Chương 38: Squirt Dungeoneering

Maybe Squirt was overthinking this. To be fair, she'd never had the nerve to explore a dungeon before. She'd heard tales of riddles in a dungeon's core, but nothing like this, and frankly, she was starting to get antsy just staring at the water.

"… fuck it," she muttered. Maybe if she could get closer, the archaic language would suddenly make sense. The moment her foot hit the platform, the water began to subtly shift. She eyed it, ready to jump back, when a dark shape slowly rose from the depths, stepping out of the water in gleaming, silky glory. A kelpie. She swallowed, but the beast merely lowered its head at her, then lowered itself to the ground to present Squirt its back.

When it was clear the beast was not moving again, completely relaxed in its spot, Squirt's eyes drifted back down to the inscription on the stone. Wavehorse. Kelpie. Servants of Death… She tried to remember the relationship between Death and the Hunt.

"A love story for the ages, that one," came Stalf's gruff voice. She rolled her eyes, focusing on her tinkering on the edge of the cabin. He'd insisted, like previous winters, on remaining trapped in this small hut with her instead of with his family. Claimed he couldn't stand being stuck in the same house as his eldest daughter.

"Yippie, love, wonderful," Squirt muttered darkly.

"It's a good story, Squirt." Damnit, she wished she'd paid better attention, but she'd been too bitter and ended up making him switch to a story about the battles the Hunt wrought, instead. Now, she was kicking herself as she tried to remember vague details she had never wanted to remember before. Death loved the Hunt like he loved no other of the gods, but while he was confined to his realm, she lived for the freedom of the forests. He couldn't keep her. So, he… He… Shit, what'd he do?

Clutching her head and growling out her frustrations, she mussed up her hair, muttering to herself.

"Gift from the Father, ride the…" she glanced at the water horse as it groomed its impressive mane, "… ride the kelpie, to command the something, trust to Death and he will set free the… something." She scowled. Riding a kelpie was absolutely stupid. Everyone knew the beasts were engineered by Death himself to lead victims to their final rest in the deepest waters. It looked cute and docile now, but the moment she hopped on its back, it would take her to the bottom of the cavern's waters to kill her.

Out of curiosity, she paced the platform. No movement. She bent down and picked up a pebble, tossing it up. The kelpie didn't even flicker an ear her way. She tossed it towards the water, breaking the surface of it, and the creature turned feral as it snapped at the tiny stone and the waves it created. Noted. No swimming across. The kelpie resettled, back to nonchalantly grooming itself like she hadn't just seen the fangs snapping down at ripples in the water. Maybe she could climb across? No. She scowled.

If there was an inscription, then like it or not she likely wouldn't solve the dungeon puzzle without it. The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Dropping into a squat, she mussed her hair and groaned out a series of curses. There was only one way forward. Ride the damn kelpie and hope it wasn't the last dumbass mistake of her life.

Glaring at the innocent looking creature, her eyes fell back to the inscription as if glaring at it would bring new meaning out of the words she'd been staring at for hours now. But nope. No sparks of inspiration. No warm breezes or white stags to guide her now. Maybe she was good. Maybe she didn't need to clear the dungeon— No, no, her goddess clearly just enjoyed fucking with her. Bitterly, she intoned out, "You know, you could just kill me instead of torturing me with word problems first." No answer.

Growling, she muttered, "That's it, next time I'm listening to the whole damn story, even if the romance annoys me." Nothing. Teetering and wishing there was literally any other option she could try, she said blandly, "Well… I guess I ride the kelpie and subject myself to Death's judgement?" Did she imagine the touch of a warm breeze on her cheek? Damnit all, the gods were so damn obscure.

Muttering to herself about how this was the stupidest thing she'd ever done, she stood, stretched out the kinks in her muscles, and then before she could lose her nerve, she launched herself at the beast. It stood, rearing as she gripped the long, glossy mane that looked so much like kelp, she gasped when she realized it wasn't. Then she closed her eyes and held her breath as the beast slammed itself into the water.

Squeezing with her legs and hands on the mane, Squirt held on for dear life as the kelpie bucked and dove deeper, deeper, until the pressure was squeezing Squirt's body and her ears popped. The air was squeezed from her lungs. She was going to die. Damn it, what a dumb move. What a stupid way to die. She decided abruptly that if she made it to the afterlife of the chosen of the gods, she was haunting the Hunt for subjecting her to this.

The water made its way into her sinuses, and abruptly she lost the remaining air from the squeeze on her body, reflexively gasping in water that rushed to fill her lungs and stomach. This was it. She was dead. She gripped tighter onto the kelpie's mane. If it was carrying her to Death itself, then fuck it, she'd face it head on. Bring it, bitch. Just as the darkness crowded the edges of her vision, they broke the surface of the water, and the kelpie tossed her through the air.

She landed, vomiting out the water she had swallowed before coughing up the water from her lungs. Tears streamed from her face as she did, coughing and hacking as she was, desperately trying to pull in enough real air to not die. Several agonizing minutes passed before she managed a full breath. Then another. Then another. The fear hit, and she quietly sobbed, shaking like a damn leaf as the adrenaline burst and combined with the terror. Gods. She was alive. She was… She blinked. Where was she?

This chamber was smaller, only a small pool behind her, waves gently lapping at the sloped stone beach in the cavern. In front of her was a mishmash of silks draped like a nest, a large glowing orb, and an egg. The dungeon heart. She'd done it. She let herself collapse in relief as she mentally catalogued what had happened. If a bigger, stronger fey had come along and simply smote the kelpie, they never would have actually made it to the center of the dungeon.

If she hadn't held on and trusted the kelpie, she would have drowned. In fact, the entire dungeon had been more about intelligence than pure brute strength. The beasts were ones with tricks to avoid and dodge, but they hadn't been particularly difficult to kill if she hit them in the right spots. Frankly, it was almost disconcerting how easily she'd managed to make it to the dungeon's heart. She. A greenling. She was about to clear a dungeon by herself.

She began to laugh at the absurdity, rolling over to her back, exhausted and unable to stop the laughter. She'd done it. She'd survived. She'd survived the Sia-bitch. Basilisk. Titled fey. And now, a ride on a gods damned kelpie. Gods, Tobias was going to be gobsmacked— Grief hit her when she realized that she had no one to tell her exploits to. She couldn't tell Tobias. She couldn't tell anyone. She had to disappear. It shouldn't hurt as much as it did. The laughter soon turned to quiet sobs.

It'd only been a few weeks. Barely a blink of time in a fey's life. And yet, she had no idea of when, but at some point, this place had become her home, the fey here her family. They cared for her more deeply than anyone had ever cared for her before. More than her own parents ever did. She wasn't the only greenling child dumped at the orphanage. Abandoned by the parents who were supposed to love and raise her unconditionally in a society where children were considered sacred.

She curled up and cried into the silk sheets. Goddess, it had hurt so much to hear his lordship comforting the bitch. She'd known then that all hope was lost. Siabith's charms had never once failed to ensnare her targets, but even knowing that, it didn't hurt any less to know how easily the bonds they'd made her believe in could be broken. She was a fool for ever having tried. Eventually, exhausted, she crawled up into the nest, shivering and wrapping herself in its warmth.

She shifted the egg, careful not to break it, and surprised at how oddly warm it was. Dungeons always came with some kind of artifact, some prize or blessing or magic tool. No one knew where from or why. She curled around the egg, the physical evidence of her triumph, and fell into a deep sleep.