Wheatley // Barley // Terrence // Logue

Words: 861

You are rifling through the dusty clutter on an ancient workbench when you trip a mechanism by mistake. You brace yourself as the room seems to shift—no, rotate. All of the previous entrances to the chamber are now inaccessible, replaced by four new exits, each stinking of dust and stale air.

It was troublesome. With ruffians ransacking their rations for loot, they’re now a little under prepared for what the dungeon has in store for them.

Wheatley kneeled down to collect whatever scraps of rations was left behind by the ruffians. “Perhaps, it would be best if we head back to the surface?” Barley asked, his bangs falling over his face as he leaned down to meet Wheatley’s face. “We could stock up and prepare for a new run another day?”

The golden boy shakes his head, “We can’t.” As he continued to look through the scraps, he continued, “The dungeons change their layout each time we enter, for some magical reason. Leaving now would mean we’d lose our way back here and it’ll take countless tries to reach back to our original spot.”

He picked up the remaining bits of rations from the ground and stashed it into his satchel. “We’ll have to keep going till we fall.”

Barley gives him a disapproving look. He was about to speak his mind when Logue’s voice echoed through the dungeon halls, “Coast is clear, kid!” The champagne Courser trots up to Wheatley and passes a half-eaten apple. Wheatley promptly stashed it into his bag, much to Barley’s dismay.

“We can make our way to the lower levels. Terrence said he found a room that may just help us skip the water ruins.”

“Then we’ll take the shortcut,” said Wheatley. “It’ll hopefully keep our ration stock up high till we find another spot to rest.”

Logue nods and leads both Wheatley and Barley through the dungeon to meet up with Terrence.

At the end of the road, the dark coat diva stands tall. He looked around his surroundings assuring no monsters or ruffians were around to disturb their travels. As the group are huddled again once more, Terrence saunters his way towards Wheatley.

“So you’ve found a shortcut?”

Terrence nods, “Of course, my lordling, this room at the end should have a lever to bring us through the next floor through secret sets of stairs.”

“Then let’s have a look around, shall we?”

The four Coursers enter the room one-by-one, taking caution when stepping in in case a trap was laid out. The room was massive; towering bookshelves stood orderly on each side of the wall. Some had its shelves caved in, scattering dusty, old books onto the floor below. Others had cobwebs sticking in the corners and ladders. In the middle of it all is a step made of stones and oak wood. A singular purple-coloured carpet adorns the middle of the stage. A small table stands above it, the gentle light from the cracks above the room shone onto the top of a table.

Sitting on the top is a thick, black book. Dust settled above it, covering the title of the book and table. As the other horses rummage through the shelves, Barley walks up towards the thick book. He huffs and blows away the dust above the book, being careful not to touch it accidentally lest it as magically booby-trapped. He examines the book from above.

The cover depicts a Courser adorned in colourful cloth armour, its head wearing an iron helmet with wings. In place of eyes for the Courser is a red gem, glistening gently in the light. Squinting his eyes, he could see something magical moving within the gem itself. Barley moved forward, but as his hoof stepped on one of the stone steps, it sank down making a click sound.

Suddenly, the room rumbled and shifted-no, rotated. Sounds of gears and machinations from behind the walls moved shelves and stone bricks around. The entrance that they once came in became blocked by dark voidstones, an unbreakable type of stone material that only exists in the dungeon. Where the bookshelves stood now opened up to four new exits, two on each side. The other Coursers in the room turn their head towards Barley, who sheepishly backs away from the steps.

Terrence sighed, “Well, I suppose one of these doors lead downwards.”

“I think all of them lead downwards,” said Logue as he peered through one of the doors.

He was right, each door led to stairs that spiralled down to the lower parts of the dungeon. The question remains, where do they lead?

Stale air fills the room as dust tries to settle back to a surface spot. Wheatley assessed the situation. The doors appeared when Barley stepped onto the pressure plates of the steps to the pedestals where a book sits in the middle of it. All other books in the shelves were rotted away or had meaningless stories written in them

Wheatley turned towards Barley and shouted, “Grab the book! The answers must be in one of its pages.”

Barley awkwardly stepped up to the pedestal, gently tapping on each stair lest it had another pressure plate. Learning that all the first step had pressure plates, he let his hooves step on the second instead and leaned in to grab the book with his teeth.

The other Coursers crowded around Barley as he flipped through the books content, looking for an answer to the doors.