They lost another two delvers to the abominations before Lazarus ruled the contagion as a bloodborne illness. As best they could tell, the dwarf in question had had his armour pierced by a sharp limb, miraculously getting away with little more than a deep scratch. Unfortunately for him and his bunkmate, the scratch had festered in the same way as the boy’s wound, and the aberrant dwarf had been found tearing into one of the cook’s throats.
With metal claws that had sprung from his wrists, twisting his hands into useless flaps of boneless skin.
Needless to say, the story spread faster than mushroom blight, and now the whole caravan was even more on edge. If such a thing was even possible.
One more delver had been confirmed as having been similarly wounded, and he was being kept under observation by Lazarus and his apprentices, along with a pair of guards.
Hopefully, the blood cleanser works as it’s supposed to. Otherwise…
If not, then any wound was a fatal one. The expedition would have to resort to killing any who had been injured. The hit to morale alone… The crew were already terrified, glancing suspiciously at their comrades, tensing at the slightest sign of odd behaviour.
Just a few more days, surely. A few more days and we’ll have walls to hide behind.
----------------------------------------
“As far the annals go, whatever we fought doesn’t exist. Either it’s something new, or something so old it’s been forgotten. Historically speaking, there is nothing on how to fight these…Aberrants,” Calisto said matter-of-factly, “From what our fighters reported, even if they feel pain, it doesn’t stop them, though sufficient damage to their bodies will eliminate them as a threat. Fire had the expected effect at range, though well-placed bolts and arrows worked too. I theorize that massed fire would be more effective than single shots. In close combat, bludgeoning instruments seem to work best, but cutting off a limb works like anything else. Did I miss anything, battlemaster?”
Darkclaw grunted.
“Intelligent. Used tactics. Primitive, effective. Something guides, learns. Wary of ambush. Tunnels through stone.”
Silence—aside from the incessant taping of Torval’s fingers—followed the beastkin’s words as the officers mulled them over. If the crew outside were tense, then the expedition’s command complement was downright taut. The delvemaster made a few notes in his open logbook before looking to Talia, his lips drawn tight.
“Arcanist, I understand Lazarus gave you his report on the…infection the Aberrant carry?” he asked.
“I—uh—yes. He’s concluded that the illness is blood-borne. Any deep enough wound exposed to the—ah—Aberrants’…fluids is at risk of well, turning into one themselves,” she reported.
Darkclaw’s singular eye smouldered, and Torval grimaced. Hanmul looked like he’d swallowed a particularly unripe jovefruit. Only Calisto appeared unphased, her expression deadened and cold. The delvemaster cleared his throat.
“Is there any hope of recovery? Or is…mercy…the only recourse for the wounded,” he pressed.
Talia cringed as the image of a boy’s face, twisted and torn by too-large, too-shiny teeth flashed before her eyes.
“Lazarus is testing a blood cleanser on the last of the wounded. If it works, well, he implied it would be unpleasant, but he has high hopes that it might save her,” Talia said, unable to meet Torval’s gaze, “If not… it might be best to give the wounded a quick end. What they turn into… there is no sapience there, only hunger and rage. I can attest to that myself, delvemaster.”
Torval bobbed his head slowly, knuckles clenched tightly around his pen.
“Then we can only hope that Lazarus is successful. In the meantime, we will continue at full speed and hope that we can find safety behind the walls of Karzurkul haven. Quartermaster, a report on our supplies and the condition of the tunnel drakes, if you would.”
Hanmul dragged out his clipboard, flipping through a few pages.
“Ahem. On the bright side, we’re set on food and water. The browshoots’ll be a little tasteless without proper drying, but edible. We filled the water barrels up at the stream a few days ago, so all and all we’re stuffed to the brim on foodstuffs,” the dwarf reported, tapping at items on his list.
At any other time, the report would have filled the officers with relief. Now, it was simply one thing didn’t have to worry about among another dozen that they did. Torval prompted the quartermaster to continue.
“And the drakes?”
Copperpike’s shoulders sank a little.
“We’re running them ragged, delvemaster. They’re marathon runners, not sprinters, and we’ve been pushing them to do both. As it is, we either need to slow the pace or face extreme exhaustion,” the dwarf said.
Torval frowned, mirroring the expressions around the room, and flipped through his logbook, landing on a page near the front.
“Says here we have a few kilos of eritroot, is that right?”
The quartermaster’s eyes widened.
“Aye, that’s about right, but delvemaster, that’s supposed to be a last resort. If we need them in a fight, or if our estimates are off…”
“Then they’ll be useless, I am aware. But speed is our only real advantage here. If we get bogged down, then we’re all dead anyway. The Aberrant will have no trouble surrounding us and swarming, tunnel drakes or no. If anything, the stimulant should improve our timescale,” he said, activating the map table to display their course.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
It was a testament to the direness of the situation that usually surly quartermaster acquiesced without protest. The effect threatened to give Talia whiplash.
“As you will, delvemaster.”
Torval sighed.
“Distribute the eritroot to the drivers and have them put it in the feedbags once the beasts begin to tire. I know it’s not ideal, but we all saw how we fared against those things. They’re gone for now, but whatever made that scream is likely on our tail, unless they’ve given up,” he said, leaning forward on the map table, “If I’m wrong, then we get to Karzurkul that much faster. If I’m right…Well, let’s hope I’m not. Chronicler, an assessment of our course if you please.”
Calisto leaned forward as well, pointing to the caravan’s location on the map.
“As you can see, we’re currently a little over three-quarters of the way through the gallery, and I expect we’ll have passed through it early tonight now that the Mage-Commandrum’s spell has smoothed the path all the way through.”
She paused as if in awe of the change the mage had affected on the landscape, reflected by the mapping artefact.
“Then it’ll be another day, at our current speed, to get through the winding tunnels back onto the Way, and I’d estimate a half day to make it into Karzurkul haven,” she explained, highlighting different segments of the map as she went, “All told, unless we stop, we should make it in about two days, closer to three if we slow.”
Hanmul, true to form, muttered pessimistically.
“We’d better hope nothing is waiting for us at the end. Enough fighting and we won’t have an expedition left to return with.”
The dwarf shut his mouth with a click at a glare from the delvemaster.
“I don’t see any potential hazards, though the exit through the gallery seems a little… tight,” Torval added, “We’ll have to slow a little, that looks like a steep dropoff, and the crossover looks pretty thin.”
The gallery ended in something of a cliff, with one side of the cavern dipping deeper, and another rising into the tunnels they would take to rejoin the Ways. Peering at the wire-frame map, Talia noticed what Torval was talking about. A thin, bridge-like structure spanned the slim gap.
“Zaric seemed like he wouldn’t be waking up any time soon, but I’ll talk to Osra and see if she can manage to reinforce it when we get there. Otherwise, well I might be able to rig up an artefact that would help,” Talia said.
Torval gave her a Look that she didn’t acknowledge but understood the meaning of. If anything happened to the bridge, it would be up to her to get them across.
What’s a little more pressure right at the end?
Luckily, Calisto swooped in saved the day.
“If the Mage-Commandrum’s apprentice isn’t up to the task, I’ll have the triplets pull out the extruder. Might be we actually get some use out of it beyond obeying protocol,” she said.
Talia frowned.
“The…extruder?”
The chronicler rolled her eyes.
“An old, incredibly niche artefact that the guild insists we bring with us on longer expeditions. Creates rails of stone that allow us to go over chasms. Probably for the exact situation when our earth mage is out of commission. Ninety-nine percent of the time it’s a waste of space, considering anything that can take out an experienced earth mage can probably take out the rest of the delve team as well,” Calisto explained.
Huh, don’t think I’ve ever heard of those, I wonder what the rune structure is like, it’d have to be pretty robust, anything that manipulates solids usually is…
Talia shook her head.
Not the time, Tals.
“Speaking of artefacts,” Torval moved on, “How are we with the wands? I assume many were emptied, but how are we doing on refilling them?”
Silence followed the statement as the officers looked at Talia, who froze.
“I—er… It slipped my mind. I’ll check after this and make sure Osra gets on top of replenishing them,” she said sheepishly.
The delvemaster raised a disappointed eyebrow but didn’t comment.
“And the lance?”
“Zaric was keeping it topped up throughout the battle,” Talia lied, “So we don’t have to worry about that.”
Torval nodded, switching off the map table and scrawling a few lines in his logbook before looking up to his command crew.
“Right, in that case, I believe you’ve all earned some rest. Darkclaw, ensure that watch rotations are followed and that the fighting complement remains kitted up at all times. If we’re ambushed, I want us well-rested, but ready. That goes for you too. I need you in top form.”
The battlemaster growled something unintelligible that had Torval scoffing, but bowed his head in agreement.
“Talia, let me know when you’ve spoken to Zaric’s apprentice and keep me apprised of the situation with the wands. They saved our asses in the last fight and I want them available at a moment’s notice,” Torval continued, “Now, unless there’s something else?”
No one said a word.
“Dismissed. Unless unforeseen circumstances come up, the next officer's meeting will be in Karzurkul.”
----------------------------------------
Talia sat on her bunk, playing ‘games’ with Menace. Little things to get him used to obeying commands that were often met with varied success. On the whole, however, the little bugger’s training was progressing apace, and soon enough she could see a day when he could be trusted out and about—while invisible of course.
No need to alert people to the beast among them, even if he is adorable.
The psionic nudges needed to communicate with him were slowly becoming easier and easier, to the point where she no longer even noticed the draw on her Core, unless she was doing something else at the same time. That was another thing she’d noticed: multitasking was less strenuous, and she could now keep her sense web strung out along the caravan while also focusing on other simple activities that weren’t meditative cycling.
Tossing the growing kit a piece of jerky to chew on, Talia thought back to her talk with Osra. She’d found the apprentice mage in wagon seven with a box of wands, sitting in front of her sleeping master with a vacant stare. Talia had pulled the sheer curtain closed—the illusion of privacy was better than nothing— and hesitantly given her friend a nudge.
The conversation that followed hadn’t really been much of one, as the girl seemed to have retreated into herself, responding to questions with one-word answers and shrugs, her gaze fixed somewhere between the wall and her master’s still form. It was only when Talia got up to leave that she spoke, and her words revealed just how poorly Osra had taken Zaric’s manaburn, and the state of the expedition in general.
“The gods have abandoned us, haven’t they?”
Talia had frozen, unsure how to respond.
“We’ve angered them, and now they’ve left us,” she’d muttered, breaking off into a quiet sob.
The whole situation had been too much for Talia’s tired brain; she’d answered in vague platitudes and lukewarm reassurances, trailing off when Osra sank in on herself and waved her away.
Even now, the psion wasn’t sure what she could’ve done or said.
Not like I’m some kind of priest or whatever. Ugh. Why can’t anything ever be simple.
With a sigh, she laid down, rolling over and staring at the painting of Karzgorad on the wall. As she fell asleep, she saw the city in her dreams, saw the sun dim and die and the sounds of life be reduced to silence. She dreamed of a tide of oily tar, shining silver, flooding up from the Maw and into its streets turning sapients into monsters. It didn’t escape her that the faces of the Aberrant were familiar. That of a young boy who should have been safe and sound at home, among his loved ones.
Instead, he had died on her blade, his mind and body taken by a force that none of them understood. A force that seemed intent on consuming everything in its path.