Dual Wielding

Corrin had never been afraid of heights, so knowing intellectually that falling from the cliff would make him go splat didn’t faze him much. At least, when he’d been on top of said cliff. Now that the water was steadily growing closer, that fear was all too present.

The only silver lining was that he’d grabbed onto one of the bats before falling, so the descent wasn’t entirely uncontrolled. He just had to pray that the bat would hold out long enough for him to reach the ground safely.

Of course, the bat had other plans, desperately thrashing in the air as it tried to shake him off. Corrin saw stars as he slammed into the wall of the cave, knocking the air from his lungs, and he felt his grip slip a little. Before he even had time to think, he’d dropped his sword and grabbed on with his other hand as well.

The bat’s flight grew more and more erratic, its screeches louder and louder as he hit the wall again and again.

Even while hurtling through the air, anger and frustration blossomed in Corrin’s chest. How had he not noticed what was happening around him during the fight? He’d gotten tunnel visioned on killing the stupid bats! If he’d realized sooner, they could’ve gotten away.

The bat cried out one last time before it lost control of its flight entirely, and the two of them entered free fall.

Corrin twisted in the air and reached out for the wall of the cave; he was still too high up. His left hand was scraped raw against the rock face as it tried to dig in. He caught hold of a small outcropping, and the force of his momentum stopping suddenly popped his shoulder out of its socket, a gasp escaping his lips. Naturally, he lost the grip he’d found, and his fall continued. All he could hope was that it had slowed enough that he’d live. He let out a defiant yell and kicked off the wall, desperately aiming for the water below.

He crashed into the dark pool like a meteor, the impact sending a shock up his legs through the rest of his body, and for a second his vision went black, it was hardly much better than landing on the ground. Past the screaming of his legs, the next thing he felt was the cold, which crept into every inch of his body, all the way to his bones. His limbs didn’t want to obey, and he couldn’t move his left arm, but the image of that thing in the water filled his mind.

Fear injected strength into his body, forcing it to thrash pitifully towards the direction he thought was up. He broke the surface of the water, and greedily gasped for air before weakly kicking his way over to shore, willing his legs to move him forward, until finally he reached the edge of the pool. He collapsed onto the hard stone surface, hardly able to move except to shiver uncontrollably.

Corrin shifted onto his back and let out a quiet groan. It felt like he was breathing through a straw, and each breath brought with it new pain. His hands were shredded and bleeding, his left arm was useless, he’d sprained an ankle at the very least, maybe worse. He was pretty sure he’d broken a few ribs, and his head felt like it was going to split open at any moment.

“Well… I guess it couldn’t get much worse.” He croaked to no one in particular, not caring if he jinxed it at that point.

He noticed something hurtling towards him through the darkness above, but it wasn’t moving like a creature. A few moments later, Wyn’s pack landed next to him with a thud.

That’s nice at least, I’m not stuck here with absolutely nothing.

He forced himself to sit up, even as his body protested, taking stock of the area around him. Large blue lightstones lit up the cavern, filling it with a dim azure glow. A large stream flowed past him on his left, going further into a dark tunnel which curved off out of sight. All around the pool, similar streams and tunnels branched out like the roots of a tree.

Not sensing any immediate danger, he took a moment to search through the pack. The first thing he found was a small note written by Wyn.

I’ll be back with a rope.

Try not to die.

He must’ve seen Corrin crawl out of the water then, Corrin couldn’t help chuckling a little at that, which caused a sharp pain to flare up in his side.

The rest of the pack would be useful. It seemed like Wyn had combined their supplies into a single pack, dumping the magic stones to make room for an extra waterskin, rations, assorted supplies, both survival and medical, and their whole pouch of firestones, which had two more. There was also a dagger inside, which was maybe the most useful thing in the pack. Corrin’s sword had dropped into the water, and there was almost no way he’d be able to get it back. Getting stuck without a weapon would be a death sentence. Though in truth, each item in the pack was like a blessing from the spirits.

Corrin pocketed the firestones and pushed himself to his feet with his one good arm, each movement laden with exhaustion. He had to move, if he stayed still much longer, he was going to pass out. If he passed out down here, amongst creatures he couldn’t even fathom, he’d die before he woke up. He didn’t have the strength to pick up the heavy pack, so he left it on the ground as he limped in circles, trying to stay conscious.

The water in the calm part of the pool began to churn, and Corrin froze as his heartbeat began to pound in his ears. It was as he’d feared, the surface of the water broke, sending out enough water to spray him all the way on the shore as a creature the size of a house rose from the wake. Before he could make out any more than its enormous form–covered in mottled green and brown scales–Corrin was already fleeing.

An ear-splitting roar shook the cavern behind him, starting low and guttural before ascending to a high screech, completely drowning out the sound of water crashing down from the falls. As it ended, he heard the water parting violently, and a moment later he could feel it running along the ground, growing closer with each booming step.

Even in his condition, it burned Corrin’s pride to run like this, but every bone in his body was screaming at him: if he stayed and fought, he would die. He stumbled forwards as fast as his crippled legs would take him, hopelessly looking for something, anything he could use to get out of this situation.

His eyes seized on a small crack in the wall of the cave face near one of the tunnels, and his speed picked up even further. He couldn’t afford to glance behind, but he could tell from the monster’s footsteps… he wasn’t going to make it.

Reaching into his pocket, Corrin grasped one of the firestones and tossed it over his shoulder. The force of the blast knocked him off his feet, and he skidded across the floor, only a few paces from the crevice as the beast howled angrily behind him.

With his last bit of strength, Corrin crawled the remaining distance and pulled himself into the small space, hardly wide enough to fit him. Just as he got inside, the walls shook as the creature slammed against them, its hot, putrid breath crept into the crevice and choked him. His hands clenched at his chest, trying to stop it from pounding harder and harder.

What is this? He thought. What is this feeling?

The beast roared out again, leaving his ears ringing painfully.

Calm down! Breathe Corrin! He commanded himself.

It was useless, his breathing only grew more uneven as he desperately gasped in air, his vision dimmed and flashed as he grew lightheaded. Outside the darkness of the crack, the assault continued relentlessly. He’d been wrong when he was falling. That wasn’t fear, the fall to the bottom had been too short, he’d been too focused on landing to really feel anything other than primal survival instinct. This was different. The last time he’d felt this was in the spirit glades, eight years ago as he faced down the enormous spirit wolf. The word ‘fear’ didn’t even do it justice, what he felt now was a pure, all-encompassing terror, that of wounded prey, cornered by a predator.

The certainty of death wrapped its fingers around his neck, and its icy hand crept into his chest.

But the cave walls held, and after an eternity, the sounds finally died down. The cave fell as silent as a graveyard. Slowly, the light filtering into the crevice was covered up by a large shadow.

As Corrin looked into the darkness which had blocked out the light, an eye the size of a human’s head began to open. The piercing, reptilian eye glowed faintly in the gloom, dyed the color of fresh blood. It was inhuman, the eye of a killer. Corrin couldn’t stop his body from shaking. Without thinking he pressed himself further into the crevice, squeezing deeper into the walls, he had to get away from this thing. He wasn’t hyperventilating anymore; he couldn’t bring himself to breathe.

After thirty heartbeats, the eye slowly moved out of sight, and he heard the beast begin to move again. He couldn’t see it, but each step echoed softly off the walls, and he didn’t begin to relax until he heard it slinking back beneath the water.

His breath finally returned to him, but he didn’t dare move again. The adrenaline started to slowly fade, and he began to feel each of the injuries he’d taken piling on top of each other. For at least an hour—though it was hard to tell time in the state he was in—white hot agony permeated every inch of his body, though thankfully it eventually cooled to a more manageable throbbing, so it only felt like he was being struck constantly by a thousand hammers all at once instead. Yes, much more manageable. On a positive note, he was in far too much pain to notice what he was sure was the extreme cold of the water soaking his clothes. Plus, the ringing of his ears had finally subsided.

Vaguely, in the only corner of his mind that hadn’t curled up into a ball and hidden, he still planned. He’d left the pack by the water, containing all his food and supplies. He could only pray the monster hadn’t destroyed it. He had one firestone left, some rations and other equipment. Most importantly, he’d need to start a fire and eat, his stomach was empty, as he’d thrown up all its contents, and he’d need energy to make it out of here.

A dark chuckle escaped his lips. Make it out? Who am I kidding?

Even if Wyn could get a rope, he didn’t have the strength to hold on. Maybe he could tie it around himself, but if he got attacked by anything, he’d be completely defenseless. Wyn could climb down himself, but if that thing attacked… what chance did they even have? And it wasn’t like he could carry Corrin, defend them, and climb the rope at the same time. The outcome was already decided.

Corrin was going to die down here.

He’d never get to pay Fenfreth back for raising him. He’d never get to tell Khaeli how he felt. He’d never gain a winning record in his spars with Wyn. He’d never see Taravast…

His thoughts started to blur as he drifted in and out of lucidity. He had a vision of a memory from years ago, sitting at the table with Fenfreth and the others, laughing as they all shared a big dinner. He was pestering one of his older siblings for an arm wrestle, while Ezra—only four at the time—was fighting with Fenfreth about eating his vegetables.

Then, instead he was in the library with Irym, who was trying to get him to focus on a list of the first-floor monsters. Irym took his glasses off the same way he always did when he was angry, polishing them on his shirt as he pointed to a section of the book.

He was ten, standing quietly at the mass funeral after the dungeon flood, watching from a distance as Wyn cried in his mother’s arms. And suddenly, it was different, there was a single grave with a familiar name: his own.

His siblings were gathered around the grave. The dirt beneath the headstone was untouched, as there was no body to bury. Sarah was weeping, her head buried in her lap as she cried. Ezra was standing, fists clenched, his face angry even as tears rolled down his cheeks. The rest of his siblings were there too, crying together, the younger ones wailing into Fenfreth’s robes as he struggled to hold back tears of his own.

“No…” Corrin called out, but no one could hear him.

Khaeli was there too, watching his siblings from a distance as she wiped her face dry. She held her hand over it, shoulders heaving unevenly as she choked back sobs.

“Stop crying… please,” He didn’t want to see this.

Then he saw Wyn, and Corrin froze in place. Wyn wasn’t crying, yet he was the worst of all. There was no life left in his eyes, it looked a part of him had died too. His shoulders were slumped, and he looked like he hadn’t eaten or slept in days. Like all the strength had just… gone.

He’ll blame himself, Corrin thought. Just like before.

Corrin couldn’t die. He had to make it out of here and laugh with everyone again. He had to leave Straetum and go to Taravast. Even if he left Wyn, and Khaeli, and everyone, he’d leave a smile on their faces, there’d be no tears when he left.

The memory of that day bubbled up into his mind, as clear and sharp as though it had only happened the day before. Black and white robes fluttered in the wind, contrasting sharply against the greenery of the forest. If that man were here now, would he be cowering in this crack, hiding from the monster in the lake? What advice would he give to Corrin in this situation?

Corrin didn’t know. He was alone down here, with no one to rely on other than himself. But…

Worrying is only for people who don’t have shit to do. You’re going to go to Taravast and become a great spirit knight. The very best.

There was only one person in the world he trusted more.

Corrin spoke quietly, “I didn’t come this far, I didn’t work this hard, I didn’t promise to leave everything behind, just to give up at the slightest inconvenience.”

Compared to all that, this was nothing. He was already at rock bottom; it couldn’t get any worse.

I’m going to get out of this place, even if I have to climb up the walls with my bare hands. Then, I’m going to come back with Wyn, and conquer this hellhole.

“I’m going to survive, and I’m going to become a spirit knight. I swear it to the spirits.”

Corrin seized that feeling, deep within his chest, and held to it with everything he could, picking up the pieces of his shattered resolve and putting them back together.

With that declaration though, he finally reached his limit and passed out, sleep overtaking him.