NOVEL NEXT Chapter 64 - The Mirror
"Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror."
Khalil Gibran, Lebanese Poet (1883 – 1931)
"The vase on the right contains the element of life. The vase on the left the element of death. True wisdom is knowing which to… hey!"
Bethany swung her Hammer of Light across the two pedestals, shattering both the vases and scattering Ramen noodle packs and cigarettes across the dungeon floor. The green floating head in the mirror behind the vases gasped in outrage.
"That… that's not how this is supposed to work!" the mirror shouted, as Bethany scooped up the ramen.
"Yah, yah, I know," Bethany said dismissively, shoving the ramen into her backpack alongside the others. "You tell me the riddle, and a monster attacks from the vase I don't pick. This is the fourth of these 'tests' I've come across in the past two hours. Turns out, if you smash both vases – poof! No monster and double the goodies."
"Someone worked very hard on these tests, you know," the mirror said, disappointed.
"Really? Because the dungeon seems pretty cut and paste," Bethany countered as she picked up the cigarettes and slipped them into the front pocked of her backpack. "It's not even a riddle. Just a choice."
"Well, the first couple floors are just meant to keep you fed. All the good shit – and actually riddles – are on the lower floors."
"And why cigarettes?" Bethany asked, recalling the smell of her grandmother's breath. She gagged.
"You've lucky it's just cigarettes," the mirror answered. "There's cocaine and meth and heroin on these floors."
"That… wow, really?"
"You ever have to deal with a super powered players going through withdrawal, little girl? Trust me, it's easier to just give them the drugs. We ran a God Contest in the middle of the Opium War back in the 1800's, and that was a bloody mess."
Strange. This mirror is more talkative than the other three I met. Let's see what information I can get from it.
"This dungeon seems more… random compared to the God Arena's I've been in," Bethany observed. "It's all rocky tunnels and dead ends, as if it were an old mine or something."
"It's not as polished as the God Arenas, if that's what you mean," the mirror admitted. "We servants try our best with what we have. We're tasked with creating this dungeon using leftover parts and discarded concepts – the rejected scraps of the Gods. This vase thing? It's one of Janus' failed designs for his Arena. We have no idea what the two-faced god was trying to do, but he threw his idea in the proverbial trash bin, and we picked it back out."
A servant? The creatures I've been seeing around the city! The goat thing in the library. The monsters on the downtown buildings and outside the Arena of Dolos. Olive. Even Jitters. There's another whole layer of the Gods' society that I've only caught glimpses of so far. A… slave class?
"They force you to build this… random dungeon? Bethany asked, trying to pry out more information.
"Well, all our work is forced. But we don't mind building the dungeon – it's the only place where we have some creative freedom. We try our best, but we know there's a lot of repetition. I mean, you try to design something like this with nothing but crumbs."
"I didn't mean to offend you," Bethany apologized. "I know what it's like to have to work with nothing. But that doesn't mean you don't take pride in your work, right?"
"Right! Finally, someone who gets it."
"It must be hard to be a servant," Bethany baited.
"Oh, yah," complained the mirror, its face squished up against the glass as if imparting a secret. "The gods may design the contest, but we're the ones who actually build it, you know. A hundred thousand strong, working around the clock right under your noses to weave the magic necessary for the contest to function. Just wait until you see what we're working on beyond the city walls."
How many secrets do these servants know? Of the Contest, and of God Home. I need to get closer to them – to Olive, and this mirror thing – to learn more. Without making them suspicious.
The mirror sighed. "The dungeon is the only place the servants can truly call their own. But it's not exactly a draw in terms of god viewership. They prefer their flashy surface challenges to our… less sophisticated attempts. It'd be like choosing a six-year-old's piano recital over the chance to see Mozart play. Heck, the winged eyes aren't even allowed in here – they get reassigned to other duties until the Trial by Fire starts."
Which is why he's talking so openly. This is a place the gods don't watch. That's useful. Very useful. I might finally be able to tell Rocky and Emily what's happening to me.
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"Can we only use the dungeon during the Trial? I mean, does it just… poof… once the trial is over?"
The mirror beamed.
"Actually, the survivors of any Key Trial get access to the dungeon for the remainder of the God Contest. The rewards slowly get restocked to keep it viable. That might not seem like a big deal right now, but wait until the city runs out of food. A steady source of food – even a dangerous source – is more valuable than anything."
Very useful. And not just for the food. I need to get to these lower floors before the other teams snag all the rewards.
Bethany rose to her feet and stretched her back. "Don't suppose you know where the stairs are? The last mirror said I had to find them if I want to go deeper into the dungeon – or wanted to go back to my room."
"Actually, I do not where they are. And I'll tell you on one condition," the mirror answered with a twinkle in its eye.
"And what's that?"
"You take me with you."
"What?"
"Look, I'll die of boredom if I have to hang here any longer. I just want something – anything – else to do."
Bethany looked suspiciously at the mirror. "But you're six feet tall. I can't carry a full-length mirror around the dungeon. Plus, you'll warn monsters the second we come across one."
"Well, that's rude. I'll have you know that monsters and servants are different creatures entirely," the mirror huffed. "Monsters are artificial constructs – creatures fashioned from the Gods' power. The servants have been around since… well, we don't actually know. Our memories of the time before The Authority are… fuzzy."
Intentionally fuzzy? The Authority imprisoned Eternity. What did he do to them?
"And what about your size?" Bethany prompted skeptically, mentally filing away the question to ask Diana.
"Smash me. I can exist in any fragment of the mirror. Besides, this mirror isn't my real form anyway."
Bethany stared at it blankly.
The mirror launched into an angry rant. "Some servants get transmuted into different forms based on their roles. I drew the short straw this time around. The very short straw. And it sucks! Do you know what it's like to be a mirror and have nothing to do but stare at two vases all day long? And when someone does come along, I have to recite that god awful riddle. A riddle that could have just as easily been printed on a piece of cardboard and stuck to the wall! But no! The Dungeon Organizational Committee wanted to keep Janus' vision intact – bunch of brown nosers. Unfortunately, his vision included a sentient mirror. And the head of the committee – who happens to be my ex-wife – controls the lottery to see who has to do it. And, of course, by random fucking chance, it ends up with yours truly."
"Hard life," Bethany said when she could finally get a word in. "Almost as hard as getting thrown into a death game after finally escaping your abusive father."
The mirror's face looked like it had just been slapped.
"Well, I mean… it's all relative, isn't it?" the mirror said, sheepishly backtracking.
Bethany sighed and lifted her hammer in its mallet form. "Where are the stairs?"
"Down the tunnel on your left. Right, then left. Right again. Two more rights, straight, left. Another left. A third left. Hop over the pitfall trap, and a forth left…"
"How big is this dungeon?!" Bethany gasped.
"Well, there's quite a bit of dimensional folding, so it's tough to say for certain," the mirror explained. "Probably... a couple square kilometers per floor?"
I should have waited for the others to wake up.
Bethany thrust out her hammer and struck the mirror in its center. It shattered into hundreds of pieces and scattered onto the floor, mixed in with the remains of the vases.
Oops. Forgot about my strength. I hope I left a piece big enough.
"Hey, down here!"
Bethany glanced down at her foot. A fragment of mirror the size of her palm rested against her shoe, a single green eye staring out. She picked it up and held it gingerly between her fingers. "So, now what?"
"Now you… well, actually, I didn't think that far ahead. Carry me?"
"Great, I've put my trust in a genius," Bethany said sarcastically as she swung her backpack down and fished around inside. She pulled out a roll of grey duct tape.
"My friend Rocky gave a roll to each of us," Bethany said as she ripped off a piece and folded it over the edge of the mirror. "He says – magic or not – nothing is more useful in an apocalypse than a roll of duct tape."
"Smart man. Pretty sure we have duct tape as a reward on the second floor."
It took her a few minutes, but soon she had the mirror's sharp edges taped – a simple square of framed glass that would fit in her jean pocket.
"Riding around in your pocket wasn't what I had in mind," mumbled the mirror.
"Quit your grumbling, mirror… thing?" Bethany said, holding the mirror up to her face. "Actually, I never asked your name."
"I don't have one," the mirror griped, dissatisfied with his lot in life. "You have to earn a name, and let's just say I haven't been one to rise to the top."
"Olive has a name," Bethany pointed out.
"She your guide?"
Bethany nodded.
"The guides are elite servants. They earn their way into training by prostrating themselves before the gods. 'Yes, Master! Right away, Master! Can I lick your boots, Master.' I'd never lower myself to such a level."
Olive seems very nice, but she almost had a heart attack – or whatever gargoyles have – when I asked her to tell me something she wasn't supposed to. She was worried about getting in trouble.
"So if you don't have a name, what do I call you?" Bethany asked.
"Well, 'you troublesome imp' and 'worthless pile of flesh' are popular. My ex just calls me 'worthless'."
"How about… Reflecty? You know, because you're a mirror."
"I think I like my ex-wife's name better," the mirror blanched. "Besides, not actually a mirror, remember?"
"Right. Then what are you?"
The eye almost seemed to shrug. "Honestly, it's been thousands of years since I've had my original form. I don't even remember what it was. I think I had a tail."
"How about… Pane? Like a window pane," Bethany offered. "And because you're a pain in the butt to all those gods."
And probably to me, but this is too good an opportunity to pass up.
"That's… yah, I think I like that," the mirror agreed, rolling the name around on his tongue. "Pane."
"I'm glad you like it," Bethany said, leaving the smash vases behind.
"I could even have a catch phrase. Here comes the Pane!"
"That actually pretty clever," Bethany said, genuinely impressed. "Now, let's stop wasting time. Which way are the stairs. And point out any rewards along the way!"
"Go left," Pane said, and Bethany followed his direction. "Then the first right in a couple hundred meters, then left…"