A cry for mercy, for surrender. That is what Emery hears; the voice of a dying boy on the killing fields.
"It's--it's not natural," the Captain stammers.
"No. No, it's not." Emery takes a breath and steadies himself, then musters courage enough to turn his gaze down the dark, narrow chasm to their left. Echoes of the cry still reverberate down into the blackness.
"There," he says nodding into the depths. "That's where it's coming from." Whatever it is. Then, taking note of Deron reaching for his sword, "We should seal it off. A cursory search for survivors, and then block off that part of the tunnel. If the owner has something to say about it, he can say it to me."
(He isn't a constable anymore, nor a soldier, but the office of the magistrate carries a different kind of authority. If anyone gives Deron, Lance, or even Niabi trouble about the choice, he can intercede on their behalf.)
no subject
"It's--it's not natural," the Captain stammers.
"No. No, it's not." Emery takes a breath and steadies himself, then musters courage enough to turn his gaze down the dark, narrow chasm to their left. Echoes of the cry still reverberate down into the blackness.
"There," he says nodding into the depths. "That's where it's coming from." Whatever it is. Then, taking note of Deron reaching for his sword, "We should seal it off. A cursory search for survivors, and then block off that part of the tunnel. If the owner has something to say about it, he can say it to me."
(He isn't a constable anymore, nor a soldier, but the office of the magistrate carries a different kind of authority. If anyone gives Deron, Lance, or even Niabi trouble about the choice, he can intercede on their behalf.)