Cleo's Game

17. Cracks

Back at the Rusty Caves...

The soldiers' mission had been incredibly busy, much like the mission at the Horned Volcano. Without their so-called leader, they had managed to clear out whole sections of the mine, closing in on the deepest chambers. Mince had taken the lead, and he was determined to conquer the centre of the mine, a much harder task than the relatively empty tunnels.

All that had been seen so far were dark tunnels, occasionally guarded by a sniper. Before turning any corners or entering any open spaces, they followed a simple protocol. Cleo would use the flashlight to light up the area, making sure her presence was known. Once she had gotten any potential hiding ambusher's attention, she would send a sizeable block of ice across the floor. Any snipers in the area would reflexively shoot, revealing both their existence and their positioning. Using this method, they kept safe from any ambushes.

"This room looks huge... Wait, I think I see a fireplace," Cleo whispered. Upon a second glance, it was clear that there was a bright orange fire, with smoke billowing into a deliberate hole in the ceiling. Around the fireplace were soldiers dressed in typical black jackets, but there was another that stood with a grave expression on their face. Well, whatever expression Cleo could make out in the poor lighting looked to be that way, at least. They peeked from behind a stone wall, with this entrance to the room being elevated with makeshift steps leading up to it.

They were a very obvious hybrid, a brown, furry bat with fearsome white fangs and dark, webbed wings protruding from his back. His snouted nose seemed to have found a scent, and an alarming one at that. He patrolled the room, with his nose twitching and his eyes darting around the room, looking for something out of the ordinary.

"What do we do?" whispered Mince, in the softest and quietest voice one could imagine. However, not even a voice softer than a cushion and quieter than a mouse would have been enough. The bat was startled and looked towards the wall they were hidden behind, as if one of them had just screamed.

The three of them glared at Mince with such contempt that it could have petrified him. Cleo peered past the rock, but it was far too late for stealth and subtlety. At a moment's notice, the soldiers were at their feet, and there were two choices visible. Either fight now, or be chased around a cave by the ones that know the layout.

"The only thing we can do," Cleo replied, before stepping out into view. Her eyes scanned the room, watching the soldiers rush in her direction on foot and noticing that the bat had taken flight. His wings made a consistent swooshing noise as he hovered in place like a wasp. The movement started to become erratic, and he looked ready to swoop in for a surprise attack. He dove towards Cleo, with his menacing, jagged claws at the ready.

Before Cleo was ready to react to him, his movement stopped midair. Whatever effort he was applying towards moving forward seemed to be met with an opposite force. He struggled in confusion for multiple moments before giving into the flow and gliding backwards. Cleo wasn't alone. She had Mince fighting on her side, a watchful eye with powers that matched up perfectly against a flying foe.

Before he was blown into the sharp ceiling by Mince, he instead retracted his wings and dove to the ground. He landed heavily, with his feet leaving a crater, looking up towards the crew in shock and baring his teeth. "Lock this place down immediately," he ordered in a calm but assertive tone. Cleo's eyes widened as she heard it. "Lock it down..?"

The heavy, rumbling sound answered Cleo's question nonverbally. It wasn't coming from the walls, it wasn't coming from the ground. The ceiling was slowly opening up above them, with a huge pile of boulders seemingly about to fill the entire corridor. "Move!" Cleo yelled, while scanning to see her friends reactions. Tranquility and Mince were quickly on their feet, but Vitaliy's moment of indecision caused Cleo to grab his arm and pull him along with her.

They burst forward and out of the narrowness of the corridor, into the wide-open room. They narrowly avoided the heavy thump from the falling boulders. The exit was sealed, and the only direction to look was forward. Tripping over due to desperation, Cleo brought both herself and Vitaliy to the ground before promptly getting up. Cleo looked down at him with fury, adrenaline rushing through her veins. She didn't know what to feel, but she certainly didn't want to be held back in any way, even if it was by a friend.

The stairs leading up to where Cleo stood were an advantage, funnelling enemy soldiers into a single file if they wished to approach. Instead of falling straight into that, they waited sinisterly, very aware that there was no longer an exit. They each held a sharp blade in their hand, accompanied by a solid metal helmet. This wasn't just a random unit, and they were prepared, too.

"Tranquility, get in the air and stop that bat from approaching. You two, defend the stairs. I've got this," Cleo ordered. Tranquility raised an eyebrow, wondering who gave this lower-ranked troop the authority to give orders. However, the lack of ideas of her own made them much easier to follow.

"You can't stay up there forever," snarled the bat. "You have no food. You have no water. You can't sleep. Just surrender yourselves, and we'll let you live." While listening to his monologue, Cleo was preparing herself. She launched a carefully constructed ice javelin towards the loud-mouthed commander. He was barely able to pull his leg away in time, as the ground was pierced where he stood moments before. Crystals of ice creeped around the fresh earthen wound, a testament to its severe temperature.

"Pitch!" shouted a soldier, concerned about their captain's close shave. Pitch, however, wasn't focused on the soldier. He was looking up at Cleo, who already possessed a second javelin of ice in her hand. Knowing there was nothing behind her and no other options, she had the supreme confidence of a woman who had nothing to lose. "I don't plan on staying here."