The work was hard, the air dusty, and the smile on Sparrow’s face kept growing. He’d found a new type of magic.

It wasn’t a magic in the rock or even a magic in the mountain (although he sensed there was a magic hidden there), no - it was the magic of Digger.

Somehow Digger made him smile, and laugh and want to be around him.

Every day they busted their backs smashing up rocks and during those ten or twelve hours when Sparrow worked in darkness, he swore he was leaving. He swore he wouldn’t stay another day.

But every night, Digger would set up their lanterns in the cave. He’d pull out a jar of chewing leaf and lean back on a little chair he’d made with two rocks.

Sparrow would be the first to join him, adding his lantern to the night. Digger would talk to Sparrow about the day, ‘Good work on those arch cuts, you’ll be through that volcanic rock soon - oh, and don’t start talking to the rocks boy. That’s the first sign of madness.’

‘But Digger, you talk to the rocks all the time.’

‘Aye. I know that. But I also know the rocks around here. I’ve known them for a very long time.’

‘Well, how am I going to get to know them if I don’t talk to them?’ Sparrow said with a grin on his face.

‘Ahhh,’ Digger grinned, ‘Rocks are shy - you just wait until they start talking to you.’

And then soon other miners would start trickling in, until a crowd of lanterns blazed like a fire in the centre of Digger’s camp.

Grog and sweets were passed from miner to miner and glowing white smiles flashed out from the darkness.

‘Hey Digger! When was the last time you showered?’

‘Neverrr! Don’t trust waterrr, remember - the more you smell, the less likely a disease is going to want to infect you.’

Then from across the cavern, ‘Digger! That woman I was seeing, she left me?’

‘Well… did you buy her flowers?’

‘Yes!’

‘There’s yourrr mistake Bultred. Never buy a woman flowers. Pick herrr wildflowers and use that money to get yourself a haircut.’

Digger wasn’t all banter and smiles, but even when he asked someone to pass him a bottle of grog, or how their day had been people couldn’t help but smile at him.

‘Digger! Tell us about the blue jewel.’

‘Oh, the blue jewel! The pure jewel - the jewel that a million men would give their hearts for? That one?’

‘YES!’ The crowd screamed with delight.

‘Well it’s not all that great…’

The people laughed and laughed. And then there was a song. The song went a little like this.

‘I joined a new mine.’ Digger yelled.

Everyone made a groaning ‘Ahhhh.’

‘But it was full of jewels!’ Everyone cheered. And clinked their glasses together.

‘There was no waterrr.’

‘Ahhh’ The gathered crowd screamed.

‘There was only whiskey!’

The cavern roared and Digger beamed.

‘I worked alone.’

‘Ahhhh.’

‘With a beautiful lady.’

‘Yeah!!!’

‘We worked all day.’

‘Booo.’

‘And made love all night!’

‘Woooohooooo.’

‘I broke my pickaxe.’

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

‘Ahhh.’

‘On a ten foot diamond!’

‘Yeeeehaaa.’

I must learn this way, Sparrow thought to himself as he watched Digger dance in the light of the lanterns, it was some of the best magic he’d seen in a long time. The sort of magic that makes people happy to be alive.

****

‘Digger.’

They were sitting alone. It was late at night, and all the other miners had gone to their sleeping shafts.

‘You have a question, Sparrow?’

‘A big one.’

He watched as Digger’s smile lit up the cavern.

‘Those are the best kind of questions.’

Sparrow shifted his boots, they scraped on the rocky ground.

‘Digger, you’re not a human are you?’

Digger just stared at Sparrow - his face like a mirror.

‘What makes you say that?’

‘Well… you… you have this aura about you. There’s something that makes you like a magnet for people.’

Digger winked, and Sparrow found himself full-faced grinning, even though he didn’t want to - it was freaky, but he felt good - really good.

‘You’re more observant than you seem Sparrow, and also, more powerful.’

Digger rubbed his nose, ‘I’ve seen your hands when you work Sparrow. I’ve seen the way they go grey and rough. You’ve learnt stoneskin.’

Digger rubbed the side of his arm and Sparrow kept smiling.

‘So… what are you Digger?’

‘Well… I was built by people. I live by people. I thrive by people. All my power comes from them. I can’t fly, or turn my hands into stone, but I can tell a yarn, and sing a song, and I roll my rrrs, and I know in my heart where the good jewels are before I strike the mountain. I smoke and I can hold a mountain-full of drink.’

Sparrow was silent, so Digger finally said, ‘I’m a god, Sparrow.’

‘A god?!’ Sparrow stared around, ‘Did you create this mountain - this world?’

Digger laughed, his laugh was long and luxurious and made Sparrow laugh too, even though he didn’t understand what was funny.

‘Sparrow, there are gods, and then there are gods. Some gods create people, some gods are created by people.’

‘So you, you’re the mountain?’

‘No I’m not the mountain itself. I’m just a god who resides here. The miners, they made me through theirrr belief. Theirrr hundreds of little superstitions and beliefs moulded me and I do what I can to keep that belief going.’ He held up his hand and a bottle of whiskey appeared in it.

Sparrow sat, thinking about this for a long time, finally he looked up and said, ‘How do you do that?’

‘Do what?’

‘Make people love you all the time. You know. You walk into a cavern and smiles light up everywhere. It’s amazing.’

Digger gave a smile, ‘Ahh… I’m not sure that’s a magic you’re ready for young Sparrow - you’re too young to have gotten overrr the awkward phase yet. In my opinion everyone should have an awkward phase.’

‘So you’re not going to teach me?’

‘No, Sparrow. I won’t teach you charm, but I will teach you something else.’

Digger grabbed his pickaxe and walked through the mines. Sparrow shouldered his and followed after him. Sparrow’s feet tapped on the empty stone floor as he ran.

Digger walked deeper and deeper into the caves until Sparrow knew that without the god he’d be lost - and most likely dead.

Digger never needed to pause to know his direction - he talked and made jokes and glanced up at things, and the whole time his feet just took him the way he needed to go, like they had a mind of their own.

Finally, they arrived at what Sparrow could only describe as the armpit of the mountain - a large indent carved straight into hard volcanic stone.

‘Digger?’ Sparrow said, turning to his whistling friend, ‘what are we doing here?’

‘I’m going to teach you how to run fast.’

Sparrow frowned, ‘Really? That doesn’t seem to be the sort of thing you’d be good at.’

Digger smiled, ‘Yeah… but it’ll be fun for me.’

Sparrow eyed him - there was something very loopy in Digger’s eyes.

‘So what do I have to do?’

‘You hit this wall, riiight, here.’ Digger said, pointing at a section of the wall that looked like every other piece of rock Sparrow had ever seen.

‘There?’ said Sparrow, pointing slightly to the left.

‘No, here.’ said Digger, using the end of a chalk cigarette to mark an X on the rock.

Sparrow took a deep breath, do I really trust this guy? He’s a god. A lunatic god who lures people into the mountain to worship him. Is this really a good idea?

But then Sparrow looked into Digger’s face and thought to himself, yes. It’s a wonderful idea.

So Sparrow hefted the pickaxe in his hands, reached up, and swung it hard at the wall of the mountain.

There was a loud ringing sound and a few shards of rock fell away, but otherwise, nothing happened.

Sparrow looked up at Digger.

‘Well?’

Digger rubbed the spot Sparrow had struck, ‘Well… this is hard rock. Best you keep digging.’

And so Sparrow started swinging at the rock, while Digger lit his chalk cigarette and took a seat on a rock a little further down the cave.

Sparrow started out swinging wildly, but as time went on and he made a small dent in the rock wall, he found himself slowing into the miner’s rhythm.

Ta - ta - tap, ta - ta - tap, ta - ta - tap…

The sound of his pickaxe echoed out through the cave.

‘Hey Digger?’

Sparrow’s voice echoed in the dark. He turned to look at the god - but Digger was gone. In his place sat the bottle of whiskey.

Sparrow swung his pickaxe a few more times, then rested his aching arms. He walked over to the whisky, picked it up, and stared at the bottle in the light of his lantern. It had a honey-like yellow to it. It almost looked like the liquid form of Digger.

Gently, he unscrewed the cap, put it to his lips and took a swig.

And immediately started coughing.

‘That’s strong.’ Sparrow spluttered to no one.

And that was when he heard the thumping.

It started quietly, like two armies clashing in the distance. But gradually it grew and grew like the beat of a drum or the roar of a wave. It was constant.

Thump, Thump.

Thump, Thump.

Thump, Thump.

All the way across the cavern the thumping came, only now it was less like thumping and more like the sound of rock grating on rock. It was the sort of sound that makes the hairs on your neck stand up.

And that’s when Sparrow heard the voice - like gravel with an echo.