Morning came with the light and smell of burning torches as the guards opened up the cells and paraded the prisoners down the corridor toward the main mine shaft. Thorik and Santorray fell in line behind countless others, most of whom showed signs of starvation and unhealed lash marks.
The main shaft opened up into a large round room filled with men handing out mining equipment and daily rations. Above them, a catwalk encircled the room as archers watched for signs of misbehaving.
A thousand people slowly moved into and out of the large room. A layer of grayish brown dirt covered their bodies and clothes, making them all blend together.
“This will take more than a day,” Thorik mumbled, realizing the magnitude of the how hard it would be to find a young man he had never met before.
Santorray agreed. “If Ericc is here, and they know it’s him, they wouldn’t cage him with the rest of us. They would separate him to keep him alive and unspoiled for Darkmere’s men to come for him. Someplace constantly under watch and with a private cell.” The Blothrud had been in the mines before and knew of only one place that met these criteria, the infirmary. Now the question was how to get in there.
Thorik was handed a pick and a chunk of dry bread. Placing the rations near his nose to smell something other than the sweaty prisoners, he found there was no aroma to it.
The prisoner in front of Thorik turned and snatched the bread from the Num. “This one’s mine.”
“Hey, give that back.” Thorik looked at the guard to see if he had seen the incident. After seeing the guard roll his eyes at the issue, Thorik looked back at the Blothrud. “Did you see that?”
“How did you ever survive on your own?” Taking a bite of his own tasteless bread, Santorray swallowed hard as it scratched his throat on the way down. “Trust me. It’s not worth fighting for.” Listening to his own words, the Blothrud got an idea and tossed the rest of his meal to Thorik.
“Hey! Give that back!” Santorray roared at the Num before grabbing him and lifting him the air.
Shocked, Thorik tried to kick free, as he held the bread in one hand and the pick in the other.
“Swing your pick at me.” Santorray said under his breath, before yelling, “I’ll rip you apart!”
Thorik began to panic from the unprovoked attack. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to make you bleed! You’ll be lucky if they can stitch you back together.” Santorray raked his knuckle spikes across Thorik’s stomach, ripping his shirt and skin. Any deeper and Thorik could have lost his internal organs.
Dropping his items, Thorik grasped his stomach as blood poured forth.
Santorray dropped the Num on the food table in front of the guard before picking up his bread. "It was my bread.” He growled.
Guards rushed over while archers loaded their arrows and prepared to shoot, should the Blothrud put up a fight against them. Several slaps from a short whip pushed the Blothrud back into line and away from the Num.
“Worth keeping alive?” the food server asked the higher-ranking guard, as they both looked at Thorik.
One guard assessed Thorik’s cuts. “Wrap him up and send him to the infirmary. No reason to lose a good set of hands from nothing more than bleeding to death.”
After rapping a filthy rag around the Nums stomach and waist, Thorik was escorted down a different branch of the mine. A smell of fresh stew could be taken in as they entered a new open area, which housed the guard’s mess hall and medical area on one side and several prisoner cells on the other.
Tossing Thorik into one of the cells, the guard yelled at a man in a long white cloak discolored with red blood, who was enjoying his hot breakfast. Returning to his duties, the guard left this man in charge.
What was Santorray thinking? Thorik thought to himself. He nearly sliced me open.
“Hey, are you okay?” came a voice from the next cell. Unlike the prisoner’s cells, these had bars on three of its four sides.
Thorik looked over to see a young man about his own age. Mahogany hair down to his eyebrows and over his ears, and a face that looked vaguely familiar. “Ericc?”
Sliding back into his cell, Ericc asked his own question. “Do I know you?”
Thorik was beaming. “It’s you! I found you. Actually, you found me. But that doesn’t matter right now. You’re here and now I can protect you from the prophecy being fulfilled with your death.”
Ericc looked at the blood soaking into the cloth around the Num’s stomach. “You’re going to protect me?” he said sarcastically. “Who are you? And how do you know me?”
“My name is Sec Thorik Dain of Farbank. Your father sent me.”
“My father? I’ve been looking for him for months.” Ericc stood up and leaned against the bars, hoping to see his father walk down the corridor and free him. “Where is he? Is he coming for me?”
Stress seeped into Thorik’s voice as he tried to answer his question. “No, Ericc. He’s not coming to save you. He asked me to.”
“Why wouldn’t he do it himself? Where has he been for the past eight years and what will it take for him to see his own son?” His pent-up resentment mixed with excitement of the possibility of seeing his father again. He had been abandoned by his father and sent to live with friends of the family, away from civilization. He understood the risks of appearing in public, which had nearly led to his death when he encountered Lord Bredgin.
Nevertheless, eight years was too long to go without seeing his father. Ericc had run away and ventured into the cities to experience the life he had missed. But instead of finding the dream of freedom, he quickly became hunted by those who wished to see him dead. Escaping more than one attack, he was recently caught stealing food to survive. Thrown into the mines, he was recognized as Ambrosius’ son and removed from the common labor only to be held in the infirmary until Darkmere or one of his assassins arrived to take him.
“He’s not coming. He can’t come,” Thorik said.
“Why? What’s the excuse this time? Another Grand Council meeting? A disaster in Eastland that only he can repress? I’ve heard them all over the years. Not this time. I’m in here until he personally shows up or Darkmere comes to kill me.”
“Are you in here on purpose to force your father’s hand to rescue you?”
“I’m in here on a charge of trespassing. But now that they know who I am, I’m going to put an end to this, whether it is by my father standing at my side or fighting Darkmere to the death. I refuse to live in the obscurity of shadows for the rest of my life.”
“It won’t work. You’ll be killed.”
“Then so be it. At least then I’ll know my father’s true colors.”
“No, you don’t understand. He asked me to come save you from Darkmere.”
“Then you’ll have to tell him to come himself.”
“I can’t. He’s dead.” Thorik blurted out. He hadn’t intended to tell him in such an emotionless fashion. He had planned on a more respectful way to soften the blow.
Ericc shook his head. “Not possible. Not my father. No one can kill him.”
“Ericc, listen to me. Darkmere and Ambrosius fought, and on your father’s dying breath he asked me to save you, to prevent you from being sacrificed.”
Now it began to sink in, as Ericc’s body became cold and ridged. “How do I know you’re telling the truth? How did you find me?”
“I traveled with your father in hopes of preventing Darkmere from flooding the kingdom. Draq traveled with us. My understanding is that he and his family raised you.”
Thorik noticed no reaction from Ericc to his words, so he continued. “After the battle, our boat crashed upon the reefs of an island and we were rescued by Captain Mensley who helped us find your whereabouts.”
Ericc stared across the hall. “Where is Darkmere?” He couldn’t even look at Thorik as he talked through clinched teeth.
“Last I heard he returned to Corrock to regroup, seeing that the flood was prevented. Why?”
“I’m go
ing to kill him.”
“No, you need to hide from him.”
“I’ve been hiding my whole life. I’m going to Corrock to avenge my father’s death.”
“You don’t understand. He wants you to come to him. He’s baiting you, just like he did to your father. Once he has you, you’re to be sacrificed to prevent the prophecy from coming true.”
“Prophecy, what prophecy?” asked the medic in the red-stained white cloak as he walked up to the two.
Thorik and Ericc suddenly became deaf and mute.
Receiving no answer, he opened Thorik’s cell. “Fine, let me see those cuts.”
Chapter 7
Matriarch
Sacrifice of Ericc Page 6