Chương 24: The Long Retreat

We walked slowly and cautiously through the winding tunnels. Every step was measured. Every breath was careful. The damage from the blue-horned monster still burned, the red threads of pain pulsing in my shoulder with my muscle there with every movement. Galer had not been able to recover his swords, so he moved with only his fists and the broken satyr horns he had taken earlier. Larina stayed close between us, her small wings folded tightly against her arms. For the first forty minutes we encountered no satyrs.

The silence was almost worse than noise. We moved like ghosts, pressing our backs against the cold, damp walls whenever the tunnel narrowed. Every few steps we stopped completely, holding our breath and listening. Galer would signal with a raised fist, and we would crouch low, scanning the darkness ahead and behind us. Larina kept sniffing the air constantly, her small nose twitching as she tried to pick up any trace of the enemy.

I gripped my longsword so tightly my knuckles turned white, ready to strike at the slightest shadow. The only sounds were the steady dripping of water from the ceiling and our own labored breathing. The air felt heavier with every passing minute, thick with moisture and the faint metallic tang of old blood. We checked every side passage and alcove with painstaking care, expecting an ambush at any moment.

The silence pressed down on us like a living thing, broken only by the occasional distant echo of water or the scrape of loose pebbles under our boots. Tension coiled tighter in my chest with each empty chamber we cleared. The longer the quiet stretched, the more it felt like the cave itself was holding its breath... waiting for the perfect moment to strike on our unprepared hearts. Finally, we reached a large open chamber that looked like it could hold over a hundred of the creatures.

Tables and bowls were scattered everywhere, filled with food. Four satyrs sat there in a musical haze, playing soft melodies on their horns, completely unaware of our presence. They were laughing, eating, enjoying themselves, innocent in their own world. It seemed their master had brainwashed them thoroughly. They cared for nothing except food service and simple pleasures. Pouches full of fresh-picked apples, clearly brought here recently, lay scattered around them, ready to be cut.

Maybe the distant collapse and battle above had not disturbed their trance, or they were always the gathering group and not the fighting one. They remained blissfully ignorant, focused only on eating and playing their horns. It was truly flabbergasting how they cared for nothing around them. But we had no mercy left to give. Galer moved first, his fists glowing faintly with residual light energy. Larina followed with her claws extended, her small body trembling but more determined.

I was too exhausted to attack properly, so I stayed back, guarding the entrance and inform them about reinforcement. The satyrs barely had time to react. One looked up, eyes widening in confusion as Galer's fist crashed into its jaw. Another tried to raise its horn to play a boosting melody, but Larina was already on it, her claws tearing across its chest in a desperate, savage flurry. The remaining two tried to flee, but we cut them down quickly. It was brutal, efficient, and necessary.

We stood over the bodies for a moment. The silence that followed felt heavy.

"…We had no choice," Galer said quietly, wiping blood from his knuckles.

"I know," I replied, my voice hoarse.

"Survivors don't always get the luxury of mercy." Despite the grimness, the food was a blessing. We ate quickly but gratefully. The apple soup they had prepared was phenomenal, rich, warm, and filling. Even in our weakened state, it gave us a small spark of strength." Woah… so filling in so little soup," Larina whispered, her eyes wide with surprise. Galer kept slurping loudly, knowing time was against us but unable to resist the warmth after days of hardship.

Before we moved on, I turned to Galer as he had asked of us.

"Rip off their horns with Larina's help. I will use as many of them as temporary knives." Galer nodded as we ripped the horns away.

"Sorry, satyrs… but not sorry," I muttered under my breath, tearing the horns free and handing them over to Galer. We pressed forward. The next chamber opened into a grotto with flowing water, small river lines cutting through the stone.

"An exit," Galer said, hope rising in his voice. Our spirits lifted for the first time in an hour. We thought we might finally escape this nightmare. But the moment optimism returned, a greater threat appeared. More satyrs came running from the opposite side, most likely looking for their master.. Larina reacted instantly, she pushed me hard against the wall and down toward the water flowing line. Galer pressed himself against the wet rock as well.

The satyrs stopped near the water, checking the strange splashing sounds we had just made. I had to hold my breath forcibly. Larina's claws clamped over my mouth to keep me silent. The cold water stung my wounds. Twenty-seven agonizing seconds passed before the satyrs moved on. When they finally left, I gasped for air. Galer slowly lowered himself from the wall, using the satyr horns to stay afloat. Larina used her strong sense of smell to guide us toward what she hoped was an exit.

Instead, we found ourselves in a vast nesting, housing, and breeding grotto. Two hundred satyr armors and weapons lay scattered around, this was clearly their main living area.

"Bah… this cold water does not dwell well on me right now with all this pain," I groaned. Galer supported me on one side, Larina on the other. We had to hide and slip past security patrols for two long, exhausting hours. Every shadow made us freeze. Every distant melody set our nerves on edge.

After three hours and eleven minutes of careful movement, we finally found the exit, a natural opening leading out of the grotto into what looked like Helenia mountainous terrain but at lower elevation: a river flowing toward what we presumed was the ocean, short grass, no bushes, and open sky. They definitely know we killed the satyrs on kitchen duty along the way. Larina proudly claimed, "Hey, I helped on killing them, okay?" Galer chuckled tiredly.

"No need to sweat the small stuff… though you're right. They know uninvited guests are here now. That's why so many are outside. Problem is, there are no bushes for real cover. Leaving right now is too dangerous. And our skin has been in the cold water too long, we're not in good shape." Night was approaching. We decided to wait until the sun went halfway down, then began a slow, silent climb up the rocky cliff face, a dangerous three-meter section at first, then steeper.

Luckily, the night was dark enough to hide our movements. I was still holding the others back because of my pain. Even as it subsided slightly, I knew I was slowing the group. Larina offered to help me, but I denied her. She was already shivering and clearly out of her depth. I took the role of going last. Galer went second, Larina first. We waited until the light faded further, then started climbing very, very slowly. We moved in complete silence except for the faintest whispers.

Small pebbles occasionally fell, but by Michaelanius' grace, most of the satyrs had gone further down the riverbank or were gathered at the main gate. The more pebbles dropped, the more curious the satyrs became. We had reached the halfway point of the climb when disaster struck. Larina, exhausted and struggling to keep her balance on the narrow ledge, accidentally brushed against a large loose rock with her wing. The stone shifted dangerously.

Galer, trying to steady her, placed his hand on the same rock for support, but it only made things worse. The rock was no longer holding up part of the climbing face. I planted my foot on that exact spot a second later. With a sickening crack, the massive rock broke free. It tumbled downward, smashing against the cliff wall with a loud clang, splitting cleanly in two. The sound echoed through the ravine like a thunderclap, far louder than any pebble before it.

Smaller stones followed in a rattling cascade, announcing our presence to the entire mountainside. Below us, the satyrs froze. Their heads snapped upward in unison. A chorus of alarmed shrieks and horn blasts erupted as they spotted us clinging to the cliff face. Galer acknowledged the gamble with gritted teeth.

"It was clear they would find us eventually." Larina, wings flaring with determination, said, "Okay then, since they know of us I i can fly now!" She shot upward with desperate speed. Twenty satyrs from the grotto began boosting themselves with their horns, jumping and climbing after us in a frantic race to the top. It became a desperate battle for who would reach the high ground first. I understood better than anyone how much of an advantage the high ground could be.

Even with my struggles, one arm damaged, blood dripping from reopened wounds... I kept climbing in my own tempo. Satyrs threw rocks at me, sharpening the pain in my head, legs, and back. Yet I refused to stop. Memories of Görlitz, Wutta, and every enemy who had ever harmed me fueled my stubborn momentum forward. Satyrs that closed the gap engaged us in close combat near the top. Larina fought two at once, wrestling with claws and legs, trying to squeeze throats and rip them apart.

Galer used the satyr horns combined with his light energy for cutting and stabbing moves, replenishing broken horns as needed. After seven attacks, the horns on Galer shattered. Everyone was out of breath, near the end of their energy. Looking down, Galer saw the looming death... the remaining satyrs from the lake, the main force, had been notified and were climbing up fast. As I finally reached the top in pain, breathing hard, covered in sweat and blood.

Galer immediately took all the remaining lying horns, struck them against the cliff with his last bit of energy, and triggered a rocky avalanche. Stones and debris rained down, slowing the pursuers, though they quickly restarted their climb. Since we reached the top in pain, breathing hard, covered in sweat and blood. But the worst was the realization burning in our minds: We had to run. We had to retreat.

We were not yet strong enough to face the blue-horned monster or his massive numbers of servants and win it all. The thought of Husher, of our broken promise to the children in Kikindo, and of our own weakness weighed heavier than any wound. Different thoughts haunted each of us. Larina only thought of her castle bed, pompous feasts, royal clothing, and finally getting her hair straightened after hiding in wet terrain and seeking in darkness for so long.

We recovered a little mentally during the downward run from the mountain top, better than the suffocating darkness below had offered, but one last dangerous encounter still waited on the road to safety.