Moriah woke to stare up at the shadowed stones of her new home. The musty smell of deep earth filled her mind with brown darkness and the weight of a planet pressed in upon her from all sides. Somewhere, a cacophony of snoring greeted her.
She had already mined crystal ore. She had a mentor whom she had to obey absolutely, though she did not know if she liked him. She wondered how long until she died. She hoped it would not be much longer.
Sitting up, her petite, butched head turned this way and that, the unique silver moss of hair covering her head catching the overhead light from the bulb dangling by its power cord. The light from that single source cast long shadows on the ceiling and floor and made deeper shadows of the cave’s edges. A lump lay where she thought her mentor slept. Two other rather large lumps lay under blankets off to her right indicating other inhabitants. She could not tell where the snoring came from exactly, but thought the two larger lumps the culprits. Curiosity slipped from deadened thoughts, but she let it die unfulfilled. She did not care. It did not matter.
Moriah rose, her blanket falling to the ground, the earthy chill of the cave assaulting her through the sleep-sweat dampened coveralls. She walked toward the tunnel which separated her cave from the main caverns, wondering if the toilet lay in that direction.
“Stop right there, Ker.” Klorachamol commanded from where he lay. Two heads rose from under his blanket, a beautiful woman’s head, hair blazing the color of fire and eyes practically glowing their greenness beside Klorachomol’s jet black hair and eyes. Moriah stopped. “Don’t go anywhere without me present while I’m your mentor. There are too many who would do bad things to you.” Moriah turned and looked at him with those same dead, emotionless eyes. After a long pause, the assassin snorted and stood, not bothering to cover himself. Dressing, he took her to the bathroom, which was where he assumed she had been heading. He entered into the stall with her.
Returning to the cave, Jenna greeted him by flinging herself into his arms, though both she and the dwarves were fully dressed by then. For the briefest of moments, something like life entered the girl’s eyes when she saw the dwarves, but the fire sputtered out before it could ignite and her gaze slid from them as from everything else.
Corko stepped up to her and greeted her formally, bowing in the dwarven manner, half curtsy, half bow, head lowered, fist to forehead. Moriah just stared through him, not responding. Turning to Klorachamol, Corko asked, “Is she daft?”
Klorachamol shook his head and shrugged, his arms still wrapped around Jenna. His answer held resignation and disgust. “Don’t know. She obeys instructions but she doesn’t react to anything. The elf said she had been wounded in some manner. He wouldn’t, or couldn’t, do anything to her.”
“Is that one capable of speaking the truth?” Jenjen demanded from behind crossed arms, his glower directed at the human girl-child. Moriah remained seemingly unaware.
“If it suites him, but he did hold back from her . . . .” Klorachamol said.
“Would you please stop talking as if she wasn’t here? She can still hear,” Jenna growled, her sharp words soft and full of death. She broke from Klorachamol’s arms and approached the child. “So, what’s your name dear?” She smiled genuine warmth, which belied her angry words to the men.
Moriah stared through her as if she did not exist.
Straightening, she eyed the child with a severe, cold gaze, crossing her arms. “She’s not going to live long. She’s already embraced death.”
“You all keep repeating the elf,” Klorachamol grunted. “Well, we shall see what a little work does for her. Would you like to come with?” He smiled at his woman. “There’s nothing to do while she’s scrambling.” She smiled wide in answer and gathered up their bed rolls.
“Accompany you, we also shall,” Corko said in his soft way. But for all its softness in sound, it made granite sponge, his eyes boring into his cousin.
“The more the merrier!” Jenna laughed.
They moved toward the back tunnel. Moriah followed, but turned aside at the last moment, picking up a length of rope and putting it into her box.
“Good thinking Ker. I’m glad you can take some initiative,” Klorachamol snorted. “I had forgotten about that.” He gathered several other lengths. “I don’t know how far you went yesterday, but these are a thousand feet each, so we should be set.” He put the coils into the box and then they all left.
Silence reigned during the trek to the small hole. Upon arriving, Klorachamol secured a rope to Moriah’s waist. She kept her own length, putting it into her bag. Finally she stood in front of the tiny opening, prepared to enter.
“Hey, why do you need the extra rope, munchkin?” Jenna asked, poking at the bag while squatting next to the child. The girl turned and looked at her for a long time, never saying anything. Eventually Klorachamol shooed her into the hole. Once she was gone, Jenna commented while running a hand through her hair. “That is one strange kid. She gives me the willies.”
“Ho ho ho!” Both dwarves roared their amusement and even Klorachamol allowed a smile. “Tis a marvel of creation, the Ker who asserts willies upon Jenna! Ho ho ho!” Jenjen bellowed.
“Tis a truth,” commented Corko. Even his laughter was quiet, compared to his cousin. He relaxed at his cousin’s easing tension. If Jenjen had truly decided to kill the child, none of them could have prevented it.
“Jenna, I did not think anyone could unnerve you,” Klorachamol smirked at her.
“She’s not natural,” the woman complained, flipping her red head away from the men. “It’s like having a dead person walking around. Even the elf’s less disturbing. At least I understand his evil, however vile it is.”
“This coming from the dear Jenna. I am perplexed.” The silken voice seemed to come from all directions and then a shadow detached itself from the rest of the shadows. The tall elf smiled a charming smile, his white hair framing his white skin. The smile chilled because all four knew what kind of person lay behind the ever so natural seeming expression. “You have sent her into this hole again. You are as cold as they come, Klorachamol.” He laughed in amusement, his words perfectly spaced and precise. “And you condemn me?”
“Jenna and Klorachamol, neither seek the bondage-destruction of Kormdon, elf!” Jenjen snarled, tensed to attack though he remained still. Without proper weapons, the elf would either defeat him or escape again.
“So, you would say that there are degrees of this thing you label me - Evil. How interesting.” Klierallan laughed out loud, the more condemning because it sounded so true, like real amusement and not ridicule. He cocked his head slightly to the left. “Very well. I can accept that and even understand why you despise me.” He shrugged, his hands open and palm up. “It does not matter. Just be aware. I am watching Ker. Always. I will not allow you to harm her as she is the most interesting potential to enter this mine since you yourselves came.”
“Do you know what’s in this tunnel?” Jenna asked, her curiosity overriding her caution.
“I do not,” the elf inclined his head. “However, she has survived it once, she should do so again.”
“Why does she want to die?” Jenna moved, imposing Klorachamol between herself and the elf even as she asked. Nervous as always around the Black One, her curiosity continued to force the questions from her lips.
“I do not know. Her mind is closed to me and I will not force the issue, at this time.” He smiled his real amusement and delight. “You’re full of questions today, dear Jenna. How delightful.” He leaned against a wall of the tunnel.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Klorachamol demanded.
“I am curious what this Ker will bring out this time. I find it fascinating that her first day in the mines her production is more than our good Klorachamol and on a par with the good dwarves.” He smiled at the assassin. Silence fell and was not broken again until Ker returned. A quarter the way through its length, the rope tied to Moriah’s waist stopped spooling.
Moriah crawled through the tunnel as she had the day before, though the weight of the trailing rope made it more difficult to advance. At a certain point she simply untied it from her waist and left it behind. Coming to the bubble, she looked into it to see if anything had moved in since the previous day. Disappointed, she tied off her rope and climbed to the bottom of the bowl. She began cutting crystal stones free from their stone encasing. When she had the bag almost too heavy to lift, she tied the end of the rope to it, rested and then climbed up the rope. She had climbed ropes like this for over a year before everything ended, training herself in secret lest her mother find out. Once she reached the top, she hauled the bag up and began working her way back through the tunnel.
They had waited for nearly four hours in tense silence when noise from the tunnel became discernible, first by the dwarves, then the elf and finally the two humans. Twenty minutes later, the bag hove into view. Klorachamol pulled it out and then helped Moriah out more gently than he had the first time.
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“There is crystal ore,” Jenjen declared, looking at the bag.
“Agreed,” stated Corko, nodding.
Klorachamol already suspected what the bag contained, but dumped it out to look anyway. Crystals formations of almost every color spilled out. Jenna whistled and even the elf reacted, though only for an instant.
“The mother has spoken. Ker has heard,” intoned Corko, solemn as he fingered through the stones.
Turning to Moriah to demand what kind of formation she had discovered, Klorachamol faced absence. Ker was gone, along with the other bags they had brought. “Ker! Get back here this instant!” Klorachamol stuck his head into the hole and yelled his fury. He glared at the hole and waited. And waited. And let out a curse.
“Ho ho ho! Ker has gone for more. She hears the song of the Mother, but not the beat of the Father,” Jenjen bellowed, thumping his massive belly. “Declaration of Mother Load shall come forth. The bank of Klorachamol shall overflow.” The dwarf roared his laughter, the sound echoing against rock walls.
“It would seem you have been highly compensated even beyond the commander’s concessions,” Klierallan agreed, smiling in growing amusement at the dwarves. They did not like that he agreed with them. “However, Ker seeks death. Those things that others fear or avoid, she seeks out. Keeping her safe from herself will be much more difficult in the coming week than protecting her from the idiots that inhabit this place.”
“Explain elf,” Jenna demanded, peeking from the far side of Klorachamol like a shy child.
“It is simple. Whatever has wounded her has made her suicidal. If I am reading her correctly, she will not actually kill herself as that is against her essence. However, she will not flee from that which might kill her, but step up to it boldly. She is consumed by foolishness, not courage, though some confuse the two.”
“You would lecture on courage, Demon-Pact?” Jenjen demanded, nostrils flaring and imaginary steam all but visible in reality.
The elf did not reply, simply looking at the dwarf until the gnarly man turned away red faced. “Gnarly lord, heed yourself, lest you yourself fall. Is there fault with my statement?” Klierallan waited, forcing Jenjen to reply.
“Not.”
“Do not fall prey to judging right and wrong by the messenger, is that not the more noble course?” He laughed easily. “Ker is looking for a way to die. The coming time will be touch and go. If she survives, she may turn either way.” He smiled at the glares.
Time passed. Klorachamol picked up his pickaxe and began swinging it against the tunnel wall a distance from the hole Ker had entered. Every swing landed with its exact precision. Every impact contained the exact force he chose to issue. Eventually Jenna joined him. To their surprise, the elf also joined in the exercise. The dwarves remained at the hole, watching with infinite patience.
Many hours later, the hole issued noise again. An hour later a bag hove into view and Jenjen grabbed it. Pulling it out, a second bag was revealed. Corko grabbed this one. Moriah’s grimy face appeared. Klorachamol grabbed her and yanked her from the hole with disregard to sharp rocks and obstructions.
Shaking her, he raged in a tight, controlled voice. “Do not disobey me ever again, Ker. When I tell you to come back, you obey immediately! Do you understand?”
The pain from her abrasions stung in the far distance of Moriah’s mind, but she accepted that as her punishment for still living. Moriah looked at her mentor with her dead eyes, not responding. Raising her hand, she pointed at the hole. Another bag lay just visible. Jenjen grasped the rope attached to it and pulled it, two more bags coming out after it. Klorachamol set the child down as the dwarves dumped the bags out and silence settled over the group.
“What did she find?” Jenna asked, awe softening her words, “an abandoned spider nest?”
“This is not so,” Corko answered. “The stone speaks not of the gatherers.”
“He’s right,” the elf agreed, fingering a milky white stone. “She probably found a bubble.” He looked inquiringly at the dwarves, amused at their discomfort.
“It is probable,” Jenjen conceded and the elf’s smile increased marginally at the forced agreement.
“You should declare Mother Load,” the elf advised. “It would be risky to hide this for long, especially since in one week you will not have control over the child.”
“Ker should get credit for it,” Klorachamol said firmly, looking away from the elf. “I have no need for this. My quota is superfluous. It does not matter if I meet it or not.”
“Klorachamol, as much as I hate to agree with that one...,” Jenna sighed. “If you’re really interested in Ker’s well-being (that’s so sweet, by the way),” she grinned at him and leaned onto his arm, batting her eyes playfully. “Still, you won’t be helping her at all by holding back right now. Counterproductive. You found this hole and sent her down it. It’s your claim right now and you’ll get credit for it. Ker will not be penalized. But if she were to start bringing even a few of these stone in every day, she would be marked.”
“This is truth,” Corko intoned. He was more comfortable agreeing with Jenna, even if she was agreeing with the elf. “The guards will also protect the site and none shall be able to lay claim.”
Klorachamol nodded reluctant agreement. “Very well.” He turned to Ker and found her curled up on the stone floor under the hole, fast asleep. Shaking his head, he began gathering the stones back into the bags. The dwarves and Jenna helped. The elf had disappeared again.
Once again Klorachamol woke Moriah just before entering the depot and made her push the cart up to the counter. There were others in line this time. Waiting their turn, Moriah’s eyes never twitched to acknowledge anyone, their presence registering only as vague shadows in her mind.
As they stepped up to the counter for their turn, the clerk frowned at the pair, running a nervous hand over the carpeted counter. They should not have been there, their very presence in danger of attracting the attention of the guards to the clerk and his good deed. “What is it, Klorachamol?”
“I am declaring Mother Load.”
The clerk stared at him as if he had lost his mind, his own thoughts derailed and thrown into confusion. He blurted out, “Are you crazy? Klorachamol, do you have any idea how much you’ll have to produce, total, to meet the requirements?”
“Of course I do. Look, you have to do your spiel, but keep it short,” Klorachamol growled. “I found a potential hole some time ago and took advantage of the scrambler to investigate it.”
“I see. Well, just so you’re aware, if I log a Mother Load, you must produce one year’s quota from a single site in two weeks. If you fail, your entire bank will be wiped and you will be punished. Do you understand?”
“Yes, hurry up.”
“If you really have a Mother Load, your bank will be credited and you will be allowed to make several purchases from the surface. Do you want to declare Mother Load?”
“Yes.”
The clerk sighed, shaking his head. They were all fools. Of the last twenty-seven to make the declaration, exactly two had succeeded - the dwarves. Calling over the depot guard, the clerk informed him that Klorachamol wanted to declare Mother Load. The guard glared at the miners. While the take from a successful declaration could shift the guard, usually it did not pan out. It just meant more work for them all, but he had to acknowledge it, so he grunted for them to start.
“I will make my opening deposit now,” Klorachamol sounded bored.
“Oh very well,” the clerk griped. “Show us what trivial you have.”
Klorachamol leaned over the counter. “You’re starting to irritate me.” The clerk’s eyes grew wide and he turned several shades paler, a true feat since he had been in the mines for several years already. “You had better evaluate accurately, or there’s going to be another clerk in your spot before next shift.”
The clerk gulped and stammered, “Are you threatening me?”
“Yes, I am, and right in front of the guard too. What are you going to do about it?” Klorachamol pulled away and stood relaxed, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. “My suggestion would be to evaluate very carefully.”
The clerk nodded. “Right.” He called the head depot boss. “We’re ready.”
The assassin grabbed the top most bag from the overfull anti-gravity box. Dumping its contents on the counter, he stepped back and crossed his arms again.
The head clerk let out a soft curse at the wealth heaped before him and the two men began evaluating the crystal ore. The tally began to climb. When they had almost completed the first bag, Klorachamol dumped the second, which contained more in it than the first, and so it went as all the bags were dumped, including the stuff Moriah had brought out the previous day.
Finished, the head clerk grinned crooked at the pair. “It looks like you’re in official Mother Load status with your initial dropping. You’ve already achieved two and a half years quota. Is this all?”
“I have no idea,” Klorachamol grinned at him. “Ask Ker. She’s the scrambler. I’ve never seen the site myself.”
The head clerk looked at the child, frowning. “Well, Ker, what else is there?”
She stared at the far wall, not turning towards him, not blinking, not answering.
“What the hell?” The man said, suddenly angry.
“She doesn’t talk, but she is under Edict, so tread softly, Jaxson. She hasn’t said a word since I met her two days ago. Just stares off into the distance.”
“Klorachamol, take us to the site,” one of the guards demanded, interrupting the scene.
Klorachamol snorted at having his fun cut short and picked Ker up, setting her in the box where she curled up and fell fast asleep again. Pushing the box out of the depot, he led the way back to the hole. The guards wasted no time cordoning off the tunnel on both sides of the hole.
“Take these and have Ker carry them to the site to record its location.” One of the guards handed Klorachamol two identical recorders. Since scanners and communication devices would not work in the mines due to the richness of crystal and raw myth class ores, one would be left at the site to record progress and one would be returned so they could know exactly what kind of site Moriah had discovered.
Moriah woke up in her sleeping spot. Rising, she saw that the man and woman were sleeping together again, but the two dwarves were not present. However, a guard in light-armor sat off to one side, a shadow in her mind as everything else. She thought she did not like the guard, but could not remember why. She stared at him for nearly five minutes with her dead eyes before he began to fidget.
“Ker, stop intimidating the guard,” Klorachamol said, revealing bare chest as he sat up in his bed, but flipping the blanket so Jenna remained concealed. “It’s not healthy.” Standing, he dressed and ordered her to come with him. Jenna watched from under the covers, only her eyes showing. She did not want to show herself to the guard, as that could cause problems later.
Taking his charge to get food, Klorachamol watched her eat. It was like watching an automaton and he felt ill at ease. When she finished, he made her go to the bathroom and then took her out to the Mother Lode site.
She accepted the two recorders without comment and was gone, entering the hole without the slightest hesitation. The two guards stood casually, waiting. Klorachamol glanced at them with a snort - they had no clue at the length of the pending wait. Picking up his pickaxe, he proceeded to swing it none stop for the next few hours, deliberately applying enough force with each blow so the tactical computers in the light-armor sensors would register the fact any one of the blows would be enough to penetrate their feeble protection. It amused him how weak the guards really were, to be so easily intimidated.
Moriah took eight hours this time since they had let her take a small box, which made it possible for her to carry much more than she had the previous two trips. The box floated out of the hole and the guards quickly checked it. Not only had she filled the box full of crystal, but she had attached several bags and used the box to drag them.
The guards let out grunts of excitement. They might just be getting out of the mine well before the earliest, most positive predictions.