V3Ch18-Rockslide
Tybalt led his army back to Humun.
Having crushed the resistance in Vors, received the town’s submission, accepted his crown, and performed the same tasks he had for Humun - mainly selecting his own Mayor from among the town’s elite and establishing who was boss - there was little reason to remain.
It was time to hunt down the bandits who had somehow defeated the force Tybalt had sent to exterminate them.
While the Grand Beastfolk Army traveled, the necromancer rode in a cart, sitting cross legged with his eyes closed.
There were whispers from among the men that he was meditating to control his awesome powers; that he was hungover and fighting a migraine headache; or that he was tired from spending the entire night celebrating with his ladies.
Only those in his inner circle knew the truth.
The necromancer’s mind was simply elsewhere.
***
The Elders gathered quietly, filing into their established meeting place at the usual time.
The setting was a dark cave high in a valley between the main ibex tribe mountain and the main fox tribe mountain.
No words were exchanged, as was the custom.
Torches were lit in silence, since the only natural light source was the cave entrance, and the daylight was dying already, as usual. Then the torch handles were set in the holes that had been bored in the walls for that purpose.
No one spoke until everyone had stepped past the inscription on the floor, a carved series of ancient runes that were said to have been put in place centuries ago, near when the beastfolk arrived in Niet, to protect meetings in this place from scrying eyes.
“So, who called this meeting?” asked Chief Mihalic in the tone of someone who had other places to be.
Elders Vladmir, Cyril, and Sonia of the fox tribe turned to him with expressions of mild surprise.
“I had assumed it was you,” Vladmir said after a moment.
Sonia and Cyril both shrugged and shook their heads.
“If it’s none of the three of us- ”
Mihalic’s voice was quiet after a moment by the sound of flapping wings carrying from outside.
“It must be our friends, the harpies,” Sonia finished.
Elders Vesna and Zlata stepped into the cave.
“We seem to have company,” Elder Vesna said, pointing back at the entrance.
Mihalic furrowed his brow.
“What do you mean, ‘seem to have company?’” he demanded. “This is a secret site. Who- ”
“The full ibex Council of Elders has shown up,” Elder Zlata cut in. “I assume one of you passed the word to them?”
“What?” Vladmir asked. “How? It’s been a generation since any of their number were part of our little strategy sessions.”
“I guess we’re meant to work them in,” said Elder Vesna.
“Who invited them?” asked Elder Cyril.
As the others spoke, Mihalic walked to the entrance of the cave. The ibexfolk had approached, and they stood peering in.
“Thank you for the invitation, Chief,” said their Eldest, Hiram.
“I- ” Mihalic looked staggered, annoyed, and bewildered all at once. “Uh, well, come in, Elders, and make yourselves at home.”
He looked back into the cave with a shrug.
The ibex Elders entered behind the fox Chief. With confused expressions, the now much less exclusive gathering made room for the ibexfolk. Only the female ibex Council member was missing, but no one commented on it. The ibex tribe’s strict sex role divisions were well known to the other tribes.
“Now that we all seem to be settled,” said Chief Mihalic with a tight smile, “could someone kindly tell me whose idea this meeting- ”
There was a loud, explosive bang from the front of the cave. The walls and the ground all around shook as a sound of stone shattering and crashing down carried down the length of the cave. Then the external light was snuffed completely out.
“What just happened?” It was Elder Cyril’s voice, more panicked than anyone present had ever heard him.
“That sound was a bit too familiar,” said Elder Vladmir uneasily.
“It was a fucking explosion!” Mihalic roared. “The alchemist set us up!”
“We don’t know that,” said Elder Sonia.
“These are the same alchemic substances that you - er, we - have used for, previous tasks?” asked Elder Zlata.
“They were strong enough to shatter the cave entrance, so I’m guessing yes!” the Chief said, his voice still raised, fuming but not quite out of control.
“Oh, this is the stuff young Andric used to fight the Army, right?” asked one of the ibexfolk. “Er, why would someone be using it on the mountain now?”
The fox Elders ignored the ibex tribe member’s questions and pushed past him toward the entrance.
Mihalic laid hands on the stone and pushed hard. There were many small fragments that could easily be moved, but he felt a single large slab that was the real barrier to escape. He pushed hard against it.
The stone didn’t move a single inch.
“Shit,” he muttered. He turned his head to where the others were. “Don’t just stand there, help me!”
“Right,” said Elder Vladmir, licking his lips. He, Cyril, and Sonia set down anything they were holding - Sonia put the torch down beside the cave wall, while Vladmir put down something metal, perhaps a knife - and they all pressed their shoulders against the hard rock.
They pushed with all their might. Nothing moved except their feet sliding against the smooth floor of the cave, worn down by hundreds of meetings in this place over the centuries.
“If we just had some leverage,” muttered Sonia.
“Our Lord will send what we need,” Cyril insisted.
But one could hear in his voice that the pious man was on the verge of tears.
“I wish I had brought my sons into our fold,” Mihalic said. “If they were here…”
The younger men were stronger than their father, especially Andric, who had gained level after level from fighting the humans.
“Help!” yelled Mihalic. “Help!”
No sound could be heard coming from the other side of the rock wall.
The others beside him joined their voices to his, to no effect.
The Chief shook his head, and then he and the others stopped shouting and continued pushing in silence.
They struggled for a few more minutes before the harpies and the ibexmen wordlessly joined them. It had taken the other Elders more time to piece together what the fox Elders were doing in the darkness, but now everyone joined their strength. It was a matter of survival, after all.
They pressed their shoulders against the flat of the rock together as well as they could, crowding at the narrow space the cave’s width afforded them and trying not to crush each other. Gradually, stronger Elders shoved their way forward to take prominence closer to the front and lend more of their strength to the fight.
But even the Elders pushing together could not budge the stone. It was as if there was more than just a ton or so of rubble keeping them trapped. Perhaps the weight of their own sins.
Or perhaps it was the fact that they were all relatively fragile elderly people, none of them with classes or an abundance of levels to bolster them.
Either way, as the futility of the effort began to seem undeniable, each beastman or beastwoman gradually slipped out of actually pushing on the rock. Each one gave up in their own heart on using their own strength to solve the problem.
Some of them resumed calling for help, shouting through the barrier of stone.
Cyril and a couple of others fell down on their knees, praying for Lord Mudo to save them.
Mihalic, and those like him who had been most attached to their lives and their power, gritted their teeth and wept for their lost ambitions.
All the while, hundreds of insect, rodent, and bird auditory organs carried the sounds away, transmitting the noise and turmoil of their deaths to their master.
***
That’s right, Tybalt thought, a smile twisting on his lips. Die without knowing the reason why. Buried alive, surrounded by darkness, ingloriously, for nothing but the pure sin of being traitors.
He found it pleasant. It was especially funny to hear Elder Cyril and the most zealous beastfolk praying to the Death God for salvation when Lord Mudo’s instrument, the man who they had betrayed and attempted to murder, had been the cause of their destruction.
Just a small alchemic explosion when they were all in their meeting place. It was all too easy. Because they had only the political trappings of power.
The necromancer possessed the grim reality.
“What’s up with that look on your face?” Dero asked suspiciously. “You look too happy for someone who’s not currently having his dick sucked or being praised.”
Tybalt opened his eyes, blinked a couple of times, and gave Dero his most innocent smile.
“Oh, it’s nothing. Just people getting what they deserve.”
The dark elf shuddered. “Go back to the creepy smile. This innocent one you’re trying just makes it look like you’re going to eat a baby or something. As for your latest victims, it sounds like I’ll find out eventually. Sucks to be them, I guess.”
He nodded and closed his eyes again.
The necromancer kept watching through his tiny servants as the torches guttered out. That was the first sign that the oxygen in the cave had almost run its course.
As a bonus, the Elders noticed it and began to understand what was happening. It wasn’t a slow death from starvation they were facing, which would be horrifying but offered the chance for rescue.
It began a fresh bout of screaming and calling for help.
Unfortunately, no one could hear them.
At the entrance to the valley where the meeting was taking place, Eldest Isak, Elder Elswyth the shaman, and Elder Sybil the alchemist stood, ready to dissuade the small number of people who might consider taking a detour through the valley.
“Don’t go this way today,” they would say. “There’s been some instability on this side of the mountain. We heard a rockslide earlier.”