Djurle crawled out from beneath the ground into the hallway beyond the collapse, coughing and spitting up a mouthful of bloody dirt before rolling onto his back. He wheezed as his lungs thanked him for the air, and he rested his palm on the ground to try and see what was going on with the guardsmen on the other end of the cave. The fighting had been drastically reduced. Now, only two of them were standing, but even now he couldn't tell exactly who it was. The area where the grixovite had been was devoid of movement.
Maker's teeth... how did they get out!?
He forced himself to his feet, tried to take a step, and immediately staggered against the wall. It was no good. He had to heal. At least enough to keep up the fight. He focused on the ground and drew upon it for the minerals he knew would fix him. They seeped out of the ground and into his core, draining him of energy drastically while giving him the ability to stand without feeling like he'd just buried himself alive. Which he had.
I hate healing without pure stone...
Once he was confident he could move, he put himself into motion, running as fast as he could back down the hall from whence he came and smashed through his self-made barrier on his way.
Hold on!
He ran past the rooted hallway and passed by the fork to the exit, now enshrouded in darkness instead of torchlight. The weight of the fighters vanished, replaced by a large mass, likely ice, as the air had dried. He leapt over the pit the grixovite had been trapped in, and he saw a massive crack now ran through it, leaving enough room for someone to climb through.
Blast it, I didn't think the damage would reach this far!
"ZEB!!!"
Tecovis's voice echoed off the walls of the hall, and he redoubled his speed.
I'm coming!
Someone else was speaking, a woman's voice, he couldn't make out the words.
I'm coming! Just hang on!
"ZEBULON!!!"
The shout tore into his bones. Should he shatter the ice tower?
I can't risk it!
He forced the ground to move with him, tripling his speed and burning through what little reserves he had left of energy. The hunger of the hollows gnawing at his very being. He could see daylight ahead of him as he rounded a corner.
A body impacted the ground.
He entered the icy chamber.
Cold reality hit him.
He ignored the devastated scream of Tecovis as he charged into the room, immediately sending stones straight through the pillar of ice and knocking the red-haired grixovite woman plummeting to the floor. She quickly redirected with a ramp off to the side, tumbling to a stop as Djurle slammed his entrance shut behind him.
Everyone was encased in ice. Next to the pillar he'd destroyed was the body of Lieutenant Zebulon, a solid spear of ice pierced through his chest and eminite-corrupted black blood dripping from his mouth.
He was too late.
The grixovite woman stood to her feet, clad in the same fur-trimmed leather armor he'd seen a hundred times from her kind. Her skin was smooth. She must have been their resource gatherer or an informant of some kind. When she saw Djurle, she raised her guard.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, grix."
The woman stared at him, wide-eyed and... not attacking?
"Stand down. There's been more than enough death for one day."
The woman swallowed as sweat began to form on her brow. She opened her mouth and nervously asked, "A-and what if I d-don't?"
"I'd tell you to ask your boss, but he's a bit preoccupied with his dirt nap. Now I'm going to ask you again. Stand down now, or I'm going to introduce you to your grave."
The grixovite didn't move. She simply stood in place.
"You killed my friend. People aren't going to be very happy about that."
"Friend!? How could someone as-as magnificent as you call a human wretch like him a-"
Djurle took a step forward and the grixovite recoiled.
Why hasn't she tried to attack? Something's... different about this one.
From his icy cocoon, Tecovis shouted, "You're the wretch Chamile, you blasted hypocrite! Zeb was-"
"Tecovis! Let me handle this."
The grixovite fidgeted in place, her guard still raised as he slowly approached from across the room.
Djurle briefly looked again at the body of the Lieutenant as his encounter at the refugee outreach floated through his mind. He then asked, "What's your name?"
"My name is... Is Eira, A-Ancestor"
"Friends come in all types, Eira. If the Giving Cart is anything to go by, you know a thing or two about that. So tell me, is that what you really think? Or what they tell you to think?"
Her eyes darted back and forth in her head, only snapping on him when he tried to move closer.
"Stop trying to trick me you- you... Damn you!"
The woman looked like she might be sick, shuddering and sweating the way that she was. She gnashed her teeth and shouted through them, seeming more to herself than to him
"WHY!?"
"I'd ask you the same thing. Why do this? Why go through all this trouble just to let yourself be killed? There's no reason for it."
She tugged at the sides of her head for a bit. After a moment she locked eyes with him and shouted, "I do it for the mission!"
Typical.
He sighed. "Take it from someone who knows a thing or two, it's never just about the mission. I wouldn't be here now if it were about that. There's always something else. What's your real answer?"
Her mouth hung open as if confused as she continued to shake.
"I... I do it for the ancestors! All of the ancestors, living and dead! I-I only ever fought in your honor!"
"My honor? Really?" He took another step. "Do I look very honored right now?"
A single tear rolled down her cheek as she looked between him and the still-frozen guards.
Is... is she crying? Krundílites don't...
Djurle's heartrate spiked as recognized the opportunity the maker had given him. He continued, "If what you say is true, if you really want to honor me specifically, then surrender."
Eira hesitated. "I... I can't!"
"I don't want to hurt you, Eira... And from how it looks, you don't want to hurt me either."
"You have no idea what I want!"
"You're right. I don't. So tell me. Tell me what it is you want. Why are you doing this? Why kidnap innocents?"
"I... I was only following orders! These-these human vermin have corrupted-"
"Humans aren't any less than us, Eira. Do you know where the living ancestors come from?"
She looked at him silently, her body trembling.
"I was born to human parents, Eira. So was Kruug thunderfist. So was Ixlendir Grix, your direct ancestor. We need humanity. There are no ukitu without the spirits of the elements. If you kill all the humans, you'll prevent who knows how many other Spirits from ever getting the chance at life. Yes, they failed us, but that doesn't mean we should be vengeful towards them for it. We need to be better, we need to show them a better way. Is killing men and women whose only purpose is to protect the people- our people... is that really what you want?"
"I want... I want to see the world made right!"
"I know you do, Eira, but this isn't the way. All you are doing is causing destruction, pain, and misery... The very thing that your army claims to be trying to prevent. How many ukitu have been taken from their homes against their will, how many needlessly gave their lives for this?"
He took another step. She shifted in place.
"How many people would still be alive if the ukitu who've been empowered like you had chosen to use their power for good instead of destruction?"
Another step.
"Your ancestor gave his life defending all people's from tyrants. He didn't slaughter them for what their leaders did, he recognized that they were under the same oppression he was and went to the source to show them truth. And now instead of helping the people of this city, you're killing the few men and women who actually cared about the refugees enough to risk their lives for them."
"I help the refugees more than they ever did! I brought them food and supplies every other week!"
"As a cover to get supplies to an organization of people who kidnap and enslave our kinsmen before sending them to their deaths in a battle they didn't have any choice but to fight in."
Another.
"Kelita Klovus brought food into such abundance that the poorest street urchin never spent a night even remotely peckish during his day, and yet his descendants create monsters that terrify the people they should be feeding."
Another.
"Yina Gurn spent her life saving sailors from the depths and bringing water to the drylands, yet her descendants drown cities and ruin drinking wells, some of which she made. Is what they do today really honoring the Ancestors?"
He was now directly in front of her.
"Is it right?"
Eira choked a whimper, her composure cracking as another tear mirrored her first.
"Please, Eira..."
He gently grabbed her shoulders, the same way he would if he were comforting one of his three sons.
"Let these people go. If you want to see the world made right, if that's what you really want... it needs to start with you... Let... go..."
Eira's face contorted into sobbing, and she fell to her knees at his feet. He knelt down next to her, and she nearly screamed apologies into his chest. For every "I'm sorry" she made, another cage morphed into snow until every refugee was free. Then the guards, too, one by one. When Tecovis was freed, he ran straight to the Lieutenant's corpse. The others crawled free from their bonds.
"I'm sorry, ancestor... I'm sorry... I only ever... wanted... to be like one of you... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."
She continued like this for some time, devolving into an incoherent, blubbering mess as Djurle slowly realized what he'd done. In all his encounters with the poachers, one thing had always been certain.
And that was that Krundílites...
Never...
Ever...
Surrendered...
Until he met Eira the grixovite....
Your story continues... Find it in 'The Spirit of Fire Part 2 Module A. {Yet to be written.}
