Depths of Madness - Erik Scott De Bie [11]
"What do you propose, Fox-at-Twilight?" Davoren said.
"Simple-we choose a leader for this band, then get the Hells out of this place."
"Band?" The warlock scoffed. He gestured at the other six. "All I see are huddled weaklings."
"None of us know what's beyond the troll," Twilight said. "And none of us can make it alone. We either work together to escape, or we stay here and rot." Though she didn't say it, she realized that second option would likely involve bloodshed.
"Right!" piped up Slip. "And in this here band, we should all rule over each other, and have equal voice, and… and be best companions!"
"Equal voice?" Davoren laughed. "Spare me."
Everyone but Slip glared at him. "Why not equal?" she asked, blinking.
"Equality is the crutch the weak impose on the strong." Though he spoke to Slip, Davoren's eyes remained on Twilight. "Thus do rabble rule where they have no business doing so. If you wish to indulge in such narcissistic tripe, leave my sight."
"You may be gone," said Taslin. "We have no need of arrog-"
Twilight spoke over her. "I'm not going to impose anything on you." She disdained the implications of those words; he'd twisted her into calling herself weak. "Ordinarily, I'd say every elf for herself, but we will die if we can't work together."
In the silence that followed, heads began to nod, and even Davoren's scowl gradually faded. Twilight felt she was right- none of them knew what they faced, but all of them knew they could not face it alone. Even the warlock.
To a point. "I see no reason why we should have equal voice. Our voice should be weighted based on our relevance, or whether we exist only for comedy and amusement."
Slip blinked. "Why's everyone looking at me?"
"And you are to judge this?" Taslin asked, stepping forward again.
"As though you would be better, spellbegger." At that, Asson brought his hand up as though to shape a spell.
In response, Davoren clenched his fist and narrowed his eyes. "Suddenly grown a backbone, whitebeard?" Crimson eldritch energy swirled around his forearm. "Let us see who is stronger." He grinned. "Especially without your precious powders and trinkets."
"Enough!" snapped Twilight. She stepped between the two and stared Davoren in the eye. "We can stand here arguing until the Abyss gleams with holy light, or we can establish a leader and get out of here while that troll yet sleeps."
The warlock smiled cruelly. "Very well, she-elf," he said. "I knew you'd come around to my way of thinking. As my first command…"
A rumble vibrated the room. It took all the adventurers a full breath to realize that it had come from the mottled giant of a man who sat behind them. It was the second time Gargan had spoken. Though Twilight did not understand his words, she understood the meaning of his finger well enough, pointing at her. Taslin nodded, almost imperceptibly. Could she understand the goliath somehow?
Davoren's face contorted in indignation. "Speak a civil tongue," he snapped. "Then perhaps we might consider your input, monster."
"Twilight," said Liet. "It's got to be Twilight."
Silence fell. Davoren stared, dumbfounded and furious, at Liet. The youth receded, as though shrinking back into the shadows under that gaze. Twilight might have interposed herself, but she had a feeling that would anger the warlock more.
Finally, Taslin stepped toward Liet. "Say on, lad," she bid.
"Well…" Liet scratched the back of his head. "Slip's too loud of mouth, Gargan too soft. Asson's too old, and Taslin favors him too much. We need someone who represents us all." The priestess stiffened, but bowed in concession. "Davoren's too divisive"-Davoren scoffed at that-"and I… I'm too young." He spread his hands. "Who's left but Twilight?"
In the pause that followed, Twilight kept her silence and her eyes on Liet, weighing and watching.
"So it's Twilight,"