That One Time I Went on a Quest

Catacomb of Giants (1/4)

...

Fainted again.

Dust, everywhere. Wandering ghosts merge in and out of the gloom. Lances of light, swinging about like those of lighthouses...so the Mirrors are still working.

Shouting. So much shouting. The husk of the ironclad looms in the distance like a mountain, its bow buried in the ruins of what was once the infirmary, while the scattered bits of its hull are sprinkled amongst the remnants of the inner wall. It seemed to have shattered upon landing. Like glass.

Wait – it's so far away. Was I not directly under –

'How do you feel?'

Kathanhiel. She's carrying me, has me slung over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. We're in the practice range next to the barracks, which is empty save for a pile of maybe a dozen bodies against the stout wall on which those tree log targets had hung. Dead. All dead.

'The...boat...'

My voice sounds like a blunt saw trying to cut through gravel.

'Don't you die on me Kastor. We're only halfway there.'

Those words send me wide awake. The ironclad – Talukiel – the duel – my throat –

'T...Talukiel...where...?'

As if on cue, I hear his voice – nowhere close, but alarmingly clear.

'COME BACK YOU COWARD! COME BACK!'

Kathanhiel makes a choking noise in her throat. She stops in her tracks, looks around, and sets me down against a brick column. A group of soldiers pass by us, every one of them heaped from shoulder to knee with thick coils of rope. None pays us any attention.

Without another word she begins to turn away.

I reach out without thinking, my arm compelled by strength it doesn't have. 'My lady – where are you –'

Her sleeve lashes out like a whip, and slaps my hand away so hard it pulls the rest of me into the dirt.

What...just...?

I lie still as a corpse and stare at the gravel in front of my nose. No, she didn't do that. It didn't happen. There was a sudden gust and I got knocked over. Yes, that's it.

Half-turning, Kathanhiel glances at me with wide eyes, as if surprised to see her esquire face-planted in the dirt. Her lips part, forming words of silence. Kaishen – she's still holding it – is quivering in her hand, its orange glow dimming erratically.

Couldn't sit up. Throat's throbbing...eyes so dry...and a voice shouting in my head:

Stop her! Stop her! Stop her!

...Stop her from what – killing Talukiel? Why should I? It's what she's been waiting for all this time.

'Aunt Kath! You're here!'

Haylis, wearing what looks like an armour-plated dress, is running toward us. Her eyes register my lameness and briefly go wide, though not as wide as Kathanhiel's. 'Kastor! You're alive! – What is wrong with your neck? –' then she interrupts herself with a hard swallow. 'You must leave, both of you. The mines are destablised –'

A swarm of dragonlings fly overhead, screeching as they pile onto a Mirror-mounted tower. Haylis ducks instinctively; Kathanhiel doesn't flinch.

' – destablished because of the –' she throws her hands up at the ironclad; "go to hell!", the gesture says. 'The bridging tunnel might collapse at any moment! Oon'Shei is already there – go, while you still can!'

Kathanhiel is silent for a moment, then points into the distance. 'Talukiel,' she says.

'No way is he living through that, aunt Kath!'

If I could nod, or display any sign of agreement with Haylis, verbal or non-verbal, I would. There is a tremor in the earth – a stampede, and I'll bet any one of my remaining nine fingers that the Phalanx isn't the one doing the stampeding. The night is a soup of distressing noises: screeching dragons, roaring fires, the bright twang of steel-limbed ballistae, the whoosh of dry powder set alight, shouts of 'Fly! Fly!', and the collective voice of thirty thousand people, encouraging each other, urging each other forward. That last one – not so distressing.

And Talukiel isn't shouting anymore. If he had chosen to hide there would be no finding him in this chaos; if he's still fighting then one way or another he's going to die. His cultists must have been wiped out by now – mercilessly, because no one has time for their mad stunts – and between heaven and earth he'll not find a single ally within a hundred miles.

'Aunt Kath!' Haylis says again, sounding teary.

Kathanhiel's voice is iron:

'He dies by no hand but mine.'

She's walking away. Haylis tries to grab her sleeve as I did, and is sent flying.

Stop her! You have to stop her!

But what do I say? That she's got her priorities all wrong? What a pointless statement. She know she's got it wrong; she knows, more clearly than anyone, because her sense of duty is what's keeping her alive, and right now, because of Talukiel's presence, she's choosing to ignore it. That means she would rather kill him than save the Realms.

If people found out about this they would tear her apart. "Do your job!" they would say, "what else are we worshipping you for?!" Rukiel and Tamara pretty much said the same thing with politer words during their meeting: you're not allowed to be upset.

No. they're wrong. She's allowed to have a weakness, now that I am here.

Words trickle out of my mouth in a mumbling, incoherent stream. Not sure if I even said them out loud; could just be my head patting itself on the back:

'Kai...shen...saved...you...'

Kathanhiel stops dead. Her right foot, in the middle of a long stride, comes down at an awkward angle and she almost trips over. Slowly, haltingly, she turns around.

'What did you say?' she whispers.

I try to sit up again and fails, but this time Haylis catches me by the armpit. She grimaces as her palm starts sizzling against my skin, but she hangs on.

Come on, speak. You can faint later. Right now you need to speak.

'Kaishen...saved you...so you can save the Realms...his wish...we...fulfil...together...'

There. Said it.

Kathanhiel's face changes. It changes like a bard coming off the stage after finishing a riveting tale; the softening, as the reality of the stinking, crowded tavern slowly takes over that shimmering dream of chivalry and romance, is so immensely miserable to look at. That untouchable, feverish light, fading from her eyes...

How I wish she would never look like that.

'Right,' she whispers to herself. 'How did I let that slip through my mind?'