Alistar and Kaila were hurrying along a particularly lengthy tunnel in the eastern section of the upper mines. Since they’d left the Resident Cavern, they had passed almost two dozen tunnels packed full to capacity with other slaves. Pained groans and heated shouts fought through the almost rhythmic clanking that floated throughout the area. The usual sounds.
The tunnel was manmade, smaller than its natural counterparts and crudely enforced with wooden support beams. Thinly distributed torchlight left fickle glimmers to coalesce into a passive glow that was both warm and cold, and all in between. Lately, the tunnels his family worked in were lit with torches, and not many.
A line of weary slaves stretched on for as far as the eye could see, grunting along the left side of the tunnel with little enthusiasm. Some looked as if they might keel over at any minute, their appearances brittle and weakened as they struggled to work the hefty pickaxes in their trembling hands. Conversely, some were large and brawny, no doubt working off a full stomach nurtured by the meals of their weaker brethren. As was the case with Alistar, not one head of hair fell short of the shoulders. Long, dirt-encrusted fingernails and tattered, smelly rags created a common resemblance among the labourers.
Guards stood lazily along the right side, one for every eight slaves. The constant flow of Carriers left little room to spare, and the unending cycle of the two lines left the tunnel cramped and stuffy.
Alistar and Kaila had been navigating through the cramped tunnel for almost five minutes and there was still no sign of either of their families. They must have been near the end of the line, Alistar thought, a spot once reserved for Alistar’s father most days of the week. He frowned. The farther down the line one worked, the longer the walk back would be. This was the least desirable spot among the lineup. This feeling…I don’t like it. He clutched at his hidden crystal.
A careless Carrier abruptly bumped Alistar with his heavy pack and caused him to stumble. A man a few paces ahead suddenly looked over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing as he caught sight of him and Kaila approaching. The man was not sweating nearly as much as those around him, yet his collection box sat at twice the height of the next highest within the area. His eyes followed Alistar’s every step. Eventually, as he and Kaila made their way past in a timid manner, the man stopped working and turned to face them. A nearby guard stretched but didn’t seem to care that a worker had stopped.
Alistar did not like this man. Growing up, he couldn’t count how many times he had been spat on, tripped, shoved, or cursed at, just because he happened to be passing by. The man had made public his dislike for Alistar’s father, even though Rodei had been an honourable person that had held the respect of many, even a good deal of the guards.
Without moving his hulking body—a muscled mass that rivalled Alistar’s uncle Raidon’s body—the man simply smiled at him. It was a grin of genuine content, but Alistar couldn’t miss the devious undertone that stained it. A ropey scar separated his dirtied face and split the upper half of his smile so that it was unpleasantly crooked, the past injury hugging a warped nose that clearly hadn’t healed right after suffering a breakage. He might have been handsome once, but as it were his face would make any child uneasy.
Alistar broke eye contact and ducked his head, ushering Kaila forward as they passed by as quickly as possible. There wasn’t much room to maneuver in the manmade tunnels, so he had to reluctantly accept the inevitable. Some form of abuse awaited him, damn the man. But all he was met with was a husky snicker.
He wasted no time on surprise as they hurried onward. They soon spotted Kaila’s grandpa, so they stopped to speak with him as he worked. Upon seeing them, a small frown set in on his peppered face.
“Is something wrong, Grandpa Talon? Where’s Mama and Uncle Raidon?”
Faced with Alistar’s anxious questions, Talon paused momentarily and nodded down the line. “Why don’t you stay here awhile, Alistar?” He made the suggestion through heaving breaths, wiping at the grime that stained his sweat-stricken face. He immediately resumed working when a nearby guard knocked the butt of his spear against the ground. Alistar shook his head and politely refused. He gave Kaila a hug, saying his goodbyes and hurrying off before Talon could wheeze out a protest.
He found his mother and his uncle a few minutes later, his stomach growing icy as he drew near to the end of the tunnel. They had been separated from the main line of workers, the two of them labouring some twenty paces removed from the next farthest person. A dozen torches lit the walls of the dead end, making for a much brighter and much warmer working area in contrast to the dim ambience of the rest of the tunnel, and also drawing more attention.
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Three collection boxes sat between the two of them, both his mother and his uncle covered in sweat as they worked their shaking limbs. Opposite them, a wooden table was set up along the right side tunnel. The dusty wood of an old stool supported the weight of a single guard, who was casually wiping at a line of grease that had just dribbled down his chin. He was dining on a lavish meal that incorporated more dishes than Alistar had seen in his entire life. Red hair hung freely above his eyes, the napkin that dabbed at his clean-shaven face being replaced by a silver fork moments after. The metal glinted in the torchlight as it deposited a mouthful of some type of meat into the man’s mouth. He was taller and leaner of build than the other captains before him, and a lot younger. He looked around Servan’s age, which was about twice Alistar’s.
Though he wanted to rush to his family, Alistar couldn’t help but slow his pace once he noticed a bedraggled man lying face down in the dirt within the space between them and the other slaves.
Why is he like that? How come nobody’s paying him any attention? Something seemed off. The nearby slaves seemed too intent on their work, as if they were going out of their way to ignore the sprawling man. Some of the silent guards were tense. A couple wore relaxed expressions that were seasoned with satisfaction.
Alistar stared down at the unmoving person. Although he could never remember his name, Alistar recognized the wrinkles on his face and the baldness of his head. A few years older than Kaila’s grandpa, he had never been close with Alistar’s family, but he used to share words with his father in passing. He’d once had a family of his own, one much larger than Alistar’s, but his time in the mines had left him alone and aggrieved. He seemed to have collapsed in the middle of his work, his pickaxe lying inanimate at his side.
A cry of pain from Alistar’s mother tore him free from his frightened indecision and he was at her side in a heartbeat. She had fallen to one knee, her chest rising and falling with each deep, shuddering breath. His worried hands found her shoulders and her head shot up. Her face was flushed from labour, but the moment she noticed him her complexion drained of colour.
“Alie…” she groaned. There was shame in her voice. Shame and panic.
His uncle Raidon looked over, his eyes glazed with worry. This was discomforting, coming from the man who was usually so stoic and reserved.
A light clatter drew Alistar’s attention. The guard had dropped a fork onto his finely patterned plate, which was made from gleaming silver.
“Speak of the devil!” The young guard’s tone was wet with excitement. His voice cracked awkwardly on the last word, evidence that he was still in the process of transitioning into manhood. “And here I thought you weren’t fond of me, always hiding away in those tunnels while your parents do all the work.”
“Alie,” his mother whispered, “go off to Grandpa Talon.”
“But Mama—”
“Alie,” she ordered, “leave us!”
The desperation in his mother’s voice shook his confidence. The cold fangs of angst held him in their merciless bite.
“Don’t be hasty, now,” said the guard captain, pushing his chair back and then walking over to the three of them. He put a hand on Alistar’s shoulder, pulling him in close and away from his mother. “I was just thinking on how I’d like to become better acquainted with you, boy.”
Alistar’s mother turned her eyes to the ground, her lips trembling. She was angry, that much was easily seen, but her anger was far overshadowed by anxiety. She could do nothing to oppose the guards, especially the one before them, and all four of them knew it.
The captain’s chainmail was cold against Alistar’s bare arm, his body smelling of the leathers he wore beneath and the roasted meat he had just been gorging on. The contact sickened him. He stood there, vexed, trying to make sense of the scene he had just stumbled into.
The heat from the numerous torches along with the lack of air flow helped to nurture a stifling temperature that was almost impossible to bear once one got moving. The guard—who was also sweating quite heavily—had increased the workload of his family by an entire collection box, personally presiding over their back-breaking labour as he feasted on a meal that they could only enjoy in their dreams. The enticing smells of cooked meat and buttered vegetables filled the air, neither of which Alistar had ever tasted. For how long had this been going on? Was this the first time? Or could this be a daily occurrence? Couldn’t the guard see that his mother was sick?
The longer he thought on it, the clearer the situation became. The reason for his family’s over-exhaustion, and the reason they no longer chastised him for spending his days in the abandoned tunnels. They didn’t want him around to experience their daily sufferings. They had been marked, not by Servan as he had once thought, but by that young and ruthless captain of the guards. The very same captain that now held Alistar close in a tight embrace.
Revulsion poisoned his gut as he wriggled free of the guard’s grasp, ducking under his arm and putting a few steps between them. His gaze was unwavering as he met the man’s stare, anger and disgust holding free rein over his expression.
Surprised, the guard raised an eyebrow and whistled. “Fearless, are we? Trying to take after the old man?” His eyes narrowed. “The old man who worked himself to death, mining both his and your share?”
Three people. Three boxes.
“That’s enough,” Alistar’s mother seethed, reaching out for him in desperation. “He’s just a boy!”