Umbral Rune (Rough Draft)

Umbral Rune: Chapter 11 - Escape Artist

[Skell]

"Y-you there?" my voice shivered. I scanned the vacant cell. The silence answered back. But I didn't want to believe it.

A familiar rhythm of greaves on metal bars came from afar.

Gervais is coming down? Shade!

My body pulled itself in two directions, leaving me stranded where I started.

Oliver couldn't have left the jail, I would've seen him on my way down and he couldn't have taken the ladder with his hurt shoulder, but he's not here, and - and the tunnel I dug and my broken chains are in plain sight; what if Gervais sees- wait, no, maybe I can explain that away, but what if-

Metallic echoes drew closer. Time, as always, was too short.

Cutting through my jumbled thoughts, however, was one decision:

Act natural!

Gervais reached the ladder's base, turning around just in time to find me lifting the backpack onto my shoulders. "Phew!" I wiped my forehead, "everything's still inside, exactly where I left it."

In reality, I hadn't even touched the zippers. But the Paladin didn't need to know that.

Instead of responding, or even seemingly listening, however, Gervais' eyes moved elsewhere: to Hyland's crumpled body.

His armor looked like it'd been caved in by a catapult, the plate more blood-red than silver. The Knight's fingers, knees, and neck were bent at uncomfortable angles. But he wasn't responsive to their pain. Or at all.

Undead or not, I didn't have the stomach to look for long. And I despised him.

The Paladin struggled twice as hard, his neck fighting to turn away. But something won out. He gazed upon his work unflinchingly, regarding Hyland like a lost friend, or possibly something closer. Alongside his grief, I noticed, was an air of duty. Of doing what needed to be done. And that strength guided him toward me.

"You have your things," his voice was low, but not his gaze. "Now, tell me what occurred in this jail. If you would," he added.

I tensed. Retribution wasn't what I feared, but instead, exposure. I couldn't worm out of an explanation, and if I slipped up, or worse...

Oliver, wherever you're hiding, please stay put... At least for now.

Masking my concerns, I nodded. "Of course, Paladin Gervais. I'll start at the beginning."

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Usually, I took a dark delight in deceiving others.

It wasn't my proudest trait, sure, and Oliver made me reconsider if my skill at it was a gift or a curse. But either way, I wasn't good at much. And busting out a talent of yours, well, sometimes it just felt nice.

My testimony to Gervais, however, was a stark exception.

Not only did I take zero pleasure from the whole affair, but the core of my testimony was the absolute truth. Gervais did deserve to know what happened, after all.

Secondary details however, like my identity as undead and Oliver's presence, were wiped clean from the events via several omissions and half-truths: changes cooked up with the time I bought delving into unimportant asides. "Oh, and that officer with the green eyes - man, she was polite, giving me their birthday dinner. Hope she lands a promotion soon," I'd say for example. Call it morbid luck, but Gervais wasn't in the mood to rush me past the digressions.