Allyn knew it was the only way, if there was to be any hope at all. Rourke had two men – two strong, fast men who’d served as runners before, knew the land between the hills and New Cyre, and were tough and wily enough to make it back. Maybe.
The miners had collapsed the entrance to the mine and continued to hang their hopes on a few things: that the goblins would not find the stope, that they rotten critters wouldn’t find another means of entry, and that their food and water wouldn’t run out before relief came.
If news of their plight ever reached New Cyre, that is.
It’d been a few days already since their supply wagon had been attacked, and then the two camps. The hordes came on quickly and aggressively, and even with guards and men taking up arms their numbers were too great and their surprise too decisive. Seeking shelter in the mine itself was their only option aside from surrender, which was not an option – everyone knew goblins enjoyed eating their captives.
And so the two young miners – one of them from that group of POWs freed from Thrane, in fact – crouched before Allyn as they decided on a plan, general routes for them, and gave them what useful supplies were at hand. They’d take different routes, and their departure would be from the stope, to the west of the main entrance and uphill, and from the small tunnel to the south that was the original means by which the mine was found – where the spiders had been several months before. If they headed out separately, and stealthily, maybe they’d make it.