Wimbleton turned to face them, either unimpressed or uninterested in the carnage he’d just created, “...good, didn’t lose anyone,” he said, sheathing his blade, while taking a step towards them. But the moment his foot hit the ground, he disappeared in another grand burst of air, which pulled at their loose fabrics and hair, reappearing just in front of Harvir, bending down to look at him eye to eye like one would a child. Harvir stumbled back, falling unceremoniously on his rear, inspiring a round of chuckles from the other dwarves, those that weren’t shocked dead, of course. “Do you know the way out from here? I could look, but I don’t really won't.”
“Uhh, uhh, no, I don’t,” Harvir stuttered, quickly rising to his feet again and brushing the dirt off the seat of his pants, a twinge of red highlighting his otherwise pale cheeks. “This section of the mine is completely unfamiliar, uncharted territory,” Harvir said, shaking his head.
“Hmmm,” Wimbleton stood to his full height and rubbed his chin with his index and forefinger, glancing between some of them and the ceiling. “Unrelated question,” Wimbleton looked back down at Harvir, “Approximately how angry would the city guard be if a massive ‘sinkhole' were to appear approximately 4,287 feet outside of the city?”
Harvir furrowed his brow, a slight twitch entering his upper lip, “Whatever you’re thinking of-”
“Nevermind, dumb question. Here’s a better one. How fast can you all run?”
Jarce leaned over to Kiva and Karfice, “He can’t be serious, can he?” he said. Karfice shrugged.
“You can’t just cut a hole into the city! Gods know how many people you’d kill!” Harvir shouted, stepping forward to impose his will onto the boy.
“So close, but not quite. A hole just outside of the city…4,287 feet outside the city if I had to put a number to it,” Wimbleton replied.
“And if it spreads? Can you really-” Harvir cried, stepping even closer to the umoving child.
“Enough, Harvir,” Jarce said, stepping forward and grabbing Harvir by the shoulder. “Kid just killed a legion of monsters in two strikes. Whatever he’s got planned, it’ll be fine. Besides, you heard what he said. Much longer down here and the kids a goner,” Jarce nodded back towards Leo.
Harvir took a deep breath, quelling his twitching muscles, “...fine. But if you kill anyone, it’s your ass, not mine,” Harvir said, pointing a threatening finger at Wimbleton.
“Relaaaaax, no one’s going to die,” Wimbleton said, trotting several hundred feet into the mess of mole corpses, drawing his sword once more and holding it aloft above his head. “The whole area above us is completely clear, I already checked. And I’m far from a cautious man…careless, I meant to say-ah whatever. You get the idea.”
To Kiva, it looked like one strike, a simple slash over his head, but it soon became clear that was a facade, merely the last strike he made, not the only one. The ceiling above him shattered into tens, maybe even hundreds of thousands of fist sized stone chunks, which bored into the earth with a great vengeance, burying Wimbleton under the many tons of earth cut into a more condensed form. When all was said and done, and when the dust had fully cleared, not much had changed. Although a hole some two hundred feet wide had been cut into the ceiling far overhead, the massive mound of falling rubble had sealed it up again before any of them could make a move.
“D’yah think he’s still under there?” Jarce said to one of the other dwarves, prodding him gently in the ribs.
“Probably,” Wimbleton said, bending over at the waist, leaning in between the two dwarves, each of whom jumped back in surprise.
“Well you certainly did make a bigger mess than we had before,” Karfice said, gazing across the still pile of rubble, “It’d be a…a…oh sh-” Karfice stumbled backwards as his consciousness quickly faded, a handful of the dwarves stepping forward to keep him and Garrote from falling against the hard stone.
“Did he die!?” Wimbleton shouted, placing both hands on either side of his head, eyes wide with shock.
Great, of the 5 of them present representing their group, 4 were now incapacitated. What a great job they did protecting the dwarves and solving the mystery, and what a disaster the whole trip had turned out to be. Kiva really couldn’t wait to get out of the mines, take a-
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In her arms, beneath the comfy foliage covering, Kiva noticed something, an odd blinking from Leo’s cocoon. She hastily pulled back at the moss and vines, peering at Leo to see what was happening. It was faint, difficult to notice even looking right at him, but his cocoon was starting to flicker, starting to fade. The magic was weakening, and quick.
Wimbleton whipped his head towards Kiva, completely forgetting about Karfice. He made his way to her, stopping just across from her and staring down into the coffin, “...I should’ve checked closer. I was wrong. He doesn’t have a couple hours, he has a couple minutes, if that.
“But-” Kiva started, her voice catching in her throat as Wimbleton’s eyes of death bored into her with an intensity that made her skin crawl.
“Quiet, no one talk, no one move,” Wimbleton said, his presence pouring out of his body in every direction, a searing wave of crushing energy that locked around Kiva’s body and held her stock still.
For a moment, no one moved, no one breathed, and absolutely no one talked. They all watched and waited with baited breath, praying that any moment Wimbleton would speak again, free them from their torment. And after an eternity, 10 seconds by real time, he did, dragging miles of presence back into his core, his gaze solid, resolute.
“I couldn’t possibly rally a team of healers in time. We operate, now,” Wimbleton said, taking Leo from Kiva’s grasp.
“But he’ll die!” Kiva cried, holding desperately onto Leo, not daring to relent him.
“You will listen to me and do exactly as I say. Whatever magic you have, whatever you don’t, you will use to stabilize the boy. If I direct you to a location, you will abandon all else and target only that location with everything you do and don’t have,” Wimbleton looked away from her, letting her keep Leo for the time being. “I need healers and a table. Any druids gather next to Kiva. All others move as far as you can without leaving this room, and be absolutely silent. MOVE!” Wimbleton’s voice echoed out, enhanced with his presence. The dwarves startled to attention, running every which way as quickly as they could to avoid further reprimand. In all, about 5 other dwarves joined next to Kiva, a paltry healing crew even attending the gallows. “Ice,” Wimbleton, looking over at Karfice.
Kiva opened her mouth, taking a shaky breath in to say something, but a tremor in her arm stopped her. Trenton, still mostly paralyzed, was weeping, two thick rivers silently flowing down either side of his face. And although he couldn’t move his face, he could somewhat move his body, a slight spasm which racked him from head to toe.
“Shhhh, it’ll be alright. He’ll be alright. Rest, you need it,” Kiva gently said, rocking him gently back and forth until he shut his eyes, whereupon she laid his cradle of plants on the ground, away from the rest of them to give them ample space to work.
Meanwhile, Wimbleton had moved over to Karfice’s slumbering form forgotten about on the ground. He stood over him for a moment, looking down at the boy with something close to contempt. They’d never seriously tried before whenever Karfice faded, having confidence in his ability to wake up again some minutes later, but they didn't have the time to spare anymore. If they were unable to wake him, even just that single chain lost in the mix, everything could fall apart. Why? Why did it have to be now?
Wimbleton crouched down next to Karfice, hovering next to his right ear. Although Kiva couldn’t hear what he said, she could see Karfice’s reaction. He bolted upright, singular eye wild with a fury she’d never seen before, and drove his fist into Wimbleton’s cheek, a resounding boom sounding from the impact. Had a strike like that hit Kiva, just based off of the blur of Karfice’s arm as he struck and the sound it made, it would’ve killed her in an instant without a doubt, knocked her head clean off. Yet Wimbleton hardly flinched, letting the blow strike him without complaint, his head bending slightly to the side from the impact.
Slowly, Karfice came to his senses, the panic within him giving way to a regret which tinged his every word, “I-I didn’t…I shouldn’t…how did you-”
“We’ll talk about this later. Leo is going to die momentarily. I need your help to save him. Make us a table up to my navel and ensure his body temperature remains consistent while I work,” Wimbleton said, turning on his heel and walking back over to the group of healers.
“I’m sorry, but this is all we have-” one of the stouter dwarves among them said, taking a step forward.
“It’ll do,” Wimbleton said, cutting him off. “You,” Wimbleton pointed at the dwarf standing awkwardly just next to Kiva. “Head,” Wimbleton pointed to the next dwarf in line, “Left leg,” and the next, “right leg,” and so on until they were all assigned a limb. Lastly, he pointed at Kiva, “Torso. If ever I ask Kiva to divert her attention, all of you except you,” Wimbleton pointed at the dwarf that was to attend to Leo’s head, “will divert your focus to the boy's torso until she returns. Your job is to stabilize and that is all. Do you understand?”
They all nodded.
“Good,” just behind them, the ice table stood waiting, a solid block of ice perfectly sized to fit the boy, Karfice standing just beside it, ready. He looked slightly uncertain, but he was calm. “Lay Leo down.”
Kiva unwrapped Leo from the plant cocoon she’d made him, tossing aside the excess and laying his bare body on the table. Just like it had been so long ago, it was black and charred at every end, hardly a recognizable feature left in sight: no hair; melted, stringy skin attached in odd places; no eyes, toes and fingers joined together in solid masses, and so on. And now, the stasis was almost completely gone, barely a flickering left. Each of them took their position by their assigned part, Kiva leaning as best she could over the table to access Leo’s body without blocking anyone else. She laid her hands gently on the edge of the magic, pressing down with a faint magic coursing through her to ensure that the moment it released, she was ready. Next to her, the others did the same, some more nervous than others, but all willing to try. Just next to Kiva, Wimbleton stood with his eyes closed, his presence sinking into every nook and cranny of Leo’s mangled form, his hands pressed gently just over the boy's pectorals.
“Prepare yourselves…5…4…3…2…1…” and the magic broke.