14. Restless

“Life is tiresome. When I first sought to conquer mortality, I did not plan a means of reversion. Thus I am forced to live. Forever. Perpetually. Often enough I view this as a gift, beyond measuring, but now and then I see it more as a curse.

Though as late I cannot remember the last time I viewed my predicament as a positive. I have instead been trying to puzzle out some way to revert the effects of that alchemist’s elixir. Replicating the divine solution had been difficult, almost impossible, but my attempts to revert the elixir have proven entirely fruitless.

He had warned me not to drink a third. I did not listen. I never listen.

Perhaps if I can find how the Pools came to be to begin with, I can find some unique quality of goblinkind that I might exploit to undo this tireless longevity.

Though if Agrak becomes aware of such a venture, he might well view it as a threat and have me buried under the earth to witter and regret for an eternity unending.

If he feels how I feel, perhaps he might welcome a method of killing us both.”

Beyond the palisade wall of the wooden compound that fenced off the northern mine, stood a collection of ten dusty buildings and a great pile of stone and earth that had been carted up from the tunnels. The dust and rust lent the air a nose-scratching scent, and had a habit of stinging eyes and clinging to throats.

Of the buildings, there were four small storage sheds, arrayed near the corner formed between the wall and the rising mountain. There was a modest outhouse, one of only a few in the wealthier part of Timilir; a wide workshop, an expansive kitchen, a pair of long lodges for living and sleeping, and the two story structure that served both as the home and office for the mine’s plump warden.

The cavernous maw to the mine was sealed off by a second fence that was often open during the day, but meant a severe beating for any prisoner that crossed through it without the warden’s permission. Beyond that, where faint light yielded to thick darkness, winded a wide and rugged tunnel that gave way to a crossroads.

To the left, where brass lanterns kept the darkness at bay, the path ended in a domed cavern and yet another fence, where dozens of haggard, filthy prisoners, sat, slept, and coughed under oppressive luminescence. Their desperate faces could be seen by the lines of light stealing through gaps in their wooden prison.

A modest underground river ran along the back wall, and served to stop the prisoners from dying of thirst.

The latest prisoner, huge and bruised, lay curled up and shivering near the gate. He had drawn little attention from those around him, beyond mentions of how his size might end with men being trapped in a tunnel.

One among the prisoners, Dan, thought he recognized the new arrival, so he kept a close watch while those around him weighed the merits of killing the prisoner before he caused the others any trouble.

Dan had once watched an old fisherman catch a pale and sickly fish from the river with his hands, eat it despite other’s warnings, then choke on the bones. He had long decided he was happy enough to eat the tasteless gruel provided by the city instead of risking his life for a short-lived meal.

He wondered whether the huge prisoner would ever wake to make the same decision.

Dan had his father’s slim build, but not his height. He had his Sam’s pleasant features, as well, but brown coloring instead of black. He stood as little more than a momentary inconvenience to the ruffians that muttered and plotted near the prison’s far corner.

The huge man murmured in his sleep, his pale body covered in mottled bruises and dark cuts. Dirt coated most his chest and his tattered leggings. Abrasions marred his back, as if he had been dragged along a road.

Dan squinted through the dusty half-light, seeing the thuggish group in the corner break apart, moving towards the gate. He looked down at the sleeping man, pushing his shoulder. “You should wake up, friend. There’s men on their way to kill you.”

Dan’s fear rose now the men drew close. He slapped the sleeping man across the cheek. He considered running, then gripped a small stone and held his crouch instead.

“Who’s this, then?” asked a raw-boned old man. He prowled more than walked, and his words seemed to dance from his mouth. “Ah. Friend of yours, is he, young lad? Bit big though, no?” He swept his cruel gaze to the four brawnier men with him. “Too big… for some tunnels. Not a man you want to get stuck behind when things start popping and flashing, I’d say. Would you…?”

Dan felt unsettled by the man’s toothless smirk. “If he’s too big for a tunnel, he won’t go down it. Where’s the risk—”

He smashed into the ground, deaf and senseless, before his jaw started to ache. Dan realised he hadn’t been paying enough attention to the men around him. He tried to rise, but found the task harder than he was used to. Weight pressed into his back and he understood a man had taken to sitting on him.

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Dan didn’t start to panic until hands tugged on his leggings. “Get off of me!” He squirmed as something warm and hard touched his thigh. “Get off, you sick bastard!”

He remembered the stone in his struggle, tightened his grip then flailed back, striking a knee. Weight shifted above him with and Sam managed to roll, glimpsing the angry man beside him. He lurched forward to smash the stone into the man’s brow.

A foot took Dan under the chin, his teeth clacked, and he was on his back, stone nearly slipping from grip. In the corner of his vision, he could see the toothless old man holding up the new prisoner’s thick neck, a stone dagger drawing closer to the throat.

Dan managed to hurl his stone. It sailed past the old man’s face, missing, distracting him long enough to make him drop the prisoner’s head, look back, and laugh. A boot thudded into Dan’s ribs, snapping bone, sending pain surging through his belly. He heaved in a breath and tried to curl up before more feet were driven in.

Dan held himself tight as he was kicked this way and that, as pain made him blind to his other’s senses, as his flesh was scraped against the cavern floor by the enthusiastic work of two heavy-footed men. In the back of his mind, he could hear a deep voice shouting over another struggle.

He mistook the blows suffered by other men as his own. He thought the constant pain was a mark of them still beating him to death. He jolted at a splash of cold water.

Dan glimpsed the gloomy cavern ceiling. He shivered with the chill. More water crashed down. “Stop!”

“Apologies.” A huge hand obscured Dan’s vision. “Can you stand?”

Dan thought for a moment, pain subsiding to a dull ache, and decided that he likely could. He grabbed the hand and was lifted effortlessly from the ground. “You.”

A stony visage stared back at him, made of hard lines, pale eyes set under thick brows, broad jaw adorned with a handsome beard. “Have we met?” The huge man blinked, rubbing at his eyes. “That old man spat in my face, and I can hardly see—” He frowned. “Dan…?” He laughed. “Dan!”

“I—” Dan’s breath was squeezed from his chest in a crushing embrace. “Please, stop.”

“Oh.” The huge man let go. “Are you badly wounded?”

Dan probed at his own sides, deciding that he wasn’t as hurt as he’d feared. He frowned, shaking his head. “Is it really you?”

“Hjorvarth.”

“Hjorvarth.” Dan narrowed his eyes. “By the gods, what are you doing here?”

“Sam came here looking for you, and I came looking for him… for you both.”

“Sam?” Dan wrestled with confusion. “My father came here?”

“Yes.” Hjorvarth paused. “Or so I was told. Have you not seen him?”

“I haven’t.” Dan slowly shook his head. “But there are two groups of miners. This group, and another that are—that would be working while we rest.” He shook his head again, more in denial. “If he was here… in the other group, then the kobolds have taken him or, well—” He glanced at the floor. “There have been a few bodies brought back… burned by the kobolds. They have pipes that shoot fire to blind you or kill you.”

Dan watched with something close to sympathy now the stone-faced man started to crack, but then the visage hardened and he wondered if he had only ever imagined the lapse. “Did you commit a crime so that you could come here?” He thought of his harmless father. “Did Sam…?”

“I am uncertain,” Hjorvarth admitted.

He squinted off at the gloomy cave, to many dirty faces that now watched the huge man with fearful eyes. Dan saw the prone forms of the six men that had come to cut the Hjorvarth’s throat. He remembered the angry youth the huge man had been and wondered whether he was still so quick to rise to violence.

“What do you plan to do?” Dan asked. “If Sam was here, then he is long gone.”

“How long?” Hjorvarth asked.

“I pay less mind to time passing, but I would guess at five days, or even a week.”

Hjorvarth nodded as if in consideration. “And these kobolds steal men from the tunnels where you work?”

“They do. But we’ve been working in the safer places since the last attack.”

“Then the path forward seems simple enough.”

“Does it?”

“We’ll gain access to the most dangerous tunnels in the hopes that they capture us,” Hjorvarth explained, “or in the hopes of finding a tunnel that we can follow. We’ll find Sam, escape our captors—or help him to escape his—and then find a way to the open world that doesn’t cross through Timilir.”

Dan glanced at the branded circle on his palm. “We’re all marked as slaves.”

“A life wearing gloves seems easier than this.”

Dan snickered. “Not to insult you, Hjorvarth, but your plan still sounds reckless.”

“I would not deny it, but the odds are better than ever leaving this place,” he said. “Which to my mind makes the choice between a slow death, here, in the company of men that now hate you, or with me, at an attempt to save your father and escape… to make lives of our own that are actually worth living.”

Dan grunted. “Put that way, I suppose I don’t really have much to lose.” He raised his brows. “I’ll follow your lead, then, Hjorvarth. But, for right now, it’s going be a while until they let us out. So you might as well get some sleep.” He smiled in sympathy. “You look a little too close to death for my liking.”

“I will be fine,” Hjorvarth assured. “It took longer to get here than I expected, but I’m here now. You sleep, and I’ll watch over you,” he suggested. “I expect there’s still a long journey ahead of us both.”

Dan didn’t feel too pleased about the prospect of a long journey with the man that once bullied him. “I’m not even tired. So you should try… or, if you like, you can pass the time by telling me how you ended up here.”

“You have the right of it,” Hjorvarth swiftly answered. “I’ll make best effort to rest.”