Chapter LXXXII: In Which Emblim Has His Time Wasted

Emblim's sword flashed in the darkness as he brought it down against a Quadav shield. The turtle-like beastman swept the weapon away, bringing its own oversized blade to bear. Hastily, Emblim deflected falling rock as the Quadav's sword struck the cave wall above him, retreating back a step at a time. The beastmen were becoming aware of the battle at an alarmingly fast rate, and he could see reinforcements rushing down the corridors. Elongated shadows of approaching Quadav soldiers heralded their arrival, in numbers which would quickly prove overwhelming.

"Just a little longer," Etrien called from behind him. Emblim could not turn around to check on his progress, as the Quadav renewed his assault with a ferocious cleave. Evading the stroke, the Paladin thrust his sword forward, rewarded with a crunching impact as it pierced through armor and shell. Stumbling back, the Quadav groaned as it clasped a hand to its wound. Two beady eyes came up at the Hume, burning with hate. His shield shook as the beastman surged forward, lowering his head so the point on its helmet stuck out. Emblim absorbed the head butt, though it made his armor tremble, bracing his shield with both arms. The Quadav fell back, repulsed, rivulets of blood pouring from its wound.

Staggering, it scraped at the wall for support. The Hume's sword came up warningly, even as five more of the beastmen appeared at the end of the hall. The Quadav's beaked mouth drew back into a threatening grimace, but a moment later its eyes rolled back into its head. It gurgled blood, then tumbled backwards, falling back upon its shell. Pulling back his sword, Erilan watched the beastman go down. The Elvaan stepped in place beside Emblim, and the two Paladins nodded to one another. The Quadav at the end of the hallway had stopped, reacting with anger and surprise at seeing the group before them. Blood staining the ground from the dead beastman Erilan had just killed did little to improve their mood.

"Can't you hurry up?" Feldin demanded from behind them.

"It's almost there!" Etrien's voice rang in Emblim's ears.

The Quadav came forward two at a time. One of them, the Paladin could see, was a mage, evidenced by the gnarled staff he bore sparking with arcane energies. Forming a barricade of steel, Emblim and Erilan warded off their advance, only to be met with the two behind them almost immediately. The mage was growling some incantation, made almost unintelligible by its thick Quadav accent. Protective wards began flaring to life around the four other beastmen, and they came forward with renewed fury. Their swords fell with greater speed, and both Paladins fell back against the assault. Emblim bashed his shield into one of his attackers, sending the shelled warrior reeling backwards, but a second immediately replaced him. Shoulder to shoulder with Erilan, he gave up ground as both were overpowered by their foes.

"Etrien, you must get the gate open!" Atreides implored.

"It's opening, I just - just one more minute!"

The Quadav rushed forward, and another ramming head butt threw Emblim off-balance. He fell onto his back, and the beastman was on him in an instant. However quick the shelled warrior was, Erilan was quicker. In the blink of an eye he leaped to the Hume’s defense, covering as Emblim scraped himself off the ground. Taking advantage of their break in defense, the Quadav surrounded the lone Elvaan Paladin, hammering him down with their weapons. Emblim heard him cry out as he was battered to the ground, sparks flying from his shield as heavy beastmen swords sliced through the steel.

Taking up his shield, Emblim pushed forward, trying to beat the massive turtlemen away. They ignored his sword, easily deflecting his slices. Thrown up against the wall, he slid down in pain, only to immediately catch the edge of a Quadav shield to his chin. He tasted blood and dirt as he ricocheted off the stone floor. Closing in, they surged past him, trying to trample the Paladins flat and reach the frailer targets beyond.

He cried out, but his words were lost in the explosion as the entire cavern filled with fire. The stench of scaly flesh being cooked in super-heated armor assailed his nostrils as the shrieks of the Quadav filled his ears. Clawed feet struggled to run as fire swept over them, but it was to no avail. Eyes melted in their sockets as the turtlemen were roasted in their shells, collapsing in quivering heaps upon the floor. The mage took a frightened step backwards, then turned and fled.

It had gone less than three steps before a streak of lightning struck it from behind. A twisted oak staff clattered to the ground as it fell, convulsing uncontrollably. With one last trembling shudder, it went still, and did not move again.

A sudden clanking sound interrupted the shocked silence, and four sets of heads turned to look at Etrien. He was staring mutely ahead at the burnt-out bodies of the Quadav soldiers. Behind him, the gate was sliding open, rust-covered bars collapsing into their stone setting.

"I, uh, I got the gate open."

Feldin sniffed irritably, lowering his still-sparking staff. "Remind me again of what utility having the rest of you with me serves," he said bitingly, brushing past the young villager. He had just made it past the gate when a pair of hands spun him around. Angrily, the wizard tore himself free, only to find himself in the angered eyes of Atreides.

"What are you doing?" the Bishop hissed. "Do you realize what you've done?"

"Saved all of our lives. Don't you talk down to me, cleric." Feldin returned the other Elvaan's icy glare.

"The demons, you fool!" Atreides snapped. "We weren't using any magic because of the demons!"

"We'd have been all been dead if I hadn't done what I did. Now I suggest we all get moving." Brushing a strand of blond hair away from his eyes, he peered past his fellow San d'Orian, looking down the tunnel they had come down. "He is not wrong. Our time is short."

From down the corridor, the sound of distant screeching found Emblim's ears.

"They know we're here," Erilan warned, bracing himself against the wall as he stood.

"Run," Emblim said, his feet already shuffling backwards. "Run!"

Almost before the words had left his lips, a flurry of black-winged bodies burst from the end of the hall, streaking directly towards them.

The next few minutes were lost in a blur. Emblim was running as fast as his legs would carry him as the corridor filled with demons. Metal clapped against wood as he crossed the bridge overlooking a shallow mountain stream, the others in front of him. Bursts of magical lightning were streaking by him, scorching the walls black as they narrowly missed the Paladin. Their claws and weapons reached out as they closed in, seeking to pull them down and consume them. The tunnel stretched out endlessly as they ran, howling fiends hot on their heels. A darkened cave opened up before them, and as Emblim crossed its threshold, a wave of light and heat swept over him. A deafening noise shook him down to his bones, and he felt the jarring impact of the floor as everything went black.


At first he thought it was completely dark, but a moment later he realized there was a blindfold tied tight over his eyes.

Emblim started to rise, but was pulled back. His hands and feet were bound, and he was secured to what he could only surmise was a chair. He moved his fingers towards the knots, but could barely reach them. His gauntlets had been removed, so he could feel the ropes biting into his wrists as he struggled. Frustration was coupled with confusion as he fought to break free.

"Don't think you'll break out of there," a voice asked him, and Emblim's head snapped up to meet it. Footsteps drew closer to him. It was a man's voice, only a few feet ahead of him. "We've got a great number of questions for you." It was familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. How could he know this voice?

"Who are you?" The Paladin demanded. He flexed his chest as he pulled forward, and the ropes strained but did not break. "Why am I tied up?"

"My questions first," the speaker replied. "What were you doing in Zeruhn Mines?"

"Why should I answer anything? I don't know who you are. Where are my friends?"

"Everyone is fine," no sooner had he said it than Emblim heard a hand slap against skin. "Ow - what th - " a hurried exchange of whispers followed, and Emblim frowned as he realized there were two people in front of him.

The original speaker cleared this throat. "The others aren't what we're talking about," he amended. "We need answers from you. What were you doing in Zeruhn Mines? How did you get past the demons in Bastok?"

Emblim was still trying to place the voice, but wasn't having any luck. "We were trying to get to Korroloka Tunnel." he said simply.

"Why?"

"It's confidential."

Again, a series of whispers broke out in front of him. He strained his ears, and could tell that one of the voices was definitely female. A moment later the male speaker addressed him again. "We have your friends, and we can let everyone go as soon as you become more cooperative."

Emblim was silent. He couldn't remember what had happened to him in Zeruhn Mines. One second they were fleeing from the demons, and the next . . . he was here. Was there some kind of spell cast on him? No, he remembered being rendered unconscious. An explosion? Had the demons brought down the cavern in an attempt to kill him? If everyone else had been knocked out it was conceivable they would have been captured. Still, would being blindfolded keep Feldin from breaking free? He doubted their lives meant much to him. Unless he had been gagged as well. Had they been able to recognize him as a caster and prevent him from using magic?

"Just tell us what we want to know!" the speaker demanded, and it seemed his voice might crack. Emblim knew something was wrong here. He knew this man speaking to him, but simply could not remember from where. "How did you get through Bastok into Zeruhn Mines?"

"Palborough," Emblim said finally. "There was a young man with us. He's a villager from Konschtat. He showed us a ferry in the Palborough Mines which moves back and forth like clockwork to Zeruhn. We rode it over and made it past the guards without alerting anybody. We never even stepped foot in Bastok."

Silence responded to him. After a moment the two in front of him shared another hushed exchange.

"I want to speak to the woman with you," Emblim declared, and their voices cut off sharply. "I can tell she's the superior officer here."

"Is it that obvious . . . ?" the man sounded dejected, but then the sound of another sharp impact rang in Emblim's ears. "Ow - I - uh, you're not speaking to her. You're talking to me. Why were you trying to get in to Korroloka?"

The Hume was silent. Whatever was amiss here, it didn't seem like he was in any danger. His suspicions were beginning to grow about the identities of his captors. "I was trying to get through because I and my friends are going to Rabao."

"Why?"

"It's confidential."

"Says who?"

"King Destin of San d'Oria."

This time there was no whispering. The silence was almost unnerving. Emblim shifted in the chair, hoping for some kind of reaction. For a long time, nothing came, until suddenly the female voice spoke up.

"What is your name?"

He did not hestitate. "Emblim."

"You are not San d'Orian."

"No."

"Yet you are on a mission from their King."

"Yes."

"Would you care to explain that?"

"No."

"Oh come on!" The male speaker cried in frustration. His reward came in the form of another slap. Even Emblim cringed at how hard it sounded. "Stop doing that!" he said sheepishly, and the Paladin couldn't help but chuckle.

"Now look what you've done," the woman said in exasperation. "He's not even taking this seriously."

"You're the one who won't stop hitting me!" he exclaimed.

The woman sighed, exasperated. When she turned back to address Emblim her voice was resigned.

"I'd really like to believe you, but until we know more I'm afraid we can't let you go. There's no way to trust that what you say is true, or even that you are who you say you are." Emblim was surprised to hear how genuinely regretful she sounded. "We'd like to, but . . . things being what they are . . ."

"What in the name of the Goddess are you two doing?!"

A collective gasp rose from all three of them as the third voice shouted out in anger. This voice Emblim knew he recognized, but it was impossible. It couldn't be who he thought it was.

"S-sir!" The male interrogator said. "We were just trying to confirm - "

"Have you Musketeers got fluff in between your ears? How do you not recognize him?"

"It's not that," the female protested, "we just can't be certain - "

"I'm certain," he growled. "If anyone had told me he was here . . . bah! Get those ropes off! Well? Now, now!"

To Emblim's surprise, the knots binding him began to loosen almost immediately. Even as they did, a rough, calloused hand scraped against his forehead. Taking hold of the cloth around his eyes, it yanked it off, and Emblim blinked at the torchlight surrounding him. An indistinct blob over him slowly came into focus as his eyes adjusted to the change. It slowly changed into a mass of blue and gray, and then Hume features started taking shape. Shock registered on his visage as the face of the third speaker finally became clear.

A set of grinning teeth were the most prominent feature on a face weathered with age and toughened like leather. Gray hair was trimmed short and neat, as was the beard which stretched out from his chin. Despite his years, a powerful set of arms still reached out from his long blue work apron, which was stained with soot and burns. Even though it bore the obvious evidence of long hours doing hard labor, the Bastokan sigil sewn into it was still plainly visible. Emblim knew this face, and this person well. Everyone in Bastok knew their Chief Engineer.

"Cid!" Emblim exclaimed. He turned his head from side to side, looking at his captors, both of whom dodged his eyes sheepislhy. "Naji! Ayame!" The two Musketeers both looked abashed at his recognition of them. "Where am I? What are you all doing here?"

"You made it as far as Korroloka, Emb, but we had to blow the tunnel behind you." The reason for his being unconscious suddenly made sense. "I wasn't there, but we were under orders that if anything tried to come through, we block the entrance. If I'd have been there and see ya . . . "

"Chief, it could have been a demon trick, we had to be sure,"

Cid cut Naji off. "Ain't nothing we can do about your overzealousness," the blonde Hume hung his head. "Or yours, for that matter," he pointed accusingly at Ayame. The woman opened her mouth to object, but shut it as Cid directed a hard stare her way. Emblim stood as the ropes fell off of him, stretching his tired arms and legs. The Chief Engineer clapped him on the shoulder warmly. "Goddess, it's good to see you, boy. Naji!" The Musketeer snapped to attention. "Go get his weapons and armor. We can't have him walking around in his shirtsleeves."

"Cid, my friends," Emblim began.

"Everyone else is fine. I was checking on them before I came here. The lad from Konschtat told us everything, really. We're proud of you, Emblim. Very proud." The grizzled Hume was beaming at him. "We thought we'd lost you. You can't imagine what this will mean to everybody."

His eyebrow crooked upwards. "Everybody?" He inquired.

"I'll show you," Cid gestured for him to follow. "All the survivors of Bastok. There's a number of escape tunnels in the city that all lead here. We didn't wan to cut off our only way back in, but if the demons had discovered us . . . " he heaved a sigh. "Well, nothing to do for it now."

Emblim's heart was racing. "Survivors? How many of them? And why are you all in Korroloka? We were headed out to Rabao, maybe we all could - "

The look in the Chief's blue eyes made Emblim swallow his words. There was a swirl of emotions behind them, ranging from pain to anger and back again.

"Cid," he said softly, "what's wrong?"

He turned back around, his head hanging slightly, his footsteps dragging ever so slightly. "I'll explain on the way, Emblim. It's worse than you think it is. It's worse than we ever thought it could be."

Emblim followed Cid down the Korroloka Tunnel, the hope he had felt upon seeing him fading with every word.