Falla and Ursik take point and rear guard respectively, their weapons ready and expressions grim as they monitor our surroundings for signs of approaching trouble. The sounds of battle have faded to distant echoes, which could mean either that the other Stonevein warriors are regrouping or that they're moving to cut off our escape routes.
"Here." Saela's voice cracks on the single word, drawing my attention to the cell at the far end of the corridor. Through the narrow gap beneath the door comes a weak sound that might be sobbing or might be something worse.
I don't waste time with subtlety, putting my shoulder against the door with force that sends it crashing inward in a shower of splinters and twisted hinges. The scene that greets us makes even Falla's usually impassive expression darken with rage.
The woman huddled in the corner barely resembles the description Saela gave me of her childhood friend. Red hair hangs in matted tangles around the face marked by bruises in various stages of healing, brown eyes wide with terror that speaks to prolonged trauma. Her clothes hang in tatters, and the way she holds her left arm suggests injury that goes beyond surface damage.
But when Saela calls her name, recognition flickers through the fear, and she struggles to focus on a face that represents impossible hope.
"Saela?" Her voice emerges as a broken whisper, rough from screaming or begging or both. "You're—how are you here? They said you were dead."
"I'm getting you out of here," Saela responds with fierce certainty, crossing the cell in quick strides to kneel beside her friend. "We're all leaving together, right now."
Ressa's laugh holds edges of hysteria that make my chest tighten with sympathy. "I can't walk. They—what they did to my legs?—"
"Then we carry you." The simple statement comes from Falla, who's already moving to examine her injuries with professional efficiency. "Can you move your feet at all?"
"A little." She winces as he probes damaged tissue with gentle fingers. "But the pain?—"
"Pain means the nerves still work," he says with clinical pragmatism that somehow manages to be reassuring. "Nothing permanently severed. I can treat this, but not here."
Ursik's voice carries from the corridor, tight with urgency. "Company approaching. We need to move now if we're going to move at all."
I look between Saela and her broken friend, weighing options that all seem to lead toward disaster. Carrying an injured person through hostile territory while being pursued by enemies who know the terrain better than we do represents a tactical nightmare of the highest order.
But the way Saela's hand covers Ressa's with protective gentleness, the relief in her eyes at finding her friend alive despite everything, makes the choice inevitable. Some things matter more than tactical advantage. Some risks are worth taking regardless of odds.
"I'll carry her," I decide, already moving to gather Ressa into my arms with care for her obvious injuries. "Saela, stay close to me. Falla, Ursik—clear the path ahead and behind."
Ressa goes rigid as I lift her, terror flooding her expression at being handled by a massive orc warrior she's never met. But Saela's voice, murmuring reassurances and explanations,gradually penetrates the fear enough that she stops struggling against my hold.
"He's safe," Saela says with conviction that warms something deep in my chest. "I promise, Ressa. He's here because he came for me, and now he's helping you too."
The trust in her voice, the way she speaks about me like protection instead of threat, makes every risk we're taking feel worthwhile. Makes the possibility of dying in this stone maze seem acceptable if it means proving that her faith in me isn't misplaced.
We move through corridors with controlled urgency, Falla and Ursik clearing our path with brutal efficiency while I focus on keeping Ressa's injuries from worsening during transport. She's lighter than expected, her body reduced by whatever prolonged torment the Stonevein subjected her to, and the way she trembles in my arms speaks to trauma that will require more than physical healing.
Behind us, shouts echo through stone passages as our escape route is discovered. Heavy footsteps announce pursuit by warriors who know these passages better than we do, who can move faster without an injured person slowing their progress.
"There," Ursik calls from ahead, indicating a narrow opening that leads toward what looks like freedom. "Drainage tunnel. Should put us outside the main walls."
"Should?" Saela's voice carries an edge of panic that she's trying hard to suppress.
"Will," Falla corrects with confidence that's probably feigned but sounds reassuring anyway. "Trust me, little bird. I've gotten out of worse places with worse odds."
The tunnel proves cramped and foul-smelling, forcing us to move in single file while cold water soaks through our boots with each step. Ressa whimpers softly as movement jostles her injuries, but doesn't complain, perhaps understandingthat silence might mean the difference between escape and recapture.
When we finally emerge into winter air that tastes like freedom, I allow myself a moment of relief before reality reasserts itself. We're outside the Stonevein settlement, but we're also miles from home territory with an injured person who needs immediate medical attention and enemies who will certainly pursue once they organize search parties.
"Where do we go?" Saela asks, looking between her friend and the dark forest that stretches in all directions. "Ressa needs help, but if we head straight home?—"
"We don't go straight home," I interrupt, making a decision based on years of tactical experience. "We find a defensible position, let Falla work on her injuries, rest until we can travel properly. Going home now, in the dark, with pursuit behind us, just gets us all killed."
Falla nods approvingly. "Give me a few hours and a stable surface, I can get her mobile enough for proper travel. But not while running through the wilderness in the middle of the night."
I look down at Ressa, who's been following our conversation with growing awareness despite her obvious pain. "What about the settlement? Everyone will be worried?—"
"No." Her voice carries surprising strength despite its hoarse quality. "We're not going back there. After this, after everything—we can't."
