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Chapter 12
Part 2
“Here we are.” Angharad stepped out onto the wet sand, getting a better view of the mouth of the cave.
“Right, everyone, on your guard. Assume they’re hostile, and potentially feral, so there’s probably no way to reason with them.” Ifan stretched before reaching into his rucksack and pulling a bundle of torches and a tinderbox. “Lights here,” Ifan began striking the flint in an effort to light one of the torches. “Glad my magic works differently to the arcane, this is tiresome.” Placing the flint down and positioning his fingers around the top of the torch, Ifan concentrated his energy, speaking a silent prayer. His eyes burst white as the space between his fingers crackled with electricity, and soon enough, the torch lit with the heat generated. “There we are. Rhian, Gustov, Angharad.” Ifan handed out the torches and lit them using his own.
“Thanks,” Rhian smiled at Ifan, watching as the fire transferred to her torch.
“No problem.” Carefully lighting the other torches, Ifan barely acknowledged Rhian, missing her smile fade to a scorned frown at his ambivalence. “Right, marching order is standard, Angharad leads, then Gus, me, and then Rhian.”
The group nodded in agreement, before walking towards the cave. The sea breeze whipped at their torches, slowly settling as the cave gave them more and more protection from the elements. The wet stone glistened amidst the orange flames, the dripping of water further in echoing throughout the caverns. Stalactites and stalagmites littered the area, throwing long shadowy tendrils around the cave as they stepped further into its bowels. Small sea creatures skittered along the stones, creating unsettlingly large projections on the walls as the torch light bounced off their bodies.
“Can we get some casual patter going on? The silence or lack thereof is getting to me.” Rhian’s shoulders were hunched up her neck as she stepped close behind Ifan, the warm glow of the torch bathing his back.
“Sure… Crazy times, eh?” Ifan was the first to respond, his surprisingly low voice reverberating around the cave.
“You can say that again, the magic is drying up fast since the well closed up and society is… struggling?” Angharad offered her take to the pair, the hair on her neck finally settling down with the sound of her guild mates’ voices.
“Little clean water, factory production has slowed to a crawl, magical races are starting to lose their innate magic. How has it been for you, Gus?” Ifan attempted to coax their large friend into the conversation, in the hopes of creating a sense of normalcy in the dank quiet of the coastal cave.
“Hard. But nothing we goliaths have not faced before.” Gustov struck his chest with his fist, “The magic has never been that strong in the north, being so far from the Wells. I was starting to get too used to living in the magic-rich Inarell, it had made me soft – by making me even more muscular, ironically.”
“I had noticed you were looking a little flabby,” said Ifan.
Gustov turned and shot him daggers, “You mind your tongue, prince.”
“It was a joke! Sorry, big man.”
The group continued further into the coastal cave, the sound of the outdoors completely vanishing as the drip, drip, drip of the moist cave walls took over. The cave’s passageway was linear – but its diminishing width slowly constricted the group.
“If this cave gets any tighter we’re going to have problems.” Gustov struggled through, sidling along as the cold, wet rocks reached out and touched his bare skin.
“Just a little further, it seems like it opens up ahead.” Angharad passed her torch forward, illuminating an opening in the cave’s structure.
“A little further may prove impossible.” Gustov slowed as his pecks and back were gripped like a vice by the cave walls. “Ifan, mind those flames!”
“Shit, sorry!” Ifan pulled his torch back, as Gustov blew at the nearly singed hairs on his upper arm.
“And… we’re through!” Angharad stepped into the opening, taking note of a small body of water severing their route forward.
“And I’m stuck. Sorry, everyone.” Gustov squirmed in place, until his fingers eventually gave up their grip on his torch, causing it to drop to the floor of the cave.
“How stuck is stuck?” asked Ifan.
“I can’t continue and can’t go back. Stuck. That is the right word, no?”
“Yep, that’s the right word. How much pain are you willing to endure?” Ifan turned back to Rhian and raised his eyebrows. She knowingly nodded back to him and sidled out of the narrow gap.
“How much pain? I am goliath, we’re made to take pain.” Struggling to tense his muscles, Gustov slowly made a fist.
“Good; then this should be fine.” Ifan’s eyes glowed white and his hair began to stand on end as he spoke in an unknown tongue.
“What is this? What are you doing? Angharad, what is he doing?” Gustov looked back and forth desperately as he felt a force emanating from Ifan.
“Something drastic.” Angharad stepped aside and covered her ears, preparing for the impending holy incantation to finish.
Gustov began to scream as his flesh tore on the stone pressing against his back and chest and the force from Ifan intensified. The air warbled and small rocks rattled on the floor as the prayer continued. A white aura emanated from Ifan in waves, gradually intensifying in colour and opaqueness, and Gustov was pushed further and further through the narrow path. A few more seconds of intensification occurred before the waves were causing Angharad and Rhian’s hair to billow, and the torch light waned as the fires flickered into nothingness, leaving the whites of Ifan’s magic the only thing illuminating the caves. Gustov continued to release bellowing, pained cries as he was finally dislodged from his prison and rocketed into the pool of water a few metres into the new cave chamber. Bursting out of the darkness, Gustov gasped for air, throwing his hands above the surface looking for purchase. The light from Ifan slowly dissipated along with the force, and soon the group were submerged in darkness. Angharad made sure to grab Gustov’s hand before the lights went out and began pulling him to dry land; his grip was like a vice and she winced in pain; knowing she was enduring a fraction of his own agony, she persisted.
Ifan quickly lit his torch once more and watched as Gustov splashed out of the water onto the cave floor, his back bloodied and torn apart. He squeezed his way through the remainder of the narrow passage, before pulling his prayer beads from his pocket and addressing Gustov’s wounds, “I’m sorry, Gus. I had hoped the surprise would be less difficult than the impending dread of being blown through that at speed.”
Through pained groans, Gustov responded, “It’s ok, little prince. I… should… be… fine…” Blanking out from the pain, Angharad slapped his face impotently as his eyes closed. The wounds all over his body slowly closed up, and Ifan collapsed backwards.
“Healing that much damage… Didn’t really anticipate it would wreck him so much. I think I’m just as exhausted as he is now.” Ifan’s torch rolled onto the damp, stone floor. Rhian emerged from the gap and picked up Ifan’s torch in a hurry, lighting her own once more with it.
“We can always take a break. I still can’t hear any signs of the sahuagin, we must have a ways to go before we get to their lair.” Rhian lit Angharad’s torch before sitting back up against the nearby cave wall.
“I think that would be best. He’s out of it, and you look just as bad Ifan.” Angharad joined Rhian against the wall, the warmth of the torches nearly unbearable in their close proximity. Angharad propped hers up a few feet away, the flame just about remaining with half the fuel available.
“I’ll just take a quick nap, I’ll be awake… before you know it.” Ifan yawned and fell to his back, his eyes slamming shut before his quiet snoring started.