by Rob J. Hayes
I heard the pick strike stone and a crumble as rocks dropped to the ground below. I turned to find Tamura shaking rock dust out of his hair. He looked at me and smiled.
"Like Ro'shan passing." Tamura laughed and went back to studying the crack.
It was growing daily as Tamura and the brothers worked at it. An inky darkness leading upwards into the rock. It was already large enough that I could start the climb and as we shined a lantern up above, I could see that the crack opened into a crevice. The urge to start climbing, to see how far I could get was almost overwhelming. My desire was only furthered by the strong breeze blowing into my face. I grinned and closed my eyes.
"Listen." Tamura's voice was a whisper.
I cocked my head to the side, trying to block out my other senses, to concentrate on whatever sound the old man could hear. I was quite amazed I hadn't heard it myself. A constant, muted roar echoed out from the crack.
"What is it?" I asked.
Tamura giggled. "Blow through your lips."
I did as he bid.
"Tighter." Tamura ordered. "Tighter." He reached out and put fingers above and below my lips, squashing them together until the sound I was making was a breathy whistle.
I shook the old man's hand away. "It's wind gusting through a small opening," I said, more confident than ever it would lead to our way out.
"Grass beneath my feet," Tamura said, and did a little dance, lifting each foot in turn and spinning around on the spot. So childlike at times. So much innocence. It is somewhat ironic to me that someone so steeped in guilt could also be the most innocent of us all.
"You and I might fit through, but Isen and Hardt don't stand a chance," I said. "We need to make the crack wider still. I think it opens out further up, so we just need to widen it a little more here."
Tamura shot me a quizzical look and held the pick up at arm's length. The metal only barely touched the roof of the tunnel. I nodded my understanding and Tamura gave me a shrug.
"We're going to need rope," I said, but the old man gave no sign he was still listening to me. He was staring up at the crack, feeling the breeze on his face. I left him there and made my way towards the main cavern. We were so close to freedom I could almost taste it. I imagined the sky; giant and blue, glorious and endless. Freedom and my reward.
What if there is no way out? All that crack leads to is a stone coffin. A cold grave. The thought made me stumble, set an unspoken fear coursing through me. It was the first time I had even considered the possibility. Now that I was, it seemed all too real.
I almost bumped into Josef on my way to the Trough. Part of me still thinks I was so distracted I didn't notice him coming towards me. I know the truth though, he stepped into my path. He wanted the conversation. I can't blame him for it. I wanted to talk to him too. Josef wasn't just a friend, our bond went deeper than that, deeper than if we had been true siblings. We were a pair. Two of a kind. The academy raised and trained us that way, to rely on each other for everything. Despite that bond it had been almost a month since we had spoken. We saw each other every day, yet neither of us could find the humility to swallow our pride and mend the rift that was growing larger day by day. Why? Because he had fucking betrayed me again! Despite the blinders of love for him that I wore, despite the hope of reconciliation inside of me, I was starting to see the pattern.
We stared at each other for a while. I honestly don't think I've ever felt more awkward in my life. Eventually I stepped to the side, determined to move past him and the situation. Josef didn't let me.
"It's been a while," he said. I realised then just how much I'd missed the sound of his voice. It almost broke me. I felt cracks snaking their way through my will. I wanted nothing more than to hear his voice tell me it would be all right and to lean my head on his shoulder and feel the closeness we had always shared.
"I saw you just this morning," I said. Pride is a terrible thing constantly pushing us into mistakes. Regardless of what I wanted, I couldn't help but remember all the betrayals Josef had stacked against me. At that moment, I wanted to both wrap my arms around him and kick him off a cliff. We could both fall together, die together. I would have saved the world so much pain.
"Well... I mean..." Josef stammered to a stop. "I mean, I miss you, Eska."
He'll betray you again. I couldn't shake the thought. It echoed in my mind and every time I pushed it down, it started up again. I missed Josef like a part of myself had disappeared and it itched at me all the time. But he had betrayed me, time and time again. I had the pattern, I could see it. It was there and I couldn't ignore it. Josef claimed he held love for me, I knew it was true. He did. But that had never stopped him betraying me to get what he wanted. He wanted to surrender at Fort Vernan, not I. He wanted the overseer to set us free, not I. He would fucking betray me again!
"Why wouldn't you?" I said with a scoff. It was terse and harsh and when I look back now, I wish I hadn't listened to the voice in my head. I wish we had made up then. I wanted to tell him about my hope, about the escape plan. I wanted to be friends again.
He'll tell the overseer. It sounded so reasonable. It sounded like truth. Fear is speculation more often than it is truth. The truth is almost never as terrifying as imagination makes it seem. Almost never.
"I have to go," I said coldly, and made to move past him again. Josef stepped backwards and in front of me.
"Please, Eska," he said. "Talk to me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry about everything. Just… don't push me away. We've been through too much to let whatever this is break us."
He'll say anything, and report everything. From your mouth to his ears to the overseer. Fear. Fucking fear. Sometimes it makes us wise, other times it makes us bloody idiots.
"Goodbye, Josef." I pushed past him and we both hissed from the pain in our ribs, but I kept going.
"Eska, wait," Josef called after me. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you. I didn't mean to betray you. I just wanted... I just want to get out. I'd do anything to see the sun again and the overseer offered me that. He offered us both a way out. But I don't get out unless you do. Like it or not, we're together on this. And I don't like life without you in it. Please..."
I wiped the tears from my eyes and kept walking, refusing to listen to either Josef or the voice in my head telling me everything he said was lies.
Chapter 19
When I was nine years old, still a student at the Orran Academy of Magic, I first learned to fight. Sparring was required teaching. There were dozens of fields of study and research, and many Sourcerers spent their lives furthering Orran's agriculture or blacksmithing. There is truly no end to the possibilities in the ways magic can be applied to help everyday life. But all Sourcerers who attended the academy needed to know how to fight. It wasn't just because of the war with Terrelan, but the prospect of any war. The Orran Empire kept track of its Sourcerers and was prepared to put them to work in military efforts wherever they were needed. Josef and I were different. We were trained to be weapons against the Terrelans. We were trained to fight with our magic. That was an oversight, I think. They should have also trained us to fight without.
There were rules to the sparring, of course. The first and foremost, was that we were never allowed to bring our full strength to bear against our opponents. They too, were Sourcerers and Orrans just like us. They too, were weapons being trained to rain destruction down upon the Terrelans. There was simply no sense in going overboard and killing our classmates. That never seemed to stop the bitch-whore from trying though.
Lesray and I were often pitted against each other. The tutors soon realised that Josef and I would never attack the other. We always worked far too well together, and that was a dynamic the tutors wished to endorse and nurture rather than break. I think the tutors believed we would keep each other strong and dedicated to the Orran cause. Looking back, I think they were right. Josef didn't have my loyalty to Orran, and I kept him true. I didn't have his power or wisdom and he kept me alive.
But
Lesray hated me. I had no idea why. We were paired against each other because the tutors of the academy considered us of nearly equal strength. I was attuned to six Sources and Lesray to five. That we both could use Pyromancy and Portamancy was another reason. The tutors deemed it important that we learn to fight using magic that the enemy could also control. In a battle of magic, countering an opponent is often as important as striking a blow.
We were in our third year of training when Lesray first tried to kill me. She claimed otherwise, of course, but I know the truth of it even if the tutors believed her.
Pyromancy is not, as many believe, the magic of controlling fire, but temperature. A well-trained Pyromancer can burn a city to the ground or freeze a lake. We were trained to fight with both fire and ice, trading fire balls and freezing the ground beneath us. I have always found myself to be strongly attuned to the magic, and especially to the flames. Despite that, Lesray was stronger. Or maybe just better. Or maybe just more ruthless. Whichever one it was, she was also a cunt.
I have always preferred to tint my fire green, for no other reason than I can, and I like the colour. Lesray preferred an icy blue, I think to confuse her opponents. It made it harder to tell if she was trying to freeze or burn me. Though in truth it was usually both.
The sparring ground lit with the light of flames crashing against each other. The sandstone walls were blasted with so much heat the rock had long since turned black. Even the ground underfoot was brittle from so much fire and ice. I don't remember the fight as clearly as I'd like; the memory is blurred by the pain that followed it. I remember we spent some time trading flame, turning each other's attacks upon themselves. Footwork is important, as it is in any form of combat, and we circled each other, always on the move. Always watching for an opening.
The bitch-whore attacked me with a plume of fire that rippled across the ground towards me like a wave. I was about to leap over it, only my foot wouldn't move. I didn't even notice when she had frozen it to the ground. It was all I could do to throw up my arms and block the wave of fire with my own raw power, which obscured my vision. That should have been it, a victory claimed by academy rules. I never saw the icicle coming, only felt the frozen agony in my side.
I remember dropping to my knees, screaming. As the flames died down, I saw the icicle melt away and looked up to see Lesray wearing a nasty grin, knowing she had won. Knowing she had killed me. It was short lived as Josef hit her with a psychokinetic blast that crumpled her against the far wall. It was still too late though. I collapsed onto the ground, bleeding out from a hole in my side as large as a fist.
Josef reached me first. I remember feeling his magic flood into me as he tried to heal me with his Biomancy. Just twelve years old and he knew more about the terran anatomy than most of the tutors. I remember those tutors arriving and feeling other people's magic inside of me. I remember the pain. Then I blacked out. Josef liked to tell me how scared he was when I stopped screaming. He could feel my heart beating through his Biomancy and he later told me he was certain he felt it stop.
When I woke, my head was pounding and my side felt like it was on fire. The irony was not lost on me. Josef was asleep in a chair next to my cot, his face pale and drawn. His skin waxy and sunken. I'm told the tutors tried to remove him but he fought them. You might think a twelve-year-old is mostly harmless. You would be very wrong. Eventually they let him stay, and I don't think he stopped healing me with his magic even for a moment. I lost five days of life in that attempt, and a few weeks spent recovering. Josef spent almost as long regaining the health he had poured into me. All magic takes a toll on the Sourcerer, and Biomancy is no exception. As far as I'm aware, Lesray was never even punished. At least not by the academy tutors. I, however, have a long memory and a passion for holding grudges.
Rope was something of a rare possession down in the Pit. Not because there was no rope to be found, it was everywhere from buckets to carts to lifts. It was rare because all the rope that was delivered to the Pit was needed. Deko was a thug and ran the Pit like a criminal empire, but he had people keeping track of every resource that was brought in, and things like rope were allocated sparingly. That wasn't to say there was none to be found for scabs like me. You just had to know where to look.
I knew the man I was after and had a good idea of where he might be. Lepold was a tall, gangly scab who had peculiar habit of taking old rope worn beyond use, peeling it apart and then braiding it back together. I think he somehow found the mind-numbing tedium of it fun, or relaxing. The Pit had no shortage of madmen. He carried a number of lengths around with him and used them as stakes for particularly valuable games of chance. I was confident I could best Lepold in most of the games he liked to play, but I was less confident that I had something valuable enough to entice him to put any of his precious rope on the line.
Given my soaring infamy amongst the scabs, I probably could have jumped ahead of the people waiting to sit at the table. Everywhere I went I drew stares and whispers, and every time Deko summoned me, the rumours grew. I think the scars and healing wounds helped as well. I was fairly certain I looked like a feral crag cat, and a vicious one at that. Yet I waited my turn, and watched the game unfold, studying Lepold and the other players for their tells.
When a spot opened up on the table I slipped onto the stool and smiled at the others. I had something of a reputation on the tables as well as off, and two players laughed and packed away their stakes when I sat down. Luckily, Lepold wasn't one of them.
He gave me a nod of respect and I returned it. "I was hoping to get a chance at some rope," I said quickly, before anyone could decide on their stakes.
"Not trading on your name, I hope." The gangly rope braider replied. "I'll want something of equal value up for stake."
I reached into a pocket and pulled out a small box, setting it on the table.
"A snuff box?" Lepold asked. "With respect..."
"It doesn't have fucking snuff in it," I said with a knowing smile then let the silence hang between us.
"Uh, so what's in it?" Lepold asked.
I tapped the lid of the box. "You'll have to win it to find out."
I saw the other two players look to Lepold, and I saw Lepold bite at his lip. From the games I'd watched him play I discovered he always liked to see the other players' chips even after he'd gone out of the game. He was curious by nature, and I was going make him hang himself on that curiosity. After a few moments, he pulled a length of rope from his belt and laid it on the table. It wasn't a long braid, maybe as tall as Hardt, but it would be enough; we'd make it work. The other two players put up their own stakes. I had to admit I'd be a rich woman if I won the game. Well, rich in Pit standards, which is to say a fucking pauper anywhere else.
"Mind if I play?" Josef slipped into the last remaining seat. I bit back a curse. The voice in my head warned me he was trying to derail all my plans, and at the time it seemed like truth.
"I fucking mind," I growled.
"Anyone can join if they've got a stake," Lepold replied and it was true. The rules of the gaming tables didn't care for personal feuds.
Josef pulled a half loaf of brown bread from inside his rags. It earned a few gasps and a lot of hungry eyes. The bread looked as fresh as any of us had seen in months, and brown bread was rare as gold down in the dark. I knew I wasn't the only one wondering where he had got it. I could have asked him. I wanted to ask him. I wanted to know what he'd been doing for the past month.
He obviously got it from the overseer. Payment for all your secrets.
"I'd say that's good enough," Lepold saying, licking his lips at the sight of the bread. The other players seemed to agree. "Highest stake chooses the game."
Josef looked at me and I knew what he was about to fucking say. I was already shaking my even as he said it. "Trust."
It was a new experience for me. Until that day I had only ever played Trust with both Hardt and Isen at the table. They knew me well enough to know I was far more treacher
ous than the roll of the dice could ever be. This group of players were different. They played differently. And they didn't know me. Josef, on the other hand, was trying to make amends. We both knew he was on my side and every time we were pitted against each other he picked friendship. The first time I took a dice off him. The second time, we both chose to shake hands though I railed at the false nicety.
One by one, the other players went out. I was ruthless where I needed to be, and unpredictable as well. More than once, I gave a dice away to confuse my opponents. There is a temptation in Trust to always pick betrayal, to leave fate up to the dice. Those players usually lose fast and hard, bested by their savvier opponents who are willing to wait out the aggression. For the first time I was one of the savvy ones. Josef, too, played a smart game. He was already friends with a couple of the other players and he used that friendship to his advantage.
Lepold was the last of the others to go out, losing his dice to Josef on a roll. By that point Josef had dice to throw away and he was more than happy to bully the rope maker out of the game. I had just one dice left myself, but Trust changes when there are only two players remaining. It no longer matters how many dice a player has accrued. Only one round is ever played where two players are concerned.
The other players didn't leave the table. They knew better than to forfeit their stakes by walking away. If both Joseph and I picked betrayal, then the game was reset for all to play again. If we both picked friendship then we would split the stakes, and there was only one item I really cared about. Though Josef's loaf of bread was tempting.
I stared across the table at Josef and he smiled back at me. I hated that smile, almost as much as I'd missed it. I knew then that he would pick friendship. He didn't care about the stakes, he just wanted us to be friends again. To be like we were.
You're not playing against Josef. You're playing against the overseer. He's trying to take it from you. He wants you to fail so you have no choice but to crawl back to the overseer and beg the Terrelans to let you be one of them.