Chapter 23

Grunting and groaning, Krarshe dragged himself up the stairs in darkness, step by step, cradling Lycia in his arms. He'd heard no sound of movement below for some time, and only now, what must have been several floors above where they'd been, he felt safe to take a moment's rest.

He laid back and caught his breath, trying to recover his energy despite the corner of each step jabbing him in the back. The pain in his foot was terrible, a burning, stabbing pain. He conjured a light orb and slipped his boot off, causing the pain to flare up to intolerable levels. After a sharp breath through gritted teeth, he managed to look down. His foot was a sickening purple and blue, swollen to nearly twice its original size. It was obvious that healing would be required. Hopefully more potent than when he'd broken his hand and ribs. Too bad Sverre had been carrying the few healing potions they'd had.

Sverre... Celine... Tomas... Now out of imminent danger, the recent events began to replay in his head. This adventure was a complete disaster. Of their original party, only he and Lycia survived.

And it was his fault.

He was the one distracting Tomas. Had he not engaged in idle chat, or had he just given in... Really, any other course of action would have changed his fate. But he'd stubbornly avoided it. And that led to Tomas' demise.

It went without saying that the other two's deaths were his responsibility as well. It was his spell that revealed them to the demon, lured it right to them. A spell no one even knew he'd cast. They'd been caught off guard because he'd hidden everything from them.

He was to blame for all of it.

His vision went blurry. He could feel his body tense and shake. A warm, wet sensation trickled down his cheek. He'd learned nothing since Lanche. He'd put those around him in danger once again. This time, it cost them their lives.

He couldn't stop the quivering of his lip, nor the stream of warm-wetness that now freely cascaded from his eyes. "I knew it..." he croaked. "I shouldn't have come here... I shouldn't have been in this party..." He let out a sob. "I shouldn't have even left home..."

The thoughts of how things would have played out differently raced through his mind. Had he not left home, just stayed with his family, his clan, none of this would have happened. The pain, the sorrow, the hopelessness. None of it.

Everything he did turned out this way. It was like he was cursed. He should have known leaving home to find adventure was a fool's errand. Do'mro's stories were just that, stories. Fun adventures didn't exist outside said stories. "Krun... How could I have been so fucking stupid..." He slammed his fist into the stone step as he continued to bawl. "Stupid fucking krun!" he cried, clutching his head, digging his nails into his scalp in pure self-loathing.

"Ah... My head..."

Krarshe held his breath as he heard the soft words from beside him.

"... Krarshe?" Lycia said, pulling herself up onto her elbow. "Where are we?"

He quickly started wiping away the warm, salty water streaking his face, but he couldn't get them to stop flowing.

"Krarshe? What's wrong?" Lycia leaned in. "Where are we?" She looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings. "... Where's everyone?"

A sob escaped his throat again. He feverishly began apologizing. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It's my fault. I'm so sorry."

"Whoa, whoa. Calm down. What's- Ah!" She winced as she sat up more, reaching for her head. "What... What happened?"

Krarshe quickly tried to explain the events since they fell, but he didn't know how much of it actually reached Lycia's ears between all the sobs and apologies and self-deprecation. He couldn't even make it through the whole thing before his story became nothing more than simple blubbering.

"I'm sorry! It's all my fault! All of it! I'm-"

"Shh... Calm down..."

He felt her hands on his back and head as she pulled him in, embracing him against her bosom. She breathed slowly, holding him tight, just as he'd seen her mother do to her in Dragonsfall.

"It's okay. It's not your fault. It's okay."

Engulfed in her calming warmth, his breathing slowed to match hers. He let himself get lost in the hug, gradually bringing his emotions under control.

After a few soothing minutes passed, she released him. "Feeling better?"

"Y-yeah..." he whispered with a hoarse voice, still sniffling a little.

She gave him a sorrowful smile before her face hardened again. "So, it's just us left."

Krarshe could only manage to nod.

"Well... I'm glad we made it, at least."

There was a silent sadness in her eyes and her words felt hollow, but it was clear she was at a loss for words herself.

She stood up and looked around again. "Any idea how far down we are?"

He shook his head. "Very deep, is my guess."

"Hmm..." She bit her nail as she pondered a bit.

Krarshe was shocked at how composed she managed to be. Truthfully, it reminded him of her pragmatic mother.

"Let's climb further," she said finally. She grimaced as she looked down at him, now seeing his foot. "... Here, grab on to me."

With Lycia's help, the two continued the climb. They made their way up the wide, coiling stairs, seeing neither doorway nor hall. Another unknown number of floors later, they stopped.

"I guess this explains the lack of arachne presence..." Lycia said.

The stairway was blocked off by a mountain of rubble, from floor to ceiling. Judging by the layer of dust on everything, the cave-in must have happened a long time ago. It made sense now why past parties hadn't reported the monster below.

Lycia sighed. "Now what?"

Krarshe knew they could probably move the stones with magic, but the risk of triggering another collapse was too great. Faced with potentially being trapped here, just waiting for starvation to ensure the party's complete eradication, all he could utter was, "I'm sorry..."

"I told you, this isn't your fault."

"But-"

"Oh!" She pointed toward the ceiling. "What about that?"

Krarshe looked up. On the outer wall, some stones had fallen out of place to reveal a dirt wall.

"We can probably tunnel out through there, if we're careful," Lycia explained. "Here, help me out."

She set him down and walked closer to the opening.

"What am I doing?" Krarshe asked.

"Just keep the flow going," she said. With a few words, a thin stream of water jettisoned from her extended palm, striking the dirt wall. The dirt broke off in clumps, creating a murky soup of dirt and debris that flowed down the wall and spilled down the steps.

Piecing together her intentions, he followed her example and cast the same spell, aiming it at the steps. The slurry continued down the staircase, away from the two of them.

Krarshe looked up at Lycia, as she confidently stood there casting her spell. He'd saved her earlier. And now, she was the one doing the saving. In more ways than one.

He watched her, watched the stream of water slowly dig a tunnel in the dirt wall. A lone thought entered his mind.

Please, let this work.

* * *

Krarshe quietly sloshed through the flooded streets of Remonnet, following behind the guild master. Pain still lingered in his broken foot, but the healing potion he took when he and Lycia returned to Remonnet the day before was already working its magic; now the pain was merely stabbing rather than excruciating. The cold rainwater that soaked his boots helped soothe this pain further.

"You sure you want to come along?" Gustave asked, trying to make his gruff voice sound empathetic. "This is part of the guild's duty."

Krarshe nodded, flicking water from the edge of his cloak.

"Just don't say anything unnecessary," he warned.

Krarshe didn't respond this time, just continued to follow Gustave through the city streets in silence, lost in his own thoughts.

After successfully tunneling out of the ruins, he and Lycia had slowly made their way back to Remonnet. It took five grueling days, limping along on his broken foot and dragging the party's supplies with them, before they finally encountered a traveller they could hitch a ride the rest of the way with. It was but a few days from Tevaona when they finally arrived at the guild's doors. The receptionist, upon seeing the five packs with only two party members, had immediately called for the guild master.

"I see..." was all he'd said when they informed him of what transpired in the ruins. He tasked the receptionist with procuring a potion for Krarshe and Lycia and informed them that he'd see to reporting their deaths to their families. That was when Krarshe had begged to accompany him. He'd never admit to how much pleading it took to have his request acquiesced, but it was obvious that Gustave was still not fully in agreement with it. Despite his rough exterior, the guild master clearly had a gentle, understanding heart.

"We're here," said Gustave, stopping in front of a house. "You just watch from here, got it?"

Krarshe lowered his head, watching the rain plop into the puddles, only peeking up occasionally.

The door was answered by an older woman. Her hair color was the same shade as Katia's. After an older man joined the woman at the door, Krarshe's suspicions were confirmed when he heard Gustave say "Celine", the lone word he could pick out from the softly spoken discourse. Krarshe felt pangs in his chest as he watched both people, surely Katia's parents, break down into tears. The whole time, the guild master held a strong front, but Krarshe could see the muscles in his jaw tense to maintain the visage.

Against orders, Krarshe stepped forward. "Y-you're Katia's parents, right?"

They both looked at him, a seeming brief pause in their crying.

"I... I was part of her party. I'm... so... so very sorry." He fought to maintain his composure. "It was my fault... I'm sorry..." He hung his head, feeling the weight of his deeds again.

"You..." the man said.

Krarshe lifted his face just in time to see a fist come flying. He toppled into the puddle on the ground.

"You! Teva curse you!"

Gustave jumped in, grabbing hold of Katia's father.

"Give her back! Give our little girl back to us!" he wailed as he tried to wrestle loose of Gustave's grip.

Krarshe just lay on the ground, feeling the cold, dirty water seep into his shirt, watching the guild master calm them. Her father's words hurt more than his fist.

"I'm sorry I had to bring you this news at such a festive time. We'll bring what effects we have in the coming days. Again, I'm sorry for your loss." Gustave gave a bow as the door closed. The sobbing rang out over the pounding rain on the stone road. "Just WHAT were you doing?" he asked, picking Krarshe up with one hand and setting him on his feet.

"I... just..."

"You were looking for some kind of penance," he said, cutting off Krarshe's explanation. "... That self-deprecating kind of atonement won't save you. Don't do it again, or I'll send you home."

Krarshe bowed. "Sorry..."

For the next two homes, Krarshe didn't say anything. He couldn't guess whose home was second, the elderly woman who answered the door gave no clues. After receiving the news, she simply nodded understanding and said, "How he would have wanted to die. I'll send a letter to his family."

The third, the woman fell to her knees crying. Her husband hugged her, doing his best to keep firm, but even from a distance, it was clear how close to joining her in despair he was. To make it worse, a young girl had arrived, confusion and worry had her in a panic. The father pulled her in close, hugging both the girl and his wife as he whispered something over and over again. Krarshe could feel warmth trickling down his face alongside the cold rain.

"I'm glad you didn't try anything stupid after that first one," Gustave said when they headed back.

Krarshe was beyond words at this point. He had nothing left to say.

He felt a heavy hand land on his back.

"People die in this business. It's no one's fault. If you try to carry the weight of their lives, it WILL crush you." Krarshe thought he saw a small glimmer in Gustave's eye as he said the words, a knowing stare as he beheld the elf. Gustave continued, "All you can do is learn from it, grow stronger, and hope you can help someone from feeling the same pain in the future."

Krarshe nodded slowly. He knew the wisdom in those words, but it was still difficult to stomach.

"You going to be okay on your own?" Gustave asked.

"Y-yeah." The words felt uncertain the moment they left his lips.

"I'll be on my way then," he said, heading back in the direction of the guild hall. "Remember my words."

Krarshe stood in the middle of the intersection, watching the guild master leave. Rain pelted his face despite his cloak. His cold shirt and pants were making him numb. If only it could numb his heart.

As if automatic, he slowly made his way back to The Easy Lute. How normal yet alien the streets felt. The typical sounds of tavern patrons merrily drinking spilled into the streets, as if to make up for the lack of street merchants. No doubt, Na'kika would be there to try and cheer him up, presenting him food and affection. But he was well aware that there was no lively dinner awaiting him.

Just beside the entrance to The Easy Lute, a large, hooded man leaned against the door frame. From under his fully enveloping cloak, he eyed Krarshe as he opened the door and entered, but took no action.

The tavern floor was empty, no doubt a result of the heavy rains. It wasn't more than a moment that Na'kika came out from the kitchen and hurried over.

"You're all wet, Master..." she messaged, her ears and tail drooping. She removed his cloak for him and embraced him in a hug, her warm cheek rubbing against his cold, wet cheek. He could feel her purr softly, consoling him. The hug felt more than merely lamenting Krarshe's sopping wet state. Lycia must have told her what happened.

"I know. Sorry to get your clothes all wet," he said, trying to muster some degree of friendliness.

She shook her head, still not releasing the contact of his cheek. She gripped him tighter, as if to say it didn't matter.

A minute passed before she released him. "Master. Someone... -ere... meet you."

His brow lowered. This wasn't what he expected upon his return. The embrace, yes, but not news like that. The stranger outside the entrance and the empty dining hall made him worried. Even Henry wasn't there. "Who?"

She shook her head. "Don't know. They... me to bring you... arrived. Lycia waiting."

Between her broken message and pointing gestures, he was able to piece together what she was conveying. "Okay, Na'kika. Lead me to them."

Na'kika nodded and led him upstairs. The whole building was silent, save for their own footsteps on the creaking floorboards and the rain pelting the roof. It was eerie, not a feeling he wanted now in his second home. Down the hall and around the corner, they came to one of the rooms of the inn, one that belonged to neither him nor Lycia. Two large, hooded figures stood guard on either side of the door.

"This him?" a woman's gentle voice asked from under the hood with authority.

Na'kika nodded.

"You're dismissed," said the other guard with a harsh, hard voice.

Na'kika gave Krarshe another tight, affectionate squeeze before leaving.

Krarshe watched both guards keeping an eye on her as she left. He caught a glimpse of the silvery glint of armor under their hooded guise.

Once Na'kika's steps could be heard on the stairs down the hallway, the woman said a single command, "Enter."

Krarshe quietly opened the door. Sitting on the bed was Lycia, looking as sullen as he felt. When she noticed Krarshe enter, she murmured, "Krarshe..."

A few steps away, another hooded figure was standing before her. The stance was firm, but less rigid than the guards outside. They were also shorter.

When Lycia called out to Krarshe, the figure turned around, the cloak fluttering behind them. Standing there, clad in leather armor, arms crossed in front of her chest, was their master, Lycia's mother, Taliarrah.

"About time you showed up," she said, disgruntled and harsh as always.

His temper flared at her apathy. She didn't understand what horrific ordeal they'd dealt with in her absence.

Just as he was about to unleash a tirade upon her, she cut him off. "Lycia told me what happened. I understand. It's tragic, and I'm sure it hurts." Her posture and expression conveyed no sympathy or empathy. "But, that must wait. You can mourn their loss later."

Krarshe opened his mouth to oppose her, but once again Taliarrah seized the moment.

"I need your help, both of you. This mission cannot wait."

She took several steps forward and met Krarshe's gaze.

With a stern glare, she said, "Countless lives now rest on our shoulders."