These Old Bones

5-2

He felt tired though. He'd only fought one of the creatures and already he felt his arms and legs growing heavy. He couldn't pause, though. He couldn't stop. He needed to find Viriili because this was all his fault. He had treated her like a burden. He had spoken to her in such a harsh manner. He had abandoned her, leaving after agreeing to help her. He had allowed her to leave his sight. He had chosen to pass this way instead of taking the longer, safer route. Everything was his fault.

And now they were all going to pay for his foolishness. His pride and his stubbornness.

He carried on. That was all he could do. He swung the torch from side to side, searching the floor for more holes the Nightcrawlers could emerge from and almost found himself caught by the lash of a tongue, almost at head height. The hole, this time, was further up the wall. The tongue had missed his cheek so close, he had felt the whip of air as it passed. Still, a drop of saliva hit his cheek and it stung. Poison. Without thinking, as soon as he felt the tongue pass his face, he swung the flail towards the creature, catching it half out of the hole and almost separating its head from its body. The head jerked a few times and became still.

And then something careened into him, knocking him flying onto his back. A sharp, black, knife-like claw thudded into his shoulder, piercing the mail shirt with ease and pinning him to the ground. He howled in pain, but still managed to swing the flail, catching the creature by the leg that held him, breaking it from the creature's body. It shrieked and bared its teeth, shaking its head. Then it lowered its head again and those white eyes stared at his face as it bared its many teeth.

What happened next, Brorzjav would never be able to recall. Not all of it. Everything seemed to slow down. The creature rearing up its head as it prepared to savage him. His ineffectual attempts to swing the flail one last time. His final thoughts of Viriili, who's scream he heard as if from a great distance, while, at the same time, seeming to come from so close by. And the words.

"No! Eternal Mother, give me strength!" Above the hissing and screeching of the creatures. Above the sound of his own staccato breathing. Above everything.

And then something hit him. Hard. An invisible something that rushed past him in waves, picking him and the Nightcrawler up in its wake and crashing both him and the creature against the wall of the tunnel, crushing the Nightcrawler beneath his body and, as unconsciousness began to take hold, it sounded like the entire mine trembled with the sound of a sigh.

-+-

He spat the dust from his mouth, wiped his face and beard and blinked. He couldn't tell if he had been unconscious for seconds or hours. He tried to move and groaned at the pain from his shoulder where the Nightcrawler's claw still remained. He didn't pull it out, fearing it could cause more blood loss, only pushing the pain aside as he had done so many other times in his long, precarious life.

Still feeling groggy, he pushed himself to his feet, searching for the torch. It still burned, a few feet away and he stumbled towards it, the heavy weight of the flail, dangling from his hand, tapping against his leg. A wave of nausea washed over him and he vomited to the side, resting his hand against the wall of the tunnel. He moved again, reaching down for the torch only to realise it was a good foot away from his grasping hand. He tried again and caught the cold wood with his fingers.

Holding the torch up, he examined the crushed body of the Nightcrawler, twisted and broken by the impact of his body against it as they both crashed into the wall. Unsteady, he limped forward a few feet before realising he was going the wrong way. The girl, Viriili, was further down the tunnel. Far away, or near, he couldn't remember. Her last words distorted by the shape of the tunnels.