Chapter 7: First Day of Summer Camp Pt. 1

6:00 A.M.

Jordan is woken up by someone screaming “COUNT-OFF!”. He wasn’t able to sleep for a few hours just because his sleep schedule had been kind of wacky lately. As a result, he only ended up getting maybe four or five hours of sleep.

He got up in a rush, hitting his head on Sofia’s hanging legs. It seems that she was woken up too. She dropped down beside Jordan and the two struggled to put on their shoes. He noticed that he received boots, while Sofia got some kind of leather slip-ons.

Jordan wiped the crust out of his eyes with his left hand, almost hitting himself in the face again with his robotic one. Jordan couldn’t help but notice that it was moving and responding faster today. He smiled at the prospect of it becoming as good as his normal arm.

A minute passed, and a few numbers were skipped. Eventually, Jordan yelled out “75!” when the count came to him. He felt that it was oddly quiet, and he realized that the guards weren’t searching anyone.

‘I guess they don’t need to, since they searched everyone yesterday night. It’s not like we moved or anything.’

The count ended on Gaston. Devon and Cotis were nowhere to be found, which puzzled Jordan. Even more confusing was that the Guards didn’t seem to care that a few slaves were missing.

The door on the other side of the room which led outside opened up. Vice-Warden Lamar stepped through yelling something about breakfast. The slaves quickly lined up in front of him, with Jordan, Sofia, and Gaston ending up all the way in the back.

Jordan looked at Gaston, who seemed to have calmed down since last night. He wondered if he knew where Devon and Cotis were, since he shared a bunk bed with Cotis.

“Hey Gaston, do you know where- Oof!”

Jordan yelped as a guard rushed up and jabbed him with a baton. The cold, hard press of metal against his midsection made the boy crumple, as he held his stomach and took a knee.

Sofia was shocked still as she watched Jordan fall, and Gaston pulled her back. The slave in front of him gave a cursory glance, then continued walking.

“No talking in line. Get moving, before I discipline you again,” the guard stated in a stern tone.

Jordan took a second to relax his breath after the wind got knocked out of him. He got up and walked briskly to catch up with the line, nursing the bruise.

Making it outside, Jordan was greeted with the early morning breeze that he’d come to appreciate over the past few weeks. The salty smell of the ocean combined with the chill air of the mountain refreshed his body, and Jordan took in the fading stars above as dawn broke. It was a sleepy atmosphere, as if the world had yet to wake up.

He almost stopped to take it all in, before he realized he shouldn’t hold up the line.

The slaves filed into the cafeteria, and the guards closed the door behind them. Chatter soon erupted as slaves began sitting down to eat.

Jordan kept his head down until it was his turn. When he looked up, to his surprise, he found Cotis handing him a mostly empty tray with some kind of gruel in the bowl part.

“Oh, hey. Grab an orange, a slice of bread, and two sausages,” the young man said.

Jordan just nodded, afraid he would get hurt again for talking. He filled up his tray and grabbed a canteen, already full. Next, he looked around for a seat.

All of the slaves were sitting on one side of the room, and the other side was being cleaned up by a few slaves. ‘The empty side was for the guards, and this side was for the slaves,’ Jordan recalled.

Anxiety started to build up as he realized there weren’t any open tables. ‘Of course not. I was the third to last in line,’ Jordan thought, mentally facepalming. ‘Sure, there’s empty beds, but oh, boohoo, no empty tables.’

Sofia stood next to him, looking around too. They were both relieved when someone leaned back and motioned them to come over.

“Hey, is it alright if we sit here?” Jordan asked.

“Yeah, yeah go ahead,” one of them said lightly.

Jordan and Sofia settled in, and they talked about who they were, where they came from, what teams they were on, and advice for getting along with people in the camp.

Jordan suddenly remembered Gaston, and looked around for him. He saw him sitting next to a few slaves, mingling with them. Jordan sighed in relief. ‘Whew. For some reason that makes me feel better.’ he thought.

“So, Jordan. You’re on the mining team, yeah? That means you must be strong,” one of them said. His name was Jonas, and he was on the crafting team.

“Well, I don’t know. I’ve had some training since I was young.”

“You did get knocked out by Gaston, that one time,” Sofia chipped in.

“Really? Gaston? That bald bozo over there?” one of the builder slaves said. His name was Ryan.

“Uh, haha. Yeah.” Jordan said, as he stared at the slave’s bald head.

“Damn. Y'all are chill now though? Or you wanna jump him? I’ll help y’all. We can catch him in the shower, or when he gotta use the toilet, or maybe while he’s working. I got something to make the guards turn the other way,” Ryan plotted in a low voice.

“No, no. We’re good now.”

“Anyways,” Jonah cut in. “Jordan. Sofia. If you two want some protection around here or you wanna keep something you’re not supposed to have, just let one of us know alright? We've got a sort of system around here."

"Oh, like a gang?" Sofia asked.

"Well, I wouldn't call us no gang. We're just a group of slaves who wants to enjoy life a little. Worry a little less about some of our daily struggles, y'know what I'm saying? Now finish your food. Sun’s about to come up.”

‘Right. Sun up.’ Jordan and Sofia had a little experience worshiping Sol back in the Sol warehouse they stayed in. Jordan finished his orange and stacked his tray with the others before he went outside.

There were four lines of slaves, kneeling to the east. Funnily enough, he could tell based on the musculature of the average slave in each line which team was which.

At the front was the weakest looking bunch; the crafting team. They usually just sat around and fiddled with electronics or operated heavy machinery. Jordan recognized Dr. Wunsler, already kneeling with them.

Behind them was the orderly team, tasked with cleaning, cooking, and general servantry. Average looking people.

Second to last was the building team. Their job was to build the giant statue just to the left of the prison.

Finally, the mining team. They were all extremely fit, but a number of them possessed augmented bodies. Jordan wondered if there were a lot of accidents. He shuddered at the thought of losing his other arm. Or his leg. Or even his other leg.

Jordan took his place with the miners as the rest of the slaves left the mess hall. A large group of guards marched out from the guard barracks led by someone wearing the same gold and white robes as Vice-Warden Lamar. Jordan guessed it was Vice-Warden Anthony.

The guards took their place in front of the slaves and kneeled. Lamar and Anthony remained standing. They put on sunglasses as they turned to face the sun as it peeked over the mountain walls.

All kneeled as the light touched the earth.

The two Vice-Wardens began chanting, and the congregation of worshippers repeated each line.

“I gather the kindred rays of light to my soul.”

“I tend to the flowers that bloom from within.”

“My wounds are cleansed by holy fire,”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“And the miracle of life is welcomed in my heart.”

A mystical light began to flow upwards from each person. It swirled into a spiraling orb of light that slowly ascended.

Everyone kowtowed as the vice-wardens wrapped themselves up in the sun's rays and began to float up with the sphere. Each word uttered made the very air around them shake.

“I bow to the God of Guidance.”

“I bow to the God of Justice.”

“I bow to the Burning, Unconquered God.”

The spinning ball of light exploded into a bunch of shining missiles that danced around the vice-wardens. Anthony floated stoically among them, while Lamar flew around laughing with them. Soon, they calmed down, and one went to each person participating in the ritual.

Slaves and guards alike flashed as the spirits of light entered their bodies. Jordan watched as one danced in front of his eyes, before entering his chest.

He felt the warmth of sunlight, as energy coursed through his body. He breathed in the cool air, and what felt like fire came bellowing out.

Jordan smiled as he watched Sofia stare wondrously at her own hands, as if she’d been reborn.

The vice-wardens descend, and about a quarter of the guards, along with Vice-Warden Anthony head back to the barracks. Jordan guessed they must be the night-shift. Still, that left about three guards to every four slaves.

Vice-Warden Lamar announced himself with a loud “Ahem,” and began to direct the slaves to their work places.

The crafting team headed back inside the cafeteria, to go through the main building and into the crafting tower. The orderly team followed them inside.

The building team started to head towards the giant statue, accompanied by an equal amount of guards, barking work propaganda.

Jordan picked up his canteen and followed Marcel and the rest of the mining team as they headed to the eastern wall of the Summit.

8:00 AM

The sun was well up by now, and cracks in the gray stone of the mountain hid tough plants, thriving in a desolate environment.

Jordan would usually wake up around this time, eat breakfast with his family, then head out to gather mushrooms in the jungle. Usually, Alex would come with him to harvest fruits and nuts.

He wondered if Alex missed him, although for some reason, thinking about him made his head hurt.

The group stopped near a small camp on the outside of a tunnel. There were a few tents, and a giant metal trough-like wagon which sat on a railroad a few feet away. A few older slaves went inside the largest tent, while the rest formed a queue outside.

Jordan inspected the tunnel. It was a big hole in the ground about twenty feet wide, and a large metal gate covered the mouth a few feet in. A couple of guards posted themselves in front of the gate and watched the slaves.

Marcel and the others came out of the tent wearing a hard hat with a mounted flashlight, a gas mask, a bright orange vest, and a utility belt. They held a lantern in the left hand, and a pickaxe on the right. On their backs were bags full of long metal wedges. They looked like railroad spikes but thinner and longer.

They started to head towards the tunnel, before Marcel seemed to remember something and turned to the line.

“Err, Trevor. Show Jordan how to do his job.”

One of the slaves sighed, and looked around for Jordan. Spotting him, he left his spot in line and cut in front of the boy.

Jordan did a little head nod greeting, and the other slave nodded back. Jordan inspected the older boy. His hair was starting to grow back, giving his head a freshly shaved look. He had pale skin and an average looking build, although his forearms looked quite strong. He had blue eyes too. Jordan was confused by that, since the only blue-eyed people he met were usually important, like his village chief.

They waited until they were inside of the tent before talking. Slaves entered the tent in groups of four, and came out in about a minute. The inside of the tent was full of cabinets and crates storing different mining gear.

“Okay, so. Just put on a helmet, mask, vest, and a belt,” the slave said.

“Oh. I don’t need any tools?” Jordan asked.

“Nah, we’re hurriers, not miners.”

Jordan shrugged, and did as he was told. It’s not like he knew what he was supposed to be doing. Slipping on his gear, the world grew muffled as his breathing became more pronounced. The mask felt tight around his face. He wiggled the nozzle, and thought about elephants.

Exiting the tent and walking towards the now opened cave, Jordan took that opportunity to get some information.

“So, what’s a hurrier?” he asked. It was important to know what the hell he was supposed to be doing.

“Basically, we pick up the ores they mine, load it into the minecart, and we push the minecart up to the surface.”

“Minecart?”

“Yeah. It’s this thing, right here.”

Trevor stopped in front of a few miniature size replicas of the huge wagon sitting outside. Not that they were small, they still looked like they could fit an adult bear with room to spare.

“One for each of us.”

Jordan winced. He could only guess at how heavy it would be. “So we fill this thing up with rocks, and push it uphill through the cave, and load the bigger minecart?”

“Yep.”

"There aren't any rails down there, are there?"

"Nope."

Jordan sighed. One of the other slaves that they were with slapped Jordan on the back.

“Don’t worry, you get used to it after a while.”

Jordan gave the cart a push. Surprisingly, it wasn’t as heavy as he thought it was. The axles were well oiled it seemed. He pushed his cart to the entrance of the tunnel with the others.

The slaves rolled their carts down the tunnel, and a guard followed them in. He seemed content to stay at the back and watch them.

It quickly grew dark, and Jordan fumbled with his helmet, looking for the switch. Flipping it, he amused himself by doing figure eights with the beam of light. It was funny to him how the light followed his head movement. He stopped immediately when he realized the guard’s gaze had landed on him.

The cave twisted and winded downwards, growing narrower and darker. Dozens of cracks and holes branched out from the main tunnel. Every so often, glowing light crystals were hammered into the ceiling and floor, illuminating the path.

Jordan didn’t really know where they were going, so he just followed them.

Walking through the caves took a good twenty minutes, but they soon heard the sounds of mining, and for some reason, singing, echoing through the stone walls. They found the slaves already at work, digging holes and mining ores.

A few of them were standing on the ceiling, suspended by chains attached to some of those spikes that Jordan saw earlier. Four of them stood around a growing hole, swinging at the edges of an ore vein, as rocks dropped from the ceiling.

They had some kind of work song going, which Jordan found oddly relaxing. Marcel had a very smooth voice.

Strangely, the tunnel continued onwards, but the slaves were here digging. The other hurriers left their carts as they began to pick up rocks and chucked them into their carts.

“Hey Trevor! I just chuck whatever rock I find down here into the cart, right?”

“Mhm. Try to get the red ones. Those ones are valuable.”

“Okay.”

Jordan got started and threw whatever kind of rocks that were on the floor into his minecart. Soon enough, the floor was clear and the minecarts weren’t even halfway full.

“Okay, now what? We just wait for them to mine more?” Jordan asked.

“Well, yes.” Trevor cupped his ears to hear further down the tunnel. “But actually, it looks like a few others went in deeper to get another vein. We should go over there.”

“Just us? Well… okay.”

Jordan decided that he didn’t want people to think he was lazy, lest he get jumped in the shower. Pushing his cart again, he found it was already getting harder to move. He didn’t have to use his mana yet, but he found himself kicking up dust with each step.

Another guard followed them as they headed down the tunnel.

“Hey Trevor. These caves are natural, aren’t they?” Jordan grunted.

“Hm? Yeah.” Trevor spoke in a much more relaxed tone.

“Does that mean stuff lives down here?”

“What? Yeah. Didn’t Marcel tell you?”

“… No.”

Trevor sighed, muttering something behind his mask about old people, before turning back to Jordan.

“Kid. There’s a reason why only the strongest slaves are sent down here.”

Jordan felt a bit miffed that he was getting called ‘kid’ from a dude who looked, at most, three years older.

“There’s dangerous creatures here. Flesh-eating monsters and malevolent spirits. They usually feed on whatever spawn comes crawling out of the groundwater, but the hungry ones try their luck on us. Each year, we lose at least one person. There’s never been more than fifteen on the mining team at once.”

Jordan paled, as Trevor kept on going.

“They’re real predators, the lot of them. And we’re in their territory. They do not like us, I’ll tell you that.”

“What about the guards? Won’t they protect us?” Jordan asked. Either from physical exhaustion or the mood, he broke out into a nervous sweat.

“Pshh, no. Of course not. They just sit back and watch - as the uh, very respectable masters that they are,” Trevor said, as he realized one of those masters was glaring at him.

“Ahem,” he coughed, “Anyhow, they think we’re weak. Just ‘cause we can’t see in the dark, or ‘cause we lack the armor to stop their teeth and claws. They underestimate us, and that’s when they eat a pickaxe in the face.”

“Say what?” Jordan turned to Trevor. “They use the pickaxes to-”

As he turned, he caught a glimpse of a shadow moving at the edge of his helmet’s light. He stopped pushing his cart as he looked around for it frantically.

“Jordan? What is it?” Trevor asked, stopping his cart.

“I saw something move! I swear!”

Trevor sighed. “Look kid, I didn’t mean to scare you that bad.”

He chuckled as he patted Jordan’s shoulder. “Heheh. I know it’s dark and scary down here and all, but monster attacks only happen to isolated people. We’d have to be real unlucky to get-”

Jordan heard a strange sticky noise as Trevor stumbled forward. He turned as if to check something on his back.

“What the fu- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!”

Trevor screamed as he was pulled into the darkness.