Three-sixteen’s POV
Three-sixteen worked diligently that day and the days that followed.
They gave him tools and listened to his instructions as they worked. He showed them how to drill properly and how to set the charges correctly.
Zel'air kept a close eye on Three-sixteen's progress; her attention always caused anxiety for him. She was openly malicious towards him, despite finding no fault or error in his methods. He’d done as he promised and ensured that progress exceeded expectations. They had to dig a new tunnel for Zel’air each day and a separate tunnel for her to sleep in and store supplies.
Yet every day she found some reason to punish him for some perceived fault. Sometimes it was simply that he failed to praise her. Other times he was punished for what she claimed to be incompetence or laziness or disrespect. He kept his eyes down and he did the best he could each day; it still wasn’t enough to satisfy the hulking woman.
It had been four days since his first shift and his body ached all over. Three-sixteen was used to this kind of pain and he didn’t let it distract him from his purpose. He hadn’t learned much, but he had at least determined that escape was possible. A woman had escaped recently although no one knew how. They simply found her cell empty one morning.
“Lost in thought again, boy?” Zel’air’s cold voice sent chills down his spine.
Three-sixteen gazed up at her towering form, trying to read her mood. She always looked angry or disappointed whenever she talked to him. This time was no exception. She glared down at him as if waiting for some response; it seemed there was never anything he could say that would please her, so he just nodded.
She continued to stare at him for several moments before finally grunting with disgust and shaking her head as she walked away.
Three-sixteen released a heavy sigh as he relaxed and returned his attention to the task at hand. Today they were going to blast through the last of the granadite. It would be faster than drilling through it, though a bit more dangerous.
The crew was already divided into teams and each knew their role. Three-sixteen only needed to coordinate their efforts to ensure the operations success. The first round of charges was already set, each inside a small hole drilled twelve inches into the rocks surface.
They used three different types of charges for this operation: inertia charges which relied on explosive gel to direct force into the target material and shatter it; sledge charges which were made from compressed powders mixed with special catalysts that made the powder as dense as stone and release high energy shock waves which would crack any normal rock like an eggshell; and finally antimatter charges which were much more dangerous than the other two. These charges required high concentrations of magic energy in order to work. Three-sixteen had never used those before, but he thought he understood their mechanisms well enough.
“Blast team, ready?” He called, then waited for a response.
After receiving confirmation from each team member, Three-sixteen took a moment to review their work and confirm that each charge was placed and inserted properly into its hole. He wanted to inspect them himself to be sure they were secure. When he was satisfied, he retreated behind a protective barricade and shouted, “Fire in the hole! Clear the area, everyone back behind the wall for safety.”
Once everyone was in place Three-sixteen triggered the first of the three explosions. He closed his eyes as he felt the ground shudder and the walls shake. The blast was like a firestorm, but with heat and pressure instead of flames. It felt like hot winds were buffeting his body and a flock of birds were frantically beating their wings against his skull.
When it finally subsided, Three-sixteen had to shake off flashbacks of the mine collapse. He took a deep breath, then set off the next charge.
Chunks of rock burst into fine dust, splinters of stone like shrapnel clattering off the walls and floor. Three-sixteen held his hands over his ears as he waited for the ringing to stop.
When it did, he picked up the trigger for the last charge and set it off. There was a high pitched whistle and a little clattering, but the expected explosion never came.
Three-sixteen peeked around his barricade, finding a pile of rubble and an empty charge casing. It was the antimatter charge. This charge should’ve cleared the tunnel and opened a path forward, saving them a day’s worth of work, instead it only shifted the rubble slightly.
He didn’t understand what could have happened.
Zel’air’s heavy steps approached, prompting him to spin around and sputter as his mind still searched for an answer.
“Twice the progress, half the time! Those were your words, right?” she roared as she descended upon him like a charging bear. Her voice boomed through the tunnel and shook him like the explosions had shaken the walls.
Three-sixteen didn’t flinch despite her rage. He found his grit as he clenched his jaw tight and took a step towards her, a sudden realization of her nature flashed through his mind as he stared up at the woman wielding years of pent of anger and just rage at countless evils done others just like her. His fist closed around the plastic charge housing as his resolve grew and he had another realization.
He held up the uncharred, unbent, perfectly intact piece. “Someone switched the charge.”
Zel'air sniffed as if to sneer at his words, but said nothing as her gaze flickered to the rubble.
Three-sixteen turned back, pointing to the spot where the charges had been placed. “Look, nothing there. No blast residue, no char, the hole we drilled isn’t even cracked open. Someone switched it. This is—”
A blast like roar of a thousand beasts knocked powered the tunnel. The tremors that followed shook both of them to the ground, Three-sixteen thought the tunnel might even have rippled in a wave motion.
It was the worst feeling in the world. It felt like his chest had exploded and his body shattered like glass. He rolled onto his side, feeling like he might vomit. His ears rang and everything else was silent, he couldn’t even hear his own heart beating.
Zel'air seemed unaffected by the blast. She got back to her feet and marched up the tunnel towards the blast. She was shaking, Three-sixteen thought it might be with rage but it was difficult to say since his mind was still reeling from the explosion. A cloud of dust filtered through the air, making it difficult to see, but Three-sixteen already knew what had happened. He knew their situation and he knew who had betrayed them.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Forcing himself up, he called out, “Quickly Zel’air, make a portal back. They’re going to kill her if you don’t.”
The woman spun on him with a fury as explosive as the blast, but her expression softened with concern and she did as he instructed. Her magic activated, but Three-sixteen knew by the look on her face something was wrong. It usually took about six seconds for a portal to be opened, but this one had already taken eight and it was still only partially complete.
Zel'air grunted with effort as she poured more magic into the spell, the edges of the circle flared then the whole thing burst apart. Zel’dir was dead. Three-sixteen knew because he’d considered a similar escape plan. He’d changed his mind when thought of those he’d trap and doom to death. Zel'air must have known too because she screamed desperately as she tried again but to no avail. The magic didn't connect and she screamed again in anguish.
Three-sixteen raced past her, moving as quickly as he could. He needed to see where the tunnel collapsed, if they were cut off from supplies. He hoped the supply tunnel was still open, or they wouldn’t be able to access the drill.
As he reached the short shaft, he found it collapsed, a pale hand reaching out from under the rock.
It must have been Dani, the girl he’d asked to get the drill ready in case they needed it.
Three-sixteen's legs trembled as he processed what had happened. Tears filled his eyes as he turned and raced back towards Zel'air who was still trying to open a portal to Zel'dir's corpse. What crew remained flew about in a panic, no one knowing what to do as Three-sixteen and Zel'air both struggled with their own emotions.
Three-sixteen stopped beside Zel'air, unsure what to say or do. He wasn’t sure anything he said would be well received. Given her distress, Three-sixteen thought explaining his theories would risk sending Zel’air into a violent spiral. He wanted to tell her, but he couldn't get the words out, he felt like they'd choke him before he could even voice them.
Zel'air snarled with rage. She slammed her fist against the ground and pointed up at Three-sixteen. Her lips quivered as she yelled, tears rolling down her cheeks, she wailed, “You did this! You killed my sister!”
Three-sixteen took a step back. He knew Zel'air wasn't entirely rational right now. He knew enough to understand that this would end poorly for him if he let her get close enough to hurt him.
Sparks jumped across the piercings on her face, building into a steady charge of blue energy that arched over and through her entire body. The piercings she wore seemed to amplify the magic, turning it into bolts of lightning that charged her muscles as she lunged at him.
Three-sixteen tried to run but she tackled him from behind, smashing him into the ground face first. Her fist pounded against his head as she screamed and cursed and railed against him, the sparks from her piercings intensified until they were painful against his skin.
Despite, and drawing on his instinct to survive, Three-sixteen yelled, filling the cry with his pain and fear. He felt a pulse burst out from his body, but nothing else happened. Zel’ait continued to pound his face against the rough stone and no one came to help him.
As his head bounced up, Three-sixteen thought he saw the little black cat sitting beside him. Its tail flickered across his face, warm and soft like fur. As his head struck the floor again, the cat vanished in a puff of smoke.
Zel'air punched him again and again. Blood pooled around his mouth and nose as he struggled to breath.
His vision fading, his heart pounding in his ears, Three-sixteen felt he was going to die here and he’d never know freedom. He didn't want to die, not now, not in this place of despair and pain, and not at the hands of this delusional monster.
Three-sixteen heard only silence but he knew he was still alive by the pain he felt.
A great weight lifted off of him and he felt light, almost weightless. It was hard to breath at first and he coughed and spit up blood; his whole body felt numb. Slowly he sat up and his vision returned. He was completely covered in blood and his body ached, but he was alive.
A distant gasp brought his attention up to the other workers standing before him in shock and awe.
Three sifters, each young but not cubs, tore at Zel’airs corpse. Their jaws wet with blood, their claws red with gore as they ripped and tore and ate from her open wounds. One of the beasts raised its head, snapping at the girl with her hands clasped over her mouth. Its snout was soaked in blood, bits of meat hanging from its yellow fangs and blood dripping off its jowls. It looked at her with hungry eyes and roared.
The girl’s tan pants darkened with moisture as she squeezed her hands over her mouth tighter and cowered behind the nearest boy, who shook so much he looked like he might be having a seizure.
Zel'air lay sprawled on the ground beside Three-sixteen, her face a twisted mess of blood and exposed bone. The sifters, apparently no longer interested in her, moved towards the trembling crew members. As he watched them prob the air with their whiskers, Three-sixteen wondered if the crew even knew what sort of beasts they faced. Could any of them defend themselves?
He felt sure the answer was no.
“Stop,” he croaked weakly, his voice barely audible in the silence. He swallowed, then spoke again. “Stop, leave them alone.” It hurt to form words, but he did the best he could.
Spinning around, the sifters gave their attention to him. They regarded him with a tilted head and cocked ears as they moved towards him, each one licking their snouts clean. One of them bounded over to him, sniffing his face and hair and then his clothes before looking him in the eyes, its eyes bright and piercing.
Three-sixteen flinched as its wet nose brushed against his ear then a slimy tongue licked his face.
He met their eyes seeing a familiar red glow in them, like embers in a fire. He thought at first that these might be the same pups he met in the mine, but he quickly dismissed that possibility. They were too large and strong, almost fully matured into adult sifters; still he recognized something in them and they recognized something in him. They gazed into his eyes with an expression that seemed almost human for a moment before one of them chuffed and they moved towards a tunnel he was sure had not been there before.
Three-sixteen was confused, but not totally stunned. He glanced at Zel'air's corpse one more time as he made his decision.
He got to his feet and moved after the sifters. “Wait,” he called out. “I need… a favor.” He stumbled a little, but righted himself and continued walking until he was beside them again. They looked up at him curiously, tilting their heads as if to ask, what do you want?
Three-sixteen glanced back at the terrified crew. Without the twins, with the tunnel blocked and the drill likely broken, there was no way they’d make it out of here. He could have gone, asked the sifters to take him to the surface. He would be free, but when he opened his mouth, what came out was, “Can you open the way back for us?”
The beasts looked at him confused; the first one sniffed him again before lapping its tongue over his face again, making him flinch. Its snout was wet and smelled foul. Then another of the creatures moved behind him, lifting him with its whiskers and placing him gently on the third beast’s back. The three sifters continued towards the tunnel, so Three-sixteen took drastic measures.
He pulled the sifter’s ears like reins, forcing it to turn its head where he wanted it to go. The creature was clearly irritated, growling low, but following his lead. When Three-sixteen had it facing the proper direction, he said, “The wall of rubble ahead please, can you make us a way through?”
The sifter growled again with obvious irritation as it carried him up to the rock fall flaring out its whiskers as its pack mates stepped up next to them. Their whiskers converged at the center of the wall and together they pulled on the rubble, drawing it into itself until a hole opened before them.
Three-sixteen patted his mount in thanks, then moved to slid down but a whisker stopped him. The sifters each barked and yipped as if trying to communicate something, but he didn’t understand what.
“That’s all,” he said. “I can do the rest on my own.” He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince the sifters or himself. His body still felt like a mine cart had slammed into him, but he didn’t think it would end well for anyone if he rode back on a sifter. The ravens, as they called themselves, would likely attack and the sifters would decent themselves, and possibly him as well. But the sifters would be far out numbered and Three-sixteen didn’t think they’d survive.
He slid off the sifter, limping to the opening and waved the crew to follow him. His muscles were stiff and his chest throbbed as he continued into the tunnel. His head hurt and he could barely breathe through his nose. Healing seemed to be taking longer this time than it had before, or maybe the scope of his injuries was greater than he realized. Either way he had to keep going; he couldn’t let this setback stop him now.
He turned and glared back at the crew as they continued to hesitate, his gaze was serious and direct; if they stayed here, they would die. “After that blast earlier, this whole tunnel could be unstable. Staying here is just waiting for death.” The clawed at his throat so much that he coughed when he finished. Huffing, Three-sixteen turned and limped on. Whether they followed him or not was their choice and he wasn’t going to worry over it any longer.