Roland, Through the Heart Door

"If we go through the sword door, then we know we have to fight," Roland declared, "But it sounds like we have some other sort of challenge in the heart door. I don't know the challenge, but we're probably safe if it's not fighting. The worst that could happen is we fail to move forward, right?"

"Not necessarily," Trixa said cautiously. "We don't know what intimacy means in this context."

"But we do know what battle is and how that ends, with someone or something, possibly us, dead."

"I suppose."

"And," Roland continued. "If it's as safe as I think it is, but we just can't beat whatever the challenge is, then I can probably double back, and we prepare for a fight."

"You're making quite a few assumptions about how this place works," Trixa chastised him.

"But who gets to be the guinea pig?" Gorin grumbled, glancing toward the door with the pink and red heart gem on it.

While Ivy's hand was already sneaking up, Roland was the first to speak.

"I'll go," he said, sounding far surer of himself than he felt. "It's my idea, and if it's not as safe as I think it is, then you still have Gorin to standpoint."

"Don't talk like that," Trixa shot back. "I'll make sure you don't die here."

"Thanks, but it sounds like you're the one making assumptions now."

Roland and Trixa glared at each other for an uncomfortably long moment, the seconds stretching on as neither would budge. Finally, the smallfolk conceded to the taller man with a sigh.

"Fine, we'll wait out here," she said, "But if you die, don't do it anywhere we can't get to you."

"Deal."

"Mmph!" Ivy harrumphed. "If we find another one of these, I call dibs!"

"Agreed," Roland said, pointing at the impatient elf.

"Well, get goin' then. I don't want to sit on my keister all day waiting for you." Gorin growled at Roland.

With a few steadying breaths and shaking out his limbs for good measure, Roland left his group at the base of the strange tree and approached the door to the left. He took hold of the handle. It felt warm in his grip, even through the armor of his gloves. Yanking it open, the rest of the group saw a flash of trees and the faint smell of wood as he crossed the room's threshold. The door shut on Roland the moment he stepped through, shoving him forward into the dense foliage, a soft click indicating that it had locked and bolted.

Well, at least I was right about only one person allowed. He thought to himself.

Roland took a moment to get his bearings. On all sides, thick, lush green foliage pushed in around him. Above, he could see the glint of sunlight shining through a crystal clear dome of glass set into ironwork framing. Behind him, the marble wall and redwood door he had come through. The air was thick with humidity and smelt heavily green, growing things. Soft twittering and tweeting from unseen birds echoed strangely, bouncing off the trees and getting lost in the high glass dome above.

Alright, best guess, I'm in a greenhouse. If this were any other dungeon, I'd figure some horrible monster was waiting for me here, but this isn't the battle room, so what's the goal? To find the exit, maybe? I don't know what that has to do with intimacy.

Pushing forward, Roland was **** to use both of his hands to shove aside hanging vines and thick, flat leaves. Everything was wet and warm, and his armor felt unpleasantly heavy. He usually was okay with the encumbering plate mail, particularly with many underground dungeons. The insulation of leather under metal helped in those strangely cold and dark environments, but he was already uncomfortable within only a matter of steps.

Ha. Maybe that's why it's intimate. I have to get naked to cross this place.

Roland shoved aside the thought of disrobing, preferring not to find himself disarmed and exposed in a dungeon environment, even if there was a promise of not being attacked. It just went against everything he'd ever learned about these dangerous places. Roland pressed on, moving slowly through the lush plants and hot, humid air, set on finding the exit. He didn't know if that should be his goal, but he had no better ideas.

Birds twittered their offense as he knocked against their perches. Small, wild rodents for which he had no name squeaked and ran from his path. Everything about this place's sights, sounds, and smells were wild. A new sound caught his attention far in the distance to his right. The sound of grinding stone. Of something heavy moving against its will. He stopped instantly, but the sound only lasted a matter of seconds.

Something had changed in here.

"Shit," he whispered under his breath.

Roland's gaze turned this way and that, trying to find a landmark or anything. Something to direct him through this dense forest of tropical plants, but he found nothing. Leaves. Birds. Wood. Vines. He had no direction. He was utterly lost. He turned back the direction he'd come but found it didn't help. It looked different than it had moments before. Was that even where he'd come from? Where was the door?

Hsss-s-s-s-ss.

An excited, hissing sound bounced off the trees and through the plants. This sound was new and unlike anything he'd heard thus far. It wasn't a bird or a rodent. Whatever made that sound was something else. Something bigger.

"Shit, shit, shit." He muttered again, his hand dropping to his blade, but realized it would do no good. He'd need more space to wield his longsword in this crowded place. It would just get caught on a tree or tangled in vines.

HSSSH-shshsh-ss-s!

The hissing was louder now. Nearer. Was it to his right?

With no other options, he did the first thing he could think of.

He ran.

Running in a dungeon is never a good idea. Traps are a common risk. Someone running could step on a plate or snag a tripwire, only to have arrows lodged in their gut for their haste. Running was also loud. It tended to attract monsters of the dark, alerting them to your presence well before you were aware of theirs. But, even more basic than that, those who run tend to look elsewhere.

“SHIT!” Roland shouted as the plants that battered his face and crowded around him parted, and the ground that supported him gave way. One moment, he was running on soft, loamy dirt. The next, he was plummeting forward. “FUCKING SHIT!”

The knight’s view filled with azure blue water as he dove headlong off the cliff toward a glistening pool below. Had he not been running, he might have heard the gentle crash of the waterfall feeding the pool or even the rush of the creek at the cliff’s edge, but, as Roland had done what one shouldn’t, namely running in a dungeon, he was not aware of any of those. He was only aware of the pool below moments before splashing hard into it, sinking like a rock.

Bubbles crowded his vision, bursts of white that blinded and disoriented him. He flailed wildly, trying desperately to find his center but only managing to confuse himself more. Only as his feet touched the bottom did he have some means to find the surface, and, holding his breath the best he could, given the panic and sudden submersion, he jumped.

And sank.

He was too heavy.

His plate mail was too heavy.

Roland desperately fought to jump, swim, thrash, and quickly pull himself up from the pool’s bottom, but everything he wore weighed him down. His head pounded, and his lungs burned. He never was any good at swimming. He had to do something now, lest he drown. He didn’t have time to doff his armor properly. But he figured fixing it would be better than trying to retrieve it later and fix it or dying at the bottom of a pool.

Drawing his knife, Roland began frantically slashing at the straps holding his breastplate and pauldrons in place. It took a few tries, but his knife was sharp, and he knew what held his armor together. The heavy metal pieces began to fall away from him, lightening his load enough that he could move more easily in the water.

The edges of his vision were beginning to darken, and he was starting to feel sluggish. He just needed to take off the last of his armor, then he could swim and then get out.

Above him, the water exploded as something heavy hit the water above him. He saw a dark shape with four, no, five limbs. Why did it have five? He tried desperately at the last strap holding his armor in place, but his fingers weren’t working. His mind was addled. He sluggishly looked from the armor to the thing overhead, trying to concentrate enough to free himself. To swim. To escape!

Unconsciously, his need for air overpowered him. Coughing, he felt the water rush down his throat, and his mind went numb.

Darkness closed in around him, and he felt clawed hands close around his shoulders. The last thing he knew, something was tugging at that final strap, and he felt the weight of his armor fall away as darkness overwhelmed him.

Roland woke coughing and gagging, water spilling freely onto the white sand beneath him. He clawed unknowingly at the soft surface as his **** mind **** the unwelcome liquid from his lungs.

“Easy now,” a thick, accented voice encouraged him. “There you go. Get it all out.”

He could feel someone patting his back, helping him **** out the water that had nearly been his end onto the beach. He felt dizzy, and his throat felt raw, but he was alive. The coughing began to subside, with nothing but sputum coming up, and finally, he collapsed again onto his side.

“There we are,” the strange voice said. “Much better. Very good.”

Darkness claimed Roland again, though it was more unsettled than before. He felt himself twitching. Moving. Trying to right itself. When he finally opened his eyes again, he had no idea how long he’d been out, but the sun in the glass dome overhead had disappeared, and the sky beyond was painted a deep orange.

Strange, he thought to himself. I thought that was an illusion.

The next thing he noticed was the smell of something burning. Wood? Someone had a woodfire going? And were they cooking something?

Slowly, painfully, he sat up. A small cookfire had been started only a few yards away. A spitroast was set up overtop the fire with several rainbow-colored fish impaled on the stick. They looked and smelled delicious, and Roland felt his stomach growl demandingly.

“Ahh, I see you are awake,” he heard the voice from earlier.

Turning toward the voice, he saw someone stepping out of the water. No, to his utter shock, he realized it wasn’t someone.

It was something.

And it was smiling viciously as it walked toward him.