Danche was montarily startled, then his face broke into delighted surprise. "It’s open! We’ve broken through, the front is passable now!"
He called out, and Charles, relieved, shot him a grateful look—thankful to be liberated from this dreadful Acheron at last.
He patted Nidalee on the small of her back, commanding her to get up, then called everyone else to join them. They cautiously stepped across the new passage, making their way over the rubble with care.
Fortunately, although the Chthonian had triggered a minor earthquake, the outer layers of the tunnel had held strong; the collapsing rocks had scarcely blocked the way onward. There were still so stones, but not enough to slow their progress now.
So they headed outward, following the path until they reached another major cave-in at the exit. A wall of rock blocked their way, and a wave of disappointnt washed over the group—until, from outside the cavern, ca the sound of distant clanging!
Hope flared anew. Danche gestured for caution behind him, then crept to the end of the collapse and called out in Orcish: "What do chiras eat in autumn?"
There was a pause, then a trendous cheer from beyond the stones: "Roast lamb! It’s the young lord’s voice—they’re alive!"
"Thank the gods, they’re unhard, they’re inside!"
"Hurry, notify the captain! Whatever it takes, dig the young lord out today!"
...
Cheers echoed through the stone, easily heard despite the barrier. Danche breathed out in relief and signaled back that there was no danger; their rescuers were friendly.
From there, the rest was simple. Spellcasters inside and out worked together for half a day, clearing away the last stones. It proved that indeed, many hands make light work—what would have taken the trapped group five or six days was achieved in re hours by the united Mountain People.
Sunset’s light slipped in from outside, evening’s chill air brushed their faces, and although dusk had already fallen, the delight of freedom set every heart alight with excitent.
"We’re out!"
Willo, overjoyed, nearly leapt for joy, and another satyr wiped his eyes in relief. The others heaved grateful sighs; whatever else, they’d clawed their way from darkness and won back their freedom.
Charles did the sa—he’d endured not just claustrophobia and hardship below ground, but the tornt of Acheron. Now, with it all behind him, he was finally free.
Ah, the breath of freedom—how sweet it is.
With a smile, he followed Willo and the others from the cave. Outside, the Mountain People—black-furred minotaurs, brown-skinned half-orcs and humans, snow-white satyrs, and even so humans with fair skin—waited, faces alight with emotion.
No sooner had Charles spotted them than the cave’s atmosphere changed abruptly.
Those who had been celebrating suddenly drew silent, watching them warily, palms drifting to weapons, shifting cautiously into battle formations. The air was charged, ready to ignite.
Charles halted at once, stepping halfway backward, expression tense. Behind him, Anno instantly sensed the hostility, growing anxious: for the sake of digging out the cave-in, she wore no plate armor, and her combat power was much reduced—not the ti for an armor-donning ceremony. All she could do was grip her sword and brace herself.
Behind, Nidalee’s face turned grim, while Hattie and Theresa remained relaxed—one silently counting their opponents, the other confident she could lay them out with one spell.
Willo, always the most sensitive to moods and danger, first noticed the change. Realizing open conflict might break out at any mont, she rushed forward, calling, "Everyone, please, don’t do this! Mr. Charles is our friend—we purified the demons’ pollution together!"
She looked pleadingly at Danche: "Danche, say sothing!"
Danche hesitated, the mory of his companion Barbary dying a hard thing to set aside, and revenge an ever-present temptation. But in the end, he took a deep breath and addressed the wary Mountain People. "You don’t need to be so anxious. Mr. Charles is a true comrade in arms."
"We cleansed the demons, the polluted wellspring, and vanquished a Chthonian together. They can be trusted."
His gaze swept across the watching crowd. Faces still showed confusion, uncertainty clouding their eyes as they tried to make sense of the tangled situation.
The shaman in back frowned and called to a half-orc, "Rog, explain! If the Matriarch and Danche say things are fine, why are you still holding weapons?"
The half-orc turned to the beastmaster who’d gone for help. "You say it."
The beastmaster stamred, "Didn’t they attack us first while Willo was purifying fiends, casting spells at us?"
Other Mountain People looked just as lost—they didn’t know the details, only that Danche and Willo had been betrayed, and their mission was a rescue.
"But Mr. Charles later insisted on joining forces, fighting the demons together!" Willo gasped, "There may be misunderstandings—but we all shared the sa goal!"
At the ntion of the battle, Danche felt another surge of anger. But having chosen peace, he gritted his teeth and snapped, "It was our chira that went berserk first—even attacking us! What nonsense are you spouting?"
"When you got back, what lies did you tell the archdruid?"
He was nearly shouting, even letting out a burst of Orcish curses. The Mountain People all turned on the half-orc Beast Master, fixing him with hard stares.
The fellow stamred, "I... I said they sneak-attacked us, then tricked us with Matriarch Willo’s kindness..."
Suddenly he collapsed on the ground, stunned. "Ancestors above, what have I said..."
Danche nearly marched over to hit him, but instead exhaled deeply. "There’s been a great misunderstanding. We have to get back now, or the archdruid could make a rash, disastrous decision based on bad information!"
He dreaded the thought of the Highmountain and Stonehide tribes pushing for a full assault. No—demons must be purified first. No untily war!
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