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72. Before the Breach - II
🕑 Added 2025-05-10 22:15:56 +0000 UTCEiræk didn’t return by the end of the shift. He didn’t return at the end of the next one either. All we got were Rægnor’s short, terse, and then repeated assurances that Eiræk was working on it and that he needed support, something that took time. Of course, that did nothing for Dorian’s mood, which had already started to fray.
This strike had dangers that none of the previous ones did. I had thought his skills would mitigate the risk, but as with my [Sense Injury], constant use took a toll. Rocking a headache would make anyone irritable. Add in life-and-death stakes and an easy target, and we had a recipe for continuous complaints and passive-aggressive mutterings.
I gained new respect for Rægnor, who managed to keep a level head despite Dorian’s grumbling becoming louder and more frequent. It couldn’t have helped that Dorian’s frustration blinded him to the obvious: the extra time excavating had gotten him exactly what he originally wanted. The closer we got to the rich vein, the less sense it made to go digging for scraps. The reduced distance also allowed him to confirm his assessment that the cavern below held nothing of comparable value to what lay ahead.
Despite his increasing irritability, I also found it easy to cut Dorian some slack. Once again, he had to lead a group of novice miners into terrain he had little control over. It didn’t help that I had picked up a side job as the group’s canary. Often, a single strike opened up cracks large enough for the Aether-rich air to flow through. On its own, that only affected me, and not even that severely—mild headaches or nausea, at worst. However, it’s what they came with that raised concern. Far too often, more dangerous pockets popped up around them. As my low level made me insanely susceptible to high Aether concentrations, I found myself with a front seat despite my squishy status.
We hadn’t had a single accident—yet. We had come close once. Since then, Dorian slowed us down more, taking more time to parse out the risk. It strained him, and that didn’t include the work he had to do on the riskiest part, opening the pockets.
Whenever we neared a pocket. Dorian insisted on taking the lead, and Rægnor and I didn’t argue. Rægnor’s method of mining had a high risk of triggering a cascade. My strikes didn’t, but I couldn’t easily sense the pockets. Dorian used a combination of stone shaping and low-energy strikes until confident he’d vented the bad air. That all took time--sometimes minutes, sometimes hours. I found ways to busy myself by hauling loose rubble or crystal or the occasional carcasses after exterminating small stone crab nests. Even then, I still had time to round.
Despite the frequent interruption, the days turned into a routine, which was why I stopped short when I entered the tunnel and found an unfamiliar Ættar in the tunnel with Dorian and Rægnor. The newcomer had knelt, staring at the ground three-quarters of the way down the tunnel. It had to be the potential access point to the other cavern. Besides the end of the tunnel, nothing else in here merited attention.
I walked up slowly, catching the tail end of Rægnor’s question. ”You agree with the findings?“ The Ættar gave Dorian a long look. A hint of jealousy mixed with annoyance? However, he eventually agreed. “Then go tell your leader. Let him know that we are getting close to where our attention should be focused.”
The newcomer scowled. “You forget your roots.”
He turned before Rægnor could reply, only to catch sight of me, the embodiment of his point, walking down the tunnel towards them. His eyes narrowed and his face darkened, but he walked past me without even the slightest of shoulder checks.
"Nice guy,” I said after he got out of earshot.
Rægnor shook his head, but didn’t apologize. “It is a lesson. No matter what you do, you may never be considered an ally among some.”
“I know,“ I said quietly, “but I'll take not being an enemy.” I tried to change subjects. “Was he checking Dorian's work?”
Dorian rolled his eyes. “If you can call it that. I practically had to show him where the access point to the cavern was, but you were right, at least one other person has a skill that can mimic mine, not that he would tell me what it was.”
I resisted the urge to say, “I told you so.” Rægnor was here. Plus, needling the guy wasn’t what he needed now. His sense of humor had faded with each extra foot of this tunnel we carved out. Instead, I pointed a thumb behind me. “I dropped off the debris. Do you guys have any more?”
Dorian shook his head. “No. We had to take a break, not that it mattered. We are running out of pockets. I worry my last strike hit the main vein.”
“You sure?” He was far too calm for that bomb.
“No. But we are hitting small collections of Aether crystals. They aren’t much, but if they get any larger, they’ll be considered offshoots of the main vein. We’re getting to the point where we need to decide how to approach the strike.”
“Have we been doing that?”
He let out an exhausted laugh. “No, but we should’ve. I know what you’re thinking. Setting up defenses doesn’t count. That’s the bare minimum. We’ve gotten away with it because the Verndari has always decided to breach the main cavern. That has benefits—clear out the monsters faster and get on to the next lode.”
“But you just risk getting overwhelmed.”
He pointed a finger at me. “Got it in one.”
“So, this is different because…?”
“This strike’s a tier above what we’ve been doing.” Dorian paused, eyes tight with worry. He let out a frustrated breath. “This is a motherlode, and it will draw attention—not the good kind.”
My stomach tightened, and my heart skipped a beat as the memory of the last battle flashed through my mind. “More burrowers?”
“If we are lucky. There are worse things.”
“Not sure I want to find out.”
“Neither do I, but we need to prepare for them. That means more people, for one, and I think we should stick with mining the periphery. It would take longer, but it will let us get a sense of the area. We don’t know if we will be breaching a single cavern or a whole network of them. Enough caves linked together, and the horde that could unleash is something we really don’t want.”
“What are the odds of that?”
“A motherlode draws monsters. A bit of rock isn’t going to stop them. They will carve through it, connecting caverns.”
I let out a long breath. “Why are we doing this again?”
Dorian tapped the wall with a fist. “This is dangerous, but it is also exhilarating. We are on the edge of something big. This lode could be something my clan will speak about for years to come. We just have to not be stupid about it.” Then he finished under his breath, “Which seems unlikely.”
I turned to Rægnor. “Do we know when we'll have some decisions?”
“It should be soon if they sent over a person to double-check Dorian’s work, but if we are this close, I think we can bypass the usual channels. I will talk with our hærlið.”
Dorian broke in, voice deadly serious, “Tell him that we are going to need more support for this. I’ve already mentioned it, but maybe it will mean more coming from you. Strikes this big end as many companies as they make. Something will be in there, and it will be dangerous.”
Rægnor nodded before picking up his pickaxe. ”I will speak to him. On my honor, I will pass along your concerns. Now, do we still have enough work to last the day?”
Dorian picked up his pickaxe. ”While our ‘friend’ was working, I did another pass. We aren’t close enough that we need to stop working, though we are getting close. We will still have work. This tunnel could be enlarged to support multiple pit traps and deadfalls.”
“Good. I will go speak to the hærlið.”
Rægnor left to talk with Eiræk, leaving Dorian and me to restart our excavation. Rægnor returned shortly after with little new information beyond a promise that things would be expedited. It did nothing for Dorian's mood, but he buried his discontent with more work. However, I didn’t fail to notice the increasing frequency of unintelligible muttering coming from Dorian.
His irritation didn’t slow us down. In fact, our progress was moving too quickly with all of us working. After a decision, we changed our plans. Dorian’s skill at mining eclipsed both mine and Rægnor’s, but as he was the only one who could design the traps, I took point on extending the tunnel. It went slowly. Even with Dorian frequently checking on me, I only let myself work at half my normal speed. Still, each blow against the rock face caused my stomach to churn.
Relief came through focusing on moving Energy through my channels. Advancing to the next tier let me channel so much more Energy with far more control. I easily fell into a meditative rhythm, which blunted the anxiety produced with each strike.
The rest of the shift passed uneventfully. I didn’t explode or die in a runaway cascade. Still, I had hit my limit after a few hours.
“You guys ready to call it?”
Dorian slapped the dust off his hands. “I am beat, and I haven’t been doing the heavy lifting.”
Rægnor would never say it, but he had to be tired. Of the two of us, Rægnor had the rougher end of the bargain. He schlepped a ton of rock from the newly created pits into the main cavern. He was also instrumental in creating the deadfalls, which were also feats of strength. Like Atlas, he hefted boulders until Dorian shaped thin ledges underneath them. The plan was to have a deadfall on either side of the pit traps, and the tunnel’s length could support multiple pit traps.
“Then let’s get some food.”
We were on our way out when Eiræk arrived. He had an enviable poker face because not one of us got a hint of the outcome of his talks.
"So what's the deal?" I asked.
“We are not going to open that other cavern. Instead, we are going to push towards this new vein."
Dorian let out a sigh of relief. “Good. That’s one less thing to worry about. I’m afraid to ask this, but will the Verndari want to head straight for the center of the motherlode?”
“Of course.”
Dorian’s face started to grow red, and I put a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, head swiveling towards me. I gave him a slight shake of my head. His body didn’t relax, but at least he didn’t let out a stream of expletives.
If Eiræk noticed the brief interchange, he gave no sign. “Where do we stand now?”
"Close,” Dorian replied, not hiding his frustration. “So close that we started laying down the foundation for some pit traps and deadfalls. Any more digging at the end would be enough to crack it open.”
Our hærlið just looked at him as if waiting for him to elaborate.
“It will be better if I just show you. I have a few other things I want to warn you about and pass on to the Verndari.” Dorian looked at me and Rægnor. “I will grab food later.”
“Sounds good,” I replied.
“You need water?” Rægnor asked before we turned to leave.
“Yeah,” I said, a touch quieter than I had intended—not that Dorian noticed. Dorian still didn’t know our arrangement, and I needed to tell him. Even if it was in his best interests, he wouldn’t like me asking an Ættir for help instead of him.
***
