by Elise Kova
“No. I thought about it, but the ceiling is too sheer and perpendicular to the walls… There’s no way I could make a jump for the opening either.” Daniel didn’t give the thought any more consideration. He had other things to focus on.
“What are you looking for?”
“Another way out.”
“Why do you think there is one? Whoever dug the trap was likely raised out by a rope.”
Daniel stopped, frustrated more with his own fruitless line of logic than with Craig’s interrogation of it. “This cavern wasn’t dug by hand. There are no tool marks anywhere, and the walls are too sheer to have been manually crafted.”
“A Groundbreaker, then.”
“I thought about that.” Daniel had always found sorcery fascinating, though he’d rarely encountered it before his time in the army. Even then, most sorcerer-soldiers spent their time focused on the Black Legion, rarely mingling with their brothers beyond the group. “But it seems too… flawed. If this was made with magic alone, I would’ve expected it to be more perfect.”
“Like the walls surrounding Soricium.” The flawless, impenetrable barrier that surrounded the capital of the North famously insulated the beating heart of the last bastion standing against the Empire Solaris.
“Exactly.” Daniel returned to exploring the cavern. “So, my thought is that this was a natural cavern they expanded on. Would’ve saved them time and energy, anyway… You said we were near the pass and that such things were more common, right?”
“I did.” Uncertainty laced Craig’s words. The man clearly had some doubts after falling into the remnants of a Northern outpost’s trappings.
“Then, I’m sure—”
The bolder Daniel pushed against budged, just slightly, as he put his weight against it. He pushed a little harder, and harder still. On the third shove he was met with a small sigh of air, like the quiet exhale of a secret.
“I’m sure there’s another way out,” Daniel announced triumphantly.
At Daniel’s tone, Craig willed himself to brave his body’s protests and turn to gather a look of his own.
Daniel peered into the sliver of darkness he’d exposed. He could see nothing, which meant he had to open the portal further. He put his shoulder against the boulder. His legs slid and scraped against the stone, sending loose gravel skittering across the cavern floor. With every movement, his legs threatened to give way, to send him sliding face first into the boulder. Still, he pushed.
It was time for their luck to shape up, if only for just a while, and this certainty kept Daniel at his task even after his body begged for mercy. A line of sweat had begun to trace down his spine by the time Daniel shifted the boulder enough to shimmy through. He couldn’t see much further down the supposed path, but he could see enough to know it wasn’t a dead end.
“Well?” Craig demanded finally.
“It looks promising.” Daniel glanced at the sky above. There was still plenty of daylight if—when—he found a way out. Still, just in case…
Daniel broke off large spears of wood from the branch he’d used the day prior to descend into the pit. He collected up the scraps and scooped up sawdust from where it’d splintered, bringing it all to the ashen remnants of the fire from the night before.
“The tunnel is dark, so I’m going to need some fire, for light,” he explained as he collected the flint from his emergency satchel. Daniel hated using his sword as a striker, but he didn’t have any other steel on hand. “Plus, in case I’m gone after dark… you’ll have a fire.” Daniel didn’t expand on the reasons why he may be gone after dark.
It took him four tries to get a spark off the flint, the wood shavings finally catching with a wisp of smoke. Daniel flipped flat onto his stomach and began to blow gently on the glowing bits of wood. Flames quickly consumed them, burning upward against the other smaller bits. It was fleeting and bright, but hot enough to catch the other kindling that would then build a proper fire.
“Here.” Craig ripped off one of the scraps that still clung to his trousers, remnants hanging in loose tatters where Daniel had cut back to bandage his wound. “Wrap this around your fire stick. Wish I had some tar or oil to coat it in.”
Daniel accepted the kindness and did as Craig suggested. “This will do well enough… It’ll burn for a little, catch the wood… Then I can always snuff it and use the embers.”
“Navigating by ember glow,” Craig sniffed, smirk pulled a bit too tight. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“Knowing our luck…”
Craig actually laughed at the remark. Their situation was odd, and borderline hopeless. When everything falls apart, what else is there but laughter?
“Good luck, Daniel,” Craig said suddenly, just before Daniel disappeared into the tunnel. After everything they’d been through, Daniel found the genuineness in Craig’s voice both surprising and expected.
“Thanks. I’ll be back before you know it,” Daniel said boldly, starting for the dark line against the stone wall. How he hoped those words would be true… How he’d do his best to make them so.
Twisting to the side, Daniel held the makeshift torch before him, the fire already reduced to a smolder. The walls of the tunnel lit up, narrow as it was, and continued on farther than Daniel could see. It was as good an option as any, especially considering it seemed to be the only option available to them. He gathered his bravery, ignored the pain in his fatigued muscles, and pushed onward.
11. Craig
Daniel had been gone for hours.
The man whom, a day ago, Craig had barely been able to tolerate and ready to let die, was now his only ally in what was quickly becoming a grim world to face. Especially alone. He felt like a lame horse waiting to be put out to pasture, or slain behind the barn. At least while Daniel was there, things seemed marginally less hopeless.
Other than consider his own thoughts, he had nothing to do to pass the time. Trouble was, Craig had always supposed his thoughts were the most boring thing about him. He’d never been particularly bright—as his father would remind him frequently—and he’d never managed to make it out of his hometown of Rivend, save for the month he’d enlisted as a soldier and, from there, marched North. All he had to think on were years of the same routine, day after day, in that sleepy little town. As much as it pained him to admit it, his pre-army life was remarkably similar to Daniel’s.
The best thing about him, about his life, was going to be joining the Golden Guard. A group, a family, friends, a purpose. He’d gain it all with just a strip of gold on his forearm.
Day faded to night, and Craig began to doze off from a mixture of pure exhaustion and boredom. An untold time later, he was jolted awake by a soft grunt and the scrape of boots against stone.
“Daniel?” He’d had all day, but he didn’t think once to position himself so he could face the opening. Even if he had… what could he have done? Either it was Daniel, finally returning with news, or it was some Northerner coming to finish the job the trap had started. And if that were the case, facing the entryway would do little to stop it.
Craig’s palms went slick. He would die without ever even touching skin to a golden bracer. He took a deep breath, trying to sturdy himself against the idea of a pointless death.
“It’s me.”
Craig couldn’t begin to express the relief that coursed through him at hearing those two words. Still, he heard himself say “Took you long enough.”
His wasn’t actually annoyed by Daniel’s return. Far from it. But the Easterner was the only receptacle for the anger he felt at himself. He was a soldier who sought to be a member of the illustrious Golden Guard; he should be above the fear of dying.
“I come bearing gifts.” Daniel came around to Craig’s line of sight and held out a sloth, neatly slaughtered and ready for cleaning.
“You went hunting? You can hunt?” C
raig’s mouth was already watering at the prospect of a meal.
“Well, I do have to eat. As do you.” Daniel shrugged, dropping the carcass to the ground on the opposite side of the fire pit. Craig watched as he broke off more wood, using one particularly long and narrow stick as his new poker. With impressive and quick skill, he nurtured the fire back to life.
“I suppose the hunting is usually relegated to the soldiers…” Craig had never given it much thought. He’d spent more time learning under Raylynn than he had as an actual infantryman. He’d risen quickly through the ranks and in so doing, left certain necessities allotted to those beneath him.
“As it is now.” Daniel spoke without looking up from skinning the animal. It was a clumsy hack job, with sharp rocks and his sword the only available tools for butchering, but it was better than Craig would’ve expected. In fact, it was better than he could’ve done under the circumstances. It betrayed a level of skill and familiarity for the task that even Craig had to admire.
“Springroot.” Craig nodded at the handful of leaves Daniel had piled next to his makeshift workstation.
Daniel paused. “You know it?”
“I’ve been here longer than you have.” Craig chuckled. Just when he was getting familiar with the man, Daniel reminded him that he was, indeed, green as ever. “Pass them here. I can tend to my wound while you do that.”
“Would you like me to?” Daniel offered, still obliging Craig’s wishes.
“I’m not some invalid.” Craig took the plants from Daniel, relieved that the man didn’t put up a fight on the matter. Certainly, it was easier to have someone tend to him than do it himself, but he didn’t have that luxury right now. “I’ve done it before.”
“Have you?”
Craig shot the other man an incredulous look. Daniel shrugged.
“You just seem very accustomed to the lifestyle of the higher officers.” He couldn’t seem to hide his smug smile, despite the way his eyes stayed focused on the sloth.
“You… You’re calling me spoiled, aren’t you?”
“Well?”
“Well what?” Craig couldn’t believe that Daniel of all people would make such a bold implication.
“Aren’t you?”
Craig burst out laughing.
Within his mirth he hid the hisses and grimaces he elicited while removing the makeshift bandage around his calf. It was a nasty wound, and unwrapping tugged at the ragged flesh with stomach-turning sharpness. Once he got a good look at it, though, he realized it wasn’t nearly half as bad as what it could’ve been. It was free of splinters, and the tissue was angry but mostly clean.
“Here, use a bit to wash it first.” Daniel was back at his side, holding out a hollow bit of wood. Inside sloshed water.
“Food, medicine, and water? Perhaps I’m spoiled after all.” Craig took the vessel carefully.
“Perhaps.” Daniel grinned as he took the water back, then disappeared behind Craig to store it safely out of reach.
His absence gave Craig enough time to compose himself in the wake of such a bold remark.
“All right, Daniel Taffl.” He’d seen and heard enough. “What’s your story? The real one this time.”
“My story?” Barely glancing in Craig’s direction, Daniel began to shear meat from bone.
“You’re supposedly some love-struck farmer from the East… But you have a fancy sword on your hip and enough skill in using it to attract the attention of Raylynn Westwind. You’re resourceful, clever—smart, even.”
“Why do you sound so surprised at that last bit?” Daniel arched his eyebrows.
“Eastern farmers aren’t really known for their… educations.”
“And when did you last spend time in the East, lieutenant?”
It was either a lucky jab, or Daniel was even more astute than Craig gave him credit for. Though perhaps his lack of worldliness was simply that obvious. “Touché.”
“My real story is what I’ve been telling you all along. I’m sorry if it doesn’t suit your perceptions,” Daniel said after a moment. “I was born in the East, on a farm just outside of Paca. We grew wheat and kept pigs that we’d sell to the butchers in town, sometimes out to the West if the trade was right. You already heard of my unconventional play ‘swords’ growing up.”
Craig nodded, remembering the first time he’d seen Daniel in Raylynn’s tent. How easy it had been then to loathe the man merely for catching his mentor’s eye. But, if Daniel was sincere in teaching himself the basics swordplay with river reeds, it meant the man had a decent bit of natural talent in his farmer’s blood.
“I met a girl in town.” Daniel segued without preamble.
“Willow.”
“Yes, Willow.” Daniel nodded. “She was the purveyor’s daughter. A good woman, far better than a man like me deserves…”
“So you enlisted to give her a better future.” Craig had heard the story dozens of times, twice yet from Daniel alone. There was really only one thing that drove a man or woman to do something as extreme as fight in a war: love. Be it for the love of another, the memory of a love lost, a rare yet possible love of country, or more often than not, the most practical kind of love—love of gold.
“She wants to move to the capital,” Daniel went on, oblivious to Craig’s musings. “But I have no marketable skills in the city.”
“Ah, so you hope to use this as an opportunity to fund a wedding, a new start, and earn a job in the palace guard?” Many soldiers, especially those of merit, were offered positions in the palace guard following the end of their enlistment period. It seemed so… little, compared to the Golden Guard. Craig wondered if Daniel had ever even considered the possibility of rising through the ranks.
“Just so.” Daniel skewered a piece of meat and held it over the tops of the flames. Craig already knew it was going to turn into a tough and tasteless hunk of char, but his mouth watered anyway. It had been days since he’d last had anything hot, and after the energy expended the day before, he’d take almost any edible sustenance. “What about you?” Daniel asked suddenly, and the question caught him off guard.
“Me?” Craig thought about his answer for a long moment, though he couldn’t quite explain what made him hesitate. His story was no more special than Daniel’s. He took a wad of leaves and stuffed them into his mouth, chewing them to a paste. The movement muddled the sap within, spreading a tingling feeling across his tongue and lips, and gave him time to think.
Without any concern for decorum, he spit out the paste into his hand and began to smear and press it into his wound. It should have some form of stitching, he noted, but that was well beyond their capabilities. Still, if he could keep it clean and medicated with springroot, it would heal quickly.
“Is there anyone else here?” Daniel asked when the silence had stretched on, reminding Craig that he hadn’t answered.
“Well, you could’ve finally gone mad.”
“With you to drive me there? Entirely possible.”
Craig was set to laughing again. “This personality, Daniel. I rather like it. Don’t turn back into the model soldier, alright?”
“I’m not sure I could around you even if I wanted to, now—leaving a man to die has such an effect.” Daniel put a second fillet on a new stick. Silence persisted, but Daniel’s question still hung heavy in the air.
“My story, huh?” Craig thought aloud, deciding to give the man a real answer. “I’m afraid it’s not as noble as yours.”
“Mine’s not that noble.”
“Seeking out a better life for a woman you love? Sacrificing yourself for that future? Sounds fairly noble.”
Daniel said nothing. He pulled the first stick from the fire and set the steaming meat aside to cool.
“Me? I’m just some kid from a small town called Rivend, a slice of nothing in the middle of Southern nowhere.” He shrug
ged. “My friend Jon and I got it in our heads that it’d be a good idea to join the army, get out and see the world. I got a taste of what it would be like to be someone…” Craig thought of the first time Raylynn took an interest in him. Feelings of hope and possibility had blossomed in a patch of his soul he had otherwise thought barren. “Now that I know what that feels like, I don’t want to give it up. And I’d do anything to defend it.”
Daniel considered him for a long moment, his face utterly unreadable. Leaning forward, he plucked the stick from the dirt and held out the pointed end with the meat to Craig, who took it with a muttered word of thanks.
“I don’t hear anything that isn’t noble there.” Daniel took the second stick from the fire, setting it aside for himself. “You’re following your own mission, your own dream… and that dream is in service to the Empire. It’s far nobler than simply doing this for the ladies that supposedly throw themselves on you and fawn over your battle scars when you return.”
“Mmm,” Craig hummed, chewing. He shook his head with a forced swallow, reminding himself to eat slower. It’d be supremely embarrassing if he died choking to death after everything. “I’ll gladly take the lasses, too.”
They both laughed.
“So, your being Raylynn’s lieutenant then… Is that fulfilling your dream?”
He could’ve simply said yes. It wouldn’t have even been a lie. Becoming Raylynn’s student, having the opportunity to excel, was far more than a nobody like him could hope to achieve. But it wasn’t quite the fulfillment of his dream. No, that was yet to come.
“Almost,” Craig confessed.
“Almost?”
“I want to become a member of the Golden Guard.” Had Craig spoken his desire to anyone else, he would have expected it to be met with unbridled laughter. The Golden Guard, the most elite fighting force in the world, hand-picked by Prince Baldair himself… It wasn’t a group anyone could just join at will.
But this strange Eastern farmer-turned-soldier didn’t laugh—and Craig had known he wouldn’t. Daniel chewed his hunk of meat thoughtfully before placing another round onto the fire.
