Beyond the Rabbit Hole

All Our Gods

Benard lumbered toward the other survivors, his head hung low in distress. "He's not here. . ."

"I couldn't find him either," Halic added meekly.

"I told you; he must've gone deeper into the crater—the crazy bastard," Hector spoke through staggered grunts of pain as Valentina struggled to mend his wounds.

"There's no use working yourself up about it now," Barbarossa said. "There's a good chance he's already dead."

Benard took a deep breath, raised his head, and headed toward the cave entrance.

"Where are you going?" Barbarossa stood up and glared sharply at the old swordsman's back. "Do you think anger will keep you alive down here? Or is it determination that drives you? Resolve? Loyalty? A dying man's sense of Chivalry?" He scoffed. "If those platitudes could protect you from a zombie's teeth in your throat, I would've had my men trade their armor in for them years ago."

"My duty is to them, not to you," Benard replied calmly.

Barbarossa was at a loss for words as Benard continued toward the crevice.

"Wait, swordsman!" Bjurrin called out as he sucked in his gut and took to his feet.

Benard half-turned around to face him.

"Thank you," Barbarossa sighed. "Since nobody seems willing to listen to me anymore, perhaps our new leader can speak some sense into this old fool. If we lose even one of our best fighters, the chances of our survival plummet."

Bjurrin sighed. "He's right, you know? We're fucked if you leave. Though we're probably fucked anyway," he said with a chuckle.

"I'm sorry that such misfortune has fallen upon us, as a result of my suggestion, no less, but I owe it to them to do everything in my power to ensure their survival," Benard replied. His eyes were stern, and his voice unwavering. "I would not be here if it weren't for them."

Bjurrin took a deep breath and nodded. "It's suicide for you to go by yourself, so I shall accompany you. May the Storm Father guide us in this dark place."

The berserker's response took Benard aback.

"What?" Barbarossa exclaimed, his face twisting in confusion.

"You said it yourself," Bjurrin guffawed, relishing in his former commander's expression. "We can't afford to lose even one of our best fighters, and I don't think I can convince him to stay."

The remaining survivors looked at the berserker with fear and anxiety.

"The way I see it, we're doomed if we don't fix this hopeless situation," Bjurrin said with a shrug. If the tiny woman is as much a monster as Hector says she is, bringing her back should boost our chances of survival by. . . a lot." He chuckled.

"We're all going to die. . ." Charles muttered.

"If this little quest of ours fails, then probably," Bjurrin teased. "But if it succeeds, we might just make it out of this hellscape and impress the gods while we're at it."

Barbarossa pinched the brow of his nose and let out a sharp sigh.

"I'll come with you as well," Halic stepped forward. "You'll need all the help you can get."

"No, you won't," Barbarossa spoke with finality.

Halic gripped his swords' hilts tightly and glared at the former commander. "Do you think I'll listen to you after everything you've done?"