“Remember, you’re all expendable,” Reacher, the Mace, bellowed as he rode his horse up and down the lines of slaves.
He’d heard of the incident on the road from the Sword, but rather than worry, he was amused. The Sword constantly had to remind him of the logistical challenges that acquiring a new slave involved. Whatever that means.
The Mace didn’t give a “rat’s ass” about any issues, considering it the Baron’s responsibility to procure new slaves if necessary; thus, it was the Baron’s problem, not his. He was as blunt as the Sword was keen, yet his skills spoke volumes. A slave had once mentioned magic, but Reacher would never have believed it real until he witnessed it himself. Reacher’s hand glowed and sealed PP’s wound merely by touching his arm. A fresh scar had taken its place. The bloodied bandages became redundant. That was insane!
Leaving the forest behind, they traversed a meadow to reach the foot, or rather a hand, of the mountain range. Their destination was a stone formation resembling fingers emerging from a hand. A pathway wound its way up to the mountain.
“The Dragon’s Hand,” as the slave with the long hair called it.
The soft grass was a welcome change from the hard dirt road they had trudged for hours. His feet were blistered all over, but that wasn’t a reason for the Mace to use his magic. They’re killing machines and unkillable themselves. I need to know the extent of their power if I want to come up with a plan.
They had been journeying for so long that his knees began to ache. The sack’s rope bit into his shoulder, and his hands hurt even more than his feet. He was parched. If there was ever a time to rest, it should be now. He imagined lying on the soft grass, a fresh breeze cooling him. Add some water and I would be in heaven.
“We’re almost there,” the slave with the long in front of him noticed his panting.
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The man was sweating, but like PP, showed little sign of fatigue. He suddenly realised it was the same man who’d given PP breakfast. How does he manage? And why isn’t he carrying a pickaxe? This is unfair!
As they climbed the steep mountain path, he felt his heart might give out any moment. Each step was harder than the last. The weight he carried constantly pulled at him, constricting his muscles, causing white dots to dance in his vision. He wanted to breathe deeply, but each attempt resulted in coughing. He could either tense up and muscle through or risk rolling down the mountain in a moment of weakness. If that were to happen, no one would come to rescue him. What’s this guy’s definition of ‘almost there’?
The long-awaited moment of relief arrived a few minutes off the beaten path when the Sword stopped in front of a cave. He instructed the men to gather. Each received a small bag and a torch, which he lit.
“You two, to the entrance!” Reacher commanded.
Together with PP, he stood at the entrance, holding up sacks. His arms shook uncontrollably as he tried to extend them. The pickaxes inside clinked. I just need a minute to lie down, please.
image [https://i.imgur.com/3JqV1M2.jpg]The other slaves lined up at the Mace, each receiving a sip of water from a flask before grabbing a pickaxe and venturing into the cave. The twins alone received their water from the Sword. His body reacted instantly to the sight of water, his remaining saliva painfully trickling down his dry throat.
“As usual, your goal is five gems per head. Find a diamond and you get new clothes,” declared the Sword to the men entering the cave.
“Bring back less and I’ll personally feed you to the wolves,” the Mace added, glaring directly at him.
Reacher’s gaze suggested that he wanted that to happen. It sent shivers down his spine. He would love to see me die!
As Varyan passed by on his way into the cave, he clutched his arm. Varyan met his eyes and offered a reassuring smile, as if to say: “It’s going to be okay”. He felt a bit calmer seeing a friendly face. Then Varyan disappeared with his brother and the old man into the cave. The other two didn’t spare him a glance. Once everyone was equipped, PP retrieved the last pickaxe from his side and entered the cave without drinking any water. What? Why didn’t he drink anything?
He turned his attention to the knights, who were engrossed in a conversation. Mentally, they had already moved on from the slaves, much like they had that morning in the slave camp. He watched the big man vanish into the cave’s darkness and couldn’t help but feel his hopes for something to drink disappear as well.