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“Whelp, there is blood everywhere, we have limited time to escape, and I am not going to respect your spice-infested decor. Find the damn exit.” Avel rips down another tapestry and tosses it on one of the bodies.
It’s kind of cute how they interact. Avel has a sort of rough paternal energy that feels very attractive in this moment. Torin curses and starts pulling at the rugs as well as peering behind the hangings while Avel systematically rips the room apart behind him. There is no coming back to this place anyway, a fact that Torin doesn’t seem to have come to terms with as yet.
“Here! I found it!” He pulls back a tapestry and points to a round portal set low in the wall. Avel is only just barely going to fit through with his wings folded, if he gets through at all.
“You go first,” he says to Torin. “Raine behind, and I will take up the rear. Let’s go. Now.”
“If you hadn’t ripped all the tapestries down it would have been more camouflaged,” Torin grumbles as he gets down on hands and knees to crawl into the hole. I can crouch-walk inside it, while behind me, Avel has to commando crawl with his wings pressed super close to his body in order to make his way through.
We make our escape through a series of escape tunnels inside a series of escape tunnels. Escape-ception. There really are parts of this world that are hidden from those who maintain lawfulness, and I would be lying if I said I was not inexorably attracted to them. I am a lifelong career criminal, and I’m starting to think — in spite of all his performances to the contrary, Avel might just have some very bad boy tendencies as well.
For quite some time, our little procession wends its way through the earth on something of an upward incline. As soon as we move out of range of the light in Torin’s room, the tunnel becomes pitch black. There is nothing to be seen. We do not know what terrain we are moving toward. My mind begins to terrorize me in the way minds do, making me imagine the whole thing suddenly ending in a pit of lava or something. Logic tells me if there were a pit of lava around here, we’d have more light.
Behind us, we can hear the sound of outlaws who, having broken into Torin’s quarters, are now dealing with the bodies of their fallen comrades and trying to work out where we have gone. The further we move, the more their voices become hollow and quiet until in the end it sounds like outraged rumbles and whispers coming from another time and place altogether.
At first we move in silence, but as the tunnel continues and the sounds of crawling, scuffling, and the occasional curse from Torin as some rock or root further rips at his once fine clothing become a little claustrophobic, conversation ensues.
“Any idea where this comes out?” Avel asks the question from behind me.
“I knew once,” Torin says over his shoulder. “But I forgot.”
“Do you remember anything of importance, whelp?”
“I’m not a whelpling. I’m of age. That’s why you got your hands on me, remember, grandfather?”
I let out a laugh at Torin’s easy cheek. He is well protected right now, having earned Avel’s favor first in saving me, and then in helping him defeat the outlaws who would have happily killed us all.
“Grandfather, is it?” Avel snorts. “I am not that old.”
“You talk like an old man, act like an old man…” I join in the fun a little.
“Get going, human. We are wasting time in the dark.”
He swats at me as best he can, barely making contact with me, but I get the idea and keep moving. I want to escape the darkness and come out into the light again. I want to see Avel spread his wings, and I want to crawl into his arms.
We keep going. Keep crawling. Until…
“Ow. I think I found the end,” Torin says. There’s a square outline of light in front, the only indicator that we’ve reached what I really hope is the end of the tunnel. I need to see things again. I need to stretch my limbs and experience freedom. Also, my ribs are fucking killing me.
“I think you need to press on this panel…” He mumbles, messing with the metal obstacle until POP! CLATTER! CRASH! the whole thing bursts open, and we are suffused in an unnaturally blueish-white kind of light that sucks the color out of everything.
Pushing forward and clambering out of the tunnel, we find ourselves inside a room covered in panels similar to the one we just moved. It is large and empty, with a vault-type door on one wall.
Torin lets out a little laugh. “Oh. Okay. I remember why this tunnel was dug now.”
“You drug-addled little whelp,” Avel growls. “Look at this!”
I look around and see nothing at all. Maybe some dust in the corners. This seems like a place that’s been sealed up for a very long time, but still has some airflow coming in through ducts in the ceiling. That’s fortunate, or we’d have been asphyxiated in that tunnel for sure.
“What’s the problem with where we are?” I have to ask, as nobody seems inclined to explain anything.
“We’re in the alpha’s reserve. Basically, the bank that services the entire city and holds the generational wealth of legions of alphas. This is where the ores that underlie our currencies are held.”
“But there’s nothing here.”
“That is the problem,” Avel says grimly.
“Another problem,” Torin adds, “is that there’s no way out of here. It’s a dead end. And they’ll come and find us here soon enough once they make their way through the tunnel. You know?”
