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“Gustov.”
The group peered out into the quarry from the rickety wooden supports that provided their exit. They watched as the goliath tumbled forwards onto the naked figure, the crystalline knife retracting back into the figure’s feet.
Tears spilled down Rhian’s face, and Angharad tried her hardest to avert her gaze. Her breath lodged in her throat, and she whimpered quietly to herself.
“Come on. Let’s not have Gus’ sacrifice be in vain. We can retrieve him later. Getting back to Aberhaf should be our first priority.” The words pushed themselves out of Angharad’s mouth, and the elves nodded in agreement. Rhian was still fixated on the scene below. “Rhi we need to move. We’re not in a fit state to fight toe to toe with that thing. And that’s the only thing that awaits us if we don’t escape now.”
“If the magic was still here…” Rhian’s voice rose, her head turning to the elves, “If you hadn’t have killed Mari. If you hadn’t have closed the Well! When is enough for you? How much death and destruction are you willing to create to fulfil your ambitions?” Rhian’s voice trembled, her eyes red with tears. She batted Angharad away from her and held herself upright. She pointed at Fendrick. “If we make it to safety, your captain is going to have to answer for this.”
“Rhian, I’m sorry… If you knew the state of our country, you might be more sympathetic but… some things can’t be forgiven.” Kolt looked sullen, peering at Ifan’s blank face.
“It’s not our fault you humans collaborated with that bastard Holiwier.” Dai interjected.
“Dai, not –”
“You’ll do best to respect the chain of command, Officer Merwyn.” Dai snapped at Kolt, his snarling mouth belying his anger. “Keeping the magic of the Well to yourself, leaving us to rot in the North.” Dai’s voice was irate. Holding Fendrick, he turned to Rhian and Angharad. “My people were enslaved by the ‘protector of the Well’ that you hold so dear. I tried to claim refuge in Inarell but I was cast out. Your king didn’t want to be seen to defy Holiwier, so refused me. And after being rescued by the elves from Prestelwyn and having experienced yet another disaster in the Great Fallout, your people offered nary a loaf of bread in aid for your neighbours. Your generation have all but forgotten the wrongs of your countrymen, but we elves won’t forget. The strife that you’re experiencing now is but a drop in the ocean of shit that we have had to endure. So, you best hold your tongue, human.”
Rhian was taken aback. “But this –”
“Rhi, enough. We need to go. Any more time spent arguing instead of marching is just a waste of Gus’ efforts.” Angharad pulled at her friend’s hand, tugging her towards the nearby beaten road towards Aberhaf.
Defeated, Rhian stifled her tears and stuffed down her bubbling rage. Letting Angharad pull her along, she looked backwards one last time at her lost friend.
***
With a shove, the figure removed Gustov from his back, pushing his bloody body to one side. The figure’s muscles cracked, and the saliva struggled through his compressed oesophagus. The crystalline texture covering the figure’s body dissipated, crackling away from the centre of his body. One foot at a time, he heaved himself off of the ground and rolled his shoulders, feeling the aches from the battle wilt away.
Gustov coughed. A ball of blood made its way out of his throat, getting stuck at the meeting of the goliath’s mouth and the stony ground of the quarry. The figure’s ears pricked, and his eyes darted to Gustov’s back. A quick scan assured him that his foe was no longer a threat in any way. Looking back around the quarry, the figure soon located his prey. At the top of the quarry’s wooden timberwork, the group of elves and humans stood watching the scene. The figure took one last glance around the quarry’s basin. Blood had soaked its way through numerous locations along the grey stone, almost all of it in some part due to him. He traced his steps as the two separate beings: the staff and the flesh creature. One, two, three, four weakened threats, alongside three other worn out humanoids. Assured of the situation, he began making his way to the quarry exit. The group had already vanished from sight, so he picked up the pace. Breaking out into a sprint, his arms whipped back and forth alongside himself and within seconds he had reached the extremes of the quarry, and the wooden steps up and out of the basin. Grabbing the wooden supports, the figure propelled himself upwards, gripping onto the wood like a chimpanzee and accelerating upwards with spider-like movements.
The top of the steps brought the overwhelming breadth of the planet into the figure’s consciousness. The wind whipped his skin and the low sun glowed pleasantly at his back. The green fractals of the trees ahead swaying in the low summer breeze produced shapes and patterns almost forgotten to the figure. The air was crisp, and the low humidity agreeable. He’d lost the group in and amongst the nearby forest, and the hum of activity in the woodland masked their passage. The buzz of insects, the singing of birds and the rustling of leaves permeated the surroundings. After so long in the lab, the sensations were too much to handle. He collapsed to the floor, his breath shallow and wavering. His two hands worked the dirt beneath him, and he felt the millions of microbes begin crawling their way onto his skin. It felt like an unending wave of electricity, starting at the tips of his fingers, and slowly making its way up his arms.
Sweat rolled off his forehead, the beads dripping onto the soft brown earth, leaving darkened spots on the dry ground. As his awareness settled down to normality, the setting sun vanished beneath the horizon, plunging him into a comforting darkness. He shook his head, and pressed himself upwards, returning to a standing position. He recognised the wasted time had reduced his probabilities of locating his prey to a miniscule amount, and resigned himself to following the beaten trail ahead, into the forest, in the hopes of stumbling upon them once more. The pang of absence rung weakly in his chest, providing a fragile, barely working compass towards the stone.
***
Stood in the ever-growing darkness, Welk felt the light pitter patter of rain hitting the hood of his raincoat. It had been hours since he’d last heard from the others, and their absence was beginning to unsettle him. He’d tried and failed to enter the basement on a few occasions, his large size locking him out of its sanctuary. As the sun finally set, Welk acknowledged that the group would likely be stuck in there for some time, so made his way back to the ship.
His boots squelched in the now soaked mud-covered roads of the lost city. The sounds of the night crept in, and through his elvish eyes, he could see bats, rats and owls making their night-time rounds. Catching a glimpse of movement in a nearby bush, Welk stood stock still. A nose burst out of the leafy depths and sniffed in the wet air. A few seconds later, a legion of rodents emerged and made their way across the road in a tight pack. Quick as a flash, Welk whipped his hand into the mass, and pulled out one of the larger specimen. With a crunch, the rats head vanished into Welk’s blackened teeth.
The raw, bloody meat was unappetising at best, but Welk was starving. The ship was another hour away from this part of the city, and the hunger pangs were making him lightheaded and weary. A few bites later, and Welk sucked down the rat’s tail, slurping it up like spaghetti.
He continued, the darkness growing until the rainclouds passed, revealing a near full moon that glistened in the night sky. Its light cast a silver over the environment, painting the canvas of the city with its brilliance. Sights like these were common for Welk. His work had always led him to night-time marches and late-night skirmishes, due to the elves’ superior night vision. He still appreciated the simple splendour of a moonlit night, and its comforting spell accompanied him all the way to the confines of the ship.
