Ever since Vron was assigned to protect the underground tunnels, he'd felt uneasy. He'd spent days supervising the workers who were using the rubble from the xarlug's attack to seal off all of the entrances to the tunnels. It was back-breaking work, but it had to be done.
Something other than the xarlug had been lurking in those tunnels, something just as deadly, and they couldn't fight this beast with swords and arrows. Vron had little clue how to protect the orcs aboveground from the disease. For now, he supposed Dalgron's plan was for the best. How else could they contain whatever had killed the miners?
He still felt overwhelmed by guilt at the possibility that there might be survivors underground, that he might be leaving them there to contract the virus, or simply die of starvation. But as of yet, they hadn't come across anyone alive in their quick searches underground. It was just dead body after dead body, littering the floors of the tunnels and the hovels where the workers lived. Vron dreaded the moment they encountered a survivor—the moment he would have to sentence someone to death for the simple offense of being a resident underground. There was little honor in killing an innocent to save thousands.
Still, he would do it. If nothing else, Vron was bound to follow his duty.
"Captain?" Marlok said, coming up behind Vron.
"Yes?"
"There's only one final entrance to close. We thought you'd want to take a look before we seal the boulders."
Vron squared his shoulders, reminding himself this was the only way. Innocents might die today, but the needs of the majority took precedence over the few. "Take me."
He followed Marlok through the rubble-strewn streets that used to be Agitar. The city looked more like an ancient ruin than the capital of the glorious orc nation. How long would it be before another city rose to power? Kanta, or Dongar? One of them would surely raise a king soon.
"This way, Captain." Marlok motioned toward an opening. At one time a solid structure had stood around it, but now it was a crumbling mess Vron would have overlooked as easily as he would a rabbit hole.
He ducked, crawling into the gap. "Wait here," he said to Marlok.
Vron walked fifty steps down the tunnel before coming to a fork. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he called, "Can anyone hear me?" It was the same question he asked every time before sealing an entrance. So far, no one had responded. The dead could not speak.
As he turned to leave and give the order to seal the tunnel, a sickly cough echoed in the tunnel.
Vron cursed under his breath, then called out again, "Can anyone hear me?"
Another cough answered, this time wracked with wet phlegm.
Someone was there. They were still alive.
Vron turned in the direction of the cough. It wasn't long before he stumbled upon a cloaked orc on the ground.
"Have you seen anyone else?" Vron asked. He needed to be sure this coughing orc was the only one left alive in this section.
Another cough punctuated the silence—from farther down the tunnel.
This orc wasn't alone.
Vron wished he'd been able to see the maps of the underground tunnels, but they were buried in the rubble of Agitar. He had no idea how deep this tunnel went—or how many orcs could be living here.
"Can you stand?" he asked the cloaked figure.
Again, his question went unanswered.
Vron stepped over the orc and continued down the tunnel toward the source of the second cough. Darkness encompassed him as he descended further. He cursed himself for not bringing a torch. He didn't expect he'd need one, as he'd never received a response to his calls before.
But now he had two survivors to deal with. One who was too weak to rise, and another whose cough echoed from somewhere ahead.
Vron pulled his shirt up over his mouth and nose. Overwhelmed by his own stench—he'd been living without easy access to water for cleansing—he took shallow breaths.
Something scrabbled behind him. He whipped his head around, but saw very little in the dark, only the eerie glow of illuminated underground vegetation. He squinted, trying to see who, or what, had made the noise.
Another cough came from up ahead. Vron shook off the uneasy feeling crawling over his skin and continued. He took one careful step after another, running the fingertips of one hand over the walls to steady himself. He thought perhaps the tunnel was sloping downward, but he couldn't quite tell.
The cough came again. Closer this time.
"Hello?" Vron called.
He paused, waiting for an answer.
None came.
He took another step, then another, the rocky wall pricking the tips of his fingers. He found himself pushing ever harder, steadying himself against the rising dread traveling up his spine.
Another scrabbling sound behind him. Then another cough ahead. His head moved back and forth, unsure where to look.
There was definitely someone, or something, behind him. Maybe it was the weakened cloaked figure, following him. Maybe it was a rat. Either way, he had to see about the coughing orc up ahead. He had to know if there were more orcs hiding out in this section of the mines.
A whimper sounded behind him, and Vron swallowed hard, turning back the way he had come. That was no rat. It had to be the cloaked figure he'd come upon earlier. The orc was following him down the tunnel.
"Are you ill?" Vron asked, his throat suddenly dry.
Something grabbed the front of his shirt and ripped it away from his face.
Vron gasped in the stale tunnel air and threw an arm over his mouth. "Are you ill?" he asked again, knowing how ridiculous he sounded. The figure hadn't answered before. Why would it now?
A cough exploded. Not from far down the tunnel, but right in his face.
Vron closed his lips, clamping his fingers over his nose.
But it was too late.
He felt the wet phlegm land on his nostrils before he could protect himself.
"You will be one with us," a voice cackled. "Come."
As Vron's vision began to dim, he felt a hand slip into his, guiding him away from the entrance and deeper into the mines he'd sworn to seal.