When I walk out of that fucking dungeon, all I want to do is crash. I remind myself Brandon is still in danger to push through that. Then I remember it’s three days to Louisville and figure he can st the day, or week, I’m going to spend unconscious. I sent my equipment to my inventory and the cool wind on my skin sends shivers that do nothing to wake me as I head to my tent.

  The fact I’m crawling into its remnant only registers as I’m falling asleep, and it’s not enough to change where I’m heading.

  *

  I wake up to darkness, the crackling of a fire, and Silver nestled against me. There’s a momentary confusion, as I’m certain the tent wasn’t up anymore when I fell asleep, but I have something more important to do right now. She doesn’t wake up as I put an arm around her and fall back to sleep.

  *

  I wake up alone, to sunlight pushing through the open fp, and Silver and Helen’s whispered voices. I exit the tent, and the sun on my skin reminds me I’m naked. I switch to my clothing tab. I’ll deal with reequipping my armor once I’ve eaten.

  “Sorry I left the two of you to deal with standing guard.”

  “It’s okay,” Helen says. “Of the three of us, you’re the one who really needed a rest after all this.”

  I gnce at the team list. Brandon’s health is close enough to the quarter mark I can’t tell if it’s over or under it. Doesn’t matter. Three days and he’s rescued.

  “Will both of you be okay to head back to Louisville after we’ve eaten?” I set a pot on the grill over the fire, fill it with water and wait for that to boil.

  “So long we you aren’t asking me to be there by sundown,” Helen says. “You can take more of the watches when we camp and I’ll catch up on my sleep.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Silver says. “How are you feeling?”

  I snort. “Wrung out. Like I barely healed. Is phantom pain from so much healing a thing, Helen?”

  She shrugs.

  “I’m seriously considering if Xander is so much of a pain in my ass that I just want to go to Kansas City instead of the ruin.”

  “And?” she asks.

  “I’m not giving him the journal. And I don’t think I can say anything that’ll convince him to stop.”

  “You can tell him about Fort Knox,” Silver offers.

  “Is he going to believe me? It’s not like I can prove that’s what’s in the journal. It’s just my best guess, supported by some research. But I won’t know I’m right until we find it. Is that going to be enough for him? Or is he going to demand the journal, anyway? Keep the bounty on me, regardless?”

  They both shrugs. Which is the best I expected. Brandon might have an opinion, but it wouldn’t be fttering. And not a statement that Xander can be reasonable.

  “How are both of you feeling? This wasn’t easy on either of you any more than on me.”

  Helen snorts. “I’m not the one still feeling pain from all those nearly dying you did. I’m tired, and I think I have mana burn—” Silver stares at her. “—but we’re alive. We got what we came for, so I’m fine.”

  “Is mana burn a thing?”

  Helen chuckled. “Oh, it is. You might not remember, but you suffered one full force that first time you pyed that fire explosion song. Nearly drained you to death. It’s why I was on your case after that not to magically exert yourself.”

  “Shouldn’t you have a debuff and know for sure?” I ask.

  “Do you have a debuff for that pain your suffering even though you’re healed? It’s still going to affect you. Make you stiff, but there’s nothing there but your mind pying tricks on you. If I get burned hard enough, I’ll get a debuff and I will really feel it. Until then, it’s more phantom burn and anything else.”

  “I don’t remember a debuff.”

  Helen pats her leg. “I doubt you remember anything of the trip to the inn and until after you woke up. Proper rest is the best cure for mana burn.”

  While the stew cooks, I go over my sheet. I gained another level on the way back, which puts Grit Strike at level four. Two levels and I have healing. I put an attribute point in Aether and one in Dexterity. I’m going to be good in strength for a while with the ring boosting that, and while I also got one boosting my dexterity, the time in the dungeon’s taught me that’s one thing I can’t have too much of. I split my skill point, except for three, between Aether and Dexterity Training. One to prepare for when I’ll have magic, the other because never enough dex.

  The stew’s barely soup by the time my patience for it runs out. It’s going to be a lot of treens in that skill before cooking time’s cut down enough to matter; no one compins. Then, we pack up and get on the road.

  *

  The trip back to Louisville is, mercifully, uneventful.

  Although, after my time in the dungeon, I question what it’s going to take for something to register as ‘eventful’.

  I tackle my beard the morning we reach the city. Silver might like me with it, but all it does is remind me of my time in the dungeon.

  The city feels just the same as we walk its streets. No renewed sense of wonder that we’re back here. No sense that I never want to leave it, or strengthening of my desire to hand over everything to Xander and just go home.

  I want to go home, but I still want to make that man regret ever messing with me.

  The old man’s home, when we reach it, does feel more menacing. Maybe it’s because I have a better sense of the danger he represents. Or maybe he’s got magic up this time, after people barged in twice.

  I knock at the door, and it opens with what I swear is a chuckle. The inside is the same as before, and the man is seated in the back living room, as if he never moved from there. Brandon’s still hanging on the wall, but he’s a lot thinner. Dangerously so.

  “You survived…or did you give up?”

  I bring out the crystal, and his expression goes from menacing, to needy.

  “Give it to me,” he demands as I send it back to my inventory.

  I…hate myself for this. For putting Brandon in more danger. But I just can’t simply hand it over. “What are you going to do with it? That’s powerful. You can do a lot of damage with something like that.”

  He stared at me as if he didn’t understand what I said.

  “Damage?” He chuckles. “That’s what you think I’m after?” He ughs. He tries to say more, but he’s ughing so hard he falls out of his chair.

  I really thought that was just an expression.

  The ughter eventually turns to wheezing and I’m worried he’s hurt himself. He pulls himself back into his chair and catches his breath.

  I force any concern I feel not to show.

  A long sigh is broken by chuckles. “Kid, do you have any idea how long I can sustain myself off that crystal? Keep the hunger at bay? Actually, have a life?”

  “So…you want it so you won’t hurt people?” I can’t keep the disbelief out of my voice.

  “Is that so hard to believe?” his carries hurt, but I look at Brandon. “He barged in, attacked me. I’m allowed to defend myself. I could have gotten a year or two out of his life force, if that’s what I was after.”

  Other than the fact I know nothing about what he is, that sound reasonable. And it isn’t like I have any leverage here, really. I doubt that me being dead will prevent him from accessing my inventory, or getting someone to do it for him.

  I hold the crystal. “Release Brandon, and you have my word I’ll give you the crystal.”

  A gesture and Brandon crashed to the floor. Helen and Silver are there before I have to say anything. I approach the old man, studying him. He’s already demonstrated he’s got enough magic to keep us here once he has it, so I look for any sign of duplicity. All I see is hope and hunger.

  I hand it to him and he snatches it, holding it against his chest. “Thank you.”

  I can’t get myself to respond. Not after everything I’ve gone through because of him

  “What’s your name, kid?”

  “Dennis McLeod.”

  “Thank you, Dennis. You have no idea what this means to me.”

  I find that I don’t care. Too tired, or too tainted by the pain of the dungeon for his gratitude to mean anything, I can’t tell.

  I take Brandon from Helen’s arms, and as soon as we’re out of the house, she runs off asking for the closest healer. When she gets an answer, we can’t move fast enough for her. The healer’s an older woman. Which is good; I’m not sure I’m going to be able to trust old men for a while. And she looks horrified at the state Brandon’s in. Helen won’t have anything of her constant warning that she might not be able to help him. That there are limits.

  I leave, because I can’t take the idea that after everything I’ve gone through, he might still not make it.

  I don’t know if Silver stayed or went her own way. I just know she’s not with me when I reach Sam’s inn. Sam’s the only one who reacts to my arrival. A broad wave of greeting and a smile that falters before I reach the bar.

  “Brandon?” he asks, worried.

  “At a healer.” That’s all I can get out. “Sam.” I feel the tears. “Can you take me to your bed and just hold me?”

  He doesn’t ask questions; he takes me there, then his arms are around me, and I try to feel safe in them.

  *

  I feel better when I wake up. A lot better. Sore in some pces, but I don’t mind. I’m the one who initiated the sex, so I kind of deserve it. And it’s a nice soreness.

  I surprised myself with how forceful I was. How badly I needed to feel something other than the misery I was drowning in. Sam protested, but I convinced him.

  I don’t regret it.

  He isn’t there. I vaguely remember him getting out of the bed at some point. There’s a tub in the room next to his, and it’s filled with hot water. There’s soap on the table next to it, with towels; that’s as much of a ‘help yourself’ sign as I need.

  The bath feels nearly as good as the sex. The water doesn’t cool and I consider staying there until I’ve dissolved. But it’s best if I don’t overstay my welcome. So I scrub until I’m confident the sense of dirtiness that’s left is my imagination, dress, and head down. Sam greets me with a smile and a coffee and it is wonderful.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  “I’m better.” I savor another sip. “I’m new at…well…st night. I don’t want to be callous, or ungrateful or…but I also don’t want to leave you thinking I’m….”

  He pces a hand on mine. “Dennis. You needed something I was able to give you. I’m gd I was there for you. I don’t expect you to feel like you need to pay me back, or that you’re now attached to me. But—” he smiles “—I appreciate that you’re concerned about my feelings too. Too many of the guys around here take for granted I’ll take them to bed.” He squeezes it gently.

  “Thanks.” I finish the coffee and order a rge breakfast. Then I head to the healer, where I’m relieved to find Brandon will survive, but it’s going to take a few days. I’m fine with it. After the dungeon, I need time with nothing happening.

  *

  It’s five days of walking around the city, selling the stuff I gathered from the dungeon, for a decent sum, which gets spent on getting Aaron’s armor and sword repaired. I don’t need them, but his family will want them back. What’s left goes toward supplies.

  When Brandon shows up at the inn, with Helen, he’s back to his old self, with the smile and ‘look at how awesome I am’ expression. I intercept him as he heads to the bar.

  “How about we have a talk outside?” I ask in the most neutral tone I can muster right now.

  “I’ll just be a minute,” he calls to Sam. We make it five steps from the door when he asked, in his usual jovial tone, “So, what do you want to—”

  I round on him and deck him.

  On the team list, his health fshes, showing I’ve done some damage.

  “What the fuck?” he rubs his jaw. “Since when do you pack that kind of punch?”

  “Stay down,” I order when he puts a hand under him. He does. He looks more like he’s humoring me than cowed, but he stays there as I crouch next to him. “Let me make something perfectly clear, Brandon. If you ever pull something like this again. If you even get in trouble and don’t call for help. I’m leaving you there. As your friend, I’m telling you to get over whatever this self-destructive streak of yours is about, because I am not going through this again. Am I clear?”

  Now there’s worry when he nods.

  “Good. Next. You are going back to that old man, and you are apologizing for barging in and attacking him. Don’t,” I warn as he opens his mouth. “I don’t care if you think you were justified. If you feel you’ve already paid enough. You are going to do the decent thing and apologize. You aren’t asking him about Fort Knox while you’re there. You go, you say you’re sorry, and you return.”

  “What if he doesn’t let me?” he hurries to ask.

  I roll my eyes. “If he wanted you dead that badly, you’d already be dead. Be polite and respectful, and I’m sure he’ll be fine letting you leave.” I lean in his face. “You can do that, right? Politeness and respect?”

  He hurries to nod and I stand. “Get to it.”

  “But I told Sam—”

  “He’ll wait. Maybe having to show respect to someone will also teach you to appreciate people like Sam.”

  I head back inside and sit at the bar, my back to it, watching the door. He comes in, and I’m dragging him to the old man myself.

  “You left anything for me to enjoy?” Sam asks.

  “Everything’s attached. And who knows, he might come back with something extra for you to appreciate.”

  “Like what?” he asks, dubious.

  I smile. “Respect and appreciation.”

  He snorts. Then sobers. “You’re serious?”

  I shrug. “Hey, they say hope springs eternal, right?”

  Kindar

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