Charitybelle awoke me while crawling out from under the canvas to begin her day. A glamor of dew bedazzled the grass like diamonds in the sunrise. The moisture trapped in spiderwebs diffracted the morning rays into prisms of light as if nature itself promised a charmed beginning.

  Brodie told us a small group of dwarves had already departed downhill with the sheep and torodon carts.

  He and I apologized for yesterday’s exchange over burying their dead. Both of us were in the wrong. Emotions took over, and we dug in our heels instead of working together. Everyone deserved better leadership, and I needed to consult with my friends before blurting out opinions.

  We caught up with the caravan downhill. We followed single file in a zig-zag route as Yula had taught us. The carts took the gentlest slopes. Once again, their low cargo beds worked in our favor—they wouldn’t tip over on sloped terrain.

  Yula disguised our passage with a Vegetable Mutation, growing plants over our trampled trail and creating a diversionary path toward the river—upstream to orc country.

  Charitybelle and I picked up the rear. Being the caboose allowed us to discuss plans, and she spoke in low tones. “If we get this camp off the ground, I’ll need someone in charge of building things.”

  “Me?”

  My girlfriend nodded.

  “Aren’t you the resident engineer?”

  She nodded again. “Blueprints are a given. But Greenie and I need to draft them.”

  “You want me to be in charge of telling the dwarves how to build?” The dubiousness of the prospect confused me. I knew nothing about construction.

  “No, we’ll have Ally for that. Brodie says she’s a construction manager. I need you to tell Ally what to build. If the dwarves want a tavern, you’ll need to weigh that against our need for a lumber mill or storehouse.”

  I grunted noncommittally.

  “Are you comfortable being a manager?”

  Charitybelle’s concern caught me off guard. Was I insecure about decision-making? The question hurt my pride, but I couldn’t hold it against her. I’d balked at leaving Belden’s campus. Charitybelle came up with the idea of a hunting lodge. She healed Yula without debating the pros and cons of helping a high-level orc. Fabulosa led the group in adventuring around Belden and our charge into the goblin mine. Even this conversation made me feel passive.

  Had I been sitting on the fence—just going with the flow?

  After considering the events leading to this desolate location, it didn’t seem like I controlled my own game. The responsibility for prioritizing construction requests seemed clerical. But to be fair, that had been my role in Belden.

  “Doesn’t that make me the complaint department?”

  Charitybelle batted her eyelashes and hugged my arm in mock femininity. “You’ll be my big, strapping meat shield!”

  I laughed at her irresistible charm.

  “Everyone will want their building first. The cooks will want a kitchen. The smiths will want a smithy. But Greenie and I can’t make plans if I’m busy dealing with complaints and requests. Fab and Yula will be on hunts and patrols.”

  Seeing Fabulosa at the head of the caravan filled me with a smidge of jealousy, but I could see her point. I’d proven myself in combat, but I wasn’t exactly taking initiative.

  Being part of a community took me out of my comfort zone, but I suppose that’s how people grow—they leave their comfort zones.

  “What if Fab and I switch places? She can sit behind a desk while I go hunting with Yula.”

  “I don’t think Fab would be happy as the camp’s warrant officer. Plus, with her gone, we’ll have more privacy.”

  I grinned, hopeless to argue against her logic. But what was a warrant officer—an administrator? I knew little about the military but didn’t want to admit it to my girlfriend.

  “Hopefully, it won’t take too much of your time. If running a camp is like life on an army base, prepare for many complaints and requests. You’ll have to be patient. You’ll need to prioritize the building queue and assign work to everyone.”

  I nodded, and Charitybelle eased her shoulders at my agreement.

  Even though I knew nothing about living with dwarves, I could delegate many of these responsibilities to Brodie. His leadership would prove invaluable in keeping everyone happy.

  We felt the heat whenever we passed through bald spots in the forest. As the afternoon approached, the dust kicked up by the caravan hung longer in the air.

  Whenever we crossed into a canopy of trees, shadows covered our passage. The grass beneath the forest canopy wasn’t as lush, but the air felt cool.

  At the base of the hill, we straightened our zig-zag route, making more progress. The torodon carts weren’t as slow as I feared, and sheep didn’t wander.

  We took a quick break when the slope leveled. The dwarves showed signs of tiring. Even downhill exhausted them, but they chatted with hopeful expectations of a new beginning.

  After another hour, we came across a sizable hole in the ground. The burrow spanned twenty feet across and dropped at a 45-degree angle. The dwarves picked up their pace and whispered amongst themselves, giving the gaping earth fearful glances.

  I stopped to look down.

  Rory Blackhammer, the chief blacksmith, shook his head. “Trogs.”

  I cocked my head to show I didn’t understand.

  Rory pointed to the cave. “That’s a troglodyte weem. We have ‘em up north. We’d be wise to be clear of ‘um. Well dangerous, they are—great boggin’ bastarts. I’m knackered as ye, but not daft enough to tarry ‘ere. Ye better steer clear of their lot.”

  I picked up my pace and stayed with the group.

  My map interface landmarked the spot with a cave icon at our location. This hole might offer a place to explore after we gained enough levels.

  Loud shouts from the front of the caravan prompted me to close my map and see the cause of the excitement.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  A hulking creature the size of a garbage truck approached fifty yards from the procession’s center. The creature would have stood taller, except it moved on four limbs like a gorilla. Thick fur covered the oversized humanoid, and its eyes grew on opposite sides of its head, giving the monster a goatlike appearance. A single blunt horn completed this impression atop its head.

  Its nameplate affirmed how far we’d come from the newbie zone of Belden.

  Fabulosa sprang into action first. Over the cries of alarm, she waved to the dwarves. “Keep going!” She rushed sideways to draw the brute away from the carts. This thing had more health than the karst caradon, and we lacked Yula as a tank.

  When the creature entered her spell range, Fabulosa released a Fireball from her finger. The trog didn’t bother to dodge and shrugged off the measly damage. But she achieved her goal—the creature’s eyes followed her as she crossed its path.

  The goliath dragged a 20-foot log and raised it like a club. The log cascaded in a wide-sweeping arc through the foliage, snapping branches as it dropped with a boom near Fabulosa. Leaves showered, and the shattered branches smelled like freshly cut grass.

  Charitybelle and I intercepted the pair, moving to the monster’s flank and being careful to stay outside its reach.

  Fabulosa held the troglodyte’s attention, doing her best to dodge its enormous weapon.

  Killing it wasn’t possible, but we could preoccupy it long enough to let the fragile caravan inch away from the scene. If the dwarves could complete their two-hour trek to the lake, the water might provide a refuge. If goblins were afraid of water, there must have been a reason for their trail so close to the river.

  I peppered its flank with Shocking Reaches and Scorches. I wanted to conserve my mana, but harrying the beast bought Fabulosa precious time to distance herself from its swings. Avoiding its club kept her so busy she stopped casting spells.

  We danced around the troglodyte like a deadly maypole—whoever orbited its rear attacked while the others dodged and ran for their lives. Every time I landed a hit with my cudgel, it felt ineffectual. The thing’s health remained above 90 percent. As of yet, all of the trog’s attacks missed.

  Charitybelle yelled as the monster untangled its log from overhanging trees. “Fab, can you Shield Bash it?”

  Fabulosa shook her head. “Nah! It’s too big.”

  The troglodyte maneuvered to a sunny area where trees thinned and underbrush thickened. The shrubbery hindered us and the open ground gave the monster room to swing its great club.

  The lethal roulette stopped on Fabulosa’s number.

  /Troglodyte Smasher hits Fabulosa for 86 damage (12 resisted).

  /You crit Troglodyte Smasher for 38 damage (0 resisted).

  Even my critical hits felt feeble.

  Fabulosa’s health dropped by a third, and all three of us cast a Rejuvenate on her as the thing took another swing. Yula guarded our rear hours away, but I wondered what she could do against such a foe. She’d at least have her spunky little dog with her to help distract it.

  Fabulosa risked crit-death right now. She backed away, giving Rejuvenate time to work—our combined spells replenished her only 10 health per second.

  As the trog followed, Fabulosa withdrew into a full retreat.

  The caravan fell outside our field of vision, and I’d lost all sense of its whereabouts. I didn’t dare monkey with my interface map with this thing after us.

  The extra time and triple Rejuvenates brought Fabulosa back to full health, so she needed to survive 30 seconds before the three of us could cast it again. Unfortunately, she took another two hits and fell well below half of her health.

  My interface showed no fancy powers that might work. Nothing caught my attention, so I spent one of my two power points on Restore. By purchasing it, a new power called Rally unlocked—the only available tier-4 power. Group heals wouldn’t mitigate this creature’s burst damage.

  Restore required a six-second cast, but another healing spell in our rotation might help Fabulosa survive.

  I closed the interface and began casting, but she left my spell range before I finished.

  /Troglodyte Smasher hits Fabulosa for 82 damage (10 resisted).

  I cursed at my newbie mistake and ran in closer.

  Fabulosa fled with less than 10 percent of her health. Any hit would kill her. Her foot caught on a bush, and she fell over.

  The troglodyte raised its club and brought it down on its prone target. A second before the club struck, Fabulosa’s health increased.

  /Fabulosa drinks minor health potion for 50 health.

  /Charitybelle casts Restore. Fabulosa gains 76 health.

  /Troglodyte Smasher hits Fabulosa for 86 damage (7 resisted).

  Again, I tried casting my new healing spell, Restore, on her. Ironically, her entanglement helped me stay within healing range. My spell landed.

  The trog’s heavy tree knocked her sideways, and she lost every point of health I’d replenished and then some. I activated my robe’s power to end Restore’s cooldown and began a second cast. The heal left Fabulosa with only a third of her health, barely enough to survive another hit.

  She got up to run, but the log swung in a broad swipe that knocked her 15 feet in the air. She tumbled and rolled as her health bar reduced to a thin slice of life. All of our healing spells became unavailable because of cooldown timers.

  “Fab!” The break in Charitybelle’s voice triggered alarm bells in my head. If she drew the creature’s attention, she’d save Fabulosa at the cost of her own.

  When the troglodyte turned to the sound of Charitybelle’s cry, I launched myself at it, landing my mace on its ankle. My strike achieved a critical hit, but double damage made little difference. The creature’s health stood at 87 percent.

  The trog trumpeted with pain and jumped to the side, shaking its injured foot. My hit had pulled the monster’s aggro, and it turned to face me.

  Without looking at Fabulosa or Charitybelle, I gestured for them to flee. I put my cudgel into my inventory and waved my arms. Our best chance involved luring the behemoth away from the caravan and losing it in the forest.

  We didn’t compare stats with one another, but I guessed strength to be Fabulosa’s primary attribute—and intelligence as Charitybelle’s. My evenly distributed stats meant I had the highest agility, so leading the creature away fell to me. I taunted it while backing into the forest.

  The creature stopped rubbing its ankle and focused its bulging eyes in my direction—its stare looked strange because its eyes bugged out from on the opposite sides of its head. The troglodyte huffed and splashed spittle onto the grass before trundling toward me.

  I ran through bushes, but my pursuer plowed through them as if they didn’t exist. The monster extended the log above its head, bringing it down with a crashing thump. Anticipate triggered, and the spell jerked me to the side to avoid the damage.

  Luckily, the night we’d spent at the dungeon’s mouth reset my daily cooldowns. Anticipate activated only once a day, so I couldn’t count on it again. The near-miss and instantaneous jerk puzzled the creature and disoriented me, but it gave me time to flee.

  I veered away from the trog in a great arc. With crunchy fall leaves blanketing the ground, I focused on avoiding tripping over roots, branches, and uneven ground.

  Fleeing into the shadows of the canopy, I thought I might dodge around thicker trees. I did not need to look back. The ground vibrated from footfalls, and the sound of splintering wood assured me of my pursuer’s proximity.

  Focusing on dodging trees, I leaped over bushes and pumped my limbs to the brink of muscle failure. Air howled in my ears. Never had I exerted myself so much in The Book of Dungeons. While I’d gained a little ground, stacking debuff icons for Fatigue appeared in my peripheral vision. It reduced all my stats like Exhaustion, except I could clear it with a Rest and Mend. The agility drop slowed me, and I needed a break.

  Behind me, a base thundering of footfalls and an irregular snare roll of snapping branches grew louder. Sunlight silhouetted the trees ahead as they thinned—the last thing I needed was another clearing.

  The brute lumbered behind me. I could not say whether its irregular lope came from its bowed posture or my ankle strike, but its gallop proved fast enough to close the 10-yard gap between us. My Fatigue debuffs took their toll.

  Without trees impeding its path, the troglodyte could quickly run me down. But forward remained my only option. At first, I mistook the vast meadow for the one by the lake, but the clearing dipped into a vast miles-wide depression, like a shallow grassy bowl. Instead of a river and lake, a solid forest ringed the clearing.

  I heard neither Fabulosa nor Charitybelle’s voices. My sprint had achieved something—at least I saved my friends.

  With the last of my efforts, I pushed past the trees and tumbled down the grassy decline. With my legs giving out, gravity became my only means of propulsion, leaving me with no energy to stand. I tumbled headlong as I rolled down a hill of open grass.

  Dizzy, spent, and aching, I lifted myself to peer over the grass. Behind me, the troglodyte stood at the forest’s edge. But seeing what occupied the center of the otherwise empty pasture made my heart sink.

  In my disoriented scramble, I’d led the troglodyte straight to the caravan.