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In all fairness, the likelihood of earthquakes in this part of Verdane was slim, and Sigurd’s decision to use the caves near the lake as shelter was a reasonable one. To a second degree of fairness, he had also never experienced a quake of any sort before- not even a mild one. The stories Quan used to tell back in the academy were more of a far-off fantasy occurrence than anything that he’d ever had to deal with, and he regarded them as such; as long as he didn’t go dancing along any fault lines, he would be fine.
The knight shifts slightly, just to try and get some of the pressure off his lungs, but the rocks only dig themselves in deeper.
They had just begun to set up camp; one group unpacking supplies, and another scouting the area to see how deep the caves went. Sigurd had wandered off on his own down one of the smaller tunnels, just to see where it went. Turns out, it didn’t go very far at all, and as he was turning back around to rejoin the group, a shudder shook the ground with such sudden force that Sigurd nearly dropped his lantern and fell to a knee.
Something slides in the pile above him, and with dismay he realizes that the pressure on the side of his skull has increased just a tiny bit, enough to inspire fear, but not do harm. He curls his arms around his head just a bit tighter.
Of course, he’d forgotten everything Quan had told him about what to do during an earthquake in his panic. Rather than seeking a sturdier part of the passage to hide under until the tremors passed, he’d started to run back towards the group. And when the first tumbling stone had knocked him to the ground, he’d stayed there- curling into a ball with his arms wrapped around his head in hopes that he wouldn’t be completely crushed.
He must have been knocked unconscious at some point, who knows for how long. The lantern he’d been carrying had been extinguished, leaving him in darkness. He tries to move again- this time one of his legs. His left one aches as he curls it further into his body, an attempt to protect his unarmored stomach from the dislodged stalagmites threatening to skewer him at any moment. His right leg flares with pain at the thought of movement, so he lets it be for now. It’s probably been crushed, but a good healer would be able to fix something like that easily…
His thoughts drift to Ethlyn. She’d also entered the cave to help scout… but Sigurd had high hopes that she was fine. She would have remembered Quan’s advice better than him anyways…
There’s a scuffling sound somewhere nearby, and Sigurd blinks in the darkness as pebbles fall from above and roll across the floor. At first, the knight thinks a rat has come to claim his not-yet corpse, but…
“He did come this way, right?”
“I think so…”
Voices, muffled by the stone and dust, echo through the collapsed cavern. Sigurd tries to take a deep breath and call out to them, but the heavy mass threatening to turn his ribs into dust slides just a bit further, and all he can manage is a cough.
“Hello?”
A woman’s voice this time, as well as the scuffing of boots over stone.
“Careful, Ethlyn. The aftershock hasn’t come yet, and this place reeks of instability.”
Quan’s voice, now recognizable, is much closer now; only a few paces away. Sigurd coughs again, louder this time.
“Lord Quan, I think I heard-”
The third voice is nearly on top of him, and the sound of shifting rocks grows louder as hands start to chip away at Sigurd’s prison. Lantern light filters through the cracks in the pile, dancing across his vision. He wheezes loudly as the rock threatening his lungs slides forwards again. Was that sound a smaller stone being tossed to the ground, or one of his ribs cracking?
“Right here!”
The pain in his trapped leg surges angrily as the slab crushing it is heaved aside. He again tries to speak, but the words leave his mouth as a barely-audible half breath that does little more than blow dust from the ground.
“ Is he dead?! ” Oh, Ethlyn is loud. Very loud.
“He was coughing…” He doesn’t recognize the third voice immediately, but since Quan and Ethlyn are here, he can guess that Quan’s young squire is here as well. “Oh! Look, Lady Ethlyn; he just moved...”
“Finn, drop that and help me with this…”
There’s a scraping sound from above, and just like that, the weight is gone. He makes an unintelligible vocalization as he takes a deep breath- somewhere in between a gasp and a cry for help, kicking out his other leg in an effort to begin crawling out of the tight space. Quan doesn’t give him much of a chance though, taking ahold of the side of Sigurd’s belt and dragging him out of the hole himself.
The knight tentatively unwraps his arms from his head, only to be crushed under something much louder and more pink than the pile of fallen rocks.
“Ethlyn, give the man some space for goodness sake-”
“Sigurd, are you hurt? Can you speak? Answer-”
He coughs in response, rolling onto his back with a groan and blinking up at the concerned faces above. When he does find his voice again, it’s a grating whisper, still choked with dust. “You came…”
“Of course we came, you idiot!” Ethlyn smacks his arm lightly. “When you didn’t come back after the quake, we assumed you had died! ”
They give him a moment to regain his bearings as he looks around the tunnel. It’s just the four of them here, all equally covered in dirt and grime. The part of the cave that wasn’t collapsed is riddled with fallen rocks that hadn’t been there before… but overall, the area looks safe for now.
Sigurd clears his throat as he slowly sits up. “How long was I gone?”
“Nearly an hour,” Quan answers. “Looks like we made it just in time, too. Any longer, and you might have been flattened completely.”
As if in response to Quan’s quip, the rest of the rock pile collapses in on itself with a thud, filling the hole that Sigurd had been occupying with sharp stones. Quan’s squire takes a nervous step backwards towards more stable ground.
“ Exactly in time , it seems.” Quan’s voice is nonchalant as Ethlyn begins to tend to Sigurd’s leg with her staff. “You’re a good leader, but I know few knights that take orders from pancakes.”
Sigurd allows himself a slight snicker at that, even as Ethlyn glares daggers at her husband. The warmth of healing light fills the cave for a moment, and the pain fades with it. Sigurd bends his knee experimentally, only to find that it still aches; his ankle not faring much better.
“I’ll need to take a real look at it once we rejoin the others, but it should be fine for now. Does it still hurt?” Ethlyn asks, holstering her staff.
“A bit… but I’ll manage. Thank you,” Sigurd responds with a thankful smile.
Ethlyn huffs, but she doesn’t hit him again, so that’s probably a good sign. Quan offers his friend a hand before dragging him to his feet.
“Why don’t we go make sure everyone else is alright, and then we can regroup outside and get rested and cleaned up. The sight of you makes me feel filthy.”
Sigurd shakes his head like a wet dog in response, sending flecks of mud and dirt flying into Quan’s face.
The prince retorts angrily as he spits dust out of his mouth but thankfully does not let go of Sigurd, who would have surely tumbled to the ground in an instant.
Yes… rest sounded good.