by D. M. Almond
CHAPTER 22
The cramped utility tunnels were pitch-black. Even the Vanidriell dwellers, who were accustomed to darkness, having grown up in caves all their lives, had a hard time seeing further than an arm’s length ahead. They had stopped to rest hours ago, and the time for moving on was well past, but neither gnome had the heart to tell Logan that. His brother’s lifeless body was laid respectfully on the stone floor, covered with a wool blanket from his pack.
The trio had left the cobold horde far behind, fleeing as fast as they could through the cramped tunnels beneath Ul’kor palace. For a while, they could still hear the humanoids running up and down the corridors above, bitterly searching for any sign of the intruders. Bipp reasoned the monsters were too ignorant to figure out they were in the maintenance shafts beneath the building. Only an engineer would think to check inside them, and he doubted there were too many plumbers in the mix of rabble up above.
No one had spoken for some time now, dwelling on the loss of their newest companion. The stuffy air felt palpable with sorrow, so thick that even Grubble felt on the verge of it, although this could have been more out of frustration than anything else. Logan was not sure how long the tears had been running down his numb cheeks. He felt cold and alone, though Bipp sat close at hand.
“Logan…I’m so sorry for your loss,” Bipp croaked. “My heart bleeds for you.” He was not sure if his friend was listening or if he had slipped back into some sort of catatonic state, but he felt it was well past time to break the awkward silence.
Logan looked at him with cloudy green eyes, unaware what his friend had just said. “It’s all so crazy…he can’t be dead.”
“I’m sorry, lad,” Grubble said, filled with remorse, “but the lad’s cold as a wet stone in the wind.”
Logan pressed the palms of his hands against his closed eyelids, shaking his head. “All these years…all this time I had…and I wasted it.”
“Aw, c’mon, Logan,” Bipp said. “You can’t say such things.”
“You don’t understand,” Logan said. “When I was growing up, all I could ever think about was how to get him to leave me alone, to just give me some peace and quiet, but every time I turned around, there was my little brother following me around again.” Logan found the words sticking in his throat. “I spent years walking around and acting like a jerk—wasted, just wasted all that time I could have spent with him.”
The gnomes did not know what to say. Bipp looked at the ground while Logan rubbed his eyes again.
“I just wish…,” Logan mumbled, barely audible to them, “I just wish I could go back and do it all over again. This time I’d never take him for granted. I’d never blow off his stupid requests… I’d even force myself not to let his self-righteous personality get under my skin…I’d—”
Corbin’s body twitched beneath the blanket, breaking the conversation as Logan quickly shuffled away from him.
“Just the rigor mortis creepin’ in, fellas,” Grubble muttered, having seen it more times than he would wish upon anyone.
The pair looked at him, surprised by the uncharacteristically intelligent observation. This was probably the smartest thing to come out of the old gnome’s mouth since they had joined up. Usually it was bloody this and blazes that, followed by some spitting.
The body twitched again, proving him wrong by sitting upright. Now Grubble was the one frightened, quickly putting distance between himself and the apparent zombie.
Corbin’s head slowly turned under the blanket to look directly at them. As he moaned, Bipp was the first to react, hopping forward and clunking him on the head with his small frying pan.
“Ouch!” Corbin yelled gripping his forehead.
“Fer Crystal’s sake, Bipp, what the Hel are you doing?” Logan shouted, snatching the pan from his friend’s hand before he could strike again.
Bipp shrugged. “Thought he was a zombie. Sorry.” He rubbed his nose, uncomfortably embarrassed but still not quite sure he was incorrect.
“Who the heck believes in zombies?” Logan asked, helping his brother sit back up. “What are you, ten?”
A small lump was beginning to swell on Corbin’s head where the pan had connected.
“Yeah, what are ye thinkin’?” Grubble added half-heartedly. “Zombies? Pish posh.”
“Ugh…,” Corbin groaned. “Hey guys…I’m back.” His mouth was dry as sawdust, and his head was throbbing.
“How in the blazes are ye still alive?” Grubble asked. Logan noticed he still had not put away his axe.
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell it when we get out of this place.” Corbin tried to stand, but his legs were too weak, so Logan braced his body. The humans had to crouch low anyhow, the maintenance shafts being built to accommodate gnome workers.
A crashing sound echoed through the tunnels, deafening in the closed quarters.
“Hey, this is great! Now Logan can tell ye all those things he’s been meaning to say!” Bipp exclaimed merrily, emphatically nodding.
“Eh…what was it you needed to say?” Corbin weakly asked his big brother.
Logan bit his lip. “What? Oh, nothing, the little fella probably bumped his head or something. Who knows what he’s even talking about half the time.”
Corbin was too disoriented to take note of the exchange, shrugging and turning his head away to stop the tunnel from spinning. Logan silently scowled at Bipp, who just shrugged innocently.
“You got some timing, I’ll tell ye, Falian,” Grubble said, gathering his supplies from the floor. “Sounds like the rats done found our hidey hole!” He slapped Bipp’s pack to his chest.
“Probably the work of Baetylus,” Corbin reasoned, rubbing the tight muscles in his legs to get blood flowing again.
“The All-Father?” Logan said. “So that thing was actually him back in the king’s hall? Why would—”
“Honestly, we don’t have time for all that. Right now we have to focus on getting out of here alive.”
“I second that one,” Grubble said and turned to head down the shaft.
“Wait.” Corbin gathered the group in close. “It does not matter where we go, the Crystal will track us down and guide the cobolds to our location. But not if I have anything to say about it.”
He clasped the Svalin back in place on his ear lobe, thinking what a fool he had been to blindly follow the deity. No wonder Baetylus had been so insistent he take off the mind-shielding device. The magical ward in itself would not be enough, however, so Corbin fell into his trance. The throbbing ache of his head made it difficult to find a focus. During the short time he was out of body, Corbin had kept his mind together by sheer force of will and working the psionic energy, unraveling new mysteries in the psychic aether that would have taken the layman years to comprehend. Now that he was alive again, the aether flowed into new patterns much stronger than before, intricately bending to his will.
The area around his chest lit up with a bubble of psychic energy that stretched outward until it covered the entire group. Grubble looked like he was ready to flee but forced himself to stand his ground. The bubble split off, forming around each of them like a cocoon, smoothing out against their contours and disappearing into their skin. The tunnels were filling with the sounds of bloodthirsty cobolds entering far off by the King’s chamber.
“What is this stuff?” Logan asked in awe as it disappeared.
“I do not fully understand yet, but you can think of it like a blanket to protect us from Baetylus’ probing suggestions. To him we just became invisible.” Corbin felt weak and tired from expending so much energy, his body already feeling stiff and aching from the near death experience.
“Great stuff. Let’s get going,” Grubble said grouchily and raced down the hall, tired of waiting around for magic tricks.
The brothers followed him, with Logan bracing Corbin’s weight and helping him make his way.
Bipp was staring at his forearms, wondering where the magical shield had gone and whether he shou
ld be worried if Corbin got a sudden craving for meat. Realizing he was alone, he hopped up and chased after the group into the darkness.
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