Everything Is Worth Killing- Isaac's Tale

by Alex Oakchest

  The dweller leaped toward my shield again.

  I smashed my sword into the shield, adding to the damage from the dweller and breaking my own protection.

  The dweller, sailing through the air, couldn’t stop its momentum. I made sure I was clear of its fangs and I pointed my sword upwards, and I let the creature’s own weight make it impale itself on my sword.

  The blade sank deep inside it, so far that I lost it and felt warm liquid coating my hands. I abandoned the blade for now, moved clear of the dweller, and focused on the others.

  Four of them, all reared up and ready to cast webbing at me. They were green, so what did that mean?

  Toxin? Poison?

  It didn’t matter. I wouldn’t give them a chance to find out.

  “Hrr chare!”

  One blast of flames sent them scattering out of position. While they were in disarray, I ran around them.

  Then, using bear-buff enhanced fists, I went from dweller to dweller, tearing their heads clean off their necks, and punching holes in their bellies and letting their insides slop out onto the ground.

  Soon, I was the only thing still alive in the cavern. I was covered in blood, my face hurt like hell, and I was surrounded by corpses, but I was alive.

  And then I waited.

  And I waited.

  It was the longest few minutes of my life, but I was finally sure that nothing else was coming.

  I collapsed to the ground, coated in my own sweat and in dweller blood, guts, and stomach juices. I allowed myself just ten seconds of rest, counting each one in my head, and then I got to my feet.

  It was only when I was sure I was alone that I checked the notifications from the fight.

  [Shield] discipline improved by 20%!

  Rank: Grey 59.00%

  [Fire] discipline improved by 15%!

  Rank: Grey 80.00%

  I collected the elementals from the dweller’s corpses, and I retrieved my sword. Not satisfied with just their elementals, I cut away as much of their flesh as I could and packed it away to use as buffs.

  I also completely butchered the colored-bellied dwellers to see if there was anything special about their insides that I could use, but their guts and organs were just like everything else’s; bloody, squishy, and disgusting.

  That was the thing about the dwellers, about me, about everything. When it comes down to it, we’re all just sacks of flesh.

  After I had finished with that, I didn’t want to wait for another battle with even more dwellers.

  I took one last look at the spider graveyard I had created, and then I headed back on myself, and down the tunnel.

  I sprinted past the pool that I had fallen into, across another cave-like opening, and into a passageway. I followed this for thirty minutes, and I started to think I was just getting more and more lost, and I would never find the others.

  Then, the pathway began to rise. Only at a slight angle at first, but soon it became steep, and my calves ached. I kept going, and it was when I reached the top that I realized I was quite high up now.

  And then, I heard voices. Quieter ones, sure, but voices, and I knew I’d found my group again.

  CHAPTER 45 – Mine Madness

  “Isaac?”

  A shape ran at me from the darkness, gradually taking the form of the lanky frame of Harrien, who surprised me with a hug. I hugged him back, surprised at how happy I was to see him again.

  When I joined the others, Tosvig squeezed my arm in the Lonehill way of greeting, while Adi-Boto gave me a nod.

  “Where have you been?” asked Judah.

  “You are covered in blood,” said Tosvig. “Is it blood of your veins, or blood of your enemies?”

  “Mostly my enemies.”

  Tosvig smiled wide, and he let out a laugh. “How many how you kill? Come, you must tell me.”

  And I did. I explained what happened when I fell into the pool of water, found the room, and left only to get attacked by an onslaught of dwellers.

  Although I explained most of what I had found, I left out the contents of the letter. That was meant for me only, and I didn’t see what good it would do for them to know about it all.

  Like Erimdag had told me, information was a strength. It was an advantage you had over others, and for the first time, I knew something about this world that the others didn’t. I’d keep some of it to myself for now, unless it became relevant to their survival.

  Even so, I still had things to ask them that were related to the letter. I’d just do it on my terms.

  It was when I told them about my fight with the dwellers that they became intensely interested. I explained it blow for blow, and Tosvig listened as if he was in the audience for a great war epic. Judah peppered me with questions. Extremely specific questions.

  “And you say that one attacked from your left flank, while the other came-”

  “I got the impression that you don’t believe me?” I said. I pinched my blood-drenched shirt. “This isn’t fruit juice.”

  “Judah is just jealous he cannot claim the same victory,” said Tosvig. “Isaac has killed more dwellers than any of us.”

  “More than a dozen of them against you, and you live. I just find it hard to settle as truth in my thoughts,” said Judah.

  I took some of the dweller meat from my bag. “See?”

  Judah regarded me for a long time, finally narrowing his eyes. “There is more to you than I thought.”

  “Can we go?” asked Cleavon. He looked agitated, wringing his hands and glancing at the tunnel ahead. I guessed the mines were getting to him.

  I nodded. “Let’s keep on.”

  We walked for two hours. Harrien strolled beside me and kept asking me to recount my fight with the dwellers, asking what I did move by move, and why I did it. Why I choose to duck at certain times, cast hrr-barrer at others. Why I choose the bear buff and not a different one. He really drilled every decision I had made.

  Talking about it that way, I started to realize that my instincts were changing. I was getting quicker in my decision making, and I was learning what to use, and when. Not only that but when I first got to this place, I’d never have been quick enough to avoid a dweller leap. I guessed all the stance training had really paid off.

  Finally, after a long march, Kayla came running back to us. She’d taken the front point in our journey, stalking the shadows twenty feet ahead of us and acting as our scout.

  She joined us. Her face was calm outwardly but looking at her for any length of time beyond a glance made it obvious that something was bubbling under the surface. I guess she still wanted someone to pay for Kostig’s injury.

  “Two tunnels ahead,” she said. “Need to know which way to go.”

  Reaching the two tunnels minutes later, we saw that the tunnels were side by side, one curving left and the other right. They would take us into two completely different parts of the mines.

  Above the left tunnel were two spikey rocks that stuck out of the wall, curving upwards so they looked like horns. On the right tunnel entrance, there were depressions in the stone. Two smaller ones, and one wide, making it look like a face with two eyes and a mouth.

  “Which way?” I said.

  Cleavon stroked his chin. “The horns of the beast say don’t tread east,” he said. Unlike the others, he didn’t sing this, and there was a strange uncurrent to his voice. Fear, maybe. “These are horns, no? It means do not take the east tunnel.”

  “I have never heard that line in the song,” said Judah.

  Tosvig nodded. “I also never heard. But look at face above right tunnel. When you see his face, your time spent is not a waste.”

  “I remember that line, too,” said Judah. “Right tunnel is the correct way.”

  Tosvig nodded.

  Cleavon shook his head. “The left tunnel is the one. You are remembering the song wrong. You will take us in the wrong direction!”

  He said this in such a shrill way that he almost squeaked the words. I think it
surprised everyone how strongly he felt about it. His forehead was damp with sweat, and he was clenching one of his fists.

  Something was wrong with the healer. Claustrophobia, maybe? Sometimes, the passageways in here got so narrow it felt like they were trying to crush you. I wouldn’t blame him for feeling a little scared, but this was something else.

  Tosvig, Judah, and Cleavon fell into an argument now. Not knowing the words of the song that would guide us through this place, I was once again struck with the innovative idea that writing this stuff down would have helped.

  Harrien took the opportunity to sit by a wall and rummage through his bag, finally pulling out a jar of water. Kayla stood at the entrance on the first tunnel, listening.

  Adi-Boto was guarding our rear, peering into the shadow of the passageway that led him here. Erimdag stood with him.

  “You aren’t a talkative fellow, are you?” asked the gnome.

  Adi-Boto said nothing.

  “I like that,” continued Erimdag. “A little quiet contemplation never hurt anyone, did it? It’s like people don’t know how to keep their words in their heads anymore. Not every chuttin’ word needs to be spoken, am I correct? Sometimes it is best to be silent. Chuttin’ Treah’s godly arse, people just can’t keep themselves to themselves anymore. That’s why I like your style, Adi-Boto. I like that you can just keep peace with your own thoughts and not feel the need to babble on just to fill a silence. A lost skill. A rare art. Am I correct?”

  Adi-Boto said nothing.

  The tunnel argument, meanwhile, showed no signs of stopping. Their arguments became circles, looping around and around and always ending in the same place; Judah, Tosvig, and Cleavon all entrenched in their original views.

  So, I stopped listening to their words, and I asked myself, who do I believe?

  The problem was that all three looked sincere in what they were saying.

  But…

  The more I watched Cleavon, the more I saw something in his eyes. A glare. A mix of anger and desperation. He looked like someone who was trying desperately, with every ounce of will, to stay calm but was utterly failing.

  And not just that. His voice was strange. His words were stained, his pitch high. Despair coated his words.

  Something was wrong here. Something with the healer. Every instinctual cell in my brain was screaming at me now, commanding me to study the healer further. Warning me there was something wrong, but not telling me what.

  He was insistent on going through the left tunnel. But so what? Judah and Tosvig were equally as insistent about going through the right.

  Then again, they were forceful in their arguments, but they were still calm. Cleavon was sweating, wringing his hands, and his voice was strange. This was no mere disagreement. Sure, it could have been fear of the mines. Perhaps, being convinced in going in one direction, he was desperate in his belief that going in the other would get us lost.

  But there was something else I just couldn’t shake from my thoughts. A memory, not of here, but of before we set out. The memory was like the sun, hidden behind clouds of my mind. I knew it was there, but I needed the clouds to part so I could see it.

  What was I remembering?

  Was it…

  Wait. It was coming to me!

  Chief Fergus. His tent. When he…

  “I am telling you, healer,” said Judah, pointing his finger. “You have gone tunnel blind, and you are mixing one song with another. If both Tosvig and I agree on the right tunnel, two minds outnumber one. Harrien, tell your healer that you agree.”

  Harrien chewed his lip. “I think that-”

  I interrupted them by drawing my hunting knife, stalking over to Cleavon, and shoving him so hard that he stumbled back, fell on his ass, and hit the back of his head against the cavern wall.

  “Isaac?” said Judah.

  I started to advance on Cleavon, but before I had taken two steps, I felt something sharp press against my throat.

  To my left, Adi-Boto stood with his spear pointed at me, the veins of his muscled forearms twitching with how tight he held it. One jab from him, and it would tear through my neck.

  Ahead of me, Kayla was crouching, with an arrow nocked on her bow, the arrow tip aimed at my eye.

  “What is this?” asked Judah.

  Cleavon stood up.

  “Grab him,” I said.

  “Isaac, explain yourself,” said Tosvig.

  “He’s gone mine-mad,” said Erimdag. “Used to happen to my lads, and they’d worked underground all their lives. Mine madness. It gets into a gnome’s head, down here. The darkness. Knowing all that chuttin’ stone is above ya. Your friend has gone mine-mad. He’s dangerous.”

  “Mad? Is that right, Isaac?” said Harrien.

  “I haven’t gone mad. Just grab Cleavon, and I’ll explain. Tosvig, trust me.”

  Tosvig looked at Cleavon, then at me. He shook his head at me.

  And then, he stomped over to Cleavon and grabbed his arm.

  Cleavon’s eyes widened. “Tosvig? You are taking the word of an outsider of me, your healer?”

  “I see no harm in listening to Isaac. Look at his eyes. He is not mad, and he is not prone to anger and violence.”

  “Usually,” added Harrien.

  Tosvig shrugged. “Sometimes it is necessary. Isaac only uses it when he needs.”

  Adi pressed the spear against my neck again, as if to remind me it was there. Judah walked so that he was in front of me.

  “Explain your outburst, Isaac,” he said. “You have been good to us so far. If it weren’t for you, we would not have gotten past the first komonaut, and we would not have escaped the gnomes. But if you are mind-mad, as Erimdag says, I will not have you endangering us.”

  I slowly held up my hand to show them how they didn’t shake, how I wasn’t angry or tense. “I’m not mine-mad, okay? Listen to my voice. Look at my face. I’m not mad.”

  Judah squinted at me. “Go on.”

  I faced Adi and I put my hand on his spear and I gently pushed it down. Adi didn’t resist. Ahead of me, Kayla lowered her bow.

  “Think back to Chief Fergus’s tent,” I said. “When he brought out the oathstone. Everyone going to the Mines of Light had to be there to swear on the stone. Fergus wanted us all to make an oath to the stone, that none of us would do anything to endanger the others. It was the only way he felt Lonehills could trust Tallsteeps. There was me, Kostig, Tosvig, Nino, Harrien, Kayla, Adi-Boto, Judah. I can see you all clearly in my head.”

  “Hard to remember the moment in such detail,” said Judah.

  Cleavon, backed up against the wall, put his finger inside his shirt collar and pulled, as if it was constricting his throat. “Where are you going with this? You are wasting our time.”

  “I wouldn’t have remembered it so well, except that Tosvig caused a fuss,” I said.

  “Tosvig causes a fuss everywhere.”

  “He had just met his brother for the first time. It stuck in my head. And that’s like an anchor, it makes everything else in my memory so much more vivid. Someone wasn’t there with us when we swore on the oathstone.”

  “Who?” said Tosvig.

  “Cleavon,” said Harrien, his face showing that understanding had dawned on him. “Isaac is right. Cleavon went to fetch Tosvig from outside the camp, as Fergus insisted that he swear on the oathstone, too. Tosvig returned, but Cleavon did not.”

  “Preposterous,” said Cleavon.

  “And now,” I said. “Two tunnels. The only thing to distinguish them is the rocks above them but taking one tunnel will lead us deep into the mines along the wrong trail, while another will take us along the right path. And yet, Tosvig and Judah, who have guided us until now, insist the right tunnel is the correct one. Only you say it is the left tunnel, Cleavon.”

  Cleavon tugged at his collar again. “A difference…just…one can disagree, can they not?”

  He glanced to his left. It was a millisecond of a look, but I saw it.

 
He was panicking. He was planning something.

  When he started to run, I was ready. I sprinted forward, cut him off, and punched him in the face.

  The healer lost his balance and fell onto the floor. I was already above him then, holding my hunting knife in my hand and gripping it tightly, despite the stinging in my knuckles. I’d learned one thing; it was much less painful to use magic or a sword than to punch someone.

  “If we needed any more confirmation that I’m right,” I said, “See how he runs. I want the truth, Cleavon.”

  He spat a glob of blood onto the ground. “The truth? You are mine-mad, that’s the truth.”

  I raised my leg to kick him, but Judah grabbed me. “Calm, Isaac.”

  Judah kneeled in front of the healer. “Cleavon, a person has not one choice, but several. You have made the wrong one before now. That is clear to us by your actions of guilt. Perhaps it is time to start making the right choices. Like planting trees, it may take years for them to bloom, but if you make enough right choices now, perhaps you can-”

  Cleavon spat blood in Judah’s face.

  The scout stood up. “Carry on, Isaac.”

  I kicked Cleavon in the stomach. The healer groaned. He got onto his hands and knees and took wheezing breaths, sounding like he was being strangled. After getting hit in the belly by the ice-dweller’s frozen webs, I knew the feeling. I also knew it was a feeling I wouldn’t want again.

  I grabbed his collar. “I will keep doing this until I break your ribs,” I said. “And even then, I’ll carry on until I feel every shard of your cowardly bones snap inside you. Before you die, we’ll use alchemooze on you. Enough to keep you alive so that you can enjoy the pain. So that death becomes like a friend for you, but one that we never let get too close. You’ll beg for a handshake with the reaper.”

  I felt everyone staring at me now. Could I really do what I’d threatened? I didn’t know. And maybe that was the scariest thing.

  Cleavon looked like he was ready to cry.

  “He promised he’d bring her back,” he said, eyes red, his voice strangely free from its old tension now, as if letting it out was a relief.