Chapter 22

Krarshe awoke in an unfamiliar room. His body ached as he lay on a cold stone surface; his arm and side were throbbing, as was his head. As he stared at the gaping hole in the ceiling, a bald, bearded head came into view.

"Krarshe, awake?"

Krarshe blinked a few times as Sverre moved a lit torch closer. The side of the Gaer's face was bruised and ear scraped and bloodied. "Y-yeah."

"Okay? Hurt?"

He sat up. The pain in his side flared up. As he winced, he fingered his ribs gingerly. Arguably, the pain in his arm hurt more than touching his side. Okay, feels like no broken ribs. To double-check, he pulled his shirt up. A large, dark bruise covered his side. He took a deep breath. "I think I'm okay. Just a bit battered." He noticed his right arm seemed larger than his left, swollen from whatever injury he'd sustained.

"Good."

Krarshe looked across the way. Celine was kneeling next to Lycia, deep in prayer. His heart nearly stopped when he saw Lycia's normally golden hair stained red, a trickle of blood dripping down the stone slab she laid upon. "Lycia!" He bolted to her side, his pain a distant memory.

"Calm. She okay now," Sverre said, gingerly walking next to Krarshe and placing a heavy hand on his shoulder.

Celine stopped her prayer. "He's right. She'll be fine now. Just need time for the healing to do its work." She sat down against another large stone slab. The entire left side of her face was bruised and scratched.

Sverre sat down, shoulder to shoulder with Celine, and swung a large arm around her. As he did, her lower lip began to quiver, her brow puckered, tears welled up.

Krarshe turned away. The sight of Katia's agony made his heart ache, even more than it already was. Inspecting Lycia, it seemed the blood in her hair was dry. Her breathing appeared normal. It would likely be impossible for him to tell if she was fully okay until she awoke at this point.

"Sem kranruenza mrom. Chiian gra."

The orb of light shone around the room, revealing the field of fallen stone they'd wound up in. The ceiling was just a black hole, the light not even revealing the top from where they had fallen. At the very least, the arachne didn't seem to have followed them. The only sound was of his own footsteps, and Katia's soft, muffled sobbing.

Krarshe summoned a second light orb to leave for the party and shuffled into the dark, trying to scout the area and determine their situation. Or maybe to escape Katia's crying and his own feelings. Seeing her made him remember what happened more vividly and it made him feel guilty. He knew he should have warned Tomas. Or, at the very least, not withheld the story he so desperately sought. Either might have made things turn out differently.

But, he knew, despite the weight on his heart, now was not the time to mourn. They were still in a precarious position. Once Lycia recovered, they had to get out of there.

The pit in his stomach was worse than ever down here. At first, he'd wondered if he actually was more seriously injured than originally thought, but, focusing on it more, there wasn't any pain. Just a seemingly heavy feeling. The guilt, it seemed, was inescapable.

The walls here did little to settle him. The opposite, in fact. The dusty walls were carved, much like the rest, but so very unlike the rest. They were depraved, almost incomprehensible. Chaos, confusion, like carved by a madman. Where one scene stopped and another began was impossible to tell, scenes blending and bending into one another. All gruesome and macabre beyond words. These ruins were feeling more and more like some macabre temple. He almost missed the arachne's webbing shielding his view from the scenes.

Hmm?

There was no webbing, none at all. The dirt and grime implied there were no slimes either. It seemed odd, out of place. Why these depths wouldn't be inhabited by either made him worried.

I'll have to tell Sverre.

He continued to walk along the wall, in a smooth circle, uninterrupted save for one doorway. The lone exit, leading to a narrow corridor. Periodically, he'd stumble upon strange equipment, armor and weapons in unusual shapes he'd never seen, lying about. Rusted, broken, dented, deteriorating in this empty tomb, forgotten by time itself.

Reluctantly, Krarshe made his way back over the fallen rubble to the other light orb and the rest of his party. "I only found one exit," he said quietly.

No one spoke. Sverre's raised hand was his only acknowledgement.

Krarshe hesitated to convey his other findings with the weak response, afraid to agitate the energy in the room. Instead, he sat down next to Lycia. With a shaky hand, he stroked her hair. The dry blood made it stiff. Her braid had finally come undone. How many cycles had it been since they trained with their master? Would there even be any future training sessions?

The group sat in contemplative silence for an unknown amount of time. The thoughts of loss and impending doom filled Krarshe's mind. In the end, he found a single thought to give him anything to hold on to, beholding the still-unconscious Lycia.

Sverre suddenly got up and walked over to Lycia. After inspecting her head wound for a moment, he said, "We must go. Color return. She stable now."

Almost in a daze, Celine stood up. Krarshe did the same.

"Able to carry her?"

Krarshe looked up at Sverre and nodded. Between the two of them, they carefully positioned Lycia on Krarshe's back. He grit his teeth as the arm wrapped under Lycia throbbed.

Together, they headed through the exit he found earlier into the narrow corridor. Arches flanked them on either side, creating a kind of walkway. Column upon column, the archways continued, nearly mesmerizing, disorienting. Wherever the path led, Krarshe hoped it was the exit.

The musty air made his labored breathing difficult, and carrying Lycia was surprisingly difficult. He shifted and repositioned Lycia more centered on his back as carefully as he could.

Sverre had his sword at the ready as he scanned from side to side, ensuring no creature would catch them off guard.

Krarshe checked behind him. Celine was still following quietly, despondent.

After an eternity of arches, they found themselves in another circular room. With more arches.

The arches now lined the circular room, supported on large stone legs. The supports were wider than the arch itself, leaving little space to investigate the room. They began following the arch-lined walls, cautiously inching along the outer edge of the room.

They all jumped at the sound of stone crashing upon stone and hid behind the pillars. Sverre held a finger to his lips as he glanced around the corner.

Krarshe checked behind him.

Celine was pressed up against the previous pillar, her chest heaving. No longer forlorn, her eyes showed the same fear that now gripped all of them.

Sverre quietly made his way to the other side of his, Krarshe's, and Lycia's pillar, peeking out the other side.

Krarshe carefully put Lycia down, in preparation for a fight.

"Hungerer find me..." Sverre muttered the first curse Krarshe had ever heard from him. He looked at Krarshe and Celine. "This quest, pointless loss..."

Krarshe looked at him, perplexed.

He gestured into the room.

Peeking stealthily around the corner, Krarshe witnessed what had Sverre so upset. A large, bipedal, armless... thing... rifled through the loose stones, its thick muscles twitching beneath its pale, leathery skin. Jaws as massive as the gates of Remonnet, filled with dozens of jagged spikes for teeth, pushed through the stones. And... that was it. No eyes. No ears. Just a sort of tail, two giant legs, and a mouth. Like a huge, carnivorous tadpole. The creature was nearly as high as the ceiling. Even Sverre could walk under its body with ease. How this behemoth of a creature had found its way down into these depths, through those narrow hallways, was inconceivable.

The creature clawed and nosed through the rubble, pushing it aside as though it were cotton.

"Evadrig..." Sverre said. "Demon you call 'magic-eater'." He collapsed against the stone wall, defeated. "If any relic, it eaten by now... Our loss, for nothing."

This... is a magic-eater? Krarshe thought back to the story Landry had told him a year ago. Fear gripped his heart as he beheld the monster, thinking of how the teacher's party had been annihilated by such a monstrosity.

The realization that they came here for nothing, after losing Tomas, nearly broke Celine. She slumped to the floor, clearly holding back her tears as best she could.

"At least, way out." Sverre pointed to a wide opening and staircase just past the magic-eater.

"How do we get past that though?" Krarshe asked.

Sverre looked down at him. "Magic-eater scary, but easy deal with. No see, bad hear. Sneak past. Long as no cast spell, not find us. Now, be sure to..."

Krarshe could see Sverre's mouth moving as he explained the plan, but he didn't hear the words. Like a silent chill, one phrase crept into his mind, as though a whispering of dread.

"F...o...u...n...d......y...o...u..."

The words, he knew, were not his own thoughts. But, they triggered something in him. A realization. His form, it wasn't his own. It never was. It was... a spell.

Panic set in as this fact settled in. He immediately picked up Lycia. "Take her!"

"What?" Sverre asked, looking at Lycia as Krarshe held her out to him. "What do-"

"Just take her and run!"

"Krarshe what are-" Sverre's eyes flitted to the side. "Krarshe!"

Sverre shoved Krarshe, and Lycia, backwards.

As he fell backwards, he could see it clearly: the massive jaws closing in around the pillar they hid behind.

Closing upon the swordsman.

In an instant, the jaws snapped shut, severing Sverre's still outstretched hand, and consuming both Sverre and the pillar.

As the creature crashed into the outer wall, the stonework crumbled, caving in the ceiling.

The resulting blast of dust choked and blinded Krarshe. He felt something hard and heavy land on his foot, sending a surge of pain through his leg. When the dust settled, the creature was nowhere in sight, buried beneath a mountain of stone.

Sverre's shove had saved him and Lycia, pushing both just out of range of the avalanche, save one stone. Krarshe excruciatingly pried his foot free and struggled to his feet.

"Celine!" he called, coughing and choking on the dust. "Celine! Make for the stairs!" He picked up Lycia and limped out from the arches into the room. "Celi-" Looking to where Celine had hidden.

The walls and ceiling on that entire half of the room lay as a mound of rock and debris. Much like the monster, the wreckage had claimed her, lost beneath the mass of stones.

He nearly dropped the unconscious Lycia as he ran over. He frantically dug at the debris, pushing stone after stone away. His heart nearly stopped when he found her. Her outreached hand was still, lifeless. The rest of her, buried beneath the stone, was nearly unrecognizable.

His heart sank as he came to the clear conclusion: he and Lycia were the last members of their party. He slowly shuffled back to where he'd laid her remaining party member.

Krarshe steeled himself against the pain as he carried Lycia toward the stairs. Futilely, he tried to push aside the intrusive thoughts rushing through his mind.

Tomas' ring still lay upstairs, doomed to decay like the strange weapons he'd found. Celine never even got to see it. Maybe it was better she never knew. Did it even matter anymore? He was the only one left who knew of its existence.

Sverre's brother, who would he learn from? What about his and Sverre's plan to reunite Marcel with his son? Could he even do it now, on his own?

When he was halfway across the room, the pile of stones erupted. The magic-eater burst from them, flailing and kicking and digging its way out.

His breath caught in his throat. He knew he had to flee. Clutching his last comrade, he ran. He fought through the tears as pain shot through his leg with each step. He couldn't stop. No matter what, he couldn't stop.

The monster, now free, turned right to him. With a guttural roar, it charged.

Move! MOVE!!

He made it to the stairs. One step. Two steps.

As he took the third, his injured foot gave way, and he fell forward onto the steps, throwing Lycia just a few steps further. He smashed his chin on the stone, sending a shockwave through his brain. Disoriented, he turned back.

The monster was coming, nearly upon him.

Without recourse, he clenched his fist. Electricity arced between his knuckles and down his arm. With a defiant cry, he slammed his fist onto the stone steps.

The lightning exploded outward, chaining up the walls and along the floor, ripping and tearing through the architecture. With a cacophonous clamor, the ceiling across the whole room gave way. Huge stone slabs and pillars collapsed inward.

The last thing he saw was the wide maw of the monster reaching out toward him, and the overwhelming deluge of stone descending upon them.