The rear handle of Anton’s rescue sheet struck the floor. His leg jolted, and he bit down on a cry.
Cole stared into the dark branch of the junction, his weapon raised in his good hand. “I heard it.”
“We all heard something,” Vera said. “Pick up the handle.”
“You don’t know what it was.”
“No. And I know what happens if we stop here.”
Dust drifted from the damaged support overhead. Eli moved his lamp across the junction. The bright cord Vera had tied to the wall still pointed toward the entrance, but it did not make the opening any wider. Corvin stood at the front of the sheet; behind him Tessa was checking Anton’s splinted leg. Jory held a lamp and a length of rope, his face pale.
Cole took a step away from the sheet. “Get someone else.”
Corvin looked at the branch, then at the load. “Eli can carry.”
“He can,” Tessa said. “And you can take a shift after him. That’s what we agreed.”
“I’ve already taken one.”
“Then you’ll take another. We have two injured people.”
“Three,” Cole said, indicating his own bandaged arm. “I can’t fight with it, and now you want me to carry him with it?”
“You offered,” Vera said.
“I offered before that thing started coming around.”
Eli could not tell whether the scraping came from the creature at all. The passage carried sounds strangely, and the support above them had shifted when the beam fell. But Cole’s fear was real. He had a family waiting outside. Eli remembered the urgency in Anton’s voice when he had called his mother before entry. Each person in the group had left someone beyond the gate, or had a reason to come back out.
“If I carry,” Eli said, “who guards the rear?”
“I will,” Cole said.
“With one arm?”
“With the one I have.”
Vera leaned over Anton. “How’s the leg?”
“It hurts.”
“More than before?”
“More when you put me down.”
Tessa examined the dressing. “We can keep moving, but no sudden lifts.” She looked at Cole. “You do not need to use the injured arm. We can put a loop over your good shoulder and share the load.”
Cole shook his head. “I can’t carry and watch behind us.”
“You won’t be watching behind us. I will,” Eli said.
Cole glanced toward the branch. “And if it reaches us?”
“Then I’ll warn you.”
The words sounded thin. Eli had a borrowed weapon and a talent that could show strain in stone. He had no shield strong enough to stop the creature and no evidence that he could bring down another support without burying the group. Still, standing still would not improve the odds.
Corvin shifted his grip on the front handles. “If you’re taking his place, do it.”
Eli saw the choice form on Cole’s face: hand the load to Eli and keep his own eyes on the darkness, or accept another burden for people who had already told him what the contract required. The first was easier. It also left Eli unable to guard the rear while Vera and Corvin carried Anton. If one of those carriers tired, the group would stop again.
“Take my share,” Eli said.
Cole blinked. “What?”
“My recovery share. Whatever I’m owed from what we brought out. You help carry Anton to the gate.”
The sentence hung in the narrow space. Eli had offered the only part of the expedition’s reward he controlled. He did not know whether anything they had carried out would sell for enough to make one and a half percent worthwhile. The crystal was buried, the equipment belonged to Corvin, and their contract listed deductions. The offer could amount to almost nothing.
Cole said, “There isn’t any recovery.”
“If there is, it’s yours. The contract says my share applies even if I don’t fight.”
“And if there’s nothing?”
“Then there isn’t a share to transfer.” Eli kept his voice level. “I’m not promising money that doesn’t exist.”
Tessa turned toward him. “You shouldn’t have to pay someone to follow the evacuation clause.”
“I know.”
She looked from him to Cole. “If you agree, everyone hears it. Eli transfers only his recovery share, not his daily fee or any reimbursement. You carry in the rotation Vera sets, as long as your arm permits it. If the arm won’t bear the load, you say so and we change the plan.”
Cole flushed beneath the dust. “I didn’t ask him to—”
“No,” Tessa said. “He offered. I’m making sure nobody changes the terms afterward.”
Corvin gave a short laugh without amusement. “You’re negotiating again?”
“I’m keeping the agreement clear.” She faced Cole. “Do you accept?”
He looked at Anton. The younger man lay rigid on the sheet, trying not to move his leg. At last Cole nodded.
“Say it,” Tessa said.
“I accept his recovery share. I’ll carry in the rotation.”
“Did everyone hear?”
Vera and Jory answered. Anton raised a hand. Corvin said, “I heard.”
Tessa checked Cole’s bandage and asked him to squeeze her fingers. He managed it with the injured hand, though his face tightened.
“Use the other shoulder. No lifting with this arm. If the dressing soaks through or your fingers go numb, tell me.”
Cole allowed Vera to show him how to loop a strap around his good shoulder and take part of the load without using both hands. It was not as efficient as two uninjured carriers, but it allowed him to contribute while protecting his arm.
Eli took the rear with Cole’s bar. It had been wrapped in cloth at the handle, and the metal felt cold through the fabric. He did not mistake holding it for knowing how to fight. Its immediate purpose was to give him a reach longer than his own arm and make noise if he needed to warn the others.
Vera moved ahead, checking the floor. “On three. Small steps. One, two, three.”
The sheet lifted. Corvin and Cole carried Anton through the junction while Tessa walked beside his injured leg. Eli stayed at the rear, lamp angled toward the branch. Jory followed him for the first few steps, then moved up when Vera signaled that there was room.
The darkness in the branch remained empty. A drop of water fell from its ceiling and struck the floor. Eli waited for another sound, but heard only the scrape of boots and the uneven breath of the people ahead.
Halfway through the narrow section, the strap slipped on Cole’s shoulder. He stopped and swore. Anton shifted on the sheet.
“Down gently,” Tessa said.
They lowered him. Vera checked the strap and tied a shorter loop. Cole looked back into the branch again.
“I said I’d carry,” he muttered. “I didn’t say I was good at it.”
“That’s why we practice the knot before lifting again,” Vera replied. She had him pull against the loop, then put her own weight on it. It held. “On three.”
They raised Anton and continued. Eli kept the bar low, so it would not snag on the wall. A pale line of strain ran along the support near the junction; he watched it until the group had passed beneath. When Cole cleared it, a small fragment fell into the space where his foot had been.
No one spoke until they reached the wider corridor beyond.
They changed carriers there. Eli took Cole’s place, handing the bar to him. Corvin stretched his fingers while Vera lifted the front handles. Tessa asked Anton whether he could use his ability again. He said he could, but when he tried to shift the weight his breathing became rapid and the shimmer on his hands flickered.
“Stop,” she said.
“I can do it.”
“You’ve done enough. Let them carry you.”
He released the effect. “I’m sorry.”
Vera looked over her shoulder. “For getting injured in a wall exploding?”
“For slowing everyone down.”
“You’re a person. That’s a load we planned to carry.”
They had not planned it well enough, Eli thought, but she was right about the responsibility. He adjusted his grip and took the next step.
The entrance chamber appeared after another bend. Its familiar grooves reflected their lamps. The gate’s light rippled at the far end, and the sight of it changed the group’s pace at once. Cole moved ahead, then stopped when Vera told him to keep clear of the sheet.
“Call the signal,” Tessa said.
Cole took the whistle from his pocket and blew two short notes and one long. The sound reverberated through the chamber. He repeated it at the gate.
A guard appeared on the other side as a blurred silhouette. Cole pushed through first. His outline stretched and vanished. A moment later a second figure approached from outside.
“Keep the sheet level,” Vera said.
Eli stepped into the light. Cold passed through him, and the ground seemed to disappear. Then his boots struck damp pavement. The guard and a responder were waiting with a wheeled stretcher. They helped transfer Anton without disturbing his splint, guided by Tessa’s instructions.
The air outside smelled of exhaust and rain. People stood beyond the checkpoint tape. A woman pushed forward when she saw Anton, calling his name. A guard held out an arm to stop her until the responder waved her through.
“Mom,” Anton said.
She took his hand. “You called. You said you’d call when you got out.”
“I forgot my phone.”
“You can call me later.” Her voice broke on the last word. She looked at Tessa. “What happened?”
“His leg was struck by falling stone. We controlled the bleeding and supported it. The responders are taking him for assessment.”
Anton tried to sit up. The responder told him to stay still, and his mother walked alongside the stretcher as it moved toward the ambulance.
Tessa turned back to the gate. Jory emerged with Vera, followed by Corvin. She counted everyone again and directed Jory to the second responder. He protested that he could breathe now. She described what had happened inside and let the responder make the next decision.
Cole sat on the concrete barrier. His family had not reached the tape yet. He held his injured arm close and watched the ambulance doors close around Anton.
Eli set the remaining rope on the pavement. The borrowed bar leaned against the barrier beside him. His shoulders ached, and dust had worked its way beneath his collar. The warmth of the street made him realize how cold the dungeon had been.
A registry worker came over with a clipboard. “Expedition result?”
“Unsuccessful recovery,” Corvin said. “We encountered a creature and withdrew.”
Tessa looked up. “Two people needed evacuation. Three were injured.”
The worker glanced at the form. “There’s a separate injury section.”
“Then put it there,” Tessa said. “All three names.”
Corvin gave the names. He did not mention the evacuation clause or the argument at the junction. The worker wrote what she could, then asked each person for a brief account. Eli told her about the wall, the beam, and the barrier. He did not claim the creature was dead or that the gate was clear.
When she came to the reward, Corvin gestured toward the supplies on the pavement. “No recovered material.”
Eli remembered the share he had transferred. If there was no recovered material, Cole would receive nothing from it. The daily fee was still owed under the terms they had written, including early evacuation. Whether Corvin would honor that line was another question. Eli took his copy of the contract from its sleeve and found it while the worker wrote.
Cole came over after the responder had examined his arm. “I shouldn’t have needed the offer,” he said.
“No,” Eli replied.
Cole accepted the answer. “I was afraid.”
“So was I.”
“That doesn’t make it your bill.”
The worker asked Cole to confirm the transfer. He did, including Tessa’s distinction between the recovery share and the daily fee. The worker added it to her notes. Eli could have told him to forget it, but the decision belonged to both of them now. He would not use gratitude to erase an agreement made under pressure; he would also not pretend it had been a fair way to secure help that should have been given already.
Tessa came back from the ambulance. “Anton is going to the hospital. Jory’s being checked here before they decide whether he needs transport.”
“And Cole?”
“His wound needs cleaning and a proper dressing. The responder can do it.” She looked at the contract in Eli’s hand. “We should settle accounts before Corvin disappears.”
“I don’t think he’ll disappear.”
“I don’t think we should rely on it.”
Across the road, the gate continued to shimmer between the barriers. Another team was already gathering near the registry table, waiting for news of the passage inside. The clinic would open again in the morning. Its supply order was still short, and Eli had returned without the crystal he had counted on.
He folded the contract carefully and followed Tessa toward Corvin.