-"Silence, fool. You ask too many questions." I paused. A thought that perhaps I'm being too tough on the kid crossed my mind for a split second. "Your questions will all be answered in time. The one calling herself "Gwenivere" will definitely be gracing Kandarin with her presence... soon enough."
I leaped up onto the ship, and quickly summoned the bones of the fallen crew members to help propel the craft, as well as repair the rudder. Wyverns would help, but they're too much of a luxury, I suppose. In any case, the ship sped faster than an enraged shark after I boosted it with a taste of my own power."
--- --- ---
Warm convection flows caressed the body, just like water. The glowing red lava left nothing but an orange blur in the eye. He could almost taste it - a savoury, hearty flavour blessing the mouth with a warmth spreading around the head and spilling down unto the chest. There was no need to move in the tiny space that he was crammed into, nor was there any desire. The lava flows were so good to him, so sweet... His mind was in an ecstatic state almost all the time, a quarter of him dreaming, a quarter of him conscious, and half of him completely dead. There was nothing else there, other than him, his little shell, and the lava streams...
But then, something changed. Did he see something? Did he feel it? Did he hear it? He didn't even know entirely what it was, but it was there, and it was not making him feel good. The atrophic body finally moved uncomfortably, for the first time in many years. The mind slowly began resurfacing from the depths of the soothing delirium, jerked awake by the abnormal feeling. Yes, there was definitely something there. The sweet lava flows seemed colder than ever now, and he was barely moving. There was something else, though... A presence? Could it be? Or is it just another way of the mind keeping itself sane?
Now he was sure: he heard something. Muffled voices were coming from outside his secluded world, his sanctuary.
-"Whhts thaa?"
-"Somm kind o'oaa?"
-"Waa wo'ouuaah..."
The voices were getting clearer... they seemed to close in on him.
-"Don't touch that!"
-"...missed me..."
-"This is a reconnaissance..."
He tried to go deeper, he tried to go back in - but his body was being ripped from his shelter, and he knew it. His time almost came. Why? Why now? Why couldn't he have his shell back in the molten heaven, carefree, careless for his whole life? The thought of coming out scared him, it appalled him, he had to try to go back, he had to - so he pushed his whole body back down into the earth, his mother's womb. They will not take me, he thought, I must return!
The voices outside hissed loudly, and became garbled again. For a moment, it was all quiet, just like he wanted it to be - and then something loudly hit his shell. Somehow, that enraged him beyond all comprehension. His metal fingers pierced the feeble inner layer of the shell in a frenzied fit of madness. He violently raked through the transparent barrier between him and the outer world with his claws. The orange liquid he so placidly floated in several hours ago spilt all around him, as he stood up. His limbs were shaking, fuelled by the rage that consumed his entire being. His eyes fell onto a group of three... creatures, small, and disgusting in every single way. Several layers of dead skin was draped over them, perhaps their body parts. One of them had a hand longer than the other, which ended in a long, two-edged claw.
All his senses exploded, as he let out a blood-curling shriek. Two of the ugly shortlings dashed away from him, and the one closest to him dropped the claw-like appendage on the ground, shaking, but not running. Too late, too late... The dwarf awoke him. The dwarf must pay.
--- ---
"Dear Mrs Lundgren;
We regret to inform you that your husband Simon Lundgren perished while serving Kandarin. He was involved in an accident in the newly dug shaft, but a full-scale investigation and interrogation of his surviving colleagues, Mauritz Hallstrom and Erich Aswaldu is underway. Your husband's contributions to the field of geology will not be forgotten.
Sincerely,
Nils Larsson
P. S. A service will be held this day of the following week."
