TEN YEARS LATER
Amon
The wooden door to his uncle’s office creaked open, and Amon stepped into the dimly lit room. The stench of alcohol hit him immediately, mingling with the smell of parchment and dust. His uncle sat slouched behind a cluttered desk, a bottle of cheap liquor in one hand and a ledger in the other. Amons expression remained impassive, masking the disdain bubbling underneath.
“Ah, there you are,” Gideon said, gesturing for Amon to take a seat opposite him. “I have been waiting for you.”
“I apologize for running late. What was it you wanted to talk about, Uncle?” There was nothing more he hated than calling Gideon by that title.
“It's fine, it's fine.” His uncle waved a dismissive hand, sloshing some of the liquor onto the desk in the process. “I need you to deal with that troublemaker in the mine. You know the one I'm talking about.”
Amon suppressed the urge to grab hold of the bottle and force it down Gideons throat, so he simply nodded.
“I trust you will take care of it,” Gideon said, turning around to look for a new bottle to indulge himself in. It was clear Gideon was finished with their conversation.
“Consider it done,” he said, rising from his seat and leaving the office.
The barely lit corridors of the mine echoed with the sounds of pickaxes meeting stone and distant shouts from guards. Amon made his way deeper into the maze-like tunnels.
He had heard the rising complaints from the guards about a miner who was riling up other workers speaking of fair wages and better working conditions. He went by the name Jeb.
Gideons plans of disposing of every person that raised their voice was foolish. He wanted to use violence to solve every problem. However, he failed to realize that those causing trouble in the Undercity were driven by the same needs as most inhabitants: food, shelter, and protection for their loved ones. Without Amon's intervention, the mines would have already lost half of their workers, but to keep Gideon happy, some had to disappear.
Amon could still vividly recall the morning after his fathers death. The day he had accepted to stay by Gideon’s side. Gideon had arrived at the doorstep, his face grim. “There is something you must know,” he had said as he’d made his way into the living room. Amon had dug his fingernails into his palms, using the pain to subdue the burning feeling of hatred that had come at the sight of him. The fact that Gideon was standing before him, unscathed and pretending to be sorrowful over his own brother's death—which he had deliberately betrayed—was almost unbearable. Amon would have already killed him if it hadn't been for his fathers last words. He had a promise he had to follow through.
So Amon had listened as Gideon spun a tale about how his father had met the same fate as his mother; perished in a crystal explosion while working in the mines, and how Gideon would now be his guardian. Amon had hugged him tightly, letting out tears for his lost family and the life stolen from him by Gideon and the Uppercity. He had only been twelve years old.
The memory faded away as he approached another alcove where he spotted Jeb sitting on an overturned bucket, his face grimy with dirt and sweat. The light from the crystals casting a blue hue over it all.
“Hello Jeb,” Amon said, his tone nonchalant.
Jeb’s eyes narrowed at the sight of Amon, shining with distrust. “You,” he said, his voice rough with disdain. Amon didn't blame him, he had heard the rumors surrounding him. “What's the overseer’s lapdog doing down here in the dirt with us common folk?”
Amon let the insult roll off him like water off a duck's back. Years of playing the obedient servant to Gideon had granted him free access around the mines but it had come with a cost. It was no surprise that trust was in short supply for him. But things were about to take a turn.
“Watch your tongue, Jeb,” Amon said smoothly. “I promise there is more underneath the surface than meets the eye.”
Jeb laughed bitterly, his mouth twisting into an ugly sneer. “I doubt that. Here to shut me up for good, are you?”
“That depends entirely on you.”
“I'm not one for boot-licking,” Jeb growled.
“And I'm not asking for that.” Amon paused deliberately before continuing. “I am here
to offer you something else.”
“Why would I want anything from an Overseer pup?”
“Because your choice is limited to this or an early grave.” Amon watched as Jeb’s face hardened at his words.
“Let's hear it then.”
“The miners trust you,” Amon began calmly. “They confide in you. With my access and influence, we can create the change they have been yearning for.”
“You expect me to just take your word for it?” Skepticism clouded Jebs eyes.
“No, I expect the promise of change will. Meet me at the Black Diamond after your work shift.”
“And why should I?”
“Because actions carry more weight than words,” replied Amon before turning on his heels, leaving Jeb to contemplate his statement.
* * *
Amon walked down the dark, wide street towards the beginning of the Undercity’s, or known to its inhabitants as the Spine's, notorious gambling district the Marrow. The name of their city was an old joke among them, poking fun at their role as the backbone of the economy thanks to their crystal mines. Irony at its finest, considering they never saw a single coin from the lucrative crystal production thanks to the greed of the Uppercity council.
He glanced around the street. The Marrow was considered one of the better parts of the Spine. Here the buildings stood straight, each of them in different colors, fighting for the attention of the crowds. People walked in with their pouches full, ready for an evening of fun and entertainment impossible to find in the Uppercity.
Reaching the end of the street, the air started changing its smell, leaving behind the perfumes and flowery scents of the gambling district and welcoming the fumes from one of the mines. The cobblestone road was more uneven and the houses worn down from decades of neglect. But in the distance, he could spot warm light coming from lanterns outside one of the crooked buildings. The steel sign, suspended by iron chains, swung lazily in the breeze with the words The Black Diamond etched into it.
Amon stepped inside, hit by a wave of warmth and noise. The interior was in wooden design, and a fire crackled in the corner. The tables were filled by typical Spine dwellers; miners, thieves, and the gamblers too broke for the upscale pubs in town.
Making his way through the crowded bar, his boots thudded heavily against the worn wooden floor. Mencer, a burly bartender with a rugged beard nodded towards him as a greeting. “The usual?” he asked gruffly.
“Not tonight, Mencer,” Amon replied. “I'm expecting someone.”
“Ah, a new member?”
“Hopefully.” He looked around for Sonja but found no trace of her familiar face. “Sonja hasn't come by yet?”
“She hasn’t shown,” Mencer informed him before turning to tend to another customer.
Amon settled onto a stool, keeping a close eye on the entrance. He was counting on her having the information they needed for tonight's meeting. Without it, it would be tough convincing Jeb. Though, there were always other ways but he would prefer to be on Jeb’s good side. It was better for long-term success.
A hush fell over the pub as the door opened and two guards entered, badges with one streak on it fastened to their chests. They were from the First Mine. So Sonja must have succeeded then, Amon thought. She would be here any minute.
The guards strode in confidently and moved towards the bar, their presence sending a ripple of tension through the patrons.
“An Ale,” one of them demanded. The other guard next to him was scanning the room with his eyes, as if searching for something or someone. As the guard received his drink from Mencer, his partner leaned in to speak quietly. Amon strained his ears to catch their conversation, but their voices were too low for him to make out any words. Though it seemed like they had come to an agreement, nodding to one another.
“Listen up everyone,” the guard that had been scanning the room called out. The pub fell silent. “We’re here because of a recent robbery in the Cervic district. Anyone with information is to come forward, immediately.”
A wave of whispers and anxious glances washed over the pub, but no one stirred. The Cervic district was the best part of the Spine, perched at the very top. The Overseers had their homes there and it was also where the elevators could be found. Those were reserved for the people with Uppercity passes or deep enough pockets filled with coin. For everyone else, there was only a treacherous climb up—a climb reserved for the desperate and doomed. In all his years, Amon had never heard of anyone successfully scaling the mountain and making it to the Uppercity.
So it seemed absurd to expect anyone in this pub to have any useful information, no one in their right mind would even dare set foot in that district. Yet Amon knew they were following protocols, actually, he had been counting on it.
“This bunch won't talk, even if you hang them from their toes, Rennick,” the other guard said, casually sipping his drink.
Rennick’s face twisted into a scowl. “I won't return empty handed.”
The First Mine’s Overseer was notorious for his ruthlessness, and his guards were handpicked to mirror him perfectly. But Amon knew even they feared putting their boss in a bad mood.
“We’ll haul some of these lot back to the nearest outpost for some real questioning,” Rennick declared, striding towards a man slumped over a table in the far corner.
The man was muttering to himself, swaying slightly from side to side. It was clear he was under the influence of Veil - a drug that induced delirium if taken in high doses. He didn't even seem to register Rennick yanking him to his feet.
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The door swung open again, and in walked a familiar figure covered by a cloak; red hair peeking out from beneath the hood and followed by another, taller man. Jeb. Amon locked eyes with Sonja, and they exchanged a nod of understanding. It was time to make their move, and she would back him up.
Amon rose from his stool, ignoring the guard nursing his drink at the counter and walked up to Rennick. The man glowered at him as Amon approached. “What do you want, tunnelrat?” he spat, gripping tighter on the collar of the drugged man who whimpered pitifully.
“I'd advise you to not pick off innocents,” Amon said calmly. He made a show of looking around at the people in the pub, who were all listening intently. He spotted Sonja moving her way through the tables, her hands forming a familiar sign. “We don’t allow that kind of behavior here,” Amon added, and he felt the burning feeling of courage being amplified. He did his best to suppress a smile. Sonja was working her magic and not just on him, the other patrons stirred as well.
“And why would I care about that?” Rennick retorted, his voice dripping of arrogance.
The other guard joined them, his hand on the sword hilt. “It's not worth the trouble, Rennick, look around you,” he warned quietly. People were halfway out of their chairs already, some clenching hidden weapons under their jackets. Their expressions determined.
Rennick’s grip on the man loosened slightly, but his eyes darkened with anger.
“How about you let go of him, and join me in the back. I have some information that might interest you,” Amon said, quickly flashing his Second Mine badge before slipping it back into his pocket. Both guards gave him another look—this time really seeing him. A grin spread across Rennick's face as recognition dawned.
"My apologies,” he said sarcastically, “I didn't realize I was dealing with Gideon’s lapdog.” He shoved the man away who crumpled to the floor with a groan. “Lead the way then.”
Amon led the guards through the pub, their destination Mencer’s secluded office. He sensed Sonja and Jeb’s presence trailing behind them. Once inside, he raised a hand in pause. The guards exchanged looks as Amon turned to the sculpture of Tlalli, the earth goddess that stood next to the oak desk. He put his hand on the sun that the woman was holding and twisted the center. The wall behind slid open, revealing a spiral staircase leading down. “Merely a precaution, wouldn't want the information to spread like wildfire, now would we?” Amon said, waving for the guards to follow.
The air turned cool, filled with the scent of earth and old stone. Torches flickered on the wall, illuminating their walk down into the cellar. Ale barrels were pushed up against the stonewalls while a long table surrounded by chairs occupied the center.
Amon sat down in one of them, but the guards chose to remain standing. “Well? What about this information you promised us?” Rennick demanded.
Amon leaned back in the chair. Sonja and Jeb hadn’t arrived yet so his gaze locked onto Rennick’s. He had to stall for time. “Of course, but information is a valuable commodity.”
Rennick’s eyes narrowed, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Then it was a mistake leading us down here,” he said, taking a step forward, fingers twitching towards his sword hilt.
The other guard stretched out his arm in front of Rennick. “Attack him and you’ll create a blood feud with Gideon.”
Anger was evident in Reddick’s face but he backed off.
Amon remained unfazed. “Ah someone with sense, thank you…? What was your name?”
“Owen,” he replied. “How much is this information going to cost us?”
“Well, that bulging pouch at your hips should cover it,” Amon nodded towards Owen’s belt.
Owen unfastened the pouch and tossed it to Amon who caught it deftly in his right hand. “Much obliged.” He put the pouch on the table and leaned forward. "Your redhead problem…quite the pickle."
"How do you know that detail?"
"Let’s just say, your little thief frequents the Black Diamond," Amon began, seeing Sonja arrive behind them. Another hand sign, and the two guards tensed, realization hitting them but it was too late. "And would love to give you two a warm welcome," he finished.
The two guards collapsed to their knees, gasping for air. Rennick grasped at his throat, "y-you bastard..." he choked out before blacking out.
Sonja stepped forward into the dim light. "Nice stalling," nodding towards the pouch. "Your new friend wasn't too keen on heading downstairs."
"Maybe I would have been, if I had actually been informed about what was going on," Jeb’s voice sounded from the stairs.
"Well, you are here now and that's what counts, " Amon said, putting his hands together as Jeb walked into the room.
He stopped next to Sonja and froze upon seeing the unconscious guards. "What the hell. Why are you guys attacking First Mine guards? Have you lost it?"
"Change requires a touch of madness, wouldn’t you say?" Jeb stood stunned in disbelief from Amons words. "Sonja, I assume you got the artifact with you?"
She nodded, pulling forward a crystallic necklace that lay hidden under her shirt.
“And you were able to write everything down?”
“Scrolls right here,” she said and handed it over to Amon.
"Excellent." He unrolled it, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he scanned the parchment. "Jeb. This scroll here contains the details about the next council meeting and its whereabouts."
"Council meeting? You want to go to the Uppercity?" Jeb asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise.
Amon shook his head. "What people don't know is that about ten years ago, the Uppercity formed an Undercity council. It’s their way of keeping the bigwigs of the Spine content—give them a taste of power while they still pull all the strings from above. The Spines council consists of four members; two are the Overseers for each mine and the two last ones are the Surgeon and the Banshee."
"But the Surgeon and the Banshee are crime lords! So you're telling me the rumors about the gangs forming their own leadership over the Spine actually had some truth to it?"
Sonja smiled at Jeb. "Just like Amon said; less dirty work for the Uppercity and they get to keep an eye on them. Two birds, one stone."
Jeb sank onto one of the chairs, overwhelmed by this revelation. Amon knew it was hard to swallow; Jeb must've thought his speeches in the mine were making a difference. It had earned him trust among people, but Jebs vision was limited. However, with the right person leading them…
"So what are you planning to do with this information? I don't see where you're going with this."
"These two," Amon looked down at the still guards, "are our golden tickets into that council meeting eleven months from now.”
"What? How do you plan on getting into the meeting without getting caught? Even with the uniforms on, you look nothing alike,” Jeb pointed out.
Amon and Sonja shared a meaningful glance. They needed to tell Jeb eventually if they wanted to establish trust between them, which was vital for the success of their missions. With a flick of her wrist, Sonja's red hair turned to her natural blonde.
Jeb's eyes widened in shock. “You are a Shade.”
Amon wasn't surprised at Jebs reaction. Being a Shade was a rare occurrence, and only elves or half-elves were capable of becoming one. It wasn't a Gift from any Divine being, but rather a result of demonic corruption—or, at least, that's what the Uppercity claimed. Growing up, Eve and Sonja’s grandmother had always told them a different story; that it was a Gift, given by the goddess Zoea, the Shapeshifter. She ruled over life, emotion and body, which is why elves could live for thousands of years.
But in the aftermath of the war, those with this "taint" were shown no mercy by the Uppercity. As a result, most of the remaining elves fled the country. However, when Sonja's mother disappeared, she and her sister had chosen to stay behind.
“We are trusting that you won't be telling anyone,” Amon said, a colder tone to his voice.
“Of course,” Jeb answered, still staring at Sonja in wonder. “No one will be able to pry that information from me.”
Jeb was taking the information surprisingly well even though Sonja had found out he had grown up in Drakonport, a country known for taking in refugees of all sorts. Though, it had been a gamble to count on his people’s open-minded and understanding nature. Generally, most became afraid for their own safety when interacting or just being near an elf. Especially one that was a Shade.
“Thank you,” Sonja said and brought her hood down, revealing her pointy ears. “My Gift,” she continued in a calm tone, “allows me to alter your faces for the span of five hours. Plenty of time to escort Corvus into the council's inner sanctum.”
“And that’s when we make our move,” Amon added. The words hung in the air like a guillotine blade waiting to fall.
“You are going to topple the entire Undercity council,” Jeb said, more as a statement than a question.
“Correct.”
Jeb’s eyebrows knit together in concern. “Let's say you pull it off, then what? You’ll have a sea of guards and gang members coming for your throat.”
“Let me and Sonja take care of the Surgeon and the Banshee. As for the Overseers, that's where you come in. I’m not oblivious to the fact you have the miners of the Second Mine following you. I'm also aware of the little surprise party in the works.”
Jeb tensed at the mention of their secret operation they had been brewing. “For how long have you known?”
“Since the beginning.” Sonja had been gathering information about them ever since Amon had noticed a slight change with the miners behavior. Their plan would have failed miserably, as none of the miners had any real combat training, but the fact still stood that Jeb had managed to ignite a spark within them. A spark that was hungry for change.
“You could have ratted us out to Gideon. Why all of this? Why stick your neck out for us?”
“Because we deserve better,” Amon declared. "We're worth more than being trampled on. We should be reaping the rewards of our sweat and toil, not lining the pockets of those who've never so much as set foot down here. We deserve freedom."
“I have never been happier to be so wrong about someone,” Jeb admitted, relief washing over him. “What do you need from me?”
“I propose a slight tweak to your plans. I want you to help infiltrate the other mine, rally the people. We need as many as possible for the next step.”
“The next step?”
“When the time comes for the council meeting, the guards who would be able to shut this operation down are busy accompanying their superiors. The miners should be able to deal with the guards left behind. Then, they will seize control of the mines. My crew will handle what happens at the meeting.”
“You truly are mental,” Jeb said, shaking his head in disbelief, yet his tone held some admiration. “But count me in.”
“Good. I’m going to need you to be discreet this time around. No more doing open speeches. I don't want any Overseer worried about increased unrest.”
Something within Jeb’s eyes sparkled. “I’ll handle it. Everyone there has tasted nothing but cruelty from the guards and Overseers for over three decades. No ones going rock the boat when there's finally hope.”
“I'm banking on that,” Amon replied. He held no doubts about their loyalty, his only concern was rallying enough numbers and building up their confidence. The miners might handle pickaxes as if they were born with them, but they didn't know combat. “We will teach the ones who join basic combat principles as well.”
Jeb nodded in agreement. “Who is going to be showing us the ropes then? And where?”
“I don't think Mencer would turn down drilling them through the basics,” Sonja chimed in.
“That hulking barkeep?” Jeb blinked.
“Aye, that would be me, lad.” Mencer’s deep voice boomed from behind, causing Jeb to startle slightly.
“Nice of you to finally join us,” Amon said casually.
“Just needed to lock up the pub first.” Mencer grunted as he eased himself into one of the chairs.
“Mencer here was an officer in the Uppercity military twenty years ago,” Amon explained, seeing the look of confusion on Jeb’s face. “We can save the story for how he ended up here for another night.”
“As long as he can whip us into shape, I don't need to know anyone's life story.”
Mencer let out a hearty laugh. “Don't you worry about that. Once I’m through with them, they will be ready. As for our training grounds, I’ve got the perfect spot all mapped out in my mind.”