Dungeon Core Academy: Books 1-7 (A LitRPG Series) Alex Oakchest (list of ebook readers .TXT) 📖

It did, actually. I much preferred this guy to my last few riddle doors. “Let’s see. A riddle that might stump the First-Leaf. Ah – At night they come without being fetched. By day they are lost without being stolen. What are they?”

The pig gave a snort so great that it shook his whole door. “Stars. Easy.”

“Easy for a riddle door, sure. It’s in your nature. It’s like a bird bragging how high he can fly.”

I felt sure that the riddle would keep the First-Leaf busy for a while. It was a rather immature thing to do, but we’re all like that sometimes, I think. Everyone has to blow off steam their own way, and one of my ways was to create a talking door that frustrated any attempts to get to my core room.

I used my core hearing to listen now, and it wasn’t long until they reached the door.

“What’s this? It wasn’t here last time,” said First-Leaf Godwin. “Another damn riddle. I tell you, this core loves them.”

I wondered how long it’d take him to guess it. Not long probably. But long enough to frustrate him a little.

There was a great blast, and the riddle door suddenly swung open. It was bent out of shape and hanging from its hinges, and the pig knocker gasped and snorted as steam rose from him.

Behind the door was the First-Leaf, with dregs of burned mana swirling around his staff.

“Ah, here he is,” said the First-Leaf.

“Godwin. This is a surprise,” I said, swallowing my anger about the door. I guessed that was what I got for playing tricks.

“I have brought the Rushden family tree to see the dungeon. They were one of the highest contributing trees when we pooled our resources to buy you and your friend. Their influence among the Wrotun cannot be overstated.”

“Nice to meet you. Any reason you’re here?”

“See?” said Godwin, looking at his guests. “I told you about his attitude.”

The oldest-looking Rushden leaf stepped forward. The horns that sprouted from his head were so curled that they were only an inch away from piercing his skull.

I’d heard about this. Left alone, the horns of the goatief race would grow and grow, curling so that eventually they began to grow toward the skull. Without regular filing sessions, they would grow so curled that they pierced their own heads. In fact, it was a punishment among goatief society; they would tie up a criminal goatief and keep them watered and fed, restraining them until their own horns killed them.

This goatief’s horns had been filed recently, so he was in no danger of such a death.

“I say, I say,” he began. “Do you think it is wise to treat your owners with contempt? With such an attitude?”

“Owners is such a harsh word when it comes to free-thinking beings,” I said. “You might say that considering me, a conscious being, as your property makes you quite a lot like the seekers.”

The horned man spat. “You have a dirty mouth.”

“Such lies,” said a woman who appeared to be his wife. Her horns were filed to perfect cones and were speckled with gold.

“Lies?” I said. “They use human slaves to navigate our traps. You’re using cores to kill them. A zebra can hardly look at a horse and laugh at his appearance.”

“I say, I say,” began the man.

“I wish you would just say it.”

“I say-”

The First-Leaf held up his staff. “Enough! I warned you, my honorable Rushden’s, that our core is prickly. I am told this comes with the nature of their second lives, and is considered a defect among them. At any rate, I am here to show you around, and hopefully put your mind at ease that our defenses will soon be improved.”

One of the younger goatiefs moved out of the pack now. “Father, I’d like to see the surface door.”

“I say, that is out of the question.”

“Father,” said the youth. He looked Warrane’s age, which would make him a fifth-leaf. His future prospects seemed a lot healthier than Warrane’s, though. “Father, I will see it.”

The older one laughed. “This one has First-Leaf written all over him. You hear the way he orders me?”

“You shouldn’t stand for it,” said Godwin.

“Pah. Better a lad with spirit, than a mouse.” He turned to me now. “Do you have someone who can guide him through the dungeon?”

Damn it, I just wasn’t going to get rid of these guys, was I? The best I could do was hurry it along.

“I suppose so. Shadow?” I called.

There was no answer.

“Shadow?” I said, this time using my inner core voice.

No answer again! I swear, if she has tried to escape…

“Father, I want to explore the tunnels now!”

Godwin eyed me. The elder goatief glared. I imagined that I was taking a deep, relaxing breath.

And then I imagined breathing fire on them all, melting them to puddles of gloop.

There was nothing for it. “Wylie?” I said.

A minute later, the kobold came running in. “Yes, Dark Lord?”

“Show the kid around the dungeon. That kid there, the one with the limp horn and dopey face. Make sure he doesn’t get caught in a trap.”

“Wylie show!”

“Can you cut out his kobold tongue?” asked the boy. “I won’t listen to his prattling.”

“You know what, Wylie?” I said. “If he was to step on a pressure plate, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

Wylie and the boy headed off toward one of the tunnels that led north, to the surface door. Just as they had almost left us, I had a realization.

“Wylie?” I called. “Don’t take what I said literally. The little git is not to be harmed.”

“Wylie protect!”

With them gone, the First-Leaf and his Rushden tree guests bombarded me with question after question