To die is to surrender.

To live is to endure.

- Way of the warrior, by Grumnir Deephelm

“...are losing him!”

Pain flared through my head, drowning me in a sea of misery.

“Hold him down or…!”

The pain came again, this time intenser than ever before. I groaned, tossing and turning as I opened my eyes. It appeared I was in a tunnel. A tunnel where people lay down on the floor, moaning, groaning, and complaining to no end. “Hammer, don’t let that little shit go!” Agony rang through my head as the loud voice assaulted my ears. I wanted to scream for quiet, but nothing but a pitiful gurgle escaped my lips. My throat, my neck, and everything else seemed too hurt to function properly.

“James is going to be okay, right?” a voice in the distance asked. “Right!?”

The high pitched question made me want to puncture my ears. I rolled towards the other side, squinting my eyes as I almost got blinded by the crystal lantern next to me. The bright light caused the pain to persist as a dull throb, but that was nothing compared to what the person laying next to me was experiencing.

It was James, shaking and twitching as Dirk, Dagger, and some other man pinned him down to the stone floor. Blood was bubbling from his mouth as the black haired man was busy channeling something into the man’s belly. A green glow swirled through his arm, pooling inside James‘s torso with ever greater intensity. The source of this glow seemed to come from the other man restrained next to this channeling person. He was forced on the ground by Hammer, struggling in vain, screaming muffled obscenities through his gagged mouth. Tears streamed from his eyes as the dark haired man’s hand was gripped tightly on the back of his neck, siphoning more of this green energy by the second.

Suddenly James’s twitching stopped, and with it the flow of energy. Instead, it seemed to reverse this time, flowing back into the man from which it once came. “What are you doing, Botan?” Dirk asked, glaring daggers at him.

“Conserving energy,” the man replied. He nudged his head towards James’s face, revealing a still expression as pooled blood began to leak from his mouth.

“Nooooo!!!” a voice wailed in the distance. There was a scuffle, followed by the patter of feet coming this way. Dagger had barely enough time to stand up before Mary had waltzed her way into the circle, almost throwing herself onto James. “Wake up, you idiot!” She slapped his face. “Wake up!” She pulled on his shirt, shaking his head up and down as Botan averted his gaze, silently continuing his siphoning. It did not take long for Mary to stop. “Don’t leave me alone…” She said, nestling her head into his chest. “I’m scared...”

Dirk shook his head at Dagger, her hand freezing above Mary’s shoulder as she began to cry. Cries that soon turned to anger when she turned around, focusing on the man restrained by Hammer. She lashed out, kicking him square in the face. “If it wasn’t for you!” She readied her leg again. “If you didn’t push hi-” The second kick got caught by two hands—hands that sported wicked claws, and held onto it like steel. Mary looked beside her, staring at the three eyes that Dagger now sported. “It’s not fair,” she muttered. “It’s not fair…” Her head hang low as Dagger released her grip, comforting the crying woman before leading her away from the bloody spectacle.

“You done yet?” Dirk asked, fingers closing James’s eyes one last time. The man only gave a grunt, releasing his hand from the torso as the last vestiges of green light clung to it. “How many?” Dirk asked. Botan just stared into the distance, never blinking. “How many, Botan?” The man didn’t reply. It took a couple of snaps from Dirk’s finger to bring him back. “Stay with me, Botan.” He put a hand on his shoulder. “We need you.”

“He’s number seven,” Botan said, voice trailing off. Slowly he began to count his fingers, lifeless fish-eyes going over each tiny limb one by one. “We lost another twelve to the cave-in. Add to that all those lost in the fighting…” His hands trembled, tears falling from his eyes.

Dirk gave him an abrupt hug. “It’s okay. It’s okay,” he whispered. “Let it all out.”

“I… I…,” Botan heaved for breath, snot running down his nose. “There was this girl. And she-she just kept crying for help. And I tried to help... I really did.” Dirk nodded at his words. “But she just wouldn’t stop bleeding. And I tried to stop the bleeding. But it kept coming, and coming, and coming, and…” Botan looked at his trembling hands. “And then she… and I did…” He mouthed a silent scream. “Oh Gods, what am I doing here? I'm supposed to be a fucking gardener.”

“I think you’ve had enough for today,” Dirk said, lifting the man up. He guided Botan away from the corpse next to me, heading into the same direction as Mary and Dagger, Botan softly muttering along as his gaze remained fixated on his hands. Soon it was quiet again, safe for the murmurs for help echoing in the tunnel.

Some were distant, coming from those asleep and dreaming. Others were close, maybe too close. I turned the other way, finding a man with a broken legs next to me. Bits and pieces of white bone had broken through the red bandages around his knees, face wincing and hissing at the slightest of movements. Turning my head had hurt a lot, but I doubt it hurt as bad as that. At least I can still move… can I? I mustered my willpower, pushing down the cold fear gathering in my gut as I gritted my teeth. With a grunt, I heaved myself up, pain flaring through my body. I did not get far, maybe a couple of inches from the ground, but at least I could move my legs. Even if it hurts like Hell. I slumped down again, letting out a long groan as the headache came back with a vengeance.

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“Captain.” I turned back to find Hammer starring at me, heavy bags under his eyes, and patches of beard ripped from his face. You look like shit.

“Hammer,” I replied. Those two syllables was about as much as I could manage to squeeze out. Any more, and my throat would threaten to choke me. “How bad?”

There was a short silence. “Real bad.”

A let the silence reign a bit longer, opting to stare at the rocky ceiling instead. “Numbers?”

“About half.” Hammer shifted his weight a bit on the man he was sitting on. “Most of them in battle.”

He wrenched the man’s arm a bit higher up his back, causing a muffled cry of pain. “Some of them unnecessary.”

I looked at the man he had restrained. It turned out to be the one that had started trouble when we got here; the sleepy looking one. Whether his current baggy eyes were to exhaustion, or a natural state, I didn’t care. He seemed to be pleading to me, murmuring through his gag. Don’t bother. I returned my gaze to the ceiling. The murmurs turned to soft cries, joining those few that sobbed in silence.

“Pickle is dead.”

“Oh.” Silence followed my short response. He’s dead. I thought I would feel sad, but instead I felt nothing. Nothing except that fucking headache.

“Got caught in the cave-in.” Hammer scratched his ruined beard. “Almost made it. Just a few feet short.” He chuckled. “Just like his height.”

The joke was so stupid, I couldn’t help but laugh in response. A laugh that made me curl up in pain. It didn’t matter whether Pickle was alive or not, somehow he had managed to hurt me again for laughing about that most taboo of topics. Fucking Pickle. I could feel tears start to well up in my eyes. Why did you have to fucking die, you dumb fuck?

I softly sobbed along with those around me, chest heaving with pain every time I had to inhale deeply. But that didn’t matter. Pickle was gone, and there was nothing I could do about it. I could only cry, cry and survive.

After some time, a voice called out to me, “Glad that you’re alive, cap.” I turned my head, wiping away the tears despite the stinging pain. It was Dirk, the Dirk I knew from all those years back in training. Wide open eyes, dirt smeared skin, and a need to check his back every few seconds. “Need a moment?”

I shook my head, instead looking at the patch of skin missing above his eyebrow. Where the lantern shone dull on the dirt covered skin, it reflected brightly on the red, open wound. “You okay?”

“Nothing much,” Dirk shrugged. “Got an antenna ripped off. It will heal. More importantly…” He came closer, ignoring my grunts of pain as he put his head under my shoulder. “I need you to move.” He waited a bit before lifting me up. “Can I?”

I didn’t want to be moved, but Dirk clearly had a reason for it. Is it safe to do so? Most of the pain came from the headache, but my body felt like it had run several days in a row without stopping. I cautiously moved my limbs one by one, making sure that nothing was broken. At least on the outside. Everything seemed to be in working order, were it not for that sharp, stiff pain that came with it. “I’m good.”

Dirk nodded in response, heaving me up in one go. He remained quiet as I hissed in pain, instead turning towards Hammer who was now seated with his back to me. “You coming with us?” Dirk asked. Hammer made some weird choking sound, waving us away with his hand as his other one was busy wiping his face. “Take your time,” Dirk said with a knowing smile.

We headed left, away from the wounded and broken Awakened that lay on the ground. Most of them in pain and discomfort, but nothing that seemed life threatening at first glance. There was a short bend in the tunnel where only a single guard was stationed. Around its corner were the rest of the Awakened, sporting a variety of bruises, scrapes, or no wounds at all. Most sat huddled in groups, hugging their knees, or slowly rocking back and forth—Botan among them. Others simply stared at the lanterns, as if they held some answer to alleviating their current misery.

The tunnel wasn’t that wide, maybe ten feet at best, so we had to weave and step our way through the small hurdle of people spaced around in groups. Still, we got through them surprisingly quick. A mere shadow of the former one-hundred we started with. I reckon there’s less than fifty now…

We came upon another bend, this one guarded by a battered dwarf. The man snapped to attention when he saw me, banging his dented breastplate in salute as we passed. Behind the bend was a small cave where a few other dwarves frantically excavated the cave-in on the other side. Most of them, twenty something dwarves, were still busy resting against the cave walls, swapping out periodically to start hacking at the pile with what few pickaxes that were left. It didn’t seem like they were making much progress, the rubble they had set aside was but a small portion to the heap that lay before them. A heap that seeped blood in certain places, one of them having a huge muscular arm poking out of it, maggots still crawling around in its flesh.

Most of the resting dwarves sat on the left side of the cave, being scolded by a furious Martha. I couldn’t understand what she said, but I just knew. It was that tingling in the skin, that natural aversion whenever you hear someone’s mother being angry at their child. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t yelling at me, because it felt like everyone here was the target of her ire. The most notably of these targets was Mogrim. The man hacked away at the cave-in with almost zealous effort, shouting and prodding the other dwarves into ever greater actions while showing no signs of exhaustion. Not that he had a choice. When I saw him slow down for a second, Martha seemed to sense it. Immediately, she turned her fury on him in a tirade that reminded me of that time I took off into the woods alone. Gods, I was stupid then.

Opposite of the fuming Martha was the opening to an even smaller cave. Metal clanged inside as questions were asked. “How many shields are left?” Sly’s voice echoed.

“Fifteen, not counting the one with the guards,” Dagger answered

“Water bags?”

There was some more rummaging before an answer was given. “Only twelve, though two of them have holes in it.” Isabella answered. There was a yelp, followed by the sound of water hitting the floor. “Make that three…”

We entered the opening to find a drenched Isabelle, being helped up by Dagger in front of a pile of equipment, skin spikes hooked into one of the water bags she mentioned. In the corner Maximilian was quietly scribbling down on paper with a quill. With what, I didn’t know. I hadn’t seen any ink, though I had hardly bothered to check the dwarves for it.

Next to him was Sly, seemingly worse for wear with her disheveled hair and dark rings under her eyes. She sat down on a piece of rock, head leaning on the wall as her arms hang limply by her side. She glanced at us briefly before looking away. Then she immediately looked back again, eyes wide open.

“Brought a present for you,” Dirk said with a cocky grin.

Sly shot forward, belying her earlier slumped posture as she swept me into a hug. I tried to protest in pain, but instead found a finger pressed to my lips. “Ssshhh…” Sly whispered. Her hand snaked its way to my back, squeezing me a bit tighter as she rocked back and forth.

“Just shut up, and let me hug you.”

Maybe squeeze her butt while she's at it, Boss.