Killing the ward worm put me on top of the world, but The Book of Dungeons also had its lows. I didn’t stand because of physical or mental trauma—after all, the potion of invulnerability lived up to its name.

  Emotional fatigue overcame me. The caravan stood too far away to see what had happened, and news of Brodie’s death would weigh heavily on them. I would bear the sad news.

  When wide-eyed dwarves reached me, I stilled their exclamations with upraised palms. “I’m afraid Brodie died back there. The worm ate him.”

  Their ashen faces searched my face for a punchline or double meaning—any hope that my news belied a gag or joke. I avoided their sorrowful gaze at losing their Moses, a leader destined never to reach the promised land.

  The dwarves joined me in silence as waves of grass rippled across the meadow.

  Fin spoke first. “I know ye did yer best, lad. I’ll tell Rory the sorry news. He’ll take it the hardest.”

  Another dwarf chimed in. “Aye. I wager that puts ol’ Ally in charge, eh?”

  The others consoled me with pats on the back as we walked to the caravan. The only noise came from the grass swishing at our footsteps.

  After breaking the news to everyone by the carts, I met up with Fabulosa and Charitybelle at the ward worm’s carcass. The three of us hugged.

  Charitybelle wiped her eyes on my robe as we embraced. “I saw everything through Chloe’s eyes. I froze after the explosion, but then you stood up after demolishing that tree.”

  “Brodie didn’t make it.”

  Fabulosa glumly nodded. “Yeah. We saw that, too. After you popped its head, it writhed around for a while. How did you do that?”

  “I used the goblins’ dynamite and a potion of invulnerability I’d taken from the temple dungeon.”

  Charitybelle released her embrace. “They must have made it from the karst caradon. Bat guano has chemicals needed for explosives. I wish I’d taken some from the monster’s cell, but I had other things on my mind.”

  Fabulosa narrowed her eyes in mock suspicion and wagged her finger. “And a potion of invulnerability? Have you been holding out on us, Patch? I’m going to have to keep a closer eye on you.”

  Before I defended myself, Charitybelle silenced me with a kiss and another tight hug. “We’re just glad you’re okay. But honey, you smell like dead fish. You really need a bath.”

  Fabulosa playfully poked at my side while admiring my new level—one higher than hers. “Stinky sixteens don’t get the girls. Are you gonna loot that thing or what?”

  We walked together across the field toward the body. Looting the dead creature posed a practical dilemma—its carcass stretched as long as two football fields. Dead monsters dropped cores from their mouths. But I could barely identify its head even before the explosion.

  I prodded the carcass before giving up. “When I flew across the meadow, I could see the lake. It’s not far. Let’s go back to camp and unload our bags. I’ll return after clearing out the void bag’s inventory. I have a feeling we’ll need a lot of room for meat.”

  Charitybelle returned a concerned look.

  “I’ll be fine. It can’t be more than an hour away. We’re feeding thirty now, and this worm has tons of white meat. I bet it tastes like crab. I’ll bring a dwarf or two to help harvest it unless you guys want to help.”

  Charitybelle shook her head, cringing at the thought.

  Fabulosa curled her lip. “I ought to stay in camp to make sure everyone is safe.”

  I smiled at her dubious excuse. “Uh-huh. Are you sure? You’re good at field dressing from all your hunting experience.”

  Fabulosa shrugged with upraised hands. “I’d love to wallow in guts, but the number one priority to setting up a camp is recon—and with Yula gone, it looks like I’m stuck doing patrols.” Fabulosa mockingly shook her head as if we’d cornered her into the task.

  “Uh-huh.”

  Charitybelle raised her arms to the south. “I’ll orchestrate a temporary structure from the canvas we brought from Belden. We could stretch it over the shelving we took from the mines. It could make a good tent.”

  Her news surprised us. “Did we really bring those shelves?”

  Charitybelle nodded, grinning. “The dwarves took the doors and the gates. Rory, their head blacksmith, used his forging tools to bust the rock holding its hinges. They’ll serve as a temporary drafting table for Greenie and me. He’s going to show me how to make blueprints!”

  “All right, it’s settled. We’ll go back to Hawkhurst.”

  Charitybelle grinned when I used the name. We hadn’t planted a stake in the ground, but she already acted proud of the place.

  As we returned to the caravan, Fabulosa peered into a nearby trench.

  I gripped my mace. “What’s up?”

  Fabulosa chewed her lower lip. “There might-could be a dungeon down there—you think?”

  I grunted in agreement.

  “You already killed its boss. Maybe its loot is down there, unguarded.”

  “You might be right.”

  Fabulosa fist-pumped the air. “We have two dungeons on our schedule—a troglodyte den and ward worm lair. And those metal spiderwebs we passed on our way here from Belden might lead to a fight. We’ll give them all a look-see. What do you say?”

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  I nodded. “It’s a date.”

  Charitybelle hummed in agreement, but the troglodytes seemed treacherous. Only one had thrashed us. Though I’d picked up five levels since it attacked, I didn’t want to face more until we gained at least another ten levels, and we couldn’t guess how long a fight might take to grind through that much health.

  We double-timed it and caught up with the caravan.

  Hours later, the trees gave way to the lakefront clearing. The distant water stretched before us, and the dwarves liked the location. Along the way, I overheard Charitybelle talking to an aged female dwarf whose nameplate displayed Ally Ironweave.

  Ally’s weather-beaten face and piercing green eyes radiated the intensity of someone used to being in charge. She had been Brodie’s top administrator and kept the clan together during their ordeal with the goblins. As if to counterpoint her intense eyes, she spoke softly, forcing everyone to hush and lean forward to understand her. It made whatever she suggested sound reasonable.

  Ally discussed the pros and cons of settling near Hawkhurst Rock with Charitybelle. “… and a bonnie stead it is, lass. And as I told ya, there’s no denying it will be a pure stout castle. But for our temporary shelters, I suggest we start closer to the trees. A hoose for today could be a lumber mill or huntin’ camp for the morrow.”

  “So—you think we should build closer to the woods?” Charitybelle tried to follow the odd dwarven diction.

  “Until ye design a proper forge, I cannae see the point dondering hither and yon carrying lumber.”

  “Oh, so we’ll start by the woods. Then we’ll move south to the rock.”

  “Aye! The lip of the forest has everything—fishing, hunting, water, and wood chopping. For the nonce, it makes sense to stake up here. The soil is softer as well. We’ll grew neeps, wheat, corn, and barley here. We can flit down by the loch after we set up a smithy.”

  “Oh! So you’re saying we can build by the lake after we’ve cut the lumber?”

  Ally smiled, nodded, and crossed her arms. “Aye! That’s what I said.”

  Fabulosa whispered into my ear. “I could listen to this all day. She’s sweet—that girl of yours. You better mind your skin. When C-Belle saw the worm gobble you up and explode, she was in quite a state. She cried harder when she saw you were okay. Try not to do anything like that again—if not for her sake, then mine.” Her distant gaze made me think of RIP, PinkFox, and ArtGirl. She gave me one last squeeze. “Oh, and another thing—Do you remember when I told you those red sticks were dynamite?”

  “Yeah, of course. That’s what gave me the idea to blow up the worm.”

  Fabulosa gave me a guilty grin. “Just so you know, they could have been fireworks, candles, or flares.”

  “But you said they were dynamite.”

  “True, but ya gotta ask yourself—what’s a teenager from East Texas gonna know about dynamite?”

  I gulped at the image of me igniting a bundle of flares inside the bowels of the worm. “If you want me to take better care of myself, does this mean you don’t want to check out those dungeons we passed today?”

  “Oh, no. We’re checking out every hole, even if I have to truss you up and drag you down.”

  We snorted and grinned.

  “I gotta get going and harvest the worm. It looks like C-Belle will be busy all afternoon.”

  Fabulosa laughed. “Do ya think? Get out of here. I’ll tell her where you went if she notices you’re gone, but I doubt it’ll come to that. Happy looting, and don’t forget to take a bath.”

  I took everything out of the void bag that wouldn’t spoil and piled it beneath the canvas sheets we brought from Belden. While emptying my backpack, I found my old Belden dormitory key. It had been hogging an inventory slot since I started this game, but I kept it for sentimental value. After tossing the magic rope in the air, I climbed inside to gather tools for cleaning the worm carcass. I took the machete, sharp knives, and a couple of small kegs in case the worm yielded valuable liquids.

  Rocky’s nameplate displayed the words Thaddeus Rockthane. He walked up to me rubbing his hands together. “Ye can’t appreciate how much I look forward to cooking with wood or charcoal again.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “My only fuel for cooking included dry grass Murdina collected when she took the sheep outside. Grass burns fast—pure high heat, so I could only sizzle wriggly things we found below. I stir-fried them in an old gob helmet. Thick wood is a slower, cooler burn and makes magic for stew.”

  “I imagine you didn’t get much to eat.”

  Rocky patted his stomach. “It’s been a while since I’ve been this full. I suspect I’ll be pumping wind tonight. But I’m looking forward to stews with taters. We’ll need clay pots for something proper. When the gobs drove us from our stead, we tried to take stoneware, but they proved too heavy to haul. Only settled folks can enjoy a good soup.”

  By Rocky’s description, cooking for dwarves wasn’t easy. They feasted socially, using table manners one might expect from high school football players. Since Rockthane understood food preparation, he volunteered to help butcher the worm and ensure its quality. He wasn’t a chef who served subpar vittles if he could help it.

  Fin, Rocky, and I returned to the vermicide scene in midafternoon. We passed more long holes as we crossed the bowl-shaped field. Shafts, tunnels, and trenches Swiss-cheesed its surface. Plumbing their depths would be a task for tomorrow. Fabulosa would kill me if I explored it without her, but since I soloed the boss, dibs on its loot were mine by right.

  Earlier in the game, I played only for myself. I still needed the prize money, but RIP and the ladies loosened me up somewhere along the line—and I felt better for it. For a long-term competition, it wasn’t worth doing everything alone.

  And I could make allies with NPCs. Their AI-driven behavior seemed real enough, but I shared a commonality with the other players. We came from the same generation, sharing nationality, values, attitudes, and enthusiasms. We grew up with drive-through windows, Shark Week, and sugared cereals. I wondered if Crimson Software undervalued this bond, an oversight they hadn’t predicted—contestants banding together instead of turning on one another.

  When we found the tip of the worm, I involuntarily shuddered. My encounter with the leviathan ended so abruptly that I hadn’t processed the horror of being swallowed whole. While Fin and Rocky picked through the meat, I crouched by the oral orifice, slid my arms inside, and felt around. The warm guts made me queasy, and I fought the urge to withdraw. The search yielded nothing but tissue and slime—no crystalline cores.

  I took a deep breath, then slid myself inside the roll of flesh. It felt like crawling headfirst into a sleeping bag. Reaching inside required hard pushing because the meat weighed heavier than I expected. Like every other monster in The Book of Dungeons, the core had to be somewhere near its head. I eventually found a hard, warm lump nearly a dozen feet inside.

  The muscles massed around my waist tightened. I panicked and scrambled backward out from under the cavity onto the grass.

  Fin, standing next to the head, dropped the flap of meat and raised his hands in an apology. “Spooked ye, eh?”

  The three of us burst out laughing.

  Rocky slapped his side. “He shot out of there quicker than a cat lapping lightning!”

  Fin apologized again. “Sorry, about that, lad. I will take care to warn ye next time.”

  “Let’s hope there isn’t a next time.” I examined the warm crystal. Like other cores, this one looked like a golf ball made of clouded quartz.

  This one was a keeper.

  The red core bonuses confirmed the ward worm as a world boss. I conjured theories about what these properties might do for a weapon or armor piece. Some bonuses seemed a bit of a reach. What associated this creature with bonding? None of us could predict how bonuses enhanced items. Protection might be helpful in armor or weapons. I could only imagine how a seismic property could affect crafted equipment—allowing me to sense everyone moving around me, like the proverbial blind swordsman.

  Even if the core’s bonuses made little sense, its rarity empowered whatever I used it on. Perhaps Yula or the dwarves could craft me a sexy new weapon.