Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
Kyle
Amonster was stalking me.
I might not be a good fighter, but I was damn good at surviving, and I knew when something was hunting me.
It wasn't just because my skin was crawling with the need to run and hide; it was because of the changes in sound in the maze around me.
That first bellow had been the warning shot, but after that the monster had kept quiet, likely because it was trying to track the sound of my own footsteps.
I'd taken off my boots, letting my socks muffle my footsteps as I stepped from one ball of the foot to the other, trying to tiptoe my way silently through the maze.
It had gotten close to finding me. I'd come to a junction, only to hear the soft scuff of its footsteps down one end.
I rubbed my hand on the rock wall the way I'd come, hoping the smell would cause it to head down that way, and quickly tiptoed away from the noise.
The worst possible thing I could do right now was run.
That would create a clatter of noise, and there was the real risk that I would run towards the monster rather than away.
What I didn't expect to find was a fire.
I stopped at a T-junction, staring down the long hallway that led to a brightly lit room.
I could see the fire, set in a raised rectangular stone hearth in the center of the room, the smoke drifting up to vanish through the mesh of vines that made up the ceiling.
On one end of it was a cast-iron pot hanging from a tripod, and my stomach growled as I caught the scent of a rich, meaty stew.
I didn't realize I'd moved closer until I was already in the doorway, the smell of the food drawing me in like a worm on a hook.
There was a large, cozy-looking bed in the corner of the room, a large chest with its lid tilted back, as well as a large, half-empty carry pack that was set on a shelf.
A doorway on the far wall had a leather curtain hanging down that blocked my view of that exit, but at least there was another exit.
I moved closer to the fire, feeling the warmth on my skin, enjoying the dryness it created in the air, a respite from the cool humidity of the rest of the maze.
I stopped dead in my tracks as I spotted the two empty bowls and spoons sitting on a slab near the base of the fire.
This had the look of a safe room, but something was off about it.
It didn't have a door for one. Safe rooms always had doors that could be shut and latched.
The bedding was too lush, too comfortable-looking.
The fire was already started, and food was being made.
I turned to leave.
Even if it was a safe room, there was another dungeon-diving group in it.
I was safer with the monsters than I was with another group, especially if they recognized me as a squire from a rival group.
The Princes and Dukes were well known to be especially dangerous for mundanes to be around.
The Kings had a better reputation, but they had gone through squires quickly recently, and reputation or not, that meant they couldn't be trusted.
A form stepped out into the end of the hallway, blocking my exit.
I caught a glimpse of horns before I ducked to the side of the doorway, keeping out of sight.
With quick, silent steps, I rushed over to the leather flap that blocked the other exit, only to discover it wasn't an exit, it was an ensuite.
The sight shocked me for a moment. Safe rooms didn't have places to shower and bathe.
Was this a monster camp? All the monster camps I'd seen in the Dungeon had groups of monsters standing around a rough wooden fire built on top of the flat stone floor.
They didn't have hearths or bedding or stew or en-suites.
Shock or no shock, I had kept it together too well for too long to let the sight of a bathtub do me in.
I dropped the leather flap and went over to the chest that was left open.
Rule ten said never to trust chests, but this one was already open, so I knew it wasn't a monster in disguise waiting to eat me.
It was empty, so I stepped into it and grabbed the lid, lowering it down as I wedged a small rock into the seam so that it wouldn't shut completely and lock me in.
It was a tight fit, but I shifted until I could see out through the crack, and then I held completely still as the monster stepped into the room.
It was a minotaur.
Tall, on the upper edge of six feet at least, and built like a jiu-jitsu champion, with full body muscular development made for explosive power.
He had two horns that curved up from his head, a broad, wide nose and mouth, and two long ears.
He wore a thick leather kilt and had digitigrade legs that ended in hooves.
His face was close enough to humanoid that I could consider him handsome, if that mattered in comparison to the ripped lines of his shirtless body.
His bright green eyes scanned the room, stopping as they fell on the trunk where I hid.
His nostrils flared as he lifted his chin up to sniff the air, a silver ring catching the light in the room.
Vut always said I smelled like nothing. It was one of the few things he liked about me, that I didn't foul his air with additional scents.
If a lycan couldn't smell me, this monster wouldn't be able to smell me either.
I was safe in here unless I made a noise.
There was no other way he could tell I was in here.
"Too small for an Orc," he said as he stared at the trunk, and it took everything in my power not to gasp.
I didn't know minotaurs could talk!
I'd never heard any of the dungeon monsters speak. When they were talked about at school, it was always as if they were mindless beasts, operating on instinct alone.
"Goblin, come out now," he said, his voice rich and melodic as he reached up to take a small pouch hanging from the top of the entryway.
I had to stifle another gasp as the vines dropped down, blocking my only exit from the room.
He tucked the bag into a small satchel attached to his belt, then walked over to sit down on a round stone stool next to the hearth.
He picked up a long spoon from where it rested on the far side of the pot, and then gave the stew a stir.
I waited, but no Goblin emerged.
The minotaur reached over and picked up one of the bowls from where it sat, filling it up with stew before setting it down on the hearth. He grabbed the second bowl and repeated the gesture.
"Come eat," he said. "We will speak."
The prickle of worry raced down my spine as still no Goblin emerged. That worry shifted into full-blown panic as his eyes landed back on the trunk where I hid.
He knew I was in here.
"Strange behavior for a Goblin," he said as he stared at the trunk.
He thought I was a fellow monster. That was why he was talking to me. Perhaps the Dungeon Monsters only spoke to one another. Even so, the fact that they could talk at all was still shattering my worldview, destroying the concept that my survival here at this school had been built upon.
Still, if he could talk, then he could be reasoned with.
As long as he didn't kill me the second he realized I was a student, and a red jacket one at that.
I took a deep breath in.
There was no way out. He knew I was in here. He wasn't going to fall asleep and let me take the pouch from his belt to escape from this room. I didn't have any weapons, and even if I did, I wasn't a match for another mundane student, let alone a minotaur.
My best bet was talking.
"I'm not a goblin," I said as I pushed open the lid. "My name is Kyle."