Valor and Violence

Erwell wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting in the dark. He supposed it was probably only a few minutes, but time seemed to stretch a fair bit when you were stuck in your grave. It was quite roomy, all things considered, but that was all that could be said for it. The biggest question playing on his mind was whether there were any micro cracks letting air into his tomb. He really hoped not, otherwise he would face the slow, agonising death of dehydration as opposed to a peaceful asphyxiation as his breath filled the space, crowding out what little fresh air remained.

“You know, Phillip, this really isn’t how I expected to die,” he said, addressing the mage’s corpse somewhere in the darkness. “I always thought I’d perish on a battlefield, sword in hand, my marines by my side. Not impressed with the turn of events, if I’m being honest.”

“Cry me a river, Erwell. At least you aren’t dying as an earth mage trapped in the earth.”

Erwell sat bolt upright, eyes scanning despite there being nothing to see. “This is an unwelcome development. I thought I’d last a little longer before losing my mind.”

A hacking sound, part laugh, part cough, answered him. “You aren’t losing your mind. I’m here.”

“I saw you collapse with a sword in your belly… Unless…”

They answered at the same time. “You faint at the sight of blood.”

That hacking laugh again. “Embarrassing, right? If I had waited a second more, you all would have started fighting and I could have escaped. I wasn’t quite in my right mind at the time.”

“For what it’s worth, I thought your actions were quite courageous.”

“That’s another word for stupid. And not exactly, anyway. I didn’t expect him to stab me in retaliation, at least not right away. And the failsafe device was never meant to collapse this much of the mountain.”

That got Erwell’s attention. “Can you elaborate?”

“It was part of a ring that encircled the experiment area. They were supposed to concentrate Terran magic in the central area and bring the mountain down on top of it. I guess the collapse of the central peak must have dragged the rest of the mountain down with it? Or I unleashed too much magic. Or I made a mistake. I was trained in the theory of forging Resonance Items, but to be honest, I failed the selection exam for further training. This was the first thing I had ever made.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you failed in spectacular fashion.”

“Why, thank you. I think.”

“Say nothing of it. Out of curiosity, though, if the mountain was never meant to collapse this far from the experiment area, is it possible the entrance tunnel survived, at least partly?”

“Oh, it’s more than possible. I’ve already checked. There’s only about twenty metres of rock between us and the tunnel. It’s partially filled beyond that, but it would be easy enough to squeeze back through to the fortress.”

The hope Erwell had buried flared back to life in his chest. “Twenty metres? Can you use your magic to tunnel through it?”

“Ordinarily, yes. But-” Another bout of coughing interrupted the mage. “In my current state, I don’t think I can. Besides, I’m certainly going to die from my wounds, anyway. I would only be tunnelling for your benefit.”

“Does that mean you won’t do it?”

“No, I don’t think I will.”

Erwell frowned, though it was purely reflexive. Not like Phillip could see it. But his face defaulted to that expression when he was thinking. Phillip was a dead man. He knew it, Erwell knew it. But Erwell also needed him to escape this death pit. Which meant he had to either appeal to his sense of altruism or something else.

“Phillip?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you know how people die from stomach wounds?”

“I assume they bleed out?”

“That’s certainly one possibility, but not the only one. The fact we are conversing now suggests that might not be the case for you. I suspect the blood vessels perforated by the sword have already clotted and sealed themselves,” Erwell said, lying through his teeth. “No, far more likely you die from sepsis.”

“Wait, what?”

“Well, Phillip, you know what’s in your gut? Stomach acid and shit. Lots of shit. When you get stabbed in the gut, there’s a good bet either your stomach is pierced, or your shit filled intestines. If it’s your stomach, then it leaks acid into your abdominal cavity, slowly dissolving your body from the inside out. If it’s the intestines that are pierced, then all that crap leaks out, percolating through your fluids. Both lead to infection and a slow death as your organs die one after the other. Your abdomen will bloat, like a corpse that’s been left out in the sun. Terrible pain will wrack your body and you’ll have the pleasure of smelling your body start to decompose before you’re even dead. Just thought you should know.”

Phillip was silent for a good long while before he finally asked, “why did you tell me that?”

“Because I can offer you a deal. Get us out and I’ll have my medics look at you. There’s a chance they can clean the wound and you survive. It’s slim, but it’s there. If they can’t, I can offer you a clean, painless death.”

“And how are you going to do that?”

“I’ll have Corporal Olic chop your head off.”

“Oh.”

“It’s a better death than waiting in here.”

Phillip gave a resigned sigh. “Alright then, you’ll need to help me move around, though. It’s a bit tricky with a sword sticking out of my belly.”

Erwell crawled toward the voice, groping in the dark until his fingers landed in something sticky and gritty. A puddle of congealed blood.

“Phillip?” he asked.

“Right here,” the mage replied about a foot from Erwell’s face. “Help me up.”

After some more groping and a yelp when Erwell accidentally found the sword, he finally got the mage on his feet. With one arm draped around his shoulders, they shuffled through the dark, the mage giving directions to where the tunnel should be.

“Alright, hold me steady,” Phillip said. “This might take a minute.”

It turned out to be more than a minute. It was hard to tell exactly what the mage was doing. All Erwell could feel was the man shaking, but he figured Phillip must have been working his magic as the tunnel filled with the twisted screech of stone grinding on stone. After five minutes of this, he gave the command for Erwell to walk forward. They made it about a couple of metres before he told the marine to stop.

“Are you serious?” Erwell asked. “All that time and you cleared barely a tenth of what we need to?”

“I can’t just *poof* the stone out of existence,” Phillip snapped. “I need to shift it aside, which means shifting the rock above it, too. Then I need to set the stone, so it doesn’t immediately collapse back in on us. This is a complex feat of magic at the best of times, let alone in the dark while my stomach is dissolving me or whatever is going on! Oh gods, I think it’s starting. I can feel my organs dissolving!”

Erwell pinched the bridge of his nose. “Phillip, you can’t feel your organs dissolving, you literally don’t have the nerves for it. It’s all in your head. Just keep working.”

The mage grumbled, but dutifully went back to shuffling tonnes of stone. They kept going in this manner for what felt like forever. The mage shaking and sweating for a few minutes, then a short shuffle, then back to the shaking and sweating. Each successive stint took longer than the last, and Erwell felt the frustration rising in his chest.

And alongside it, panic. Phillip could drop dead at any second. If he didn’t break through first, then Erwell was back to being trapped.

“How you feeling there, Phillip?”

“I’ve been better,” he replied. “This sword is really annoying. I think I might just pull it out. I’ll be able to work faster with it gone.”

“No!” Erwell shouted. “No. Do not touch it. You aren’t bleeding to death at the moment, but if you move it and it nicks an artery, you will.”

“Sounds better than dissolving myself,” Phillip grumbled.

“Come now, how far are we from freedom? My medics might be able to save you.”

“That’s a slim chance. And this is… far more difficult than I expected. I’m not sure I can-”

“Phillip, let me say this. If you touch that sword and don’t immediately die, I will ensure your final moments are as painful as possible. The things I will do to you in those last seconds will make you wish you had kept dissolving. Do you understand me?”

The mage whimpered and went back to work.

“There’s a good man. Although, while we’re waiting, I have a question.”

“You’re waiting. I’m single-handedly trying to dig us out while being impaled! But ask anyway. I may even answer.”

“You mentioned an experiment. What exactly were you doing down here?”

The mage stopped shaking for a moment. He shifted in the darkness, lowering his hand. “I’m not entirely sure, to be honest. I was just here to excavate the area and pump Talent into the device. It was brought in from outside, I don’t know who made it. When we activated it, though…” The mage paused, an involuntary shudder running through his body. “Like I said earlier. The Pit is real, and we opened the door.”

“You expect me to believe the Pit is real? Demons and condemned souls and all?”

“I can’t talk to the condemned souls, didn’t see any of them. But the demons? I can attest to.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“What’s your theory on what ripped apart an entire army then?”

Erwell went silent. He didn’t have an answer to that.

“Gods damnit, this sword is unbearable! That’s it, I’m done. I’m pulling it out and getting the fuck out of here!”

Before Erwell could do anything, Phillip pulled away. There was a yelp, then the sound of something wet splashing to the ground.

“Oh dear,” Phillip said.

Then the sound of a body hitting the floor.

Erwell froze, staring sightlessly in the sound’s direction. The mage wasn’t actually that stupid, was he? Though deep down, he knew he was.

“Hey. Hey! Get the fuck up, Phillip!” Erwell shouted. He dropped to his knees and scooted forward until he found the body in the dark. He shook it, feeling the head ragdoll around as he screamed obscenities at it.

“We were so close! So fucking close! I told you not to touch the damn sword, Phillip!”

He dropped the corpse and stood, pacing back and forth in his freshly rechristened tomb. “I can’t believe it. I can’t… there’s no way it ends like this. We were so. Fucking. Close!”

He screamed in frustration and charged at the wall. He slammed into it, straining with every ounce of strength he had, willing the wall of packed earth and stone to give way before him.

“Not. Like. This!” he groaned through gritted teeth.

And then the wall shifted. Just a tiny amount, but it moved. He redoubled his efforts, and it moved more, further this time.

“Come on!” he shouted, digging his feet into the dirt and driving. He fell flat on his face as the wall gave way before him. He lay there for a second, getting his breath back, then looked up, squinting into a weak light that seemed blinding after the absolute darkness of the mountain. His brows knitted in confusion as the wall kept receding, even though he was no longer pushing. It ground to a halt a couple of metres away, the sunlight filtering down the tunnel splaying around it in a pale halo.

The halo darkened as a few shadowy shapes stepped around the boulder. Groth and Olic were on one side, the former leaning heavily on the latter, while Waldmer peered at Erwell from the other side.

“Yer wel-” Groth said.

“Oh, shut up.”