17. Chapter 17 The Boots #3
I walked back to where the party was watching. Bjorna had set down the packs. Sif had her arms crossed. Liv’s ears were forward and her expression was the one she wore when she was proud of me and didn’t want to make a thing of it.
“Feel better?” Sif said.
“I feel fine. They needed help.”
Liv broke her silence. “You always feel fine after you heal someone. You get this look.” She uncrossed her arms. “It’s the same look you had after you broke Vaughn Strom’s hand, except this version is less terrifying.”
“Both versions are me.”
“I know.” She held my eyes. “That’s the part I like and the part that got you laid on the clinic table.”
I held up my index finger. “Don’t forget about the chair. We used the chair too.”
“Gods, what I wouldn’t give to be able to see this infamous clinic fuck session,” Sif said.
Bjorna interrupted before the conversation could degenerate further. “Camp. Over there. Let’s set up before we lose the light.”
We set up camp fifty yards from the portal, close enough that the shimmer was visible from the fire but far enough that the pressure in the air didn’t sit on us constantly.
Bjorna and Nott put up the canvas shelter.
Liv and I built the fire ring and got the coals going from the supply in the ring.
Sif walked the perimeter, which I was learning was something she did automatically, reading the ground, the sightlines, the other camps, putting everything into whatever map she kept in her head.
The sun dropped behind the mountains and the light went gold, then orange, then purple. Other campfires came up across the flat. The portal kept its steady shimmer even after everything else had gone dark.
Bjorna ran the briefing while we ate. She laid out what the registrar had confirmed, what the wrecked party had shown us just by stumbling through the portal half-dead, and what she’d picked up from other groups who’d been running The Splits for weeks.
“Eight depths, each one harder than the last. Pack hunters in the early floors. Something that ambushes from the walls in the middle. The registrar said parties have been reporting creatures that follow them between depths.” She tore a piece of bread and chewed it.
“We go in at first light. We push as deep as we can on day one, then scroll out and rest here. Same pattern day two. We find the boss if we can.”
“I thought we were going today,” I said.
Bjorna shook her head. “Things change. Let’s get a good night's sleep and go first thing tomorrow.”
I nodded. “Smart.”
Bjorna looked around the fire. “Questions?”
“Just two,” I said. “Are all of you going to keep me alive down there, or is that my job too?”
Bjorna’s mouth twitched. “We’ll do our best. But you’re the healer, Daniel.”
“Your best is pretty good.” I looked at each of them around the fire.
“Next question,” Bjorna said.
“You mentioned things that were happening in the dungeon. I thought each instance was different.”
“The Splits works a little differently. The instances change, but much less than Cold Hollow. Don’t ask me why, ask the dungeon core.
Also, the dungeon gets its name from a series of actual splits in the corridors.
You make a decision to go one way or the other.
Each side carries different challenges and bosses. ”
“That’s interesting. I thought The Splits was a bizarre name but now I understand.”
Bjorna sat with her back straight and her face calm in the firelight, the new breastplate gleaming.
Nott had her cloak pulled around her, her dark eyes on the flames, running whatever calculations she ran before a fight.
Liv had her legs stretched toward the fire, her ears relaxed and drooping, her quiver beside her like she might need it in her sleep.
Sif sat across from me. The new boots caught the light.
Her blue eyes found mine over the fire and held for a moment before she looked away. Those blue eyes were irresistible.
Nobody said anything for a while. The fire popped and settled. Another campfire, twenty yards over, had someone laughing, the sound carrying across the flat.
“We should sleep,” Bjorna said. “First light comes early and we have a dungeon to clear.”
“We have a dungeon to survive,” Nott corrected quietly.
“Same thing.” Bjorna stood and the firelight threw her shadow across the canvas behind her, massive and familiar. “Get some rest. All of you. We’re going to be fine. This is the most prepared we have ever been.”
Liv scooted over and leaned against my shoulder. Her ear brushed my jaw. “Goodnight, hero.”
“I’m not a hero. I’m a healer who can’t walk past someone bleeding.”
“Same thing,” Liv said.
Sif was still sitting across the fire. The flames had burned low and her face was lit from underneath, the blue of her eyes darker than usual, her silver hair catching orange light.
Liv was leaning against my shoulder and Sif didn’t look bothered by it.
She looked like she had all the time in the world.
I could still feel where her thumb had pressed against my wrist in Halsten’s shop.
“Goodnight, Daniel,” Sif said.
“Goodnight, Sif.”
The fire burned down to coals. Tomorrow we were going in.