Mikhail

Five years to the dot had passed since that day in the council chambers. Mikhail sat on his bed, waiting for Nebo to come back so they could start their tradition of remembering Katya. He should be done soon with his tasks in the mess hall.

Mikhail’s soul had grown tired from the constant misery he had to endure within the mines. The shiftmasters made the miners work twelve hours a day without pause, and many collapsed out of sheer exhaustion.

He kept mostly to himself. Any friends he’d make would sooner or later keel over anyway, and others were only friends for as long as they could take advantage of him in some way.

He’d killed a man here. The man had tried to steal Nebo's food, so that same night Mikhail had gone out to find him. When he did, he made sure nobody had seen him and pierced his skull with a pickaxe.

Nobody saw, or nobody cared enough to report it. Nobody saw, except for Nebo. He had taken the boy along to teach him how to survive in dire circumstances.

The look on the poor boy’s face had broken his heart, but he knew he had to show him what to do when a man tries to take your life, and stealing food was tantamount to taking a life in the mines.

Nebo was still a bit too young to work as one of the miners, so they'd put him to work in the kitchens and as one of the cart haulers. The boy had learnt to speak well these last years, and Mikhail knew how to speak the language of the empire. Dunmorian, they called it.

The boy had been heartbroken after Katya's death, and it had taken three months before he’d spoken a word to Mikhail. The words he said, in Dunmorian, was ‘forgive you’.

After that, Mikhail set out to teach the boy how to speak well. He was an incredibly fast learner, and soon formed complex sentences in Mikhail's language. Nebo easily picked up Dunmorian from the other children, and taught Mikhail how to speak it in turn. As soon as they could converse properly, Mikhail explained to Nebo that he should never use his powers in front of others, lest he'd be taken away to the Elysian Tower. They'd wanted to drag Katya there, and she'd preferred death.

When they needed to discuss things in private, they'd use Mikhail's native language, otherwise they stuck to Dunmorian.

Nebo entered the quarters, he’d grown tall, taller than most boys his age. He’d told Mikhail that he sometimes stole food while working in the kitchen, and he brought back some occasionally as well.

Today, he did.

“Mika!” Nebo smiled and waved at him as he approached. He looked around to make sure nobody was watching, and handed him a dried piece of sausage.

“I managed to swipe some of the food that was headed for the shiftmasters.” He said, sporting a devious grin.

Mikhail frowned, but Nebo cut him off before he could say anything.

“Don't worry, I made sure I took it after they'd checked the ledgers.”

Mikhail sighed. “Be careful, damn you. If they notice you stealing from the masters, it won't end with a few lashes of the whip.”

“I know, Mika. Sorry, but it's a special day today.”

“Yes, lad.” He said. “I suppose it is.”

Nebo sat next to Mikhail, folded his hands and closed his eyes. “Dear Katya, if you hear this-”

“She will, lad.” Mikhail patted Nebo's shoulder.

“If you hear this, thank you for making sure Mika and I could stay together. As bad as it is here, it's nice seeing his grumpy, ugly face every evening.”

Mikhail slapped the back of Nebo's head and chuckled.

Nebo grinned. “I preferred your face to his, but thank you anyway.”

“We’ll see if your face stays handsome when you're as old as me, brat.” Mikhail ruffled his hair. “Now let's eat.”

Nebo pushed Mikhail's hand away. “I hate it when you do that, I'm not a little kid anymore.”

“You'll always be a kid to me.”

Nebo snorted. The two split the sausage between them, and Nebo pulled out two tomatoes and a piece of hard cheese hidden underneath his rags.

"Oh?" Mikhail said. “Tomatoes without any mold? That's a surprise.”

Nebo shrugged. “Like I said, it was meant for the shiftmasters. You know they get the best, Mika.”

“Aye, that they do. Let's eat everything quickly before anyone sees.”

They stuffed their faces as fast as they safely could without choking, and it fell silent for a while.

“I'm sorry I couldn't give you a better life, lad.” Mikhail said. “If I could, I’d break us out of here, but I haven't seen any possible way we could.”

Nebo shrugged and smiled at him. “S’okay, if I hear or see anything strange I’ll tell you.”

Mikhail was surprised by the positivity the boy possessed, it seemed like nothing could get him down. Even after witnessing all the misery of the mines, he hadn't lost that spark in his eyes. Maybe it was naivety, but he was content to know Nebo had it.

Mikhail's hope had long gone. He didn't tell the boy, but he knew there was no way to get out of here except in a coffin.

The horns blew. Slaves scrambled into the quarters and hurried to their beds. Mikhail shooed Nebo away and he quickly lay down, staring at the candle on his cabinet.

“Candles out, you filthy dogs!” One of the shiftmasters commanded. “If I see or hear anything when I come back, I’ll have you whipped ‘till dawn.”

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At least they cared about a good night's sleep.

Nebo

The lights had gone out. All the slaves were forced to go to sleep when the shiftmasters told them to, so they wouldn't lose efficiency the following day.

The slaves were divided into two shifts working for twelve hours each. They never switched these shifts and they never met, so as to stop too much contact between the groups from happening. They did this to prevent them from becoming too organized.

Nebo knew this, he’d heard the masters whisper about the Unity Rebellion at night when they thought slaves weren't around. They were a rebellion made up of former slaves, both Dunmorii and Acuamorii, who fought to end the oppression of the empire. It sounded like a tale of heroes in his mind.

But heroes were often fools. He knew a hero without real power wouldn't amount to much, and so he was skeptical of the rebellion. He’d heard tales of the empire’s military might from the other children.

The Satharian Wingriders raining death from above, the imperial knights who were trained from childhood, the Paladins of Sahrion with their flaming greatswords and the Weavers of the Elysian Tower.

He'd heard of the Elysian Tower on the day of the trial. Katya had chosen to save Mikhail instead of going there, and had given the impression that it was a place to be avoided.

After hearing the stories, he couldn't imagine a ragtag group of former slaves overthrow an empire as formidable as that.

Nebo covered his face with his moldy, thin blanket, and concentrated on the shimmering strands in front of him that faded in and out of existence. Mikhail had told him not to use his powers after he got them back, but it was as much a part of him as his hands or feet or heart were. He couldn't resist. Besides, it helped him remain unseen when he went out at night.

He imagined grasping some of the strands in his mind, and weaved them together in roughly the same pattern as he had seen Katya make when he was little. He felt the air around him grow heavy, and as he progressed in weaving the improvised spell he felt the world around him grow quiet.

It wasn't nearly as effective as Katya's magic had been, but it was enough to let him blend into his surroundings if he kept to the shadows. The drawback, however, was that his hearing would be muffled as well as his steps, but he’d learnt to train his vision well enough for this not to pose that much of a problem.

Nebo snuck out of his bed. The darkness in the sleeping quarters and the snoring of dozens of slaves helped him remain practically invisible. When he reached the entrance, he peeked through the crack in the door to see if the shiftmaster was coming, but didn't see him nearby.

Good, let's get some more food.

He opened the door, and silently dashed around the corner, back into the safety of the shadows. He knew getting caught stealing would cost him an arm and a leg, literally, but he couldn't stand seeing Mikhail grow skinnier and weaker each passing day. The dark haired bear of a man was but a shadow of what he once was, and it pained Nebo.

He knew the safest route to the food storage by now, and after scanning his surroundings he quickly set out to rob the masters blind again. Moving from shadow to shadow, he darted between rocks and crates, all the while scanning his surroundings for guards and shiftmasters. When someone passed by him, he remained in place, and as soon as they were gone he was on the move again.

He had to be quick, the spell wore him out after a time and he had to prevent passing out from overuse. A shiver crawled up his back as he imagined what would happen to him if they found him passed out in the storage, surrounded by dried meat and vegetables.

Two of the masters came around the corner, and he dove into the shadow of a boulder beside him. One of the men laughed and slapped the other on the back. When they passed by, he could hear what they were talking about.

“By Sahrion, did you hear that filthy greenling squeal?” The master laughed again, nearly choking on his own mucus. “Thought the little whoreson’d turn me deaf, I tell yous.”

“Aye, I know it was necessary, but I can't quite get used to the screams.” The other one said. “Acuamori or no, it's still a child.”

“Acua my arse. They’re sniveling, long-eared greenlings, filthy forest dwellers.” The master spat on the ground. “Better to cull them young, when they grow tall they tend to be mighty quick with a pair of daggers.”

Nebo had met a few Acuamori slaves. They kept quiet most of the time and stuck to their own kind. The Dunmori called them greenlings because they usually lived in forests and tended to have green markings on their sallow faces. Apparently the forest kingdoms to the east had united to form the Acuamorii Federation.

It seemed the masters had tortured or killed one of their children.

When they moved on, Nebo ran for the storage again. A few more corners and he'd be at the entrance. This would be the hardest part, since there was a gate in front of the storage that was always guarded by two men. He'd have to sneak through the fence, but the area he had to pass was well lit so he had to be careful.

If by chance they looked directly at Nebo when he crossed, they’d see him. Vaguely, but they'd know there was someone there.

Once he made sure nobody would see him, except for the guards if he was unlucky, he decided to take the risk. He crept from the shadows into the light and quickly crossed the well lit area, all while keeping an eye on the two men at the gate. The guards hadn't looked his way yet, and he kept moving. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw one of the guards move his head. His heart jumped, but he quickly realized that the guard was looking in the opposite direction.

After a nerve-wracking few seconds, he finally arrived at the fence. He squeezed his lanky body through the bars, and finally arrived at his destination. Around the corner of the storage, there were cellar doors leading below ground. They kept the cured meats there, and that's what he was after. He could hide them somewhere and they wouldn't rot easily.

Nebo crept along the walls until he reached the cellar doors. He carefully opened them, making sure not to make a sound, and climbed down the stairs.

Immediately the smell of food wafted into his nose, and his mouth began to water.

No, I have to hurry, no time to eat now.

He couldn't see very well. The cellar was dark, but he'd been here enough times to have remembered a rough outline of the room. Making sure not to knock over anything, he made his way to the stocks of sausages and cured hams. Unfortunately the hams were too big to hide or carry, so he'd have to do with the sausages.

He grabbed five of them, one each from different sticks so it wouldn't be immediately noticeable that something disappeared. When he was done, he decided to leave.

A shadow moved near the entrance. Nebo froze in shock, he'd forgotten to close the doors behind him.

You idiot! How could I have been so stupid?

He chastised himself and dove into a dark corner of the cellar. Dust particles floated in the light of the entrance, and were suddenly obscured by the shadow moving closer.

“Durzo? You there, you fool?” A nasal voice pierced the silence. “You know the masters told us not to go into the cellar without permission.”

Nebo tried to steady his breathing. The spell he cast was tiring him out, and the panic wasn't helping his concentration.

“Fool must have left the doors open. Well, it's not my fault if he ends up like the greenling brat.” The man clicked his tongue. “Still can't believe the little bugger had been stealing food from here. Ah well, no skin off my back.”

The man walked back up the stairs and left the doors open, most likely not wanting anything more to do with the cellar than he needed to.

Nebo's stomach turned at what he just heard. Someone else had paid the price for his crimes, dearly.

He considered the possibility that the child might have been stealing as well, but from what he had heard of the Acuamori, that seemed highly unlikely. Stealing was apparently frowned upon immensely in their communities, even when it was done to an enemy.

He apologized in his mind to the murdered Acuamori child, but tried to set it aside for now to make his way back to the quarters.

He snuck up the stairs after making sure there wasn't anyone around waiting for him to show up, squeezed through the fence and made his way back safely.

After hiding his loot he crawled into bed, undid the spell and thought about what he'd caused. Another person died because of him today. He'd seen Mikhail beat a man to death once, but that had felt different somehow. This wasn't retribution, this was an innocent life that was snuffed out because of his actions.

He wanted to ask Mikhail for advice, but he knew he couldn't do that because he'd find out about his skulking around.

With a heavy heart, he closed his eyes. The cold seemed worse than usual, and he wouldn't fall asleep before dawn.