Chapter 19: Updates

Vosh catches her in time, just barely. He moves far slower than is typical for him and I know all of us have been affected by the battle with the drow, acutely aware we're lucky to be standing at all. Damaris's dark eyes are smudged beneath them, weariness on her pale face, her own nostrils streaming a flow of blood that's slowing to a trickle.

Graldor shakes his head, finger in his ear, pulling out crimson. Blossom seems the least

effected, though she's weeping and doesn't seem able to stop, little body shaking with silent sobs to the point I fear she'll collapse at any moment just like Fleur.

I check my embed, more out of reflex than curiosity, my head ringing from the lack of sound, the sudden quiet.

PH~11 ME~13 SP~11 EM~13 HW~18 BL~FH

"Stupid," Damaris says, voice cracking. "And lucky. But mostly stupid."

Blossom climbs to her feet, wiping at her face with both hands, snuffling as she does.

She looks a fright, tears mingling with blood and her giant eyes blinking slowly as if she's waking from a terrible dream. But, despite my worries to the contrary and as usual, I'm discovering, she's the first to recover and when I watch her head for one of the tunnel entrances, I groan and rise and go after her. I can't let her explore alone, not now, though the feeling the worst is past us isn't lost on me.

No surprise to find five of the exits are now blocked off, a short distance from the beckoning of the false entries, just enough to create the illusion of a tunnel elsewhere. We've been led to the same doorway over and over by the magic of the drow and their horrible prison that was once a resting place. The final tunnel leads to the first room, the passage far shorter than it originally felt, no longer influenced by the maze magic.

Blossom takes my hand absently, as if she's not aware she's doing it and I don't argue the point, welcoming the warmth of her fingers and the simple living contact, unashamed of the comfort her touch brings me.

We return to the others when we've established the truth, though both of us are silent, no need for words. When we join the others we find Fleur just waking, Vosh whispering over her as his power flows around her in golden light lit with edges of green, the soft sound of elves singing somewhere far in the distance and the thrum of the troll's voice beneath like the beat of some giant, earthy drum. I doubt he has the energy it to spare, and yet she looks terrible enough I know if I had the power I'd share it, too.

"They're gone," I say, unnecessarily, startled at the sound of my own voice. It's cracked and dull, as if the fight with the drow depleted it to a broken echo. I clear my throat, tasting the remains of the nosebleed in the back of my throat.

"Not all." Fleur opens one hand, shows me what she shelters there. I'm surprised to find she holds a tiny seedling in her palm, a single green leaf at the apex, slender white

roots curling through the lines in her skin. "A gift from the tree, its death cleansed and soul free." Relief in her words, enough to make me feel a bit better about what we've done. Because regardless of the attack of the drow, the assault on their people, the theft and imprisonment of their resting place, that is the far greater affront. If I had been in their position, would I react any differently to someone who invaded my pain?

"That thing is an abomination." Graldor reaches for the tiny scrap of life, but Fleur's steady glare stops him in mid-grasp.

"Back off, wizard," Blossom snaps for her while I struggle to keep from slapping his hand away myself. "Let Fleur keep her tree."

I have no idea if it's a good plan or not to carry a seedling from the eld oaks we've just destroyed, but if Fleur wants it, I'm not going to fight her over it and, from the depth of feeling I see on the other's faces, we're all in agreement against the scowling dwarf.

Only when Graldor backs off does the tension release, an anxious anger I hadn't realized I felt-and shared-until he did so.

We leave in silence, then, heads down, the weariness we all carry obvious in our quiet, a vague feeling of unease bordering on depression pulling at my heart. I've never been so tired, or felt so beaten and though I know we are, as Damaris said, lucky to be alive, I wonder if we have the fortitude to continue from here. Surely more horrors await us, possibly worse than this?

And yet, what choice have we? Going back to our cells is out of the question. Fleur pauses at the exit while the rest of us step out onto the ledge. I wait with her,

Blossom at my side, as the elf closes the door behind her. She sings to the etching of the tree in the metal and it seems to wake in answer to her voice, the dead branches sprouting leaves, fruit. She smiles at me, faint and sorrowful, before slipping past and joining the others while I shiver at the sight of the fresh oak tree now guarding emptiness.

There's nothing more to do but follow the others as they retrace our path toward the main tunnel, past the destroyed bridge. I'm about to suggest we retreat to the fountain room to regroup when someone laughs. The barking sound isn't coming from us, though. It echoes instead across the expanse, from the other side of the cavernous crevasse.

No need to tell the others to retreat. We seem to share the same mind as we tuck into the tunnel and the darkness, my ears straining to pick up further sounds. Something I don't have long to wait for.

"Idiot giant went and killed hisself." That grunting voice bounces toward us, distorted by echo and nearly unintelligible though I know instantly it's from the throat of another hobgoblin. More guards come to check on us? Likely.

"Dumbass giants and their stupidness." That's a second voice, joined by hissing barks that has to be hobgoblin laughter.

"Look who's talking, morons." I frown down at Blossom who winks at me, grinning. "Diverse vocabulary is not their strong suit."

"Hush." Vosh gently taps her on the top of the head with one fingertip. "Listen." "Now how we meant to get from here to there?" Grumpy grunts of agreement greet

that question. Either this cavern is a perfect sound conductor or the hobgoblins have zero sense of volume. Likely both.

"Search me," another says. "Oy! Figure of speech!"

More barking hisses. I strain to see them as I hear them but I just don't have the vision. Fleur and Blossom are both focused on something, though, as is Vosh, so at least some in our party are capable. I am surprised by my level of frustration and find my jaw aches from clenching as I strain to see despite myself.

"Them prisoners will starve," one says at last.

"Screw them," another growls. "What about me? I was hoping for halfling bones to crunch. Best marrow of all." The sucking noise that echoes makes Blossom's little face darken.

"Beasts," she snarls.

Their laughter is getting on my nerves.

"And our mates?" The voice doesn't sound too worried.

"Them bastards'll have yummy to eat," another says, regretful and grumpy. "'Till they's starve to death," the first says with a hopeful upturn to its voice. "Or the creepy critter statue eats them," another laughs.

Nice to see they cared so much for their fellow hobgoblins.

"Naught but to go upside," one says at last with faint regret. "Bosses will have a thought, methinks?"

"You thinks?" The second snorts. "Since when?"

They retreat, their barks and hisses and words fading to the point I can't hear them anymore, until we're in silence again aside from the faint sounds of our own existence.

"At least we have an answer, then," Damaris says. I can tell from her expression she's struggling to be optimistic at the discovery of our now clearly defined predicament. "There's no way across aside from the bridge." How she can remain focused while my heart sinks to my toes I have no idea.

"That those morons know of," Blossom says, patting her hand. I'm surprised by the halfling's emotional generosity but accept it personally despite the fact it's not aimed at me. I can use the encouragement right now. "Like they know anything."

Damaris tries to smile. "Agreed. And we're getting nowhere crouching here."

I want to suggest rest, food, water. It's apparent, though, from the mood of the others, the desperate reaching I feel in them for a scrap of Blossom's hopeful thinking-good to know it's not just me-that stopping now might mean more despair than it's worth.

Instead, I trudge beside Damaris as she leads the way out and down the left side, heading for the next tunnel doorway and hoping we have what we need to survive another fight like the one we just fought.

***