army had come, it retreated. Left behind were hundreds of spider corpses and dozens of wounded ratkin. A few would not recover from the poisoned wounds. Several were already dead from the stings of nobles. Arlothe and Cremona coordinated helping the wounded into the hollow, where they could get healing.

Clan Puffyfur and the fairies were still in the center of the cavern, clustered around a glowing fissure in reality. Redfawn cautioned the young mages to keep their distance. “A Larry door is different from a door opened by a tunnel muggle. This one may stay open for a long time! And going through it could be very rough. We’ll need to use the door in Larry’s house to go home.”

The thorn bushes around the door were fading. But a double-thick ring of other bushes was growing, planted by the fairies to help stabilize the door. Already, small green jelly beans were growing on them. Redfawn had planted two Sassafras trees, one on either side of Larry’s door. They’d grow tall in a week, forming an arch with their branches and giving boundaries for the door. The Hero of Flowertown wouldn’t have any problems fitting through this door.

Chapter 69

Magic Cheese!

Vary raced up the tunnels between Limburger Hollow and Shadowport. Sledgemonkey needed a scouting report. If there were more humans on the way, the chief engineer wanted to know in order to prepare a proper surprise for them. The route was easy to follow, and his goggles augmented his usually good vision, making the tunnel appear brightly lit.

Halfway up, he saw the camp of the human raiders. Only a few of them were there, drinking, complaining about lost and broken gear, and arguing about what to do next. Many players had abandoned the raid, and the rest seemed divided on what to do next. Vary crept close and listened to their plans. This group seemed experienced when it came to “losing all of our gear” and already had plans to reequip each person and head back down to the ratkin area to either finish off the caravan or get back the gear trapped in their graves.

Vary headed back down the tunnels and raced into the hollow. He put on a burst of speed as he ran across the outer cave. The collision with something shocked him; nothing had been in his way! He and someone else went tumbling across the rocky floor. Vary was severely bruised; his mechanical armor took a beating and protected him. Not so the poor ratkin he had run over. Vary had heard the snapping of bones as they collided and now heard the pitiful cries of the person.

Vary stood up, feeling empty and guilty. He should have been paying more attention to where he was running! He was only an apprentice engineer; what if they kicked him out? Sledgemonkey and Brutus were running over. To Vary’s surprise, the older engineer slapped him on the back hard and praised him, “Nice work. Tallsqueak’s been looking for this one for the last couple of hours.” The guard nodded and smiled as he tied up the injured ratkin, ignoring his protests and cries of pain. “That’s right. It was driving me crazy. I kept hearing his breathing when he got close, but I couldn’t find him. Now that is some darn fine skulking, yes sir! But you ran up and found him easy. Tallsqueak will be happy we finally found him.”

The captive regained his senses and didn’t like the situation he found himself in. “You can’t do this to me! I’m the Cheese-Master! Do as I say! This is all the dwarves’ fault. That one struck me from behind. I demand you let me go and allow our friends from the caravan into the hollow!” Rifkin was yelling at Brutus, but his words weren’t affecting the glassy-eyed guard.

Brutus finished tying Rifkin up and propped him against the wall in a sitting position. “Funny, Master Tallsqueak warned me you’d say exactly that. But you aren’t a master. Masters have rings. So you sit there quietly until he gets back.” Rifkin ignored the part about being quiet and kept up a constant stream of complaints until Brutus gagged him.

“Told you to be quiet! A good guard needs to catch the sneaky guys, and I can’t do that with you rambling on and on about nothing.” Brutus went back to listening carefully and guarding the tunnel. Rifkin sat and fumed to himself. Baracuda and the spider were quietly drinking buckets of beer and telling exaggerated stories about their adventures.

* * *

The mess hall was a chaotic mess. There was a long line of hungry ratkin that went out the large doors and looped around the outside wall. More of them sat at the tables, or on the floor, grumbling. No one was cooking or making food. Rifkin’s crew of players had abandoned the job.

First was the problem with the cheese. The bags containing small chunks of spider cheese had gone missing. They argued over and over about whose job it had been to watch them, how many bags there were, and whether or not they’d just run out and not noticed how much they were using. They were confused by eating some of the cheese and had trouble deciding. MickyD tried to get into the cheese hoard downstairs, but the doors were locked.

MightyMarmot tried his hand at making regular pancakes. After making a dozen burned and lumpy pancakes, he gave up. They argued more but agreed on one thing: They’d joined Rifkin for big rewards and a chance to fight in his ‘Glorious Revolution.’ They’d gotten neither.

They’d had much more fun learning to fight and adventuring in the mines. They ate some of the horrible pancakes, ignored the line of hungry ratkin, and went back to the arena. The place was packed with both experienced and beginning tail-fighters. Gilad was happy to see them. “Ah, more of my students come to learn the ancient secrets of fighting. I appoint each of you as ‘Leader of two claws. You will be given ten students each to work with. We will drill the basics, then move to small unit tactics and a few ten-on-ten battles. Begin!”

Blackwhisker was happy for the recognition. “Finally, someone rewards us for our hard work. Let’s each grab a gang and get to work.”

* * *

Milo and his best scouts arrived at the mess hall to find it in chaos. Hundreds of hungry people were waiting, and no one was serving food. “We need to start feeding people, or we’ll never be able to cook up the puffcakes we need. What other ways can we make pancakes?” Milo was hazy about how food was made if it didn’t come from a food processor.

The twins looked at each other and licked their lips.

“Cheesy pancakes.”

“Just like mama makes.”

They found a large cookbook and opened it to a well-used spot in the large book.

“Mushroom flour, sugar…”

“Yeasty water to make them fluffy.”

“Butter and oil mixed for good frying.”

“Something… something… um… something?”

“One of those somethings is buttermilk.”

“Well, of course… Just giving you a chance.”

“Another is rock hen eggs.”

“Of course! And only the green part in the center.”

“Save the gooey part for whipping with sugar for topping.”

“And cheese.”

“Much cheese!”

“Cottage cheese, fruit, and nuts.”

“Or ricotta with blueberries.”

“Oooh! How about Gruyere and bacon… Tasty!”

Milo sighed and looked at the book. “What cheese do we have a lot of downstairs?”

“Cottage Cheese is plentiful.”

“Many casks of it. The cottages were bountiful this spring.”

They settled on walnuts and raisins in the “cheesy pancakes” with a sprinkle of Parmesan. As people were fed, Milo looked for more helpers in the kitchen. Most people walked off to their jobs, but some of the inhabitants of the hollow seemed lost. When Milo asked them for help, they appeared almost thankful and got to work mixing batter, washing plates, or grinding nuts with a passion. Some asked if “special cheese” was available, sure they were supposed to eat some. The twins smiled and pointed to the cheesy pancakes, which seemed to satisfy people.

Once the kitchen had enough help, Milo started mixing up puffcakes. Inside a cabinet, he found gathering bags used for foodstuffs and filled six bags with the tasty golden pancakes. Putting some in his ring, he grabbed two others and a bucket of jam and headed to the infirmary.

Things were worse when he got there. Many injured ratkin had been brought in from the fight in the gathering fields. Some only had minor bites, while others were covered in dozens of small spiderling bites. A handful had died from the potent stings of the noble spiders. Milo took his food into the kitchen, and the cooks there began distributing puffcakes to anyone wounded by a spider bite or sting. With a huge plate of food drenched in syrup and a bag full of puffcakes in his ring, Milo went to give Larry his breakfast.

Larry looked horrible. He was slumped against the wall, unmoving. His wounds were weeping a black fluid, and the bandages and poultices needed changing. Milo got him to eat a little, pushing the puffcakes into Larry’s mouth. Gendifur came running up with a large bucket of dressings and bandages. “Good, you made it back. Larry is being difficult. He only wants you to help him and says other people need me more. I don’t like the look of those wounds. Clean and feed him; if that doesn’t perk him up, I will start him on more potent medicine.

“Larry. I need you to be a hero and eat. You need food to fight the poison.” Milo helped him sit up and fed him a plate of puffcakes. After that, Larry had more strength and fed himself. He was famished and ate all the contents of the gathering bag in half an hour. Milo began stripping off the decayed and blackened bandages, then cleaning out the remains of the mashed fungus absorbing the poison, and finally rebandaging Larry’s wounds. The pile of bandages smelled horrible. Milo noticed no one was getting close to Larry, and those who did coughed and covered their mouths, trying not to breathe.

He signaled for Gendifur. She seemed unaffected by the fumes from the pile. “Let me take those. You must have a high resistance to poison. My nose is burning, and no one else can get close to Larry. Let’s get him cleaned up.” Soap and towels were brought, and Milo cleaned Larry’s fur, dumping the bucket repeatedly. Milo remembered how he’d felt when he woke up. Larry was going through the same process, his body sweating out the poison. But Milo had been stung only once and drunk many doses of the Lesser Elixir Vitae. Larry only had his Fiendish Resistance and Fiendish Regeneration to help him.

Milo thought back to Bleusnout’s lessons on cheese. Soldiers and other ratkin doing heavy labor could consume cheese safely, their bodies using it to fuel their healing and exertions. He went to talk to the new Heal-Master. “Can Larry have cheese? He’s burning up with a fever, and his regeneration can’t keep up with the poison. He’s willingly skipped cheese now for over two weeks.”

The healer considered. “Be careful. We’re in unknown territory here. If he reacts badly, you’ll need to use cheese to lure him out of this room. But I think the chance is small. Do you need cheese?”

“No, I have some, and we’ll be careful.” Moving back to Larry, he explained things to him. “Heroes use a lot of energy when they have big fights. They need cheese to help them get better. Gendifur says it’s okay for you to have some cheese.”

Larry’s eyes got big. “YES! Cheese for Larry!” Everyone looked over. Larry waved to them and sat looking at Tallsqueak. Milo had gotten two messages in the past weeks but had declined to take delivery, saving them. Both had said the same thing, asking if he wished to be given his latest shipment. He clicked the box next to last month’s delivery, and a small basket appeared between him and Larry.

Best wishes to you, and we hope you enjoy this month’s offerings from the Imperial Cheese of the Month Club.

Every month we’ll bring you a small basket of the finest fromage the emperor has to offer straight from his personal cheese vault in the caverns beneath the palace.

This month we are sending you the following:

- Six chunks of a 20-year-old Cave Cheese made by the trolls of the Iron Mountains. It’s pretty tough to chew but has an exquisite flavor and goes a long way.

- Eight ounces of Emmental, aged for five years.

- And a wheel of 4-week-old Jack Cheese, made by Jack himself. It’s a little smoky, but we think you’ll love it.

As always, we include just enough tasty crackers, a tube of “I can’t believe it’s not Cheese-Whiz,” a small but very sharp cheese knife, and a lovely oak and steel cheese slicer for precise cuts. ENJOY!

“MAGIC CHEESE!”

Everyone turned to watch Larry clapping his hands with delight as the cheese appeared. Tallsqueak gave Larry a piece of the Emmentaler on a cracker, which he chewed slowly and with much delight. This was followed by a piece of Jack Cheese and then a chunk of the hard Cave Cheese. Larry gnawed on it, even his teeth having difficulty chewing it.

Milo put the rest of the cheese aside for later. Larry seemed relaxed, but he didn’t want to push things too hard. Gendifur came over and checked on Larry. “He’s doing fine. His pulse is steady, with no excitement. If anything, I think he’s calmer now that his body has the fuel to fight off the poison. I’ll make sure to see that everyone gets a good dose of cheddar tonight to jumpstart their regeneration.” Larry was slowly nodding off to sleep with a small smile.

She looked at Milo. “And that includes you. You need cheese as much as Larry.” She looked at him suspiciously. “You don’t seem affected at all by that poison you’re wiping off of Larry. Why? Even I’m feeling it, just being near him.”

Milo tried to explain quickly. “I was wounded by poison and drank a lot of the elixir I found. Too much, according to Old Healer. He said I might have died if I hadn’t been poisoned so badly.” Gendifur felt his fur. “The poison must have nearly killed you and eaten away your flesh and bones. The elixir saved you and has suffused your body. I wonder…”

She was looking at Milo strangely. He was immediately nervous. “Wonder what?”

“This is healer talk, but there is a part of your bones that makes blood. I know that sounds strange, but some spells have confirmed it.”

Milo nodded. “I know about that. Bone marrow produces the stem cells that create red blood cells, white blood cells, and platelets. I have solid bones from my magic. Does that give me stronger marrow and blood production? I wonder if there’s a way to test that?”

Gendifur was wondering where Tallsqueak had studied healing and what else he knew. But she was delighted to answer his question and smiled at him. “Why, of course there is a way to test that theory. I’ll get my needles. Thanks for volunteering.”

Chapter 70

Blood Work

Things were strange in the hollow for its inhabitants.

The spider cheese that nearly everyone had eaten narrowed their world to their responsibilities and work. Gathering mushrooms and picking vegetables resumed immediately. The hollow needed the food, and for many of its inhabitants, it was all they could think of to do. But they were cautious of spiders. The groups of ratkin stayed together, and fairies and students from the Tower of Strife patrolled the far end of the caverns. If spiders appeared, everyone was ready to retreat quickly to the safety of the hollow.

Professors Arlothe and Cremona made sure that nothing could invade through the small tunnel leading to the hollow. The entire cave could now be electrified in a robust static field that would fry spiderlings and slowly kill the warriors and nobles. Traps were set that would spew poisons tailored to have maximum effects on arachnids, and as a last-ditch precaution, the entire tunnel would blow up. This was Boomboom’s contribution. “No tunnel? No problem!”

Unknowingly, the dwarves had caused a crisis of faith in some of the students. They had always assumed the superiority of magic over muscle. Seeing Narwhale’s cannon spewing death and fire forced them to include explosives in the conversation. There was a lot of destructive evidence to show that dwarven artillery might give fireballs a run for their money. An impromptu demonstration by “Professor Boom!” of what a quarter stick of cataclysmite could do had impressed many students.

After setting up the explosive traps in the tunnel, Narwhale and her new husband explored until they found the mines. Work was still being done to seal off the unused tunnels the spiders had invaded through. The dwarves were happy to help, and several explosions later, the only entrance to the cathedral was through the hollow.

After setting up his explosives, Boomboom explored the area of mines that branched off the larger cave the ratkin called the cathedral. He found the large veins of deep copper and other metals that the hollow considered worthless. Narwhale watched him move from one area to the next, feeling the walls, sniffing the piles of ore, and collecting samples. “Good stuff?”

Boomboom nodded slowly. “Damned good stuff. And lots of it. Rebuilding the queen will take a thousand tons of deep copper. We might find it all right here! It will take a lot of work just to get started. And there are small veins of other metals as well. The hollow doesn’t have a way to smelt and use the better ores, so they’ve mined around them for years. There’s a huge amount of mineral wealth here. A lot of work to do, setting up some ore processors and a power source, not to mention laying tracks through the mines. But first, we need to get a brewery going. Can’t mine without beer!”

Narwhale patted her cannon. “And we can’t put in a brewery until things settle down. There’s a lot of odd stuff going on. Speaking of which, let’s wander back and check up on Baracuda. She’s probably drunker than a goblin at a funeral with an open bar, and she can’t shoot straight when she’s sober, let alone after a bucket of beer.”

* * *

Gendifur returned to the infirmary with a large sewing basket filled with thread, knives, scissors, ointments, and needles of all sizes. She also had a toolbox filled with more odds and ends, including some very sharp saws and large barber’s razors. Several ratkin nearby retreated but watched with curiosity.

Milo was slightly nervous but also intrigued. “You use all that as a healer?”

Gendifur nodded at him absently as she selected a razor. “You never know what you’ll need, so I like to be prepared. Magic or runes will only get you so far. Sometimes it takes a steady hand to stitch someone back together. Which arm do you use for fighting more?”

“Uh, why would you want to know that?”

She rolled her eyes. “Because we’re going to open you up a little, and if you’re delicate like Brutus, you’ll be sore for an hour or two. Best not to do that to your main arm.”

Sighing, Milo held out his left arm. Gendifur carefully shaved some of his fur off a small patch, then took a large bone needle from her basket and put a bulb on the other end. “This won’t hurt a bit.” She told the truth. It hurt a lot! But with one of her large hands holding down his forearm, the needle went in deep and sharp. She drew a bit of blood from him and put a bandage on the puncture. Putting a few drops of his blood in a glass jar, she added a drop of thick, black liquid from another. There was a visible reaction as the two mixed. The blood first darkened, then glowed and sparkled, and finally returned to normal.

“Tell me again how much elixir you drank. Point to a jar of equal size.” Milo did. “I think it was six doses, according to the notes in the book.”

Gendifur studied the blood, shaking it a little. “That was spider venom from a noble. I took it out of a gland brought to me this morning. Your blood neutralized it completely.” She looked over at Larry and then got a fresh needle. “I need some more. Larry is weakening, and I don’t think just cheese will save him. I’ve got too many patients and not enough time or medicine to save them all.”

The healer took two ounces of blood from Milo, then went to the sleeping Larry. She unbandaged his worst injury. The sting was a black and rotting wound, and the skin around it was turning purple. Gendifur cleaned the wound again and then cast a healing spell. Milo observed carefully.

The spell healed some of the bruised skin around the wound but nothing more. The next test was to use a minor healing potion applied directly to the injury. She handed it to Milo, “Pour this on the wound while I watch with eyes and magic. I don’t expect much. The potion duplicates the effects of simple healing spells. But we try what we know first, then experiment if that doesn’t work.” The potion seemed to be absorbed by the wound, but other than a little of the swelling going down, nothing happened.”

The healer frowned. “It’s healing what it can, same as the spell. But it can’t touch the venom.” She poured an ounce of Milo’s blood onto the wound. Immediately, the blood started bubbling and drawing out the poison. The wound was sparkling and glowing as the poison fought against the magic of the elixir in Milo’s blood. Foul steam rose from the injury. After a minute, the sting was much smaller, the swelling was gone, and Milo could see healthy tissue starting to grow back a little as Larry’s regeneration got to work. This time when Gendifur cast a healing spell, the wound closed and was nearly gone.

The healer looked at Milo. “I’d call that a success. What do you think?”

Milo touched the flesh where the sting had been. “That was amazing.”

Gendifur stood up and grabbed Milo by the arm. “Let’s get to work. I need to drain some of your blood, then get some spells on you to get you started making more. Eat the rest of that cheese, sit back, and relax while I do all the hard work.” Milo noticed she wasn’t asking a question. But if it helped Larry, it was worth it. Plus… cheese! He’d been trying not to eat it, and now he was told to stuff himself on a half basket of it on doctor’s orders.

Gendifur put another needle into his arm, but this time it was hooked to a thin tube that ran to a glass jar. “This will feel odd. I will use a small blood rune to pull the blood out of you. It should tingle.” She cast a spell, and Milo saw the rune appear briefly on the hollow bone needle in his arm. Blood began to fill the jar.

“What rune is that? It looks like the fluid-control runes the engineers use.”

The healer watched the jar carefully and snapped her fingers at some point, causing the rune to disappear. She pulled out the needle and bandaged him before answering. “Just a minor blood rune to move your blood from your vein to the tube. If I were to use an engineering rune, it might drain you dry in a second. This is easier and quicker than setting up a pump.”

“Now, drink this. You need fluids.” She handed him a large glass of fruit juice. Milo drank as he watched her work on Larry’s wounds. He picked up and examined one of her large, hollow needles. It was made of very hard bone and sharpened to a wicked-looking tip. Concentrating, he saw that someone had reinforced the bone with runes. He recognized the rune for Hard Bones. “Who made these?”

“Different people over the last several decades. Each healer passes down their tools to the next. Good tools are hard to find. Brutus told me you have some bone magic? When this is over, I want you to help me make needles for all the junior healers. You’ll earn a lot of contribution points, and I’m sure you can understand why making all the healers happy can pay off.” Milo nodded; that made sense to him. Healers need tools the way engineers need tools. He liked making things better and more efficient. And he wanted a good look at every piece of bone in the hollow.

Gendifur used a small amount of his blood on each of Larry’s stings and then, with much difficulty, put a needle into Larry’s arm. “I swear, this is worse than treating Brutus. Larry is tougher than either Brutus or Justin now. The price he paid was too high, though.” Milo saw the last of his blood drain into Larry’s arm, again with the use of a blood rune.

“And now we wait. Both to see if Larry gets better and for you to make more blood. You should be fine to give a little more in about six hours. Get some rest until then.”

Before Milo could relax, a healer at the other end of the room screamed for Gendifur. “I need help, Genny; I’m out of mana, and his pulse is dropping.” Milo could see that they were talking about Bleusnout. Gendifur cast several spells, using up most of her mana. She turned to Milo, a question in her eyes. “We’re losing him.”

Milo only hesitated a moment. “I have powerful bones and a belly full of cheese, and I walk back from death quickly. Take what you need for Bleusnout and Smiley, and don’t worry about me.”

Chapter 71

This Will Hurt, A Lot!

There were worse things than death, Milo thought to himself. He looked back fondly at the snake when it had squeezed him to death or bitten his head off. Afterward, he got to take a break in the real world, get jobs done, then wake up at his camp and start plotting revenge.

Being the test subject for experimental medicine was less fun. Despite telling her he wasn’t worried about dying, Gendifur scoffed at the idea. “I don’t care if you’re a player, a lawyer, or a wizard and can laugh at death and walk out quickly; you don’t get to die on me. That would mean I let you die, a mockery of my healer’s oath. And it would be wasteful. I can heal more people by keeping you on the edge of death and draining blood out of you every hour.”

She said this as she smiled and jabbed him again with a needle. “Now eat that cheddar, drink your berry juice, and try to relax. Do you need a warm blanket? Yell for me if you need more cheese or think you’re dying. I need to give Bleusnout and Smiley another dose. They have responded well to the treatment and might even live until tomorrow.”

Leaving Milo to experience more of the joy of hypovolemic shock, she walked off to try and keep her three worst-off patients alive.

Justin’s wounds had been treated the same way as Larry’s. The big guard was sleeping soundly now. Larry had walked over to where Justin lay on a cot, patted his head, and then moved the cot close to Tallsqueak so he could sit next to both of them at once. Larry’s recovery had been nothing less than miraculous. Cheese and Fiendish Regeneration had overtaken the venom in his system, aided by his high resistance to poisons, toxins, and venom that his Fiendish Resistance granted him. “Larry thinks Tallsqueak needs more cookies. Auntie Irma gave Larry a whole bag. We can share.” Milo wasn’t hungry at first but, under his friend’s urging, managed to eat a few cookies and drink more of his fruit juice. He was also rapidly recovering, but somehow Gendifur always knew when he could donate more blood and came for him like some smiling vampire. The consolation was he saw how many people she could cure with each jar of his elixir-enhanced blood. The infirmary was almost empty; only a half-dozen of the worst patients were left, including Bleusnout, Smiley, and a badly injured Helen Brownfur.

This was the fourth time that Milo had donated blood. Gendifur checked on him constantly after the first time and used a spell Milo had never heard of before to track how much blood flowed through him. “These have been passed down through our clan for ages. Mistress Milzner’s Very Excellent Rune of Diagnostics, Bejack’s Rune of Flowing Blood, Nessy’s Restoration. And, of course, Count Echse’s Ray of Fracture Finding. Not everything magic gets taught over in the Tower of Strife.”

She had also brought over two of her student healers to help her with some testing. Milo regretted being curious about his bone marrow. Gendifur produced a hand-cranked drill with a very narrow drill bit of hardened bone. She strapped down his left arm and made a small incision, then a deeper one, until she looked at his upper arm’s bare bone. “You weren’t kidding about thick bones. Your humerus is 50% thicker than normal. Let’s see how tough it is. This will hurt some.”

Milo translated the last statement. “This will hurt a lot!”

Gendifur tried several times to drill into the bone, then gave up. “This is ridiculous! What are your bones made of?”

“Old bone, reinforced with ancient runes and a lot of magic. But let me see what I can do.” He’d never tried manipulating his bones this way, but in theory, it should be the same as working on any other bone. After a minute, he felt he’d made a small opening in his bone just under the tip of Gendifur’s needle. “Try now.”

The drill penetrated easily, and Gendifur retrieved a small sample of his marrow.

She examined it with several spells, becoming more and more puzzled. “There is more magic in this than in your blood! Good to know. We can take more blood.” She extracted a little more, then used a spell to close the wound. “Larry, keep feeding him cheese and cookies. It would be best if you ate as much as Tallsqueak does. And if Justin wakes up, get some cheese into him.” She walked away to care for Smiley and Bleusnout.

Gendifur was getting desperate. Justin was out of trouble, but there was something very wrong with Bleusnout and Smiley. Justin and Larry had taken many wounds, but healing had started within minutes of the fight ending. Whatever had been used to poison the two cheese-makers had been given days to sicken them before they got any help. She knew that each had been given large doses of Milbenkase, the spider cheese. There was also Black Mold in their lungs, blood, and at least one other type of poison. Giving them each a hefty dose of Tallsqueak’s blood had helped keep them alive.

She had examined his blood with her spells and found curious things. As expected, his blood was rich in the little red food-bringers, and he had a large number of white protectors. She hadn’t expected the glowing yellow sparkles that danced around the protectors. She suspected something had changed in the marrow of his suspiciously large and complex bones but didn’t have time to experiment. She was going to take a chance to save her two dying patients.

As she had with Tallsqueak, she made an incision in Smiley to expose his bone, then drilled into it so she could extract a sample of his marrow.

It was terrible; she could tell immediately. Something was attacking his bones. They were soft, and his marrow wasn’t producing new food-bringers or protectors. According to some of her older relatives, what she did next was probably against the healer’s oath. It was nice to be a Heal-Master and not have to ask permission to do something. She injected the samples of marrow she’d taken from Tallsqueak into four of Smiley’s bones. Then she gave him an entire pint of Tallsqueak’s blood. Sometimes you used a needle as a healer, and sometimes you needed a hammer. Gendifur needed a hammer, or these two would be dead soon.

Bleusnout was even worse! The sample she took from him showed Black Mold was growing inside his bones! She looked over to where Tallsqueak was talking with Larry. A strong soul could walk back from death, but she’d never seen it. Was he really that confident that he could return? She debated the question’s ethics while checking Smiley’s pulse every two minutes. His heartbeat was getting stronger, and he was breathing easier.

Suddenly his eyes opened, and he stared at her. “Gendifur?” His voice was barely a whisper. She bent lower. Smiley’s lips curled into the signature expression that had given him his nickname. “I always knew that when the Angel of Death came for me, it would look like you!” He tried to laugh but grimaced in pain. “Oh, my mistake. I’m alive. If I were dead, this wouldn’t hurt so much.”

Gendifur shook her head and handed him a bowl of soft curds. “Eat that. If you can joke, you can eat some cheese.”

Smiley nodded. “And then some cheddar and a nice nap?”

Gendifur smiled, and it wasn’t angelic at all. “And then I take some blood samples and tell Old Healer you’re awake so he can come to ask some interesting questions. And then maybe some cheddar. But you’re lucky. I have someone else to go torture first.”

* * *

“Tallsqueak? Larry has questions about Blue Boxes. Does Tallsqueak know about Blue Boxes?”

Milo was trying to eat a bowl of curds Gendifur had brought him. His stomach felt queasy after she drilled into more of his bones and extracted bits of his bone marrow. He was also down another pint of blood. The curds were easy to eat, and she’d promised him some slices of grana Padano as a reward after he finished his bowl. He was sure he’d never have survived this ordeal without eating so much cheese.

“The ones only you can see? Yes, I get those too. What do you need help with, Larry?”

Larry was staring into space, trying to concentrate on something. “Larry’s eyes have trouble reading, especially his big eye. And the boxes are confusing. Boxes are telling Larry he has to do stuff because Larry killed lots of spiders. And maybe something bad? It says I get a reward for cheating and breaking space-time. Larry doesn’t mean to break things! It just happens!”

Milo reached over, took another bite of curds, and set the empty bowl aside. Gendifur was busy with Bleusnout, so he began gnawing on a piece of the hard cave cheese. “I think that’s okay, Larry. What did it give you?”

“Blue Box gave Larry 20 points for breaking reality and 30 points for killing many spiders. But box is upset because he needs to spend his points. They say Larry has to spend them.”

Milo sat up and concentrated. “Tell me what they say, Larry.”

“Larry needs to spend 109 points. Then Larry has to pick a new Larry. There are many yucky new Larrys like Rampaging Death Machine Larry and Breaker of Reality Larry. Larry doesn’t think he’d like those.”

Milo agreed. “I think those are bad choices, too. What are the good choices for the new Larry?”

Larry spent a lot of time reading off three of the choices that weren’t yucky.

Werefiend: You have learned to return to your pre-fiend state! Be normal most of the time! In times of great stress or danger, you can let your old self out to play. Rend your enemies in a ferocious berserk rage you barely remember before changing back to your usual self.

Dancing Fiend: Continue your quest to teach mortals the dances of the Fae. Leap, caper, and confuse your foes as you fight with a combination of Fiendish Prowess and Fae Cunning. Gain grace and poise.

Hero of Flowertown: It’s Hero Time! You know what needs to be done when someone is in trouble. It’s up to you to save the day!

Milo needed a better answer. “What do you want to do, Larry?”

“Larry wants to do all of them. Larry wants to be the old Larry, from before sneakybadguy gave Larry cheese. Larry wants to dance! And Larry is a Hero!”

“Why don’t we start with your points, Larry? That might help you decide. Find a Blue Box that lets you spend your points. I bet the boxes have been showing it to you. Then find the choice that lets you increase your intelligence and your wisdom. Take all the points you can.”

A minute later, Larry’s eyes got big, and he smiled. “Larry found them. Larry is smarter!”

“And now Larry knows what to do! Larry will be a Hero!”

You have made it to Tier 4. Welcome to Level 16 and your new class: Hero of Flowertown

You have chosen the path of the Hero.

Heroes don’t always have an easy life, but they make things better for everyone else!

Gain Title: Heroic Defender of the Hollow!

All of the hollow knows what you did to help them. It will take time, but you have shown them what a Hero is truly capable of and gained their acceptance. You may spend points on Heroic Boons.

You have randomly gained one minor Heroic Boon!

Gain Title: Hero of Flowertown

You will always be welcome in Flowertown, as will your friends from the Limburger Hollow. Brinka will be happy to make a Larry-sized door whenever you want to visit. You may spend points to gain favors granted by the grateful Fae.

You have randomly gained one minor Fae Boon!

Perk: Fiendish Regeneration becomes Heroic Regeneration

Perk: Fiendish Resistance becomes Heroic Resistance

Skill: Chase Prey is replaced by Catch the Bad Guys!

You have purchased the following:

Fae Trickery: You have gained +3 INT

Ancient Wisdom: You have gained +3 WIS

Finesse and Style: You have gained +3 DEX

Endless Grace: You have gained +3 AGI

See the Unseen: You have gained +3 PER

Perk: Heroic Regeneration is upgraded from Fiendish Regeneration

Perk: Heroic Resistance is upgraded from Fiendish Resistance

Perk: Heroic Strength is upgraded from Fiendish Strength

Gained Skill: Flower Arrangement (INT)

Gained Skill: Nature Appreciation (WIS)

Gained Skill: Proper Manners (CHA)

Gained Skill: Ribbons and Bows! (DEX)

Gained Aspect: Magic of the Fae (CHA)

Gained Minor Fae Boon: Weasel Breeding

Weasels like to dance! More weasels mean more dancing. With enough dancing, your adorable Baby Weasel Slippers will attract more Weasel Slippers!

Gained Heroic Boon: Larry is coming!

Someone is in trouble, and Larry knows they need help!

Chapter 72

Smiling

Old Healer was very interested in hearing what Smiley had to say and came immediately, the hulking form of Harry following behind. Larry picked up Tallsqueak’s cot and put it next to Smiley, then put Justin next to Tallsqueak. Several people noticed how easily Larry did this, carefully walking through the infirmary with a grace he had never had before.

Larry looked different. The changes were initially subtle but became very apparent over the next hour. He was walking upright with ease, and his hands and feet were smaller. His eyes were much closer to each other in size, although one was green and the other blue. His teeth were the most significant change. Larry had always had too little mouth for how many large fangs were fighting for space. They stuck out at odd angles, and he had never been able to close his mouth. That had changed. The largest fangs had fallen out or been pulled out by Larry when they got loose. Gendifur had given him a small bag to put them in. The remaining teeth were working together now. Larry could chew normally and smile. He was very happy about that.

“Larry likes smiling!” Smiley gave him a thumbs-up, nearly too tired to smile himself.

The fairies had come into the infirmary in a flutter of wings, already knowing about Larry’s official hero status. They had immediately started brushing his fur clean and making sure he had enough ribbons and flowers attached to him, as appropriate for his status as a hero.

Old Healer sat next to Smiley. “We need a few answers. How were you poisoned?”

Smiley looked extremely sad. “Well, that would be Charlotte. She stuck a knife in my back and whispered, ‘Surprise.’ I couldn’t move. But Rif was the one who told her to do it. We were talking about stuff, and suddenly they both got real serious about this crazy plan of Rif’s to take over the hollow and run things. Rif has always wanted to be a Cheese-Master; everyone knew that. But he wasn’t good at things and screwed up sometimes. He was always trying to skip steps and get things done quickly. He made a mess of things more than once. I covered for him as much as I could.”

The old rat nodded. “And Bleusnout noticed?”

Smiley snorted. “If by ‘noticed’ you mean ‘scream and rant for half a bell,’ then yeah, he noticed. We had the nicest little collection of mushroom beds going down in the basement, and then Rifkin didn’t pay attention when gathering, and some spores from poisonous varieties got mixed up in the beds. We had to clear them and start over. Wow, was Bleusnout pissed! We needed those shrooms for making rennet. It takes a lot of specialized rennet, mushroom powders, and molds to make all the different cheeses for a hollow. We could only make cottage cheese for a week until we grew some basic shrooms. It wasn’t very good. People got sick of eating it. We had to buy cheese from another hollow. We’ll never use all those casks of cottage cheese.”

Milo wanted to know more about the plan. “Who else was part of the plan, and what did it involve?”

“Crazy stuff. He said he had ‘people who would help.’ Other hollows would send warriors and special cheese, and he would scare everyone with a fake spider attack. Spiders! That was when I freaked out. He sat me down and explained it all. Said I could be Gather-Master if I wanted. I told him it was a crazy plan. Then he nodded at Charlotte, and she poked me with her knife. I couldn’t move at all; I just sat there drooling. After that, I just listened for a while and then fell asleep. He told her I’d make a great alibi. Crazier than fruit bats at cider time, the two of them.”

“That’s all I know about until I wake up with Gendifur leaning over me.”

He looked over at the chef. “They got Bleusnout too?”

Old Healer sighed. “Yes, but it’s unclear exactly what ails him. Did Bleusnout have a cheese problem? Do you? Rifkin said he found Bleusnout passed out with his face in a bowl of cheese. He is not suffering from an overdose of bleu. He has spider mites and Black Mold in his system, as did you.”

Smiley was shaking. “He said that? Bastard. The chef’s got a reputation for liking bleu cheeses, but that’s because of his whiskers. His family has always dyed their whiskers that way. It was an award they earned back in the first rebellion. He’s proud of it. The idea that a Cheese-Master might be an addict? Damned silly.”

Old Healer looked pained. “We were too trusting of Rifkin and too quick to judge Bleusnout. But time enough for regrets later. Did Bleusnout ever mention a cheese caravan?”

Smiley shook his head. “No, other than wishing we were near one of the main trading routes. He said the only way we’d ever get a regular caravan to show up here was if we sent out our own and could welcome it back! But wagons and beasts cost a lot of cheddar. The few times we got caravans to visit, we had to make some costly deals. After a while, it didn’t seem worth it.”

Old Healer nodded to Milo, then turned to Smiley. “Thank you, Smiley, you have confirmed many things and helped us fill in the holes. I leave you in Gendifur’s care. Conserve your strength; we will have stronger medicine for you tomorrow. Others can tell you what is happening.”

Smiley relaxed and lay back on his pillow. “Yeah, this puppy is tuckered out. Say, who do you have running the mess hall?”

Ringtail and Tweedle chose that moment to come into the room bearing huge stacks of puffcakes and cheesy pancakes on platters.

Smiley stared, then rolled his eyes.

Larry sniffed the air. “Cheesy pancakes? Larry is very hungry again.”

“Hey, save some of that grub for brave guards who have captured the dangerous sneaky guys.” Brutus walked into the room with Rifkin tied up and gagged over his shoulder. “Your dwarf friend Vary caught him, Tallsqueak, but I tied him up and brought him over after I was off shift.” He tossed Rifkin down to the floor near Old Healer, who had a gleam in his eye that boded ill for the assistant Cheese-Master. Smiley wasn’t looking happy to see him either.

Brutus sniffed the air. “Do I smell food? Guards get really hungry catching bad guys.”

Chapter 73

A Delicate Mix of Strength, Torture, and Compassion

Gangrene paced back and forth in the tent, irritable and angry. The three squad leaders and Grackle were wary of saying anything. The general was prone to violence even in a good mood. The human attack had injured him badly, with so many of their mages and archers focusing their fire on him. Potions, cheese, and regeneration were doing what they could to put him back together. The pain of his wounds and the hunger accompanied by rapid healing made him irritable and dangerous.

“This has been a disaster from the start. Scouting reports failed miserably at finding out this hollow’s defensive strength. They should have been crushed by the spider raid and been happy for us to march in and kill off the eight-leggers. Obviously, that didn’t happen. And Rifkin is late getting back to us with better information.”

The leader of the first squad ventured a question. “Is it possible they have some treaty with the spiders? The appearance of that large, mechanical monster is suspicious.”

Gangrene paused. “Possible, yes. Likely? No. Even my dealings with the spider tribes have shown they can’t be trusted. The machine the dwarves are feeding beer to is known to me. An outcast the clans wanted dead and duped into leading the first raid. I assume the main spider army is still out there, scouting and waiting to attack. That’s the only way the first raid failed so miserably. They sent in their outcasts, and the hammer blow is yet to fall. We need to be prepared for that to happen.”

* * *

Larry looked at Rifkin. “Rifkin is sad and having a bad day. Larry can tell. Maybe if Rifkin weren’t a SNEAKYBADGUY, he wouldn’t be so sad!”

Something clicked in Milo’s brain. According to Larry, there were sneaky guys, bad guys, badsneaky guys, and many other types of villains. But there had been some specific times that Larry had used the term sneakybadguy and said it that way.

“Larry, who gave you too much cheese when you wanted to be strong?”

Larry looked at him with sad eyes and shook his head. Old Healer was looking at Rifkin. “Newly made Cheese Fiends are very malleable and are often forced to bond with the person who gives them the cheese. They can’t disobey some orders and may not remember what happened correctly.”

Larry was hopping from one foot to the other. “Yes, that is what happened to Larry. Rifkin gave Larry cheese so he could be strong like Justin and be a guard! So much cheese! Larry remembers all the flavors, and he got so strong! But Rifkin was a sneakybadguy and made Larry forget things and not be able to tell everyone that Rifkin gave Larry the cheese. So Larry doesn’t tell people.”

Rifkin hissed through his gag and glared at Larry.

The Cheese Fiend said, “Oops, sorry, sneakybadguy. Larry remembers some things better, and now he forgets that he must not say that…”

Everyone was very quiet as Larry stood there, thinking hard. He turned to Rifkin. “Larry is a Hero now, and Larry doesn’t have to do what RifkinSneakybadguy says anymore! Rifkin should remember that the next time he thinks he is being sneaky. Larry will know, and Larry will catch him!”

Rifkin was trying to squirm under Smiley’s cot and away from Larry. Smiley turned his head. “You go hide somewhere else. I don’t like you anymore, either!” Rifkin looked around the circle of ratkin and saw no sympathy. Old Healer started to say something but was interrupted by Gendifur. She had heard what Smiley and Larry had said, and she was a very angry healer.

One not-so-dainty hand grabbed Rifkin by the scruff of his neck, and the other ripped off his gag. “You were the one who gave little Larry cheese?! You turned him into a fiend?!”

“I am the Cheese-Master! You can’t do this to me! I will give cheese to whoever I want! You can prove nothing! Put me down, woman.”

Brutus rolled his eyes, and several people looked alarmed. No one intervened as Gendifur slammed Rifkin into a wall three times.

“The cracking sound was your fourth and fifth ribs on your right side. You have a lot of ribs left. I need to know what poisons you gave to Smiley and Bleusnout, and I want to know what the spider cheese does and its effects.”

Rifkin sputtered, “I will tell you nothing! I have powerful allies, and you will all be working for me.”

The wall took a beating as Rifkin slammed into it over and over. Some of the cracking sounds might have been from the wooden wall. A stunned Rifkin shook his head in defiance. Gendifur shouted to her assistants, “I have a tough guy here! Set up a table with good straps and get my special needles and iodine.” She began to drag the injured Rifkin over to a table when he started talking.

“NO! Not the iodine! It stings! I gave Smiley and Bleusnout Stenchwart Poison with an infusion of Black Mold, a double dose of Milbenkase cheese, spiderling venom, and an extract of Felticor!”

Harry stood up. “Ah, of course! How clever. The Black Mold would mask some of the effects of the Stenchwart, and the spiderling venom would intensify the effect of the spider cheese.” The troll put his face very close to Rifkin. “Maybe you’d like to tell me all about the spider cheese? In detail? And lots of other things? You can trust me; I’m a doctor. It says so on my diploma. Or I can leave you here for this delicate flower of a healer to help your memory with her needles?”

Rifkin looked from the troll to Gendifur. “I would love to tell you everything I know about spider cheese.”

Milo got up with difficulty; there were things he needed to know. “Tell me about the caravan.”

Rifkin looked from Harry to Gendifur to Tallsqueak. “Why should I tell you? You can’t torture me more than these two can.”

Tallsqueak smiled a very fake smile. “Because if you tell me, I won’t heal your broken bones. If you don’t tell me, I’ll heal you so Gendifur can break them again. But this time, they will be brittle and shatter into many pieces. Gendifur might have to take out your bones entirely. Have you ever tried to walk with no bones? It’s not easy.”

Rifkin licked his lips, thinking, Maybe they would all kill each other? That would be nice. “The caravan master is General Gangrene from Wurchwitz Hollow. He is a monster and a horrible person. His guards are all skilled fighters. The potent battle cheese they carry with them makes them the equal of creatures twice their level.”

Milo looked at him. He remembered Rifkin and Smiley helping Bleusnout in the kitchen. That seemed like a different person. He really didn’t understand people sometimes. “You have a nice talk with Harry and Old Healer.”

Harry dragged him off for some quality research time, accompanied by the former Death-Master.

Gendifur got a quick hug from Brutus and another from Larry and then went back to monitoring Bleusnout.

Brutus came over near Smiley and Tallsqueak. His eyes were shining. “Wow, now that girl is really something.” Smiley and Milo shared a look.

Tallsqueak made a careful comment. “Yes, she’s quite strong, I noticed.”

Brutus flexed his biceps. “Yep, she’s got some good muscle on her. A lot of the older folks complain about how some of the clans got merged, but I think it’s a good thing. Justin and I are mostly StoneClaw Clan. A lot of the guards are. We tend to be tall and have a lot of muscle. But Gendifur has ancestors who come from StoneClaw, DeathClaw, and SilentTail. She’s strong and smart, and you saw how quick she was to go for her needles. I bet she would have made a great Death-Master if she hadn’t become a healer.”

Smiley nodded. “Yes, she is a delicate mix of strength, torture, and compassion.”

Brutus looked at her and got misty-eyed. “And she’s all mine.”

Smiley whispered to Tallsqueak, “Brave man!”

Larry was sitting near Justin, holding a Cheesy Pancake near his nose. Justin sniffed twice and then opened his mouth slightly. Larry pushed the pancake in. Justin swallowed and opened his mouth. Larry happily fed his big brother Cheesy pancakes until the plate was empty. Then Justin opened his eyes and looked around. Larry hugged him quite tightly. “Justin is awake!”

Justin mumbled something that might have been, “Yes, I am awake. Good job, Larry.” Or it might have been, “I can’t breathe, and why does your fur smell like lilacs?” Eventually, Larry released his big brother, who sank wearily back into his bed. Gendifur took his pulse and stuck a piece of cheddar into his mouth. “Eat this; you need it. You got bit dozens of times.”

Justin chewed on the cheese. “Yeah, I didn’t expect to make it out of that one alive. What happened?”

Larry patted Justin on the head. “Big Brother Justin is a hero. Killed lots of spiders. Larry was in Flowertown and heard the fight and came and stomped spiders who hurt Justin! Spiders all smushed. Fairies and Puffyfurs and Tallsqueak all helped.”

Tallsqueak added, “All true. Larry killed hundreds of spiders and carried you back. Both you and Larry almost died.”

Justin took in Larry’s bandaged form, the fluttering fairies, and how different he looked. “It sounds like Larry was the hero, then.”

Larry nodded. “Larry and Justin can be Heroes together, now.”

Larry turned his head suddenly, listening. “Someone is sad! Larry needs to go be a Hero!” The fairies flew after him.

Milo turned to Brutus. “I need to go talk to Gangrene.”

The guard nodded. “Right behind you, Scout-Master.”

Chapter 74

Someone Is Sad

Buttercup was sad, and she wanted to play a game. She and Rosie had been in their carts for days and days and days. They had only had fun the time the big rock thing had come to play, and they were told to kill it. And that other time when lots and lots of humans came to play. That should have been a longer playtime. They weren’t nearly done, and the humans were still standing with all their parts. But the big, loud, bangiteybangbangboom noises started. She and Rosie ran back, hid in their carts, and didn’t come out until Grackle offered them food and hit them with the prod. It was a long time since the humans, and she was very itchy. Playing with Rosie and her doll would make her not-itchy. Or some cheese for dinner. Or killing something and listening while it made funny noises. She clawed at her cage until Grackle yelled at her to stop.

Rosie was sad and wanted her doll. Mama had given the doll to her, and she missed Mama. Mama went away a long time ago, and she only remembered Mama because of her doll. Grackle was upset that she tried to get out of her cage to play with Rosie and punished her by taking it away this morning. She’d been quiet since then, lying still like she was ambushing prey. But he hadn’t given her doll back! And she was hungry for cheese. She could smell lots of cheese; it was all around, but none for her. She only got cheese when Grackle gave it to her. Asking for more would get blows from the prod. She didn’t like the prod.

* * *

Larry sniffed the air, trying to find the sad person, but it didn’t help. Many people were sad in the hollow, making it hard to sniff for them. But he could find sad people other ways now; he just had to think hard. That was easier. More INT was better. Tallsqueak had been right! Tallsqueak was very smart, and now Larry was smarter. He thought for a moment, and he knew. Two little girls were sad and crying. Larry pointed to the way out of the hollow. “This way.” His fairy friends followed him out of the hollow and into the big cave. Old Larry had been told not to leave the hollow, but that didn’t matter now. New Larry had new rules. Helping sad people was more important than following old rules.

There were people in the cave, just past the entrance. Samuel was there. He was one of the new guards and friends with Justin, which made him Larry’s friend too. “Hi, Samuel. Larry and his friends are doing Hero stuff.”

Samuel nodded. He was a good guard, staring straight ahead and keeping watch. Tallsqueak’s friends were here too. They were having fun drinking beer and laughing. Larry waved to them, and they all waved back. Except for the friend on the spider. She wasn’t moving anymore, and the funny spider was making sleepy noises too. Tallsqueak had told him about the funny spider and made him promise not to squoosh her or tear off her legs.

Across the cavern was the caravan full of badsneakyguys. Rifkin had brought them. Larry didn’t like them or their spider cheese. Since they were bad guys, Larry would use Stealth. Stealth was a Hero skill that let him sneak up on badguys or badsneakybadguys.

Larry looked at the tinkly-twinkly fairies making noise with their wings and little lights. “Larry will use Stealth to get close to sad little girls. Can fairy friends be quieter?”

Redfawn giggled. “Fairies don’t get seen if they don’t want to be seen, Larry. Watch.” All of the fairies disappeared as shadows and colors swirled around them. Larry’s green eye still saw them, but just barely. His blue eye didn’t see them.

“Hidden things are special things. Thoughts that take wing and change into new life Shadows slink around the edge of our imagination, gone missing from their owners. Magic that rides the winds of the mortal lands. Magical eyes can see these things. Would Larry like to have Magic Eyes?”

“Yes, Larry wants Magic Eyes.”

“Stealth is a good thing, but there are other ways to avoid being found by enemies. Even the bravest hero or villain can walk small and quiet, pretending to be something else and pretending to be someone who should be there. People expect to see things, be what they expect, and be Unnoticed.”

“Would Larry like to be Unnoticed?”

“Larry thinks being unnoticed will be fun. Everyone notices Larry now.”

Larry has learned the Fae Magic Skills of Unnoticed and Magical Eyes.

The fairies were delighted to show Larry how to use his new skills.

* * *

Rosie heard a sound. It was her cage opening! Was it time to play? A face appeared. It was a funny, big face with different colored eyes and a big ribbon dangling down from a bow on its head. She laughed at the funny face.

“Shhhh! We have to be quiet, or badsneakyguys will be here. Larry is here to make you not sad. Larry would be sad to be in a cage. Let’s go play somewhere else.” Rosie was shy at first and didn’t know what to do. Only Grackle ever talked to them. But the new face had a ribbon. Buttercup liked ribbons, and so did her doll. Rosie climbed out of her cage and stood next to the new face. He was like her. He was big and had big teeth. Nice teeth. And he had her doll! “I found her. She was looking for you.” He took her hand, and they went to get Buttercup.

Buttercup was more shy than Rosie and scared. But the new face had a ribbon that was tied to his arm. She pointed at it, and he took it off and put it on her. She loved her new ribbon. Rosie held up her doll, and the new face put a little ribbon on her doll. Buttercup saw Larry’s feet. The weasel slippers blinked their eyes and wiggled their whiskers, making her laugh. Someone noticed.

Grackle heard a sound. One of his girls was laughing. One thing his father always told him was, “Don’t let the fiends get any personality. They should fear and obey and nothing else.” It had been easy to make the girls fear him. A few beatings before he gave them the special cheese and more later had made them incapable of striking back. He’d only had to use the fiend prod three times. But tonight would be the fourth. They had no reason to be laughing. He didn’t want happy little fiends; he wanted fiends that obeyed his orders.

As Grackle came around the end of the wagon, he saw that Rosie and Buttercup were out of their cages. This wasn’t good. Not good at all! Gangrene would skin him and have his hide stretched on a wagon if he found out. He hissed at them softly. “Back into your cages, or you’ll get no cheese for a week.” He brandished the prod at Rosie, but a giant hand grabbed it and stepped from the shadows.

Grackle’s face paled, and his eyes went wide. Fear and envy fought inside of him. It was a fiend! And such a fiend! Is this what they bred in Limburger Hollow?! He must talk with their Fiend-Master! He needed their secrets! He was perfect, with well-defined muscles and sharp claws.

“Larry doesn’t think you should hit Larry’s new friends with this. Not hit them ever again, with anything.”

And he talked! That was a bad sign. Did they let him keep his personality? “Unhand my prod, or I’ll sting you. You know what a prod is! The prod will hurt you. Back to your cage! Who let you out?!” The hand didn’t let go, and he was forced to use the storm magic spell stored in the prod. He needed this fiend to back off and recognize his dominance. Buttercup was laughing and whispered something to Rosie. Rosie laughed and whispered the secret to her doll. Part of Grackle’s mind focused on the doll. How had she got it back? Where did Buttercup get the new bow on her head?

Larry’s fur stood on end as the storm magic jolted his arm. He didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled it away from Grackle and grabbed the Fiend-Master by the arm. He poked Grackle with the prod, breaking a rib and shocking him with the prod. Rosie and Buttercup laughed as Grackle glowed and his eyes rolled up into his head.

Larry turned to look at Rosie and Buttercup, and something inside him was very sad. “Who gave you the cheese?” They pointed to Grackle. Larry glared at him. “Larry says you are a sneakybadguy, and that is the worst! You make people sad.” Grackle glowed twice more until the fiend prod ran out of charges. Larry stuffed what was left of Grackle into a cage and shut it.

“New friends need to come with Larry before more people come. Watch where Larry puts his feet.” He took each girl by the hand. “It’s just a jump to the left. And then a step to the right. Then three hops forward.”

Surrounded by the fairies of Flowertown and unnoticed by anyone, Rosie and Buttercup left the caravan. Buttercup waved at Grackle. Rosie giggled and showed her doll how to hop. Nearby, in the shadows at the side of the cavern, Brinka was making a Larry-sized door.

Bernie Badger was putting on a fresh pot of tea when he heard a knock at his door. He smiled. Unexpected guests were the best guests. He got an extra box of cookies from the pantry and welcomed his new friends into his house, thankful that he had made an extra-large door to his burrow after the first time he met Larry. Redfawn brought large teacups to the party that the new friends could hold easily in their large hands. They were shy at first, but Bernie told them jokes, and the fairies painted their claws bright pink and tied many ribbons in their hair. Soon they relaxed and ate their cookies and weren’t sad any longer.

Chapter 75

Battlelines are Drawn

As Milo and Brutus went to leave, they were stopped by Helen Brownfur and Gendifur. The old woman was leaning on the healer’s arm and probably shouldn’t be out of bed yet. “Hold up, young one. I need to know your intentions in talking to this Gangrene.”

Milo shrugged. “I’m not sure myself, to be honest. A lot depends on him. Rifkin was working with him to cause damage to the hollow. We can’t let him inside, but we can’t just leave warriors on our doorstep. I don’t want to let him make the next move. Maybe we can convince them to leave, or we must fortify our front door or close it altogether. I’m hoping Gilad will come with me. I already talked to Master Clawhammer and Petey.”

Helen sighed. “And let me guess, they told you they’d support you, and you speak for them?”

Milo nodded. “Is there something wrong with that?”

The master gatherer looked down at her ring. “No, nothing wrong. And very predictable. We are used to those with strong personalities dealing with outside problems. But Bleusnout is poisoned, and Gilad is acting odd, as are far too many in the hollow. We shouldn’t be putting all the responsibility on your tail, but that’s what will happen, no matter how much I dislike it. You have my support and that of Gendifur. That makes five of us and the majority of a conclave. Could you speak with Gilad? Even addled by bad cheese, he will have some advice for you. But I agree, something needs to be done. I will send a runner to Arlothe and see if he and Cremona can take a break from dueling to aid you in your ‘discussions.’”

“And meanwhile, I’m putting you back to bed. Politics is over; time for another dose of blood that Tallsqueak donated.” Gendifur sent the wobbly master gatherer back to bed, then looked at Tallsqueak. “You must be weak as a newborn after all I took out of you. Remember that. A fight will take a lot out of you, and very fast. My advice is not to fight.”

“But… if you have to, eat this first. It’s aged Parmesan from Bibbiano Hollow. It is very potent.” Milo put it in his pouch, trying to ignore the smell coming from the cheese. Gendifur handed an even larger chunk to Brutus.

Brutus gave Gendifur a quick hug, then he and Tallsqueak left the infirmary, heading for the front tunnel of the hollow.

* * *

Gangrene stared at the remains of a cage-cart and frowned. There was little left of Grackle. He’d been beaten with his own prod, and most of his hair had fallen out from the electric shock. It takes a lot of storm magic to even get a fiend’s attention. A fiend prod set that high would cause serious wounds if used on lesser beings, as Grackle had found out. Someone had taken away his prod and used his fiend prod on him, then slammed him into a cage and then bent it so severely it couldn’t be opened. Neither of his little fiends was around, of course. He mused how children could always surprise you. Grackle had been so sure that with enough discipline, they wouldn’t rebel as they got older. He’d been wrong and paid for it. They’d grown mean and feral, just as he’d promised. Ironic that Grackle was a victim of his own success. The question now was, where had they gone?

Two fiends, even small ones, couldn’t just walk up to a hollow without the alarms going off and summoning every guard they had. And nothing like that had happened. More likely, they had killed Grackle and escaped back into the tunnels around the hollow. Wild Cheese Fiends were a menace to everyone, but not something he could deal with right now. He kicked the cage, nearly knocking the cart over, angry with Grackle. He had needed those fiends! The two of them could have dealt with the dwarven mercenaries that Limburger Hollow had hired. Now he was going to have to lose some troops to their guns.

Grackle opened one eye and moaned, “Cheese? Potion? Please…”

Gangrene smirked. It was time for another lesson—not for Grackle, but for his other underlings. “Why waste resources on a failure? You had your chance.” Gangrene grasped the bent steel cage and ripped it open in a show of strength not lost on the watching guards. Two large hands lifted Grackle by his head, one hand over his mouth to prevent him from screaming. The general squeezed until bone shattered and gray matter oozed between his fingers. He tossed the body to the ground and ignored it.

Gangrene came to a decision, it was time to finish this. The hollow was weakened by spiders and cheese. The population should be docile. He’d given his operative within the hollow as much time as was needed, and Sneakybadguy had failed him. Of course, that meant Gangrene owed him nothing at all. He’d promised a passive population and an open front door. But the hollow was closed off by dwarves and guards, and humans had attacked his caravan. It was time to do things the hard way. “Get everyone ready—full armor and weapons. I want everyone to eat their first two pieces of Battle Cheese. Wait for my command. We’ll hit that front door hard and not stop until we have the entire Hollow under our control. But first I want some answers. And I want us as close as possible before we charge. Someone find a parley flag.”

* * *

Gilad was sparring in the arena when Tallsqueak and Brutus arrived. It was all thirty of his students versus just the Tail-Master, and Gilad was winning. As the last student was knocked to the ground, Gilad turned and smiled at Milo. “Excellent. Better fighters have arrived. I will engage both of you at once.”

Milo held up his ring and walked into the arena, followed by a nervous Brutus. “Conclave business, Tail-Master. The cheese caravan is an invading army, and we must deal with them.”

Gilad shook his head as if to clear it. “That doesn’t seem right. They are friendly merchants bringing us tasty cheese that helps us focus on our fighting. Are you making up excuses not to duel with me, Tallsqueak? But no matter, you are in the arena. Prepare yourselves.”

Milo looked into Gilad’s eyes. They were clouded by bad cheese and hours of sparring. He was totally focused on fighting. “I need to go deal with General Gangrene. He thinks his warriors can conquer the hollow because they are better fighters.”

Gilad stopped suddenly, just before he was about to launch a kick at Tallsqueak. “Gangrene, you say? I thought that overly large merchant looked familiar. I hadn’t seen him in four decades, and he was always in his Earthen Armor. Bah, we will see about this! You lot, form ranks! We have real fighting to do.”

Tallsqueak spoke softly to the Tail-Master. “If he sees our fighters, he may run away. If you stage our forces on this side of the tunnel, I will negotiate with him and may be able to taunt him to call a charge. When he is close, we can engage, and he won’t be able to get away to spread his lies.”

Gilad patted him on the back. “That is clever thinking, Scout-Master. You are right; if shown a superior force as we have here, he will disengage and run like a coward. I’ve seen him do it before. We will attack as soon as he comes through the tunnel or I hear him call the charge.”

* * *

“So, what are you two thinking about this situation?” Boomboom was being uncharacteristically serious, which worried Two-Screws. He looked at Sledgemonkey. “I’ll bow to your wisdom. You can’t shoot straight, but your take on politics is usually straight on.”

“Well, thank you for that compliment.” The oldest of the engineers looked over at the “Cheese Caravan.” “Those folks don’t act like merchants. They’re soldiers. They keep watches and have armor and weapons handy. And they are very organized. Sure, they put on some songs and dances for Milo’s people, but that’s not their purpose. And those smiles never get to their eyes. Watching them in that little battle, they were about to clean up those humans even without our help. And this might be my paranoia talking, but they aren’t happy we are here.”

Two-Screws nodded. “The last part is true. At first, I thought they were just jealous of our superior firepower and boyish good looks. But I get the feeling they see us as a bump in their road.”

Boomboom smiled. “This bump is a landmine that will explode damned easy.” The other dwarves nodded. All of them turned as Engineer Milo came walking up with the big guard who had been on gate duty before. “And that boy looks like he’s been stuck on the Whirl-and-Hurl for too many hours.”

Milo waved to the engineers and started to walk over, passing by the mechanical spider and its new mistress. Barnacle picked that moment to roll over and belch, and her backpack rolled off the spider, scattering its contents at Milo’s feet. Brutus started to pick things up, but Milo stopped him. “Let me do this. Some of the stuff Scavengers carry around can explode easily. They have hair triggers on all their guns. And if it isn’t a bottle of alcohol, it’s a gun, no matter what it looks like.” The big guard stepped back a few steps. He remembered seeing the ‘guns’ in action and had a healthy respect for them.

Milo picked each item up carefully. The hair comb had a retractable knife blade. The large knife concealed a one-shot pistol—the brace of pistols was really shotguns. Boomboom had told him some stories about the dwarven pirate clan he had married into, but seeing what one of them had in their backpack was an eye-opener. He thought the pound of jerky was probably just food, but he wouldn’t be surprised to find out it was explosives. At least the explosives were what they appeared to be. There wasn’t much you could hide in a block of cataclysmite that was more deadly than the explosive itself. After repacking it all, he put the pack into the spider’s cargo chest. Barnacle had been using it as a pillow while she slept off the barrel of beer she and the spider had drunk.

The spider was so drunk it couldn’t even hiss at him. It was just mumbling some song about a shipwrecked Scavenger and an ogre on a desert island. Milo didn’t know much about an ogre’s anatomy, but surely some of those verses were exaggerations? He patted the spider on its fuzzy head and went to talk to his brother engineers. “I have a problem.”

Sledgemonkey bent his head toward the caravan. “So we gather. How do you want to handle it? Official Treaty between your hollow and our guild? Mercenary contract? Or should we just get bored and start shooting? I don’t think you’re getting out of a fight, so make sure you prepare for the project correctly.”

Milo scratched an ear and hesitated a moment. “Ideally, without having to involve you in Hollow affairs. But…”

He smiled at them. “You’re here. You have big guns you like to use. And you need a few hundred tons of ore that’s sitting in mines the hollow controls.”

Two-Screws stroked his chin. “True. Be a shame not to give Sledge a chance to calibrate his guns.”

The engineer sighed. “Yeah, I’ll admit I need the practice. Not doing any target practice for a few hundred years can degrade your shooting skills. And I do like the look of all that shiny ore just sitting there. How about we work out a trade of the ammunition we use for one ton of deep copper? We’ll throw in the work of shooting it for free.”

Milo was happy with that. “Turns out I have the authority to approve that deal. We can say I hired you as mercenaries. I’ll mine the ore myself if needed. After this is over, we can work out the rest.”

Boomboom looked over at the shiny cannon his wife and Vary were polishing. “You had me at Big Guns.”

“Don’t want to disturb your conversation, but I think someone’s coming to talk to us. They have a parley flag out, making it official,” Brutus yelled over.

Milo looked across the cavern. The massive form of Merchant Greensleeves, also known as General Gangrene, was moving toward them, escorted by six soldiers. Two dozen more followed behind at some distance and stopped at the halfway point, and the rest of the cheese caravan’s guards and workers were behind those.

Milo and Brutus walked out to meet them. Both of them were nibbling on blocks of aged Parmesan as they went.

Chapter 76

Parley

“How does this work, Brutus? Are there rules?”

The big guard nodded his head. “Oh yeah, lots of rules. He’s got a parley flag flying, so he can’t just attack us outright. See how all his guards are stopping ten yards behind him? That’s how far I’ll stop. Then you two get as close as you want and talk. No one can attack either of you until the parley is over.”

“And when is that? If we don’t work things out, when does he start swinging that big mace at me?” The general seemed quite well-armed. He was wearing a steel cuirass that covered his back and breast, an ornate helmet, and was carrying a huge mace and shield. He had a sword and a knife on his belt and an ax on his back.

“Well, by Limburger Rules, you two would head back to your sides and wait five minutes. Have a cup of tea. By Wurchwitz’s rules, you get three steps, and that’s it. You should run fast. I’ll buy you some time.”

Tallsqueak turned and looked at Brutus. He did not doubt at all that the big guard would sacrifice himself as readily as Justin had. “That won’t work. If the parley ends badly, you turn and run back to the dwarves and defend them. I’ll manage on my own. Think about it: The dwarves can start shooting if you’re out of the way, and if I get you killed, Gendifur will do terrible things to me.”

Brutus nodded. “Smart thinking. Good thing you have a ring, not me. She’d be so mad if I got killed. I’ll scamper back to the dwarves as soon as I see him turn around.”

Brutus stopped and waved good-naturedly at the soldiers formed behind Gangrene. Milo moved up to within ten feet of the general.

“Greetings, Tallsqueak. It might be polite to discuss a few things before things become unpleasant.

The general was smiling, and Tallsqueak wasn’t. “Before? I believe things have been unpleasant for quite some time.”

“Perhaps. But I’m sure we can work things out before the situation worsens. I want to negotiate with your Cheese-Master, Rifkin. Nothing personal, but big political decisions are generally made by a Cheese-Master, not a newly appointed Scout-Master.”

Tallsqueak shook his head slightly. “Rifkin was never Cheese-Master, except in his delusions. And now he is nothing—he’d made some poor decisions. I speak for the conclave.”

“You do? How interesting.” Gangrene was trying to read the expressions and body language of Tallsqueak but was having difficulty. He didn’t stand like a soldier and wasn’t cowering at all. The information Rifkin had given him on this newcomer was strange. Tallsqueak had shown up out of nowhere and ingratiated himself to the masters of the hollow, and now he had a ring and spoke for the rest. How had he taken over so quickly? And had that been his plan all along? “Rifkin must have exaggerated his position then; he mentioned poor Bleusnout was dying of an overdose and that he was working with the new Death-Master.”

“Bleusnout and his assistant will recover. Our new Heal-Master refuses to let them die. And if you are referring to Charlotte, I killed her. Petey helped. He’s our new Death-Master. Rifkin’s clever plan unraveled because it had too many moving parts. How do you coordinate multiple spider attacks along with clueless human raiders?”

Gangrene grimaced. He was still angry about the “human allies” attacking his caravan. “It seems he underestimated you, as did Charlotte. A shame; he brought her to one meeting, and I liked her. She was deadly but manageable. I like to think I can work with many people to make a hollow stronger. But sometimes, you lose people during the chaos of becoming stronger, and others show their strengths. I’m sure you’ll agree that quite a bit of good has come out of this situation, as well as a little pain.”

The general was formulating new plans. Rifkin had promised that he and others from his generation would take over the hollow. That seemed to have come true, but not as Rifkin had expected. His minion was captured and probably talking. Tallsqueak was in charge, along with his allies, the new Heal-Master and Death-Master. How many other rings were changing fingers?

Milo thought about the general’s words. People had died. That couldn’t be forgotten. But a traitor had been revealed, and many old, festering wounds were being healed. Old Healer’s clan was working together, and he could retire. The mages were invigorated and cross-training with the fighters, building friendships. And Larry was better. The hollow gained so much trading a depressed Cheese Fiend for a hero. Not to mention a possible alliance with the fairies? And maybe the dwarves?

“Yes. Some good things. Limburger Hollow is much stronger, and we are considering new alliances.”

Gangrene nodded. Tallsqueak wanted to deal! He knew what Wurchwitz Hollow had to offer and had seen how well their unique cheese worked. Indeed, that was most probably one of the reasons he was in charge. “Such a coincidence. Wurchwitz Hollow is also looking for strong allies. Consider any dealings we had with Rifkin to be null and void. I will be bold and suggest that you and I discuss how we can work together. My soldiers are ready, and I have enough Millekbase to keep your population under control for six months.”

Tallsqueak paused and looked at Gangrene. Rifkin hadn’t been lying. The general had confirmed things to his satisfaction.

Tallsqueak smirked a little. “I think you misunderstand me, General. I don’t need Wurchwitz or your bad cheese. I have allies I can trust. You have two choices: Turn around and slink back to your hollow or try to fight us and die.”

From behind him, Milo heard Brutus exclaim, “Oh shit!”

Gangrene’s face turned red. “You will regret those words.” He pulled his mace from his belt. It glowed with a powerful magic aura. Milo thought it had an odd look to it—more of a hammer than a mace? One half of the head was round, while the other had a flat surface like a sledgehammer. The weapon looked old and deadly, and Gangrene had no trouble holding it in one hand.

Milo calmly said, “Tsk, tsk. Remember the rules of parley. Three steps.”

Gangrene laughed. “I will enjoy crushing your skull.” He turned, took three steps toward his troops, and prepared to yell “Charge!”

Chapter 77

Don’t Bring a Mace to a Spider Fight

Gangrene took three long strides toward his troops and glared up and down the line. Some of them were looking at him oddly, and it infuriated him. One started to open his mouth to speak and then thought better of it. “Shut it! Prepare to charge on my order.” He raised his mace high, activated its destructive aura, and turned around. He saw the big guard running as fast as he could to the entrance to the hollow.

Tallsqueak was standing in front of him, only a foot away. “Sorry, but does the parley stop when we each take three steps away from each other? Or just three steps in any direction? It matters because if the rules specify ‘away,’ then you can’t attack me. We are still in a parley and aren’t fighting yet.”

Gangrene’s snarled at his clearly insane adversary. “I’ll give you a hint: I’m about to kill you.” He swung his mace at Tallsqueak, who ducked and struck a feeble blow at him. He barely felt it through his metal cuirass.

Tallsqueak did a backward somersault, then scampered further away quickly. He pointed at Gangrene’s troops. “And you forgot to call the charge. I don’t think you can try to invade another hollow unless you officially call a charge. Probably in the rules somewhere. Do you want to go look them up?”

Gangrene glared at him and shouted to his soldiers. “This one is mine, and mine alone! Kill the dwarves and take the hollow. CHARGE!” The soldiers ran straight ahead, ignoring the general and his smaller adversary. Many of them would have loved to watch, but not one of them would have put money on the general to lose. Several had decent Identification skills, especially the scouts. They knew Tallsqueak was Level 10, and he was rumored to have both fighting and arcane abilities. But that wasn’t enough.

On the other hand, Gangrene was Level 19 and a veteran of several wars. He was skilled in many types of weapons, martial abilities, and several Earth Magic spells. This fight wasn’t even going to be close. As Tallsqueak summoned his bone armor, the general was covered in layers of stone and hardened earth, several inches thick.

Gangrene’s voice sounded deeper once he was encased in stone. “I’m sure you plan to delay me and give your troops a chance. That isn’t going to happen. I’m far too powerful a foe.” The ground sprouted stone spikes to impale Tallsqueak, who leaped upward to avoid them. He landed on the ground several feet away, counting to himself.

Milo smiled at him. “I came to that conclusion as well. That’s why I attached two Series K ‘Shipbuster’ limpet mines to your armor. Surprise!” He put his hands on his ears and turned away.

Milo hadn’t wondered at all why Barnacle had mines and cataclysmite in her backpack. The engineers were crazy, and the Scavengers were worse. Her pack had been filled with an assortment of exploding death. The limpet mines were used against ships. The flat, dish-shaped mines would be stuck on the side of a ship or submarine, and the timer set. Milo immediately fell in love with them and took two of them with him. They were currently on the front and back of Gangrenes steel cuirass and underneath a layer of rocky armor. If anything, the Earthen Armor spell was about to make things worse by containing the blast.

General Gangrene had earned himself many enemies during the wars, some of them technically his allies. His paranoia about assassins was legendary, and his survival strategy was to be very, very hard to kill. The Claw Warrior class gave him 3,600 Health. That was augmented with the Increased Health 7 Enhancement for another 2,900 Health. His STR and CON of 30 gave a bonus of 3,000. With a few other abilities thrown in, the general had over 10,000 Health, making him very difficult to kill.

The Shipbuster mines didn’t care about any of that. They easily punched through his steel armor, shattered his Earthen Armor, and hit him harder than anything had ever hit him in his life. Brittle Bones shattered into hundreds of pieces, victims of a spell Milo had cast earlier. The twin explosions should have eradicated Gangrene’s torso, killing him instantly. But decades of leading armies and conquering throughout the underworld had given him many magical items. As pain tore through his body, the general saw infuriating notifications scroll past his eyes, even as those items kept him from death.

An explosion has destroyed your Dark Steel Cuirass of Defense.

Helm of Concussive Protection has shattered but prevented your brains from being scrambled.

Amulet of Enorica has allowed you to cheat death and kept your spine intact. Its miracle dispensed, the amulet crumbles to dust.

Teflon’s Ring of Hefty Healing has been activated, and all three remaining charges have been used, healing you for 1,500 points of damage.

Your current Health is reduced to 4,120.

You are mostly deaf. Permanent disability. -10 to PerceptionYou are bleeding for 120 points per round until you receive healing for your open wounds.

Your speed is reduced by 40% until you receive healing for broken ribs.

Brittle Bones will cause you to take additional damage from blunt impacts. Important Note: This Includes Explosions!

The general shook his head back and forth, trying to clear his vision. His ears were ringing too hard for him to hear, but he could see his soldiers charging at his enemies. The dwarven mercenaries were firing their cursed guns, but his soldiers were un-killable with three pieces of battle cheese inside their bellies. Some would die once the battle was over, but sacrifices had to be made.

Gangrene struggled to stand, cracked ribs grating and blood oozing from many wounds. Taking a deep breath, he used his Second Wind ability to restore 670 mana, stamina, and health points. The health was useful, but it was the mana that was essential. The general only had 1,100 points of mana, and his Earthen Armor spell took 600 points to cast. But with it protecting him, he could finish this fight, and healing potions and regeneration would keep him alive. And importantly, the armor would seal his wounds and keep him from bleeding to death.

As the layers of rock and earth moved up from the floor to encompass his body, he was struck from behind. A harpoon punctured his shoulder and punched out the front of his body. The shock of the damage made him lose control of the spell, and the mana used in the disrupted spell evaporated. The pain made him angry, and he snarled as he turned and looked behind him. Tallsqueak was perched on a rock fifty feet away, encased in bone armor, his long tail whipping back and forth. Gangrene charged at him, and his adversary threw two skulls at his feet before leaping to the side. Gangrene kicked one of the bombs away; the other exploded at his feet. The damage was minor, but the dust and debris it kicked up made him lose sight of his adversary.

Gangrene had faced dozens of assassins and fought them in darkened caves and smoke-filled buildings. His opponent would try to approach from his blind side, using his lack of hearing to sneak up. A lifetime of fighting told him where his enemy would be. He spun, and as something dug into his side, he hit Tallsqueak with his Mace of Armageddon, knocking him to the ground, dead or stunned. He hurt too much to follow up his attack against his stunned foe.

Shadowblight has struck you.

You are Poisoned and are taking ongoing damage.

You have lost 150 Health from the blow.

Your mitigation is reduced by 50 points until healed.

Poisoned? His resistance should stop that! But he could feel it. Spider venom, eating away at him. He took a breath and then walked two steps to where Tallsqueak lay on the ground. He had expended over a thousand points of stamina on that blow, triggering its Crushing Death ability. He was surprised Tallsqueak’s head was still on his shoulders. It was time to rectify that…

* * *

Three minutes earlier…

Gilad stared at his rival. “And just where do you think you are going?”

Arlothe gestured toward the entrance to the outer caverns. “For a short walk with a few of my students. I’ve been told that Tallsqueak is off to talk to the caravan’s leader. I’m sure a fight will break out, and I’d hate to miss it. I’m starting to like these larger combats. Dueling is fun but not as enjoyable as frying spiders.”

The Tail-Master shook his head. “We were here first. My fighters are prepared to enter combat as soon as the signal comes.”

Arlothe bowed. “Of course, old friend. You go first. We’ll catch up.” The storm mage was happy with being in the second rank. That was the advantage of magic. You didn’t have to be in claw range to throw a lightning arc at an opponent.

They could hear shouts and a thunder-like “Charge!” from the cavern. Gilad was racing immediately into the tunnel, followed by his thirty fighters. Arlothe was just a little behind with a dozen students, half from Clan Emerald Wyrm. Their staves were charged, and their eyes were glowing. Cremona’s hands were glowing bright green, and wisps of condensed poison curled around her claws. Unlike her husband, she would be happy to get up close where her hands would dissolve flesh and armor.

As the caravan guards grew close to the dwarven mercenaries, they were stunned by the explosion that took place on the far side of the cavern. Tallsqueak was standing near a crater where General Gangrene was on his hands and knees, covered in blood.

Two-Screws nodded his head at Sledgemonkey. “Glad I didn’t take that bet; he did have explosives with him.”

Sledgemonkey laughed. “An engineer always takes the right tools for the job.” He clicked the safety off of his rivet guns and started firing.

“I’ll say this for these caravan lads; they don’t go down easy!” Two-Screws had started shooting as soon as the soldiers had started moving. He’d wondered what Senior Engineer Milo was up to, following close behind the general. Then he’d seen the unmistakable shape of limpet mines and had sucked in his breath, waiting for the explosion.

He saw the general disappear in a blast of rock and blood. That boy wasn’t playing around at all! Then again, thinking about what he’d used to kill the snake, that had been more like a love tap!

Two-Screws wasn’t happy with the rate at which he was dropping enemy soldiers. The problem he was having was the damned shields. The rivets lost a lot of energy punching through them, and it took half a dozen hits to drop one soldier. He should think about using explosive ammunition. Undeterred, he worked his way down the line as they charged closer. Sledgemonkey was doing the same and finally getting his gun appropriately calibrated. Behind him came the sound of the dual chainguns on top of the spider. Four engineers and two scavengers had made it a group project to rebuild them properly. The huge bore weapons were synchronized, and their rate of fire had doubled. Sledgemonkey had brought out a thousand rounds of ammunition to fuel them. The long belts of high-caliber shells coming from the storage in his Arcane Workshop.

Two-Screws took a glance and saw that it was Vary on the gun. The youngster laughed hysterically as he raked the guns back and forth across the advancing line. His guns punched through those shields with ease, and he had dropped several soldiers to the ground already. Barnacle snored on, too drunk to even wake up and missing the fight. The spider stirred, saw ratkin charging her, and roared to life. Past battles as a mercenary and her time in the Rat Wars mixed in her drink-addled mind. <To me, my army! Charge the fuzzy enemy and rend them limb from pitiful limb!>

Vary tried to hold on and keep firing as his mount suddenly charged into battle. Tons of mechanical spider impacted the line of armored ratkin, and it was the soldiers who lost. Robotic legs speared bodies, and sharp fangs poisoned them. On unsteady legs, the Iron Spider staggered through the battle. Vary gave up shooting the guns and concentrated on not falling off or losing his hold on Barnacle as he worked the foot peddles, trying to steer the spider into more of the enemy.

“Fire in the Hole!” Narwhale sent an explosive shell into a close-packed group of warriors, killing two of them outright and wounding four others who were getting up slowly. Boomboom hurried to load another shell. Half of the soldiers were dead, but the rest were too close for comfort. The cannon would only get one more shot, and then they would be overrun.

Sledgemonkey’s gun jammed. He cursed for a moment and then pulled the sledgehammer off of his back, charging up its head for his first swing. Not content to wait, the old dwarf slammed shut his helmet and lumbered at the charging ratkin, his mechanical armor picking up speed as he countercharged. His first double-handed swing knocked down two soldiers and killed another. The force of the charged blow sent the body flying. And then he was fighting against several cheese-frenzied ratkin warriors. Two-Screws was beside him instantly, his weapon killing a ratkin aiming a blow at the senior engineer’s back. The two went back to back and got down to the dirty work of killing enemies. Brutus was nearby. He had taken his battle cheese and swung his heavy halberd near where the two dwarves fought. Each swing hit a caravan guard and knocked them down, injured or dead. Others jumped back to avoid the swings of the long weapon.

Narwhale didn’t want to leave her wedding present, but after her last shot, Boomboom threw her over his shoulder and turned to retreat down the tunnel. He was stopped by the sight of a horde of charging ratkin led by an old veteran with glowing fists and tail. He wisely got out of the way, and they returned to loading the cannon, watching wave after wave of ratkin from Limburger Hollow throw themselves into the fight against the armored caravan guards. Gilad leaped high in the air and landed among his enemies. He hadn’t cut loose in decades and had begun to doubt himself. But he felt younger now. Nightly fights with a powerful Cheese Fiend had awakened old skills and given him back his confidence. His claws cut through armor and bone while his tail shattered skulls. In this battle, he was once again the Tail-Master who had led his armies to victory over the spider tribes.

They were followed by the mages, who immediately sent searing arcs of electrical energy into the caravan guards, aided in their targeting by the heavy metal shields and armor. Muscles spasmed and flesh cooked inside metal armor that added to the damage the storm magic could do. A choking green mist settled on the heads of many guards, and more than one collapsed as venom overwhelmed their pitiful poison resistance. Cremona darted through the fight, slashing and moving away.

* * *

Beyond the fighting, in the center of the cavern, General Gangrene lifted his huge mace above his head, preparing to bring it down on Tallsqueak’s head.

Milo was sure he had got his head stuck in a subragator. Nothing else could have hit him so hard. Only his rune-hardened bones had saved his skull from being crushed. He cleared his head just in time to see Gangrene raise his mace. He wasn’t going to be able to dodge. Rocks pinned him in on one side and one of the general’s legs on the other. He did the only thing he could, interposing his weapon between himself and the downward swing of the mace.

Gangrene laughed as Tallsqueak tried to block the swing with a spikeystick. The Mace of Armageddon slammed into the makeshift weapon of bone and wood. The thin weapon bent, and Tallsqueak felt his shoulders dislocate as his stiffened arms held his weapon. But the mace couldn’t break the Nigh Invulnerable spikeystick, and its force was redirected as Shadowblight bent and then straightened. The Mace of Armageddon rebounded and struck Gangrene in the forehead, knocking him backward and stunning him. He barely saw the notification flash by.

You have been struck by the Mace of Armageddon. (Frankly, we are surprised you’re alive. But you do have a hard head.)

Your skull is fractured.

You have a concussion.

Your Health has been reduced to 2,156.

Milo sat up, calculated how to regain the use of an arm, and then slammed his shoulder into a large rock, popping one arm back into its socket. The pain was intense, but he needed at least one arm if he was going to finish this fight. It felt like it took forever to stand, and his vision was fuzzy.

A dozen feet away, Gangrene also managed to stand up. He smiled through bloody lips and broken teeth. “No one has ever taken a blow from my mace and lived. You are a more worthy opponent than I thought. I’ll keep that hard skull of yours and make a mug out of it.”

Milo slashed with his tail at Gangrene’s face only to have the general block with his mace. Tallsqueak rolled to the left, standing up further away, and launched a Harpoon of the Winds, hitting Gangrene in his leg and making him stagger. Blood gushed out. Gangrene’s arms fell to his side, and his eyes unfocused. Milo saw him take a step backward and almost fall. Barely able to hold onto his mace, the general brought up a hand to brush blood from his eyes, and Milo used the opening to surge forward and bring Shadowblight around in a long arc that scratched against the general’s leg. The skin turned black as poison spread.

And then it was Milo’s turn to be hit, as the general laughed and his tail slapped hard against Milo’s head and knocked him down. Milo saw three of Gangrene, and all three of them were winding up for a one-handed blow with his mace. He tried to roll, but nothing in his body worked, and he couldn’t clear his head. The Mace of Armageddon came down, and Tallsqueak brought up his weapon in a feeble attempt to block with one hand.

The enchanted mace stopped before it completed half of its arc. Gangrenes’ arm was held in the strong claws of the Hero of Flowertown. Larry grabbed ahold of the mace and yanked it out of the surprised Gangrene’s hand. Larry looked at the general. “Buttercup and Rosie don’t like you.” Larry punched Gangrene in his face, completing the work started by the Mace of Armageddon. Cartilage flattened as his large snout was rearranged, and several teeth came loose. “Larry doesn’t like you either. Larry thinks you are a BadBadGuy.” Larry continued to hit Gangrene until he collapsed.

Milo sat up. Larry handed him some red jelly beans, and he chewed them down. His head stopped spinning, and he felt better. Across the cavern, he saw the ongoing battle. “Larry, people need help.” Larry saw where he pointed, nodded, and ran off to be a hero. Milo staggered upright. Gangrene was unconscious but still breathing. Larry hadn’t killed him, but he was close to death, blood pooling around him. Milo wasn’t going to take any chances. Shadowblight came down once, then again, and again. Gangrene died, and the weapon purred, happy with itself. Milo felt tired. He sat down to rest for just a moment, then decided that not moving was the best strategy. His bones were hard and healing fast, but he was near death, and the concussion was a constant reminder that he needed to stay still and rest. A moment later, he passed out.

Across the cavern, the battle ended as the last few caravan guards, already overwhelmed and outnumbered, surrendered rather than face the wrath of Larry.

Chapter 78

When You’re Hungry and Craving Pancakes

Opening his eyes was difficult. Milo was tired and wanted to sleep more. But the constant beep beep beep was annoying him. His muscles were stiff as he stepped out of his pod.

It was odd—he didn’t even remember logging out of the game. The last few days’ events ran through his head, culminating with the thought that this rock is a pretty good pillow. His tail flipped over to the pod and reattached to it so he could read through the latest messages from the system.

You have a new notification on the Contribution Board.

You have a new notification on the Contribution Board.

You have a new notification on the Contribution Board.

You are exhausted and suffering from the aftereffects of using cheese in combat.

Your character has passed out from exhaustion. You may not be able to access your character for some time.

Would you like to log out?

Would you like to play a nice game of chess?

Would you like to take a nap in your comfy pod?

Right, nap it is.

Milo had been spending a lot of time in the game. When he did leave the game, his time in Section E had been all work and little rest. His assumption that his body would get rest in his pod was correct; his medical read-out showed everything was fine. Mentally, though, he had been building up fatigue for months and not taking enough time off. Some part of him had decided it was time for sleep after his character passed out in the game. He’d have to take this new variable into account from now on. Mental fatigue could lead to sub-optimal decision-making. Especially in the game.

His first priority now that he would be up for a few hours was food. The selection could have been better. He had cheese, dried fruit, and some crackers. His tastes had changed over the last few months. The thought of food cubes was highly dissatisfying. What he wanted was cheesy pancakes with lots of syrup. Did they have those in the real world? If not, he was going to invent them. A quick search of the datanet showed several restaurants that served them. This wasn’t helpful since he wasn’t going to visit them, ever, but he did confirm they existed. Could he make them himself?

Further searching for a minute gave him what he wanted. He found a recipe that seemed familiar to what he had used in the hollow.

There were food services that would ship to the habitat block, but they were costly and didn’t do small deliveries. He ran through various options, calculating which service to use and how much to order the ingredients. Substitutions had to be made for fresh eggs and sour cream. Flour came in hundred-pound bags. One solution appealed to him. After some thought, he went with that and placed the order. A handful of crackers and some cheese spread would get him through the next couple of hours. He went to his workshop and started designing the equipment he would need.

* * *

“Butch! Make sure your little sister doesn’t get to the buttons on the food system. She kept pushing the button on it this morning, and we got sixteen bowls of groatmeal delivered. She likes the picture for that button.”

Butch was trying desperately to get past the 10th level of Space Invaders and see if there was an 11th level. He was trying not to get hit by a saucer and nail the last alien running across his screen when his littlest sister headed toward the food system, pushing a chair in front of her. The hesitation was deadly, and he died without getting to the 11th level. Sighing, he picked her up and tickled her until she started screaming. “That will teach you to side with the aliens.” He set her back down and shut down the food system so she couldn’t order more food. His mother could have done it, but she was worried that if the machine ever shut down, it wouldn’t turn back on. This had happened to too many people. Maintenance workers were like fairy godmothers. Both were rumored to exist, but no one ever saw them.

Someone started pounding on the front door. Understandable since the intercom button didn’t work from the other side. Looking at the screen, he saw two men in green uniforms bearing the logo of Mercurial Delivery at the door. Obviously lost if they were banging on his door. He unlocked the door and slid it open a few inches, keeping the chains in place. “Yeah?”

One of them looked at a clipboard. “Got a delivery for you: One hundred pounds of Ronco Always-rises Flour, one gross of Eggs in a Can, 64 quarts of FrozyFroze Sour Cream. Be careful with that stuff and get it into the cooler fast. One hundred pounds of grated Parmesan from Acme Cheese Factory—that’s the big green can with the airtight seal. Fifty pounds of PowderedToastMan’s powdered milk and another twenty gallons of Moo-Moo Farm’s Milk in a Can. That’s the big stuff. The other three packing containers have the rest, including the syrup. We double-checked it twice, and you’re good to go.”

Butch stared at the mound of food. “Yeah, sure. Let me take a look.” He grabbed the paperwork and acted like he was checking things over. He wondered if he should take the delivery. He could sell most of it and keep a little. But someone would follow the paper trail, and his family would suffer. You never left a trail to your own home if you did something you could get in trouble for. He handed the paperwork back. “Sorry, wrong place. I can’t pay for it. Didn’t order it.”

The two delivery men looked at each other and shrugged. “Not our problem. It’s paid for in full, including delivery and a very generous tip for the two of us. This place matches the address. It can’t go back, and we need to be going.” They left quickly, nearly bumping into someone moving down the corridor, driving a four-wheeled delivery cart with a trailer. Ghost hopped off the little cart and took the paperwork out of his hands while Butch tried to figure out what was happening.

“Great. It’s all here. Help me set up this grill in the courtyard and we can get cooking. I made it from a couple of old welding units and a titanium-Teflon sheet I scavenged. Should work well for pancakes.”

Butch’s mother appeared at the door. She eyed the makeshift stove and the food. “Pancakes? I haven’t had pancakes in years. We used to be able to get the food system to give us pancake batter, but they claimed we’d like food cubes better and not have to cook. You realize that if you cook out here, you’ll get several dozen hungry people popping out of their rooms looking for dinner?”

Milo exhaled and pushed down his anxiety about being around many people. There would be less here today than in the hollow. He put a grin on his face. “I’ve got an urge to cook, and I need volunteers to eat. We’ll feed everyone we can and then store the rest in my room for next time.”

Butch had his data pad out and was sending a message. “I’ve got the gang on the way to help out and help eat. But how the hell did you get all of this?”

“Got lucky. Found a buyer for some of the old games we repaired and made a big sale, but he insisted I had to take half cash and half food from his warehouse. So we’re having a pancake party.”

Butch looked skeptical. “Pancakes. They’re good?”

His mother rolled her eyes. “Oh, honey, you have no idea. Start unpacking everything and I’ll help with the batter. You kids are in for a treat today.”

Chapter 79

Anime and Death Races

Cooking pancakes was much more complex than Milo had ever imagined! He hadn’t considered that half the people he was cooking for didn’t know what pancakes were. There was also the question of why he was doing it. Saying, “I want pancakes, I don’t care about the money, and I had to order in bulk for fast delivery,” would have generated even more questions, some of which he didn’t want to answer.

Luckily, he’d come to the right house. Mama got to work instructing the young ones how to mix pancake batter. From somewhere, two tables appeared out in the courtyard near where he and Butch were assembling his makeshift grill. Butch wanted to know where he got the parts. Milo just shrugged and said, “Oh, you know…” which actually satisfied Butch. Milo had learned the expression from watching Butch and the rest of the gang. If something wasn’t nailed down in the hab blocks, it tended to wander off. There were rules, of course, but they were unwritten and mostly unspoken, causing Milo much confusion at times.

The rest of Butch’s gang showed up quickly. Free food was good food. They were extremely curious about where Ghost had picked up the food and cooking gear. Butch shrugged and said, “Oh, you know…” and nodded with his head toward Ghost. Several stared at the assembled grill made from welding torches and a large metal panel. They were equally impressed when Mama brought out the first batch of batter, and Ghost started pouring out perfect circles and carefully flipped them over with a spatula in each hand. Milo fed Mama and the little ones first, then the gang. By then, a small crowd of curious neighbors had shown up, and Milo started handing out plates of pancakes to the smaller children.

Butch anticipated the next problem as an adult took the food from a child. The pancake thief found himself surrounded by the gang, was forced to apologize to a nine-year-old and was sent to the end of the line. He was sour initially but got over it when he was handed his plate a few minutes later. As more people showed up, the gang kept things orderly. Brad and Yumi watched how Ghost made the pancakes and asked questions before asking to take over the cooking duties. Milo was glad for the break. This was different from the hollow. There was some tension in the air. People didn’t know what to expect. There was also the feeling of a holiday. Someone set up music, and the smaller children took advantage of being able to play together.

The next thing that happened took Milo by surprise and was all handled by Butch. A few members of other gangs showed up, some welcome, some not so welcome. But everyone got a plate of food as long as they behaved. Some of them questioned Butch about where the stuff came from. He told them a version of the truth.

“Some of us have been fixing old games and selling them pretty well. And some folks gave a bit more in trade than they took. People being generous, y’know? When people started being generous, my guys and I thought of a way to pay them back. Maybe next time you and Louie here will be generous and bring something over you don’t need?”

Some people took the free food. Others were thoughtful. By the end of the day, Butch had a large box of broken electronics, old games, and scratched discs thought beyond repair. They presented it to Ghost at the end of the day as the last batch of pancakes was on the stove. Fuel for the grill was running out, and every person who had shown up had gotten a plate of cheesy pancakes with sweet syrup.

The gang helped Ghost store the excess in his house. Most people were curious to catch a glimpse of the inside but disappointed about how ordinary it looked. After that chore was done, Butch grabbed Ghost by the arm and dragged him back to his house. Brad and Yumi came along, and the four of them took turns playing games on Butch’s old system while his little brothers and sisters sat on laps or shoulders, yelling out advice. Mama looked with a smile. She worried a lot about Ghost. Butch had grown several inches in the year they had known him, but Ghost still looked as small as ever. Some of the little ones were even taller than him. The boy had given her the code to open his house and use any food there. It was an open secret in the family that Ghost didn’t live there, but it was not discussed.

Milo slipped away two hours later. He’d pushed himself but had reached the end of his ability to be around people. Yumi, in particular, was making him nervous. Both in how close she sat next to him and how difficult it was to beat her in some games. When he left Butch’s house, she’d volunteered to walk him out. Brad started to join, but Butch challenged him suddenly to a Deathrace 2020 match using the new Philadelphia map he’d put together.

After walking aimlessly with Yumi talking to him about her favorite anime, Ghost agreed to meet up with her in a couple of days to watch her favorites. She waved and smiled as he disappeared into a service hatchway, and Milo tried to figure out why he had agreed. He’d said yes just to break off the conversation and leave. He barely knew what anime was. And she wanted to know what his favorite show was. He was so confused.

Back at his real house, he started to think things over. He realized that he had subconsciously decided to be around people more and see if he liked them. Similar to cheese, he’d only recently discovered people. He needed to study the situations he was getting into and figure out the rules.

In some ways, it was similar to the hollow, with no one trying to kill him.

Chapter 80

Sour Pickles

Gendifur was scowling and looking at samples her needles had taken from Tallsqueak using Arlothe’s Advanced Device for Looking at Small Things. “He probably should have died. Possibly his bone structure saved him, storing the excess elixir until it was needed. I don’t recommend anyone ever drinking two doses, let alone six.”

Old Healer had his own idea. “Multiple poisons could have done it. He was suffering from the venom of a noble spider, then several doses of unknown lesser poisons from traps. Finally, after he drank the elixir, he was near a toxic pile of bones. All of that together could explain why he didn’t dissolve into a puddle of goo.”

Gendifur took another look at Tallsqueak’s blood. “Yes, that was probably the reason for it. I should have taken that into account.” She carefully gathered up all of the samples and vials and put them in her bag.

Old Healer looked at the amazing device again. He wished he’d had one decades ago. “It was very nice of Professor Arlothe to give you this device.”

Gendifur packed that up as well, padding it carefully. “Oh, he didn’t. But I’m sure he and Tallsqueak can make another. I have far too many uses for this to let it go back to a dusty laboratory.”

The old rat laughed and nodded. “Well. I’m off for a nap. I never had time for them before, and I’m going to get in a few each day until I’m caught up. Good luck with your patient. I’m sure he’ll recover soon. Exhaustion, donating his blood and bones, and being hit in the head with a Mace of Armageddon can tire even a young warrior like him out. But his regeneration should bring him around soon.” He wandered out of the room while Gendifur tended to Tallsqueak’s wounds.

She hadn’t told her grandfather all of her suspicions and probably never would. It would be rude for a healer to give away someone else’s secrets, especially after what Tallsqueak had done for the hollow.

* * *

Milo opened up his tired eyes and looked around. He was back in the infirmary, lying on a bed covered in soft blankets. He started to stand up, then thought better of it, laying his head back on a pile of pillows. The room stopped spinning, and the pain in his head eased. His skull was sore where Gangrene had hit him with his mace. The general had been a canny opponent, seeming to know where he was or able to anticipate his moves. He’d also been a monster! Milo had never expected him to live through the explosion. Those two mines were designed to sink ships! He’d been bleeding steadily and Milo had poisoned him twice, but he still kept fighting. Thankfully, Larry showed up at the end of the fight. He needed to do something very nice for the Hero of Flowertown.

Gendifur was cleaning up the room, putting away medications, and folding up blankets. Several other people were helping her. Milo was the only person lying on a bed. The newly appointed Heal-Master saw that he was awake and sat down by his bed, immediately taking his pulse. “You’re better, but not good. No fight practice, no duels, and no playing Surprise! for a week. You need to let yourself recover. Take it easy, eat a lot, and don’t eat any cheese that I don’t give you.”

Milo sighed heavily. He had enjoyed the taste of cheese the last couple of days. To his delight, Gendifur handed him a plate with three slices of bread and a chunk of Gouda. “That’s your lunch. Be good, and I’ll have another piece for you at dinner. That will be enough to keep your regeneration at maximum. And the fact that I’m giving you this much cheese should remind you how injured your body is.”

Milo started to eat, and then the details of the last couple of days came into focus through the pounding of his head. “How is Bleusnout? Smiley? Gilad? The dwarves?”

Gendifur nodded and smiled. “All good. I had to treat one of the dwarves for alcohol poisoning, which she told me wasn’t something that could happen to scavengers. There were some minor wounds to some of them, and many of Gilad’s students were heavily injured and are recovering. The fight was mercifully quite fast, with many casualties on the other side. They focused on trying to kill Brutus, Gilad, and two of the heavily armored dwarven warriors. All of whom take a lot of killing. Larry showed up at the end and attacked from the rear of the fight. He knocked down two of them, and the rest begged for mercy and dropped their weapons.”

“And Justin is feeling much better. Thank God he’s feeling better and sleeping at the barracks. Larry and his new friends sat here half the day, watching over him. I heard every Hamster Huey story sixteen times.” Milo could picture Larry sitting and telling stories.

“As to Bleusnout and Smiley, what I took from you saved them. It kept them alive for a day until the elixir could be used. Both are up and around, trying to get things back to normal.” She looked down at the rings on her and Milo’s hands. “New normal? Things changed. Bleusnout announced that Smiley is taking over as Cheese-Master. Bleusnout wants to make just a little cheese and teach a class for the young whelps. He says he might even take a trip to Gouda Hollow to visit friends and trade recipes.”

“What happened to Rifkin? He was the cause of a lot of this; what will happen to him?”

Gendifur snarled. “Something bad, I hope. But we may never know for sure. He got away. Chewed through the ropes and crawled off with broken legs. His trail led out to the gathering fields and disappeared.”

* * *

The day before…

In the confusion after the battle, no one was paying attention to Rifkin as he lay on his bed quietly, recovering from his broken bones. He was tied to his bed, but he managed to saw through the rope with a small tool kept in his sleeve. He used skulk and unnoticed to move to the shadows and crawl from the room slowly. Along the way, he stole what medicine he could to deaden the pain. He needed to get away. There was an area past the gathering fields where he could hide. A small cave where he had a stash of food and cheese just for such an emergency. He could make it that far, he was sure. He’d get to another hollow and start rebuilding. He could pose as a wandering trader, bartering some of the recipes he had copied from Bleusnout’s cookbooks.

He made it as far as the first field and the bushes that were growing there. Where had these come from? Fortuitous, he thought. No one would look for him under the thick bushes, and he could rest. While crawling through them, he realized they were jelly bean bushes. Some of them even had beans on them. They were all green. He had never had that color before, but all of them had beneficial effects. Maybe green would help heal his bones? By the time he reached the center of the bushes, he’d eaten a double handful. The taste was sour as vinegar, but he felt much better, and his legs no longer hurt.

In the center of the bushes was a cleared space with a strange magical effect hovering in the air. The rift sparked and sputtered, but he could see another place through it. Large fields of flowers and patches of forests showed in the limited view. The rift sparked and got smaller. Rifkin made a quick decision and dove through it. His passage disrupted the unstable rift further, and with a pop, it disappeared. He’d escaped!

A huge green hand wrapped around his tail and lifted him up. “I gots one, Granny! I gots one! Caught him on the first try!”

Rifkin grew ill as he swung back and forth. “Put me down, you idiot! I’m someone important!”

Greggy Gerkin took a look at Rifkin. “He’s feisty, that’s for sure. He looks sort of like Larry, but someone shrank him. He smells nice, though.”

Big Pickle got a better grip on the tail he was holding and held him up higher to look at him. “Can we keep him? He’s already turning green!”

Granny put on her spectacles and looked. Sure enough, the little Larry-thing was turning green, and its hair was falling out. “Oh, that’s a good sign. He likes his jelly beans green!”

She chuckled and pointed to the pickling vat. “Brush off the rest of his fur, Greggy, and have Big Pickle lock him in the vat until he’s done. We need some new pickles in the gang, and he’s as sour as they come.”

Rifkin screamed and cursed as his fur was brushed off, and he was thrown into a vat of vinegar and dill. There was barely enough room at the top to catch his breath.

Granny decided it was time to leave. “Let’s get a move on. I’d hoped to catch a fairy coming through that hole, but this one will do. No sense in staying around and having Larry catch up with us. Big and Greggy nodded. That was smart. It was time to move on to another fairy town. This one was too dangerous with a Hero protecting it.

Big Pickle had a question. “What’s his name, Granny? Huh? What’s his name?”

Granny thought for a moment, then seeing the scowl on Rifkin’s face, she knew. “Welcome to the family, Sour Pickle.”

Chapter 81

Recovery

The news that Rifkin had escaped bothered Milo, but at the same time, he thought there was little that sneakybadguy could do anymore to hurt Limburger Hollow. No one trusted him, and he’d be grabbed as soon as he poked his nose out of whatever hole he was hiding in. And, of course, there was Larry. Larry didn’t like Rifkin, and with how keen Larry’s senses were, if Rifkin had any survival instinct, he would go far, far away.

Milo was just happy to have things settling down. It seemed like people in the hollow were getting back to normal. People were going about their work, waving to each other and talking, with the glassy-eyed stares fading away. Milo began his day with breakfast, getting in line at the mess hall. Several ratkin greeted him and congratulated him on his promotion. A few suggested he skip ahead in the line, but he politely said no. He had time today, and moving fast made his head hurt.

The cooks surprised him. Smiley and Bleusnout were at the grill, tossing puffcakes into the air, but so were Ringtail and Tweedle. They were happily grinding mushrooms and making the batter. All four of them waved to Milo, Bleusnout pointing him to a table on the side of the kitchen. “Grab a chair; I’ll have a fresh batch on your plate in a minute. You have to taste this latest recipe we came up with!” The smell was delicious, and Milo happily sat down. Just walking across the hollow had tired him out. Bleusnout put a huge plate of pancakes in front of him and waited for him to taste them.

Milo’s eyes got huge. They had the crisp, rich taste of puffcakes but the creamy interior of cheesy pancakes. “You put the recipes together!” He began eating faster.

Bleusnout smiled. “The twins came up with it. They claim on purpose, but I think Ringtail or Tweedle, I can never tell them apart, started making one recipe and his brother the other, and they dumped them both into the large mixing bowl. The result, though, was outstanding. Everyone likes them.” Milo certainly agreed.

The chef looked around the room, nodding to ratkin as they waved to him. “Which is good because the hollow is going to be eating them every day for a long time. We got so very lucky that we had started making them, and you continued even after I was gone. The Golden Puffball mushroom has enzymes that fight toxins, including spider cheese ingredients that were controlling most people. Most of the hollow just became very focused on their jobs but wouldn’t follow Rifkin’s commands blindly. We are making sure everyone eats a meal of Cheesy Puffcakes every day. The small amount of cheese, along with cleaning out the toxins in their bodies, will have everyone back to normal soon.”

Milo finished his plate. “And they taste good. I should probably have another plateful for medicinal purposes.” Bleusnout smiled and brought him another plate and a jar of syrup. Milo sat, ate for half a bell, and then sat and watched the hollow. As mealtime was ending, there was a loud knocking at the door.

“Can Larry and his friends come in for breakfast?”

Bleusnout yelled back, “Of course. It is always good to see Larry and his new friends.” The door opened up, and Larry walked in. Many of the ratkin present were still getting used to his new appearance. The Cheese Fiend was walking upright with his head held high. His teeth were straight and even, and he smiled often. His fur gleamed, and he had ribbons in his hair. Most surprising was how he moved. Larry used to shuffle, but now he glided, moving across the room with grace and poise. Behind him came two other ratkin. They were smaller than Larry but still bigger than anyone else in the hollow, except maybe some of the guards or Gendifur.

Rosie and Buttercup were scared. This was a new place like Flowertown was a new place. They liked Flowertown. They had been given bubbly baths and had their hair combed like mama had used to do for them. Both had ribbons in their hair, and Rosie had her doll freshly cleaned and repaired by Pansy. Each was wearing a new dress provided by the mages of Clan Puffyfur. On their feet were pink weasel slippers, similar to Larry’s. Hesitantly, and with Larry’s help, they came into the room and sat at a table. Bleusnout brought each of them a stack of pancakes, and they were urged to eat.

Bleusnout would be monitoring their cheese intake. The girls had a long way to go, but helping them recover from what was done to them was important to him. It had helped him make the decision to turn his ring over to Smiley. They were already a little better. Larry was watching over them, and he had lots of helpers. After they had all eaten, Larry produced a book and handed it to Milo. “Will Tallsqueak come read Hamster Huey and Gooey Kablooie? Tallsqueak does the squeaky voices better than Larry.” Milo, Larry, and their new friends went out on the porch where Larry and Tallsqueak used to take their meals. Stories were told, and then Larry and Tallsqueak helped the girls learn the Happy Hamster Hop. Rosie got so excited that she dislocated Tallsqueaks shoulder. They all visited Gendifur, who rolled her eyes before twisting his arm back into the socket. She gave both of the girls a bag of jelly beans.

In the evening, after Larry and the girls returned to Flowertown, Milo relaxed and started going through neglected notifications.

You have killed General Gangrene, a Level 19 Claw Warrior, and put an end to his dastardly plans.

- The hollow has awarded you his two remaining magical items: The Mace of the Apocalypse and the War Master’s Ring.

- You have earned Contribution Points in Limburger Hollow.

You have donated Blood and Bone to save the lives of others.

- You have earned Contribution Points in Limburger Hollow.

You have put a stop to the plans of SneakyBadGuy, a Level 10 Crafty Schemer

- You have earned Contribution Points in Limburger Hollow.

You have slain the noble spider, H’Spat, who led a raid upon the hollow

- You have earned Contribution Points in Limburger Hollow.

You have defeated and captured the Iron Spider and defeated her raid on the mines.

- You have earned Contribution Points in Limburger Hollow.

You have taught Charlotte how to play Surprise, Engineer-style.

- You have earned Contribution Points in Limburger Hollow.

You have aided the Tail-Master in training young Claw Warriors in fighting Techniques

- You have earned Contribution Points in Limburger Hollow.

You have reached the maximum contribution points possible. Excess Contribution points will be converted to Enhancement Points. Might we suggest you go shopping for new Enhancements and think about processing to Level 11 and Tier 3? Just a suggestion, since everything you’re fighting is at a higher level than you.

A flashing message directed him to the Contribution Board wouldn’t go away. No matter how many times he clicked it off, it came back. With a full belly and under orders not to strain himself, he went to the Contribution Board to see what he could buy with his points.

Epilogue

Outside the hollow, the bulk of the spider army was on the move. It had been hard keeping the army together. While the nearly mindless rabble could sit for days waiting, the nobles grew impatient. The princess had bitten off more than one head to keep order. This Hollow had proven much tougher than anyone had suspected. Probing raids had been turned aside. Thousands of spiderlings had been killed, weakening her information network. A doomed charge led by a foolish noble had actually advanced further than she had expected but had been stopped when gigantic guards, a contingent of sorcerers, and a massive fiend had attacked from surprise.

She hated the fiends. Nothing else truly scared a noble spider. The rats had been clever to breed them. Malign sorceries had warped their innate love for cheese into a powerful mutagenic effect that created monsters from mice. They had turned the tide of the wars, and nowhere could the spider empire advance without encountering a hollow protected by fiends. Eventually, they made peace and expanded in other directions. The Queen had no desire to begin another war, but word had reached her that the rats had bred a new type of fiend. A monster that could think and talk. If the rats were breeding fiends, it meant they planned on attacking the spiders while most of their armies were deeper into the Under Empires. The Queen had decided to strike first.

The hollow was quiet now, thinking they had repulsed the enemy army and unaware that a much larger force was surrounding them. The princess gave the order to attack, and her forces moved toward the waiting Hollow.

The front entrance was easily forced. Fast-moving wolf spiders attacked the two guards before they could call the alarm. Her forces surged into the hollow to link up with the forces attacking through the mines and from the gathering fields. The mines were soaked in blood as dwarven mercenaries with superior weapons mowed down her lighter scouts. But elsewhere she was victorious. Assassin spiders attacked the leaders, leaving the hollow directionless. Their paralyzed bodies would be used as egg sacks. The fiends they encountered caused massive casualties but eventually were pumped with so much poison that they couldn’t move. Within an hour, the only forces still active were in the mines.

The damned dwarves with their black hearts and huge guns had to be negotiated with. They left the hollow with huge wagons of ingots taken from the hollow’s storehouses and a bag of gems, drunk on rum and the joy of looting. She decided she didn’t care. She had won. Wurchwitz Hollow was hers and would make no more fiends.

The lesser rats were herded to the center of the hollow. They stared around, confused, turned into idiots by their own cheese. She looked them over. “Who is in charge here?” The rats mumbled and looked at each other until one stepped forward. It was ugly, even for a rat, with huge, fuzzy feet and a fat belly. If it wasn’t for the oversized ears, she would have thought it was a halfling.

Stumpy Big-Toe looked at the spider princess, then shrugged as if the answer was obvious. “You are.”

The spider liked that answer. Her multiple eyes stared at him. “Why is a halfling dressed like a stupid rat? Take those ears off. You’re in charge now. If you can get this shithole meeting its quota of small mammals and mushrooms, you won’t be eaten at the end of the week.”

Stumpy didn’t care. Gangrene had said the same thing to him each week. Different boss, same pay, but he didn’t have to wear the ears. “All right, you stinking cheese eaters! Let’s get to work! We have quotas to fill. No cheese for any of you until I see some output!”

“Not bad. You found the one person in this hollow that isn’t stupid on cheese. He’s motivated, and he doesn’t seem to like his former employers much.” The old scout chuckled to herself. The princess was pleased to take credit for the small bit of luck. “We’ll see. If he meets the quotas, he can rule this little Hollow and become a citizen of the Empire.”

The scout dared a further question. “And what of Limburger Hollow? The little we have heard is disturbing. You won’t even have to ambush Gangrene on his return. He swallowed a meal that swallowed him back.”

The princess was thoughtful for a moment. “Let them be. They were peaceful until attacked and are far stronger than reported. As long as no one from that Hollow causes trouble, I’m not sticking my foot into their web.”

* * *

Milo’s adventures in two worlds continue in Volume 4: Family Matters.

Thank you for reading Tunnel Rat 3

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Also in series:

Tunnel Rat

Tunnel Rat 2

Tunnel Rat 3

Tunnel 4

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