A Soldier's Life-Chapter 287: The Vault of the Spirit Arachnid

Chapter 287: The Vault of the Spirit Arachnid

I was up well before the others and went to check on the horses. Ginger got an extra rubdown while I handed out half-apples to the rest of the mounts. As I brushed her flank, I found myself quietly explaining that I would be gone all day on a dungeon delve and that she shouldn’t worry. Of course, she couldn’t understand me—but I spoke to her anyway. Ginger wasn’t just a mount. She was a companion I trusted.

Leaving the stables, I found most of my companions in the common room sporting hangovers. Even Maveith had his head down to avoid looking at the bright glowstone sconces. I passed out some morning glory stems, but my supply was getting low. Benito, who was not joining us, was missing, and a quick earth pulse confirmed he was asleep alone in his bed upstairs.

Mateo didn’t look the least bit regretful about last night—if anything, he seemed energized. He always talked a big game, but now that I thought about it, I couldn’t recall him ever actually following through and visiting a brothel. Glasha joined us a moment later, wearing an unmistakable orcish grin. The two of them carefully avoided eye contact, which I found quietly hilarious.

I briefly toyed with the idea of calling them out, just to see their reactions, but thought better of it—especially with Blaze casting sidelong glances between Raelia and me, clearly trying to puzzle out whatever was going on between us.

“We have an hour before sunrise. Do you have any questions?” I asked. The delve group was Raelia, Maveith, Mateo, Glasha, and me. Blaze was just here to see us off.

“What is our share of the loot?” Mateo asked with a smirk, sucking on his morning glory noisily.

“Equal share of the reward chests, and I decide on the distribution of anything else found.” My tone indicated I was referring to the essence collector. I was still uncertain whether I would reveal its presence to Glasha, but I would hate to leave so many essences behind. No one else had a question, and they seemed recovered enough from celebrating.

I only knew the entrance was just outside the city. “Glasha, can you lead us to the entrance?”

It was about a mile’s walk beyond the western gate. Nearby, large oak trunks—probably cut from inside the dungeon—were stacked neatly to dry. Six tattooed orcs in steel cuirasses stood guard, each with long spears and blades at their hips. They looked like experienced warriors, not just gatekeepers.

Glasha stepped forward to speak, her voice clear and authoritative. “Glasha Mistborn, the Chronicler. Here to delve today.”

I half-expected some kind of confrontation from whoever we had displaced, but the guards were the only ones present. Still, I couldn’t quite figure out why so many elite-looking sentries were stationed at a single dungeon entrance. There was no immediate sense of danger, but I made a note to stay alert when we emerged—just in case.

The largest of the sextet nodded, his face hidden under a polished steel helm, and motioned for his men to move aside. Blaze took the opportunity to depart. “Good luck, and bring me back a trophy.” He clasped wrists with each of us before returning to town.

I was last and said seriously, “Make sure Benito doesn’t get into trouble.”

“I will do my best, but I am just one man,” he said, a warm smile spreading across his face as he released my wrist and stepped back. As he walked away, I felt grateful to have someone so dependable by my side as backup. Maveith, fierce and loyal, was not just a friend but a formidable force in battle. Yet it was Blaze who had a keen eye for details—the subtle ones—often noticing things I missed and, sometimes, things I wasn’t quite ready to share.

The entrance to the dungeon was down a short series of black stone steps. We walked past the familiar, black, oily surface. The entry chamber was small, just a rough twenty-foot circular room. On the wall, white chalk writing in Orcish abounded. The graffiti filled the walls from floor to ceiling, and reading it all would take over a day—if you could read it. I was sure there was wisdom in those words on the dangers ahead, but we didn’t have time for Raelia to translate.

I unsheathed Boris’s dungeon blade, the glossy silver metal gleaming in my grasp as anticipation charged the air. The others fell into formation, Maveith taking a strategic position beside me in the tunnel that led to the next chamber.

The Shimmering Labyrinth had been unlike other dungeons—it offered a myriad of starting areas and a non-linear path among at least three levels. In stark contrast, we stood in the Vault of the Spirit Arachnid, a traditional series of rooms, each one more demanding than the last, designed to test the limits of our combat skill and cooperation.

Above us, luminous moss clung to the ceiling, casting a mesmerizing light throughout the space. Its vibrant hues—a swirling mix of soft yellows and deep blues—imbued the chamber with a twilight glow, creating a fascinating and foreboding atmosphere, as if it were alive and watching our progress.

“Is everyone ready?” I asked. Seeing no objections, I reminded everyone of our opponent. “There should be five myconids in the next room. Each is about as strong as a man, and they will use their arms as clubs. Some myconids can release spores to poison you or force you to sleep, but the ones we are facing do not have that ability. If they do release a cloud of spores, hold your breath or you will experience a violent coughing fit.” I waited until everyone nodded, and I led the way.

The moss seemed to be brighter when the tunnel ended. The chamber beyond had a high ceiling with glowing moss that showed ripples of colors, mostly yellow and blue with some lines of green. Large pillars of black stone stood throughout the chamber, with thousands of small mushrooms dotting the floor. A ten-foot myconid walked carefully among the small mushrooms as if he were tending a garden. Although it had two arms and two legs, that was its only resemblance to a human.

Its entire body was a living fungus. I noticed the other four myconids in the chamber. “Mateo, since you are intimately familiar with it, guard the cleric’s body.” I didn’t turn around to see his reaction as I dashed into the room.

I targeted the tallest one first. It was a little comical to me how slow it seemed as I removed its spongy, fibrous arms with forceful slashes. Maveith was having more trouble, as his hammer had gotten embedded in the head of his first target. Raelia circled a blue myconid and cut chunks out of it with her short blade. I moved to intercept a green myconid that was moving toward Mateo and Glasha. It cast a mist of spores into my path, and I held my breath as I engaged. The fungoid men were poor fighters, relying on direct, telegraphed attacks. I quickly cut down my second opponent and stepped well clear of the cloud before inhaling again.

It had only taken a minute for all the myconids to be disabled, and now it was about removing their heads, which didn’t take long. They bled slowly, a clear, viscous fluid oozing from their bodies. The blood was useful as a glue, but difficult to harvest and keep fresh. I was more interested in the spongy masses around the head and armpits that had released the spores.

Corvus’s runic dagger appeared in my hand as I worked quickly to harvest what I could. Glasha had watched the fight, impressed, and was now standing over me. “I know an alchemist in the city that pays well for myconid flesh.”

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“I plan to keep these. I dabble in alchemy myself,” I replied.

“Since when?” Raelia said in surprise from across the chamber, drawing an interested Mateo. Realizing her mistake, Raelia shut up, and I harvested in silence as the others wandered the chamber and located the reward chest.

Mateo edged closer to me. I thought he was going to ask about Raelia, who had clearly indicated that she knew me before we met in Artiria. “How did you know? Was it because we were so loud?”

I chuckled a little. He seemed slightly embarrassed. I didn’t know if they had been loud or not, but if he was going to give me a reason for being aware, I would use it. “Yes. You two were definitely enthusiastic. Glasha doesn’t seem a bad sort. How was it?”

Mateo struggled for words, ensuring no one could overhear him as he leaned in. “Bit weird at first with the face and skin and tusks, but everything was normal after I got past it.” He grinned. “She has incredibly strong thighs from riding so much …”

“Never kiss and tell,” I interrupted him, not needing to know the details. Or maybe I was slightly jealous, as it had been a few months for me.

Maveith was searching the mushroom carpet but returned frustrated. “I didn’t find anything I recognized. I’m not sure if they are edible or not.” His statement made me think briefly of Konstantin, who could tell if something was poisonous. I hoped the veteran had made it out too.

“It is fine, Maveith. I am sure there will be other useful harvests. What was in the reward chest?”

“Six silver coins and a potion that Glasha said was a poison cure.” I nodded, but thought it was not a great reward. Yes, the dungeon potion was probably worth a few golds since it wouldn’t expire until the seal was broken, but I didn’t feel that it matched the danger level.

“You can hold onto the potion,” I decided. I had my spell form to purge any poison. “Mateo and Raelia can split the silver.”

We had cleared and harvested the first room in fifteen minutes, and I ushered my group toward the next chamber. I stood in the tunnel, looking at the large pool of murky green water covered in algae. The green glowing moss lining the ceiling reflected off the surface, making it appear an even deeper shade of green. A few swirls in the water indicated the giant snapping turtles beneath the surface. I didn’t think the healer had told me how many there were, but I identified four distinct moving swirls.

“I will handle these. You all can wait here,” I said. When one of the swirls got close, I stepped onto the bridge. The water churned, a turtle immediately closing in on me, and I waited. The turtle surfaced in a foamy mess as it surged onto the bridge. Its long neck shot forth and slammed into my stacked air shields, stunning itself momentarily. I moved around them and hacked the head off in a two-handed slash. I was beginning to appreciate Boris’s dungeon blade. I was able to isolate the other three turtles and similarly dispatch them all in less than five minutes.

Looking back at the group, I saw Maveith try to muscle the first turtle onto its back. “Leave it, Maveith. I don’t feel like turtle soup.”

Disappointed, he said with a pleading look, “But it goes extremely well with chicken broth and potatoes. It was one of my favorites growing up.”

Maveith needed a win after our slow travel. “Fine, just harvest one. While we wait, Mateo and Glasha can scout the next room. Do not enter,” I warned.

Mateo looked confused for just a moment before realizing I planned to use the collector. He ushered Glasha down the corridor. When I was sure they were out of sight, the collector appeared in my hand.

As I worked on collecting the first turtle, Raelia hovered over me. “She is smart and will figure out you are sending her away for a purpose eventually.” I ignored her and focused on the essence forming from the weak azure smoke being pulled into the collector. A small, dark-purple sphere formed—a minor strength essence. The dungeon was harvested so often that I doubted I would get anything but minor essences.

“I would have preferred not to have her along at all,” I said testily while I consumed the first essence. Moving to the next turtle, I added, “She is planning something. See if you can figure out what it is.” I handed the next minor essence to Raelia and the third to Maveith. The fourth I gave to Raelia to hand to Mateo secretly.

We waited while Maveith got some turtle steaks, and I stored them. The meat had a funny scent to it, and I hoped it was safe to eat. The chest was another disappointment: ten silver coins and a vial of thick black oil. The best I could decipher from the dungeon script was that the contents was something called ever-burning oil.

We joined Mateo and Glasha at the end of the corridor. They parted so I could inspect the room. The ceiling had the same glowing moss we saw throughout the dungeon, but it was pulsing slowly. It shifted from a bright blue-green to completely black in a slow, repeating strobe effect. Large sections of the ceiling were also completely free of moss. This was likely where the lurkers should be hiding, but I couldn’t see them at all.

“I see four,” Glasha offered, seeing me struggle.

I grunted, still trying to find my first one. “How many should there be?” I asked, as I didn’t think the orc healer had told me.

“Five,” she said definitively.

Seeing that I was not going to admit I couldn’t find the creatures, she pointed to the far wall. “There are two there, overlapping.”

I blinked rapidly when the chamber was at its brightest and could now see that the black rocks looked too smooth in that area. She quickly pointed out two more nestled in the transition between the wall and ceiling. I was actually impressed she had spotted them. “Have you delved into this dungeon before?” I asked.

“No, but I have been in the Endless Dark and fought lurkers before,” she admitted. With Glasha’s back turned, I noticed Raelia slipping Mateo the essence, which he consumed immediately.

“Why did you travel into the Endless Dark?” I asked conversationally, content to wait until all threats were identified.

“The Caliphate monitors all access points to the Endless Dark. Sometimes, the Supreme Cleric orders expeditions into the depths to survey the known paths,” Glasha responded, still scanning the chamber for the last lurker.

“To what end?” Raelia inquired from behind us.

Glasha directed her focus at my group. “They monitor the wandering creatures. Although we explore all thirteen dungeons in the Caliphate, some entrances remain a mystery. These dungeons become saturated and periodically release their spawn into the Endless Dark. Most perish in the Endless Dark, but a few manage to reach the surface. That is why the Esenhem elves foolishly destroyed most of their dungeons.

“Most forget, but it was the dungeons who trained and equipped my people and your people to fight the Titans. Without the dungeons, we would have stood no chance at victory. The Boutan orcs honor dungeons and what they provide,” Glasha said proudly.

Maveith was listening raptly and asked, “Why did the dungeons help fight the Titans?”

Glasha’s head tilted left and right as she struggled to come up with a reason. “I am not sure, as it was five thousand years ago. But I think the Titans were trying to destroy the dungeons. It is why most of the great dungeons no longer exist. This”—she indicated around her—“is just an infant dungeon, no more than three thousand years old.”

“Dungeons can have babies?” Mateo asked, perplexed.

“This is not the time to discuss lore,” I said, halting the conversation. We eventually located the last lurker above our entrance.

I indicated Glasha and Mateo. “Mateo, take Glasha and wait with her in the last chamber.”

Glasha was surprised and slightly angry. “Why? I can help. Why don’t you trust me?”

“Where did you go and what were you up to after you logged the job as completed in the Adventurers Hall?” I asked pointedly.

Glasha’s eyes studied me for a moment like she was trying to peer into me and get all my secrets. Maybe that was exactly what she was doing. “I was sending a message to Cleric Mynasha to get herself to Grila in the next two days if she wanted to contract your services.”

“The escort job I already told you I didn’t want to take?” I said irritably. “I am still not interested.”

Glasha wasn’t deterred. “If you help her, she can help you get what you want. Maveith’s sister.” She had a triumphant, tusky smile on her face.

Damn it, I cursed inwardly. “Who told you that?” I asked harshly. But I didn’t really need to ask. Mateo was already slinking away.

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