Altea stands like a rock, feet unmoving, back steady as he lifts his hammer and drives its head down into the heated metal, the tapping sound reverberating throughout the hall. The cuirass had been dented with a mighty blow from a blunt weapon. Blood smears still remain upon its surface as Altea ignores the gruesome sight and places the armour upon the coals. Tinging sounds, echo throughout the cavern as hundreds of blacksmiths attempt to fix enormous piles of equipment. Young boys and girls pushing around wheelbarrows filled with broken armour add to heap. Each stack has a puddle of blood surrounding the gore covered armour, slowly soaking the ground below. Altea stares at the sight of the once great marketplace, now a barren, broken, bloody mess. Youngsters scurrying to throw armour and weapons upon piles, Foods stalls rioted months ago, their signs and beams stolen for firewood, carts lay upon the roadside broken to bits. He can hear the never-ending tinging echo the vast hall as blacksmiths work night and day. Altea drops his hammer and releases the tongs gripping the breastplate. “What’s the point there’s more armour now than soldiers.” He looks as the tailors stitch together the ripped bloody shirts, the coals billowing smoke above, vents pulling the air out of the enclosed space. He watches as a youngster, no older than ten races along the cavern and heaves a chipped longsword upon Altea’s pile. “Hey lad.”

“Yes sir?” the malnourished, gaunt kid replies.

“Hows the battle?”

“Ahh, they’ve made it to the second floor.”

“The King’s Hall? Past the battlements?”

“Yes sir, but they’re holding them at the stairwell.” The boy looks away sheepishly hiding the dark circles and thousand yard stare.

“I see.” Altea looks away a dismay overtakes his face. “Find someone you care for deeply and make the most of your time together.”

“Sir?”

“It’s only a matter of time.” The boy looks up staring at Altea, fear evident in his eyes. He pulls a broken dagger from his belt and drops it upon the floor and runs deep into the hall.

Altea drops everything, leaving his billows, hammer, anvil and tongs. Tools he’s used for forty years left strewn upon the floor as he saunters away. The great cavern marketplace was built millennia ago. Deep within the mountain, cut out from rock with pillars that have been meticulously sculpted. Its roof, several stories high, engraved and painted with the story of its humble beginnings. Altea stares at the images, appreciating their splendour, remembering the story told to him by a homeless miner years ago.

Millennia ago, we never lived underground but merely mined the mountains great depths. The caverns became so deep the miners would walk hours to reach the surface. A miner seeing their tired hungry faces, realised all the men left through a single tunnel. They would pack their lunches and eat cold meals within its depths. With a spark of insight the miner dug out a cavity within the tunnel and on that spot sold food to the miners. The work was easier and he became handsomely well off. Then another miner set up motel, renting out beds so they no longer had to trek to the surface. A blacksmith setup shop to repair mining equipment, so the miners no longer had to walk to the surface. Slowly and surely, with new businesses, a cavity became the mountains first marketplace.

“haaaaa” Altea murmurs, “I guess this will be the last time I will stare at your beauty old girl.” He sighs walks through the long hall, young children drop metal upon piles of steel. A few cooks swirl a massive pot filled to the brim with whatever scraps can be found. The truth is food ran out a week ago, all that’s left is bodies and insects strewn around the tunnels but only a few people know that. Groups of homeless children search the pockets of carcasses, picking out whatever could be valuable. But the truth is, no one would be foolish enough to trade a gold coin for a scrap of food. Altea passes everyone and heads for the tunnel, its inscription on the archway says 3rd floor. Altea walks through, engravings on the ceilings light its passage, bodies lying on its edges, blades protruding from their chests, limbs missing, disfigured faces, blood soaking into the stone below. He ignores the many dead boys far inferior to his age. Disregards the crying women, begging children and weaves through the underground maze. Until he stands in front of a humble door. He sticks a key into an obscure hole and twists. The sound of scraping metal against stone echo’s the passage as the door opens with a heave. Altea enters the abode, the entire room lights up a warm yellow glow, “hmm, It’s a deeper orange than usual” he remarks. A massive single room surrounds Altea, kitchen with a coal oven, stove and preparation bench. A living room with a fireplace a massive Warhammer sitting above, chairs, pillows, hand knitted blankets, and rug strewn on the floor. beside it a plain dining room with a wooden circular table with seats for four. Altea walks past it all and enters an opening to an adjacent room. Inside is a double bed, an entryway to a wardrobe, mirror and a coffer. Pacing to the chest, he unlocks it with a key on a chain hanging from his neck. He scurries through its contents throwing everything upon the floor, books, papers, even small artworks, until he finds a jewellery box. His hands shake as he opens the lid. Inside two rings lay, one for a man, the other for a woman and a small necklace sized to fit a baby. A tear leaks from his right eye and streams down his cheek. “uuuuuhhhhhh” he says to himself as he wipes away a few more stray tears. He places the male ring upon his marriage finger, female upon his pinkie and wraps the necklace around his wrist. Shuts the chest and stands. He walks back out into the open room, his left hand now covered in the jewels. He walks over to the fireplace stares at the massive weapon strapped to the wall. Engravings cover the hammers head, with a near imperceptible orange glow beaming from the lines. A symbol sits upon the heads cheek, three interlocked rings. Altea picks it from the wall and feels the weight in his hands. “You got heavier old girl.”

Altea walks the tunnels, Warhammer strapped to his back, ignoring the pleas from injured men laying against the edges. One soldier’s eye is dangling from the socket, another has half his face burnt to a crisp, many were paraplegic moving their arms but with unmoving legs. One of the worst, moaned on the ground as he held his guts in. The surgeons, nurses and volunteers worked unendingly as patients screamed on the surgery tables as any pain dulling herb had run out long ago. The place sounded closer to a torture chamber, with every surface covered in blood. Although it was a makeshift hospital as the actual medical area was already inundated with the dying.

“Altea, Altea!”

Altea looks to his left, a young boy, no older than twelve, with dark brown hair, pale unblemished skin, skinny as a twig, tiptoes past the dying and dead racing for him. His ripped blood soaked shirt hangs from its scraps. His bony shoulders and ribs jut through the skin. Hardly a muscle can be found on the boy, most of him is bone.

“Namor? What are you doing here?”

“I need a doctor my mums sick.” Altea looks around, it’s obvious that there are no free doctors and there never will be.

“Whats wrong with her?”

“Something with the baby, but no doctors will help me.”

“Time is a luxury these days.” Altea responds quietly, looking away from the desperate child. Tears well up in Namors eyes, the boys emaciated hands wipe them from his cheeks.

“Please help me, I don’t know what to do.” Namor pleas as he looks at the ground.

“Ahhh grrrmmm” Altea stares at the boy, his blood covered shoes, pants, sunken cheeks and eminent dark circles under his eyes. The boy smelt worse than the rotting corpses.

“Lead the way.”

“We… we… ‘ll n..need a doctor.” Sniffle.

“Don’t push your luck. Let’s go.”

“But, But.”

“Better odds of a unicorn showing up in your room.”

Namor leads Altea through the winding tunnels to a locked room. He knock with a pattern and a child far younger than Namor, opens the door, with a mob of youngsters crowding the room. Namor steps in first, cutting a path through the sandwiched group of children, and walking into an adjacent room. Altea follows him to see a pregnant woman laying upon the bed. Sweat dripping down her forehead and unmoving.

“Mum, Altea is here, he’ll help.”

“Eh, Altea?” She opens her eyes seeing Altea beside her. In a raspy void she croaks “of all the rotting corpses you turn up.”

“We’re both unlucky.”

“He don’t make me laugh, it hurts.”

“Where does it hurt?”

“My Stomach.”

“Did you release your water?”

“I don’t know”

“Namor, did she?”

“I..I think so, the beds all wet.”

Altea peaks under the sheet and sees the blood dripping onto the floor.

“Come with me Namor.” They walked past the crowd of children and back into the hallway.”

“Firstly, who are all those children?”

“umm….ummmm…. they’re abandoned, well lost, no parents. Nowhere to ..”

“I get it.” Altea interrupts.

“Now your mother, she needs a c-section.”

What’s a c-section?”

“Basically, we need to remove the baby through surgical means.”

“What? No, no way.”

“She needs it.”

“You can’t, she’ll die.”

“She’d see it as a benefit to never see me again.”

“That’s not funny.”

“It’ll be okay Namor but if we do nothing, she definitely won’t survive.”

Namor looks down and nods his head but the starving boy shakes all over.

“There’s a guy named Cliff on the fourth floor, lives in the merchant area, tunnel eighteen, house five. Tell him Altea found a price and tell him about your mother.”

“You’re not doing it?”

“I’m no doctor.”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“How’d you know about a c-section then?”

“I grew up around horses.”

“Our kind doesn’t grow up around horses.”

“I was misinformed.”

“This is no time to joke.”

“I have to leave. Say bye to your mum for me.”

“Don’t go.”

“Sorry kid.”

Altea walked through the tunnels past the hospitals, up the third floor stairs to the second.

“Hey you.”

“huh?”

“Yeah you, wise one.” A man says while dragging an injured soldier.

“What?”

“Help me drag this man to triage.”

“That place is more like a torture chamber.”

“Just help me.”

“Fine, Fine.” The two heave the unconscious soldier to the medical bay, laying him upon a wall. “A duet is far easier.” The soldier smiles at Altea.

“Thanks for the help.” And runs off into the tunnels.

“Wha… come back.” Altea implores.

“Hey you.” Altea turns toward the sound. A doctor with blood up to his biceps, droplets upon his face and saw in hand.

“What do you need?”

“hold this man down, we need to amputate his leg.”

“Nooooo.” The soldier pleads while struggling against the volunteers.

The soldier fell unconscious, the poor soul, screamed for mercy and begged to see his mother. All Altea could do was hold the man down and fill the man’s mouth with leather so he wouldn’t bite off his own tongue. He could see the pity in the people around and brokenness in their eyes, knowing that there’s nothing they can do to help the man. Afterward Altea tried to sneak away but was pulled aside by another volunteer. Then another. Three hours later Altea stood by his fifth surgery. Having hauled bodies to remove the stench, watch them quicken the death of the injured to lessen their suffering. Clenching his fists and gritting his teeth. Watching the young soldier scream, he walked away, out the room past the abundant soldiers, ignoring the doctors pleas for help and back to the stairs for the second floor. Soldiers carry down the injured as Altea walks up. He can hear the sounds of screaming echoing in the cavern. Clashing of metal and the roaring fire. Altea reaches the hall of kings, grand statues of past kings line the edges. With an arched roof containing engravings, detailing the achievements of each king. Some carved so many eons ago that their symbols meaning was lost. A grand throne sits in its centre, constructed when the room was far smaller with less kings. Emaciated soldiers fill the room, lying on any free surface. Playing cards sipping water or sleeping. One soldier cradles himself in the foetal position rocking back and forth saying “It’s only a dream, It’s only a dream.” Repeatedly. At the halls far end fighting and shouting echoes the hallway. A wide staircase that spirals to the first floor is filled with enemy combatants. They’ve slowly pushed our frontline several meters into the second floor. Rather than starve us out they’re gluttons for sadism. Alteas runs to the frontline pulling his Warhammer from its harness. The front men have shields the height of a man’s body, locked together. The rear soldiers stabilize the front against push of the enemy.  It’s a phalanx, based on outdated military formation but in an enclosed space incredibly deadly. Altea ran to the back, shoring up the exhausted soldiers. The enemy hurls burning oil over the top, landing upon vertical shields. But some leaks through scolding soldiers underneath. Burn marks are scattered all over the soldiers bodies and their uniforms torn to shreds. Behind them soldiers fill the hall with stone, creating a makeshift wall for the men to have a better defence.

We held the line for the next hour, soldiers replacing one at a time maintaining the phalanx’s strength. Then we heard it, the sound of something rolling down the stars. Their soldiers parted like Liam parted the seas. And a large encumbering boulder rolled down the stairs slaughtering their men in the process, a callous species these humans. Our side was crushed as armour broke under the force. The screams rang out as limbs torsos, bodies were pulverized and the formation broke. The boulder passed Altea and smashed through the half built makeshift siege wall behind him. The soldiers panicked and ran. Trampling over their fallen comrades. Altea tried to stay and fight but the mob pilled him along. The resting men scrambled down the third floor staircase, the embattled men were right behind. The enemy stormed in like a flood, cutting down injured, healthy man or woman. Striking everyone twice for good measure. The engravings which lit our paths were covered in blood. Altea found a gap between a king statue and escaped the stampede. He saw enemy front runners whittling away the backline. Gripping his Warhammer, Altea walks up to an unsuspecting enemy and downed him, the hammers head making mincemeat out of the enemies skull. Then struck the next then another and another. Their soldiers were spread too thin, killing the unfortunate abandoned vestiges of the our army. Altea takes several out one by one. He slowly moves backwards toward the third floor steps to stop himself from being pinned. Several other soldiers were in the same situation, removing the enemy outliers but it only lasts minutes as the opponent regroups and advances upon the third floor staircase.

“Come on you ugly motherfuckers, let’s see your head split like a watermelon.”

Altea felt a hand, with a silver ring with a blue crystal, on his. He looks over to see a veteran, with many wrinkles, grey beard and blue eyes looking at him. “Its time to retreat soldier.”

“You go, I’ll hold them here.”

“Do you have a death wish. There’s time. Come on.”

“No, you go, I’ll stay.”

He hears a sigh from the soldier a pain in the back of his head, he quickly begins to see the floor rushing toward his face before everything goes black.

Chapter

The last steps

Altea wakes, he can feel the pounding of his head, stinging pain at the back of his skull. The dried liquid on his neck and stone jutting into his back. Altea peaks open one of his eye lids, the artificial light hits his retinas like a bolt of lightning. He quickly snaps them shut.

“mmmmm” Bringing up his hand and rubbing the tiredness from his eyes. He reopens to see women, children and injured sprawled around the room. Children cry as their parents attempt to calm them and injured moan in pain. Altea attempts to stand, stumbling from left to right and uses the wall as a stabilizer. He tiptoes around the splayed out bodies and unmoving corpses toward the exit tunnel. He stumbles down the cavern people to on edge to notice his terrible walk. The engravings light up but a slightly more orange than before. But his head pains too much for any thorough thought. He hears the sound of people moving around down tunnel, the shouting of orders and crying of men. He stumbles down the tunnels and finds himself at the medical bay, the surgeons stitch open wounds and clean the infected. Some curl up in a ball and sleep soundly on the stone floor.

“Altea! Altea!!” Altea looks over to see Namor running. “Altea you’re okay”

“Yeah kid, a little bruised.”

“I haven’t seen you in two days.”

“TWO DAYS!!!!!!????”

“yeah.”

“Oh god what’s happened? Which level are we?”

“The fourth.”

“Fourth? We’re in the mines?”

“Close, not yet though.”

“How did we get soo??? … No. Where’s your mother?”

Tears well up in Namor’s eyes, his lips quiver and head looks to the floor.

“I’m sorry, Namor.”

“cl…ff said …. Hiff… that shes too weak and the baby…… was stuck for too long.”

“sorry kiddo.”

“hiff, hiff,      cliff left a message.”

“huh, what message?”

“There’s ….. There’s light within the vein.”

“Is that all?”

“No, where the vein dies, light shines.”

“Where the vein dies? Light shines?”

“and good luck.”

“hmmm” Altea strokes his beard while ruminating on the words.

“Do you know what it means?”

“Ha uhhh, I think so yet it sounds near implausible. But Cliff is a serious character, when he advises, he has evidence to back it up.”

“I’ll go check it out.”

“Can the kids and I come?”

“Its dangerous.”

“We… we lost sight of Anne yesterday, for two minutes only and found her with a crazed lady attempting to kidnap her while calling her Stephanie.”

“Oh but there’s loose rocks and possible tunnel collapse.”

“Jack is five, found a piece of mouldy cheese, put half in his mouth. A passing soldier placed a sword tip to his throat and offered an ultimatum “cheese or death.””

“Is Jack still alive?”

“Yes but he’ll have a scar on his throat for the rest of his life.”

“Funny, I’d chosen death.”

“Stop making jokes.”

“Namor, it’s the only way to handle hard times.” Altea frowns and thinks, he leans against the wall trying brainstorm an idea, any idea.

“Can’t you kids find a room that’s empty.”

“This whole floor is packed with people, we tried earlier but was kicked out by people with swords.”

“Oh lord, ok but two rules, One everyone is single file behind me and does exactly what I say.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Namor looks at Altea quizzically.

“What’s rule two?”

“You have four minutes and thirty-nine seconds to gather everyone here.”

“Hey that’s”

“Thirty-eight”

“Unfair.”

“thirty-seven”

Namor sprints down the tunnel.

“Ha, never seen the kid run so fast.”

Altea follows the tunnel, twenty children stalk behind, single file. The least fearful Emma hums a tune unknown to Altea. Engravings light the tunnel as they pass. Dark orange brightens the darkness, the cave walls are jagged, lack the artistry of prior floors. Other than the lighting its forgivable to believe these caverns were naturally carved. Altea walks up to a benign section of tunnel, that looks no different than any other, then pushes aside a boulder, revealing an opening to a new shaft. He steps inside, this tunnel has no engravings upon the walls just the light from opening illuminating the interior. He walks down the tunnel like he knew it by heart. “How did you come across this?”

“Well two miners found a new vein, do not ask me what kind of metal, I do not know, remaining ignorant was safer at the time. But all metal in the mountain belongs to the king. All the miners receive is a finder’s fee.”

“So you stole?”

“Everyone did,  minute few agree with that law.”

“Anyway the miners need tools and someone to sell the ore too. I have a reputation for keeping my trap shut. So they came to me. We came to an accord. Everything was fine but like all things in life “If something can go wrong, it will go wrong.”

“The cave collapsed and a miner was injured. Walk into any hospital and you need an explanation, that when I advised bringing in Cliff. The miner died but Cliff was able to write a false report. Now Ten years later, we’re treading the tunnel.”

“What about getting caught?”

“Miners weren’t making enough money to survive, it’s only the miners down here anyway, so whoever found out was offered a job and a cut. We started off with four men, ended up with thirty.”

Altea pulls a crystal from his pocket, lighting up the tunnel in light blue. The kids see sparkles of rays bounce off the small amounts of steel still embedded in the wall. Several tunnels branch off into deeper pockets but Altea follows the main shaft.

“What about those tunnels?”

“They’re failed veins, you see that cross engraved on the wall?”

“Mmmhmmm”

 “It means they reached the end of whatever metal is down there.”

“ohh okay.”

“The hand cut tunnel reached the end of a hole half Altea’s height, a small breeze filters in through the opening.

“That’s strange.”

“What?”

“There should be no wind.”

He crawls through the gap and standings, seeing a large natural cave with stalactites, water and transparent fish. A continual seepage of water rolls down the stalactites and drips into the pond below. The children pour out of the tunnel covering the water’s edge.

“Sir, what are those?” a young girl asks pointing into the pond.

“they’re cave fish, when you find natural caves there’s always chance to find them.”

“Ooo okay.”

“Don’t worry they’re harmless.”

“They look weird.”

“They do, but it looks like we’re wading through, small children are carried by the taller and no drinking the water.”

“But I’m thirsty.”

“You can drink, but you may not survive.”

“Why not?”

“the stone may leach chemicals into the water making it undrinkable even though it looks clean.”

They wade through the pond, some fish light its depths with bioluminescence, but all swim away at the waters disturbance. Altea has two kids upon his shoulders, giggling as they say “Forward mule.” Altea just smiles at their antics and passes through the pond. Altea leads the kids through the cave, his crystal lighting the interior showing paintings of unknown origins line the walls. After half an hour of walking they are met with a rising orange sun and a dense forest. Its breadth stretching as far as the eyes can see.”

“Oh my god, Oh my god, we’re outside, we’ll be okay.”

The children celebrate around Altea dancing in circles, a rather lively bunch for starving and thirsty children. Altea sits down and takes in the view. The first time in a decade he’s stood outside and never a lush forest but fields of wheat and corn. Birds chirps and rodents scramble up trees, the trees themselves fifty feet high and the thickness of twenty adults. He relaxes and listens to the children sing and dance.

We thought it was sun down

To fall in the setting sun

But were lead to light

By an unexpected hero

“Altea what do we do now?”

“I’m going back, to get the others.”

“Sir? But you can’t leave us here.”

“I’ll be back with someone who can help you better.”

“No I’m going with you.”

“you need to look after the younger children Namor”

“No, you were a friend friend of my fathers, the only person I trust, I’m going and making sure you come back.”

Altea sighs “Fine be ready to leave and sure the children stay here till we get back.”

“Okay.”

Altea and Namor stand at the tunnels entrance. The blue crystal in his hand lighting the passageway. The inscriptions that once provided light to all who lived in the mountain shine a deep blood red. Altea looks at the light, a red mist fills the tunnels.

“What does it mean?” asks Namor.

“It means no one’s escaping the mountain fried nor foe.”

“No one?”

“Nor would we if we tread further.”

They look at the red tunnel, beckoning them to join the thousands that will forever line its halls.

“Come on the kids need us.” Namor turns around and paces back through the tunnel.

“Altea?”

“Give me a moment, I just need to say a few words.”

Namor walks back but still keeps an eye on Altea from afar.

Altea places his hand upon the wall few tears leak down his cheeks. “I’m sorry Stephanie, I wanted to join you in becoming one with this mountain and our son. But it’ll never be, I hope you understand.” Altea wipes the tears from his eyes and places his hand back upon the mountain. “Goodbye my love, Goodbye my son.”

Altea walks away back down the cavern, hit footsteps echo as he walks further away, as his body reaches Namor they both fade into the darkness. But as it becomes dark a blue light begins to glow, where Altea placed his hand. like a lighthouse in the middle of a dark ocean it shines. But the further Altea leaves the duller it becomes until it hides a speck of blue in an ocean of red.