Chapter 21: Realizations

“What did you make of all that, Gnat?” I asked once we were safely back in the third leg’s final chamber.

“It’s nothing out of the ordinary,” the skeletal bat said with a yawn. “The candidates usually band together for survival by rallying around the strongest.”

I frowned. “What do you mean ‘usually?’”

The familiar cocked his head at an unnatural angle. “What? You didn’t think yours was the first group of candidates the Master has sent through his trials, did you?”

I narrowed my eyes and took a second to digest the bat’s revelation. “So the Master does this regularly?”

Gnat nodded. “This is not the first trial, nor will it be the last. Although,” Gnat grumbled, “the Master insists on changing the dungeon configuration each time, which only makes my job harder.”

The familiar’s words left me wondering exactly what his job was, but choosing to remain focused on the matter at hand, I didn’t pursue his offhand remark. “Why does the Master do all this though?” I asked. “What is the purpose of his trials?”

“The Master has already told you that,” Gnat said, sounding exasperated. “The trials are a means of finding those worthy enough of joining his cause.”

“And what is the Master’s cause?” I asked.

“That I cannot tell you,” the bat said. “To find that out, you must complete the trials first.”

I rubbed at my temples in frustration. “But surely the Master can devise better methods of recruitment?” I waved my hands around at the dungeon. “All of this is so… inefficient.”

“Whatever you’re imagining, Michael, it’s been tried before,” Gnat said, with amusement tracing his voice. “The only way to find those capable of surviving the Game is by having them play the game.”

I sighed. “And is the Master fine with what’s going on in his dungeon? With his candidates enslaving other candidates?” That is what I concluded this Saben character was doing. The ‘pledges’ the dwarf and human had spoken of sounded a little more than a euphuism for slavery to me.

Gnat laughed. “The Game is ruthless, human. And to play it you must be ruthless too.” He paused. “Or you will perish.”

I bowed my head, perturbed by the bat’s answer. The dungeon’s challenge I could accept, if perhaps not agree with. Survival of the fittest and all that. But what Saben and his cronies were doing, what the Master was allowing them to do, that was more than ruthlessness, that was casual cruelty of the sort that did not sit well with me.

I thought back to the Master’s parting words to us. Am I evil? I wondered. I hoped not. Despite the Master’s insistence that I was, something in me was repulsed by what Saben and his ilk did. No, it was even more than that.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on what my subconscious was telling me. My hands were trembling I realized. And it was not from fear. Disgust, I thought, is too mild a term to express what I feel.

Rage was a better word. I am trembling in fury.

Whoever and whatever I had been was appalled at what Saben was doing to the candidates in his clutches. But what could I do to help them? Nothing. I swallowed bitterness. The candidate camp was too large, and me on lonesome—and significantly unequipped by comparison—was not going to be able to free the prisoners.

I opened my eyes and saw Gnat was watching me carefully.

“What are you thinking?” the skeletal bat asked, almost nonchalantly.

I shrugged, instinct guiding me to keep my thoughts hidden. “Just wondering if I trust Saben’s people enough to join them,” I replied blandly.

Gnat snorted. “You would be a fool to do that,” he said before turning away and seeming to lose further interest in the conversation.

I took a moment to ponder my options. Trolls. Trapped trench. Or Saben’s gang.

Which did I tackle?

~~~

In the end, there was only one viable choice really, and with a heavy heart I made it. I could not sneak passed the trolls, nor could I defeat Saben’s gang, but there was still a chance that I could cross the trapped trench.

So, despite my reluctance to abandon the prisoners to their fate, I did just that and set about plan to cross the trench.

It took me nearly an hour to drag about a few dozen corpses from the dungeon’s third leg to the edge of the trench. Finding the bodies was not a problem, there were plenty of corpses in fresh supply in the dungeon, but it was back-breaking work that left me feeling unclean for desecrating the dead.

The first half of my plan was to use the corpses to create a ramp down into the trench. One, by one, I threw the bodies into the hole and piled them high at the closest end of the trench until they were nearly at ground level.

I checked the mound height with a few glowing mushrooms and verified that the slope they formed was navigable to the bottom of the trench. On the lower half of the mound, the sharpened tips of the stakes poked through, conveniently anchoring the pile of corpses.

The trench was too large for me to attempt to fill its entire length with bodies, and besides, I doubted I could have thrown the corpses far enough to reach the far end. To say nothing of how arduous and repulsive a task it would have be to drag a few hundred corpses to the trench.

With my landing in the trench secured, I returned to the third leg of the dungeon and set about removing one of the many torches affixed to the wall. It was harder than I expected, and by the time I was done I was drenched in sweat from all the tugging and pulling I had to do to free the precious light source from where it had been bolted onto the wall.

You have acquired a torch. This item has sufficient fuel to last three hours.

Finally ready to begin my crossing, I returned to the trench once more.