He slammed into stone with a crack.

  The air left his lungs and something snapped. The world spun, and he bounced on the hard rock as he skid uncontrollably through the dark. He rolled to a stop, taking a quivering breath. He fought to not make a sound, ears buzzing, and sharp bursts of pain from his upper arm, hip, and torso.

  He forced air into his lungs as the sound of wobbling footsteps came closer. The floor was cold against his back and he clutched a metal handle with his right hand, at least he hadn’t dropped the dagger.

  Move, you have to move!

  He poured flame to his beaten body, bones snapped back into place and torn ligaments stitched themselves together. He tried to get up, but the burning agony from his own regeneration shocked his system. His limbs, not under his control yet.

  The taps of naked feet on stone grew closer.

  GO!

  Panic welled up. His body listened, slowly at first, then all at once.

  He rolled onto his feet and limped into the darkness. The limp became a jog and finally a sprint.

  There was no light, only the occasional streaking ray from Edmund’s lantern hitting the roof above. He let his inhuman-hearing guide him.

  Stale skin rustled from the left. He ducked, a blade whizzing by his head.

  More movement, from the front this time.

  He pivoted to the side, gnarled fingernails barely grazing his skin.

  The dead were fewer here. Good, then he had a chance.

  He rushed forward in the dark, slipping past unseen bodies, his feet knew the steps, he’d dodged grasping hands all his life. But this time he wasn't trying to flee. The Blessed had to hide somewhere in the pitch-black, and he was going to kill him.

  To his left, two fiery pupils in the distance.

  There you are.

  He threw himself forward, just as something lunged from the side. A sharp pain erupted from his thigh. He grit his teeth and forced himself forward.

  The burning eyes flickered, obscured by shambling shadows.

  Shit

  He’d gambled that the Blessed husk would be completely undefended. He’d been wrong.

  But he had played his hand. He was going to end the man’s life, or he was going to die.

  Behind him, a battle was raging, Metal crashed against leathery skin and screams echoed against ancient stone. But here it was silent. The footsteps were gone.

  He took a few steps forward, with no sense of sight or hearing to rely on, he was lost in the dark.

  He learned! He understood I was listening and stopped their movement, hiding his eyes!

  Forcing his breathing still, he froze. searching for a sound. To the right, a slight shift of weight, dry skin against skin.

  He burst forward. Sprinting past something and threw himself towards the sound.

  He crashed against oily skin. Wailing howls and the rustling of weapons exploded around him. Sharp pain flared from his back and stomach. His legs went numb.

  He pushed a shivering body to the side. Two unblinking fiery eyes stared into his from inches away.

  An Ember and Fireling locking eyes.

  The sound of jagged blades sinking into flesh came from around him, he screamed out in agony, forcing his hand to move. He’d at least take the Blessed with him.

  With all the strength he possessed, he rammed the dagger towards the burning orbs. It slid off strong bones, forcing its way towards the eyes.

  “They haven’t purged you, yet…” the corpse said.

  His dagger slammed into the eye socket, shredding tissue and brittle cartilage. The burning eyes flickered, a twitching jaw sputtered as it tried to speak.

  “Beast… flame...”

  All around him echoed the thuds of bodies falling onto stone. He heard yelling, but couldn’t quite make out what they were saying.

  His mind grew hazy and the sounds muffled as something warm poured from his chest and down his limbs. He slumped face down onto the stone steps.

  A light flickered in his direction and he tried turning around. Finding that all it did was produce a scraping of metal against stone.

  Thumps of footsteps grew closer. He tried to pull flame to whatever had happened to his body, but it only produced a searing pain and twitching around his midsection. A bright light shined in his eyes.

  When did I turn around? He thought.

  Elenya’s face was covered in blood and Edmund had a grim cut along his neck.

  Their mouths moved, but all he heard was a ringing noise. A coldness creeped up his body as his field of view shrank.

  He’d killed the Blessed, that made him happy, even as the shadows shifted into silhouettes of monstrous creatures.

  “We pull them out. You heal him with what flame you have.” A commanding and concerned voice came through. “The kid has to do the rest.”

  The captain, I have to thank him. He thought as his mind became sluggish and the sights blurred.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Elenya moved, and he took a reflective gasp as air filled his lungs. She appeared again, now holding several rusty blades dripping with blood. A blurry Astrid clutched his face and a trickle of warmth fought with the creeping cold inside him.

  “That’s all I got!” Astrid’s faint voice came through.

  “He’s not closing them!” Edmund answered.

  “Rat, close the wound!” Elenya yelled high enough that his skull vibrated, its meaning crept into his fading consciousness.

  Right, the flame.

  Shifting his groggy consciousness to his Ember, it was smoldering, the heat fighting against a cold.

  He tugged at its power. It responded eagerly, flowing through his chest with an eruption of pain and squirming flesh. Muscles stitched themselves together, sinew twitching to life and severed blood vessels reached for dying tissue. His body burned in agony, but it lived.

  The cold receded, and his vision cleared, the creatures in the corners of his eyes retreating. He spent the flame without remorse, stopping only a moment before it ran out.

  He blinked, drawing a rattling breath. Astrid’s worried face hovered above him.

  “The kid did it. The bleeding stopped!” A burly voice said, Elenya. He turned his head and noticed he was being held like a newborn by the woman.

  “Hey….” He said with a weak voice.

  “That maneuver was something else, kid,” Elenya said with a grin, a wound splitting her lip.

  “I can stand, I think.” Wretch answered as he looked around, both Astrid and the captain standing close.

  “Don’t let him down,” Edmund said. “If the wounds reopen, he’s done for."

  He felt his head clear.

  “What happened?” Wretch asked. “Did I get stabbed?”

  Astrid looked at him.

  “Not stabbed,” she said, gesturing to a bloodied pile of rusty weapons on the stone floor. “Impaled through the gut, lung, liver and spine.”

  “That’s a first! Never been impaled before!” He said in a raspy voice, immediately erupting in a violent cough of thick blood.

  “Definitely the lung.” Astrid said, producing a napkin to wipe his face.

  He craned his neck to take in his surroundings. He was being held by Elenya in the same way she cradled Whisky the cat. while Astrid’s dress was bruised and torn, its sleeves covered in his own blood. The hair-binding had come loose, letting her hair fall free and her hat was gone.

  Edmund was covered from head to toe in bruises and cuts. Fresh dents littering his armor.

  Ivan was seated by the sarcophagus in the same position as earlier, clutching a steel sword with stiff arms. But unlike before, Wretch’s dagger pierced through the black-tinted skull. The hollow eye sockets were dark and lifeless and a faint glow came from within the skeletal chest.

  Beside him laid a dozen lifeless bodies, like dolls with cut strings. Ivan must have surrounded himself with a handful of the dead as he rushed forward. They had lashed out as he delivered the final strike.

  “Everyone good? No hidden wounds or immediate danger?” Edmund asked.

  The group nodded.

  “You certain, kid?” The captain said, glancing at Wretch in Elenya’s arms. “If you are still bleeding and we can’t stop it, we’re in trouble.”

  “I am fine, promise.” Wretch said in a raspy voice. “Let me gather some flame and I’ll close the wounds myself.”

  “Good, that was a gamble like none other kid.” He said with a hint of dejection. “But we'd have been done for without it.”

  Edmund crouched down by the slain Blessed.

  “We’ll discuss what went wrong later. Now is time for the good part.” He said and ripped the coal from the corpse's chest.

  “Can we split it?” Wretch asked.

  Edmund shook his head.

  “It's a one person, one use deal. We’ll sell this, split the coin.”

  Elenya clicked her tongue.

  “You shouldn’t worry rat, after that fight, I’m sure you’ll kindle without a coal."

  As if ordained, Wretch's dim Ember crackled with flame. It flushed his system with searing pain. He was handling it better this time, growing used to the pain and its close link with his blessings. Whispers fought against the walls of his mind, but he didn't listen, and soon they grew quiet.

  He turned instead to look at the ember inside of him.

  Times Kindled: 3

  “I kindled, shit it hurts a lot!” He said from his position in Elenya’s arms. She blinked and looked distant for a moment. Then her muscles strained and she grit her teeth. After a moment she cracked a wide smile.

  “I did too.”

  “Wait, it’s painful when you kindle?” Astrid asked with her usual sense of curiosity.

  “Yeah, it burns like putting your hand on the stove.” Wretch answered.

  “For me, it’s like a rush of adrenaline with screaming voices from afar,” Elenya said, still clutching him like he was made of air.

  “Adrenaline? I have a growing and ticklish feeling. Like being swept with leaves while secrets are told.” Astrid said, adjusting her glasses that through some miracle had survived the ordeal.

  "So?" Elenya said, "are you going to eat the corpse or what?"

  Wretch grimaced but not from the pain.

  "Yeah, give me a piece. Those bones were tough as nails."

  "Really?" Astrid said with a wince.

  Elenya shrugged and ripped a flaked piece of skin. Dropping it into his waiting mouth. He swallowed it whole.

  "You two would sell your mother to grow for a trickle of flame," she said as a corpse crawled forward to the flame in Wretch's mind.

  "Yep" Elenya said.

  "Definitely." Wretch echoed with closed eyes, taking a closer look at the anatomy of the corpse.

  A whistle interrupted them.

  “Hm, now what do we have here, Mr. Ivan?” Edmund said.

  The rest of the team turned with questioning looks as Edmund pulled the sword from Ivan’s stiff embrace. It was rather wide for its length and the steel had a hint of black to it. The handle was intricate but functional.

  “Touch it!” Edmund said, holding its hilt forward.

  Wretch’s monstrous, Elenya’s calloused and Astrid slender fingers touched the handle of the sword. Information sprung into existence, meaning and words coming into his head from nothing.

  Datlovich’s silence

  Spend flame to make the wielder’s steps and strikes silent, even when striking.

  When used, your voice will turn to a whisper for five minutes.

  Edmund’s eyes lit up, and he tapped the sword against the stone floor. It didn’t produce a single noise.

  “This, and a Fireling coal.” Edmund whispered. “It’s quite the haul. Almost worth the effort.”

  “You did good, Wretchy.” Astrid replied.

  Edmund gave the sea of broken corpses one last look.

  “Let’s return to the surface, before they seal the exit,” Edmund finished in a whispering voice. And they left the tomb. Unaware that they weren't the only ones disturbing the underbelly this day.