Alysium

by Tiffany Pelletier

  “Shh,” came a nervous voice as Ranelle and the team leaders turned another bend, finally coming to a halt. The voices belonged to two other fresh miners that were already there waiting for them. One was a petite girl with stringy brown hair that barely reached her shoulders. She was wearing a look of apprehension as she pulled at the hem of her overshirt. The other teenager was a black-haired boy with skinny arms and legs who swayed on the balls of his feet as if preparing to run away. When the boy spied Ranelle and the team leaders advancing, the look on his face turned to that of great disappointment. Most likely from the realization that they’d cut off his only escape.

  “Now that we’re all finally here,” Abree snapped, giving Ranelle a scathing look, “we can go over a few things.”

  “First off,” Gideon interrupted, “welcome to your first day on our team!” He clapped his hands together exuberantly and beamed at them; the sound startled the newcomers, each of them flinching as the noise echoed down the mineshaft before finally dying out.

  Looking deflated, Abree leaned back against the tunnel wall with her arms crossed over her chest.

  “Secondly,” he said, continuing without pause, “there are a few important things you must remember. Most important is that you must always wear your miners' helmet while working in the mines. This is for your safety.” Gideon paused, bending over and picking up a helmet that had been sitting on the sandy ground, holding it out so the others could see it. “These ugly helmets may annoy you, but they could save your life someday.”

  Ranelle thought she caught his smile widen as his gaze fell on her. She pretended not to notice as Gideon waited for each of them to nod their understanding before he continued.

  “The next thing that is vital to remember is that miners may never enter a mineshaft alone. You must always have a partner with you. Someone needs to be there to back you up in case of a cave-in or accident.”

  His last statement struck a nerve. Ranelle balled her fists, remembering how both of her parents had perished when their mineshaft collapsed. There had been four people in their group, and not one of them had survived.

  These rules are pointless.

  Memories from her parents’ death threatened to pull her attention away until Abree shifted awkwardly, clearing her throat to gain notice.

  “We have several large piles to move before the first break, so perhaps they can learn the rest on-the-job,” she said pointedly at Gideon.

  He appraised her for a moment before responding, “Very well.”

  He likes to talk. Ranelle smiled to herself.

  Gideon turned, leading the group down the empty mineshaft further along the torch-lighted path. Eventually, a group of boulders that had separated from the tunnel wall came into view, partially obstructing the route ahead.

  “This is our task for today,” said Abree, coming forward from the back of the group and patting one of the large boulders.

  “How're we supposed to move that?” asked the skinny boy, his voice squeaking.

  “You're going to break it,” said Gideon cheerfully, producing several pickaxes from behind his back as if he’d had them there the whole time. He handed an ax to each of them with a smile; Ranelle avoiding his gaze as he passed one to her. His exuberance was already irritating her.

  “Now, we’ll show you the best place to aim for maximum destruction based on available force,” said Abree plainly. The girl then picked up her pickaxe, swinging it skillfully. The ax came down hard, deftly striking the boulder directly upon a light-colored vein that ran through its center. There was a loud crack, then several seconds of quiet as the echo of the impact resounded off the mineshaft walls. A moment later, the boulder groaned from the strain as the vein of mineral began to fall away. Suddenly, the rock broke into several pieces, each tumbling toward the new miners as they jumped out of the way, narrowly avoiding the debris.

  As the pieces settled, the virgin miners stood looking at Abree with a mixture of respect, awe, and fear. The dust from the broken boulder still hung low in the chilly mineshaft air, as Ranelle had a sudden thought...Abree’s not a girl to cross.

  Chapter Three

  Ranelle and the other miners worked for hours clearing the debris from mineshaft number eight, working up until lunchtime before their first break.

  “Normally, we’ll break three times a day,” Gideon explained as they sat on the sandy floor, their backs against the mineshaft wall, eating their lunches. “Mid-morning, lunch, and afternoon, however, the work we’re doing in this shaft is specifically important,” he said, pointing a finger toward the ceiling of the tunnel. “So, no breaks except for lunch today. Normally these tunnels are too active to mine in, as you can see.” He gestured to the pile of boulders they’d been working on, “it’s usually not safe enough to work in here.”

  Abree nodded absentmindedly as she ate, confirming Gideon's report.

  “But since there hasn’t been any recent activity in this tunnel, the administration feels it’s safe to clear it.”

  When he finished his explanation, he popped an entire mushroom into his mouth, and began chomping hungrily. Ranelle knew how dry the fungus made her mouth when she ate it. She wondered how he could manage the whole thing at once. As if on cue, he began struggling to swallow the mass, taking a swig from his water bladder to help wash it down. Ranelle smiled briefly from the entertainment.

  Taking Gideon's preoccupation with his food as her opportunity to explain how the rest of the afternoon would go, Abree stood, describing their next tasks in detail. Ranelle half-listened, becoming distracted with her own thoughts. For some reason, whenever Abree spoke, Ranelle found it challenging to focus on anything that she was saying.

  Her mind wandered frivolously as she ate her lunch, bringing her back to unpleasant times she rather would have forgotten. Sad memories swarmed like angry insects within her mind; memories of her parent’s death. They’d been buried alive in a cave-in when Ranelle was only six cycles old.

  Merely being in the mines was a cruel and now daily reminder of all she’d lost. Closing her eyes, she chewed her food slowly, recycling her fragmented memories, harassing herself with old wounds that felt evergreen.

  Cycles ago, she’d waited for her Mom and Dad to come home as her appointed caretaker had slept unaware in Ranelle’s parent’s room. She remembered sitting up late into the evening, long after her usual bedtime. She’d waited and waited until her tired, bleary eyes had failed her. She eventually fell asleep, laid out upon the clothes her parents had worn the day before. As she slept, breathing in her mother's sweet scent, she dreamt of being rocked on her lap; Rayn pressing her soft lips upon Ranelle’s head and humming her the lovely tune that was a secret between mother and daughter.

  The next morning, she was removed from her family’s house to live in the children's home, filled with the orphans from cycles of mining accidents and cave-ins. When she and her new caretaker walked away from her family home that day, she’d wrapped herself in the single piece of extra clothing the woman had let her keep. Pulling the sleeves of the over-sized shirt up on her tiny arms to keep them from dragging on the ground, she had walked forth, burying her head into the fabric that still smelled like her mother. She’d slept with the shirt every night, wrapping herself in the simulated comfort of family until many days later, when she was left broken, realizing the familiar scent was gone. She had choked on her sobs, small body shaking, her heart shattering as she ached deeply for her parents. That night and for many others that followed, she wept silent tears, tiny fingers clutching the shirt tightly, until she was inevitably pulled into sleep from exhaustion.

  As the cycles passed hastily by, the tears eventually stopped. The shirt, however, the same one Ranelle now wore, stayed with her. It was overly worn out, with no softness or color left to the fabric, but somehow it always made her feel good to wear it.

  “Others might coddle you because of who your parents were, but not me,” came a harsh voice from above her, as Ranelle’s attention
came speeding back to the present. Abree was standing over her, hands on her hips, scowling down at her with disgust. “Get up and get to work,” the aggravated team leader said as she dropped Ranelle’s pickaxe onto the sand-covered ground just inches in front of her.

  Ranelle peered up at the larger girl, seeing hatred in her eyes as she got to her feet.

  “What do you mean I'm 'coddled'?” asked Ranelle, the anger creeping up her face, tinting her cheeks red. “You think being an orphan is easy? Why don’t you try it sometime!”

  If she expected her words to sting, she was mistaken.

  Abree clenched her fists, stepping toward Ranelle with a sneer. “I have,” she spat.

  Almost expecting her fists to start flying, Ranelle backed away slightly as a figure appeared, stepping in between the girls.

  “Let's get back to work, Abree,” spoke a cautious Gideon, facing her so that Ranelle was unable to see the expression on his face. She could sense the tension in his body, however.

  “Then tell Princess that rest time is over!” said Abree in a low hiss before turning her attention back on the others.

  Ranelle took a steadying breath. “Thanks,” she said quietly, hooking her hair behind her ears, hands shaking.

  Gideon considered her for a moment, before saying, “it's a shame they’ll cut it tomorrow.”

  Ranelle frowned for a moment, unsure of the reference, before realizing he was talking about her hair. Her gaze dropped to the long black strands hanging limply down over the front of her shoulders. When she looked up to respond, Gideon had already gone back to his work. Ranelle stared after him momentarily, her gaze noticing the way he held himself as he walked, his muscles strengthened from mining. Her face blushed as she got up, going to work on the next boulder.

  As the afternoon pressed on, Ranelle tried to keep as distant from Abree as possible. She didn’t glance in the older girl’s direction, even though she could feel the teenagers’ eyes upon her back as she worked. She didn’t understand why the team leader was so cross with her. Ranelle had never met Abree until now; she hadn't even seen her at the dormitory before.

  How could she have been an orphan?

  The rest of the day carried on without further incident, which Ranelle was immensely thankful for. When the dinner bell rang, she dropped her ax to the ground and leaned upon it wearily, her muscles tired and achy from a hard day of work.

  “Thought life was tough before, Princess?” Abree sneered with a grin. She laughed heartily then addressed the group, “You’re to gather your tools and return them to the storage room. That would be the room on the way to the surface after the Apex. Put your stuff away and get to the surface for grub.” She paused to whisper something to Gideon before leading the others away.

  “I still have no idea what I did to her,” murmured Ranelle under her breath so only Gideon could hear.

  “Maybe you didn't do anything,” said Gideon, grabbing his ax and gesturing for Ranelle to take the lead toward the surface.

  “Then why does she hate me?” asked Ranelle, confused.

  “Hmm,” said Gideon with a straight face, “I've asked myself the same thing about you for a while now.” Ranelle froze in her tracks, but Gideon continued ahead, leaving her alone in the faintly lit mineshaft. Her face blushed, and she frowned. He was right. She’d treated him no differently than Abree was treating her, all because he was a privileged kid.

  Ranelle felt a pang of guilt in her stomach, or was it hunger? Either way, it was uncomfortable, so she left the mineshaft on her own, hoping there would still be a warm dinner for her when she got all the way back up to the food hall.

  As Ranelle stumbled into the youth dormitory late that night, she tried as quietly as she could to get past the governess' quarters without being seen or heard. She was hoping that since her arrival had been delayed from a late dinner, perhaps the governess was already asleep. She hoped, with some luck, she might squeak by without having to get her hair cut. After all, who would see it if it was up under her helmet? If she kept it tied back, maybe no one would notice. The thought of cutting her hair made her stomach sick.

  When she was younger, her mother would sit on her bed and brush Ranelle’s raven hair with long delicate strokes as they told silly stories to each other and giggled.

  “I love you, Mama,” her small voice echoed in her mind.

  “I love you too, little bug,” her mother had replied, kissing her young daughter on top of her head.

  “Always?”

  “Always…”

  Ranelle sniffed, rubbing her nose to warm it in the chilly nighttime air. The pleasant memory gently faded from her mind as she slinked slowly down the dormitory hallway.

  Unfortunately, her thoughts were distracting, as she accidentally bumped a small metal table that held a large empty bucket. The vessel teetered back and forth loudly before settling back upon its stand, however, the racket it caused was enough to summon the governess from within her room. The elderly woman poked her head out the doorway. When she noticed Ranelle, she beckoned to her, back slightly bent over, her spine twisted from cycles of mine work. As she hobbled along, her sparse white flyaway hair swayed back and forth with each labored step.

  “Ah, you girl!” the cross, old woman pointed as she rounded on Ranelle, “your supervisor instructed me to chop your hair before your next shift.”

  Ranelle's heart sank as she stammered any excuse she could think of to postpone the chore for a different day.

  “Now, girl, don't get spleeny on me...if I don't get this done now, it'll just be worse for you later,” the aged woman warned as she placed her bony-knuckled hands on her skinny hips, pursing her lips with distaste.

  “Please, can't I tie it up under my helmet?” Ranelle begged the woman. “Please, it's important to me!” She began to whimper uncontrollably, unable to keep her emotions in check.

  As tears broke free, leaking down her face, the old woman did something that Ranelle didn't expect. Stepping toward the girl, she slowly took her by the shoulders and pulled Ranelle in for a bony embrace.

  At first, Ranelle stood rooted to the spot with shock. As the woman held her tightly, she eventually began to relax, wrapping her hands awkwardly around the governess as she sobbed.

  “There child, easy now,” the woman said calmly, patting Ranelle's back with her gnarled hand as the girl cried. The governess delicately stroked Ranelle’s hair with her palm as she made soft shushing sounds.

  After a few moments, Ranelle's tears began to ebb. She sniffed a few times as the old woman continued to embrace her. The woman gently gathered Ranelle’s hair into a bunch with her hand, stroking it tenderly as Ranelle’s mother used to.

  “Feeling better yet?” she asked with a kind voice.

  Ranelle nodded her head gently.

  “Good,” she whispered.

  Before Ranelle could release from the woman's embrace, her head wrenched backward painfully as the governess made a swift movement behind the girl’s head. Ranelle gasped, shoving the woman away desperately. Stumbling back, she saw the unmistakable mass of inky black hair clutched in the governess’s crooked fingers in one hand, a bone knife gripped tightly in her other.

  “Now get to bed,” the governess snarled at her between clenched teeth, her facial expression one of malice, the sweetness now gone from her raspy voice. Ranelle watched in horror as the precious locks of hair fell through the chilled air and onto the dust-covered floor. The woman spun on her heels, returning to her room and pulling the rushes swiftly closed.

  “Nooo!” cried Ranelle as she slumped onto the cold stone floor, delicately gathering the butchered locks of hair into her shaking hands and pulling them to her chest. She stroked the severed mane in her hands, as her mother had done, while tears burst forth, causing the hair to stick miserably to her damp fingers. Her body heaved as she cried, rocking herself silently, with nothing but her misery as company in the abandoned corridor.

  Chapter Four

  The bells so
unded, and the usual scrapes and shuffling began like every other morning in Ashbourne. Each child in the dormitory did what he or she needed to do to prepare for their day. This morning was different, however, as one was left out of the usual fray.

  Ranelle didn't rise. She didn’t rush for the washroom with the others. In fact, she didn't do anything at all. She waited as the rest of the orphans in the dormitory went on about their morning. It wasn't until the last person had left the sleeping area that Ranelle poked her head out from under her scratchy blanket. The night before, Ranelle had been too distraught to inspect the damage that the governess had caused.

  Last to enter the bathing pools, she let herself sink slowly into the warm swirling water, immediately noting the lack of hair trailing behind her. Taking a deep breath, she reached her hands up cautiously, examining the ends of her hair to see what was left of her once brilliant mane.

  Where long black hair had once been, now there was only bare backside. The hag had managed to sever through the entire mass of hair in a single cut. As Ranelle felt it, she could tell it was horribly uneven. The sides were progressively longer than the back, and Ranelle cringed.

  I bet I look like a fool.

  Feeling overwhelmed, she submerged herself in the bath to give her head a good scrub in the tepid water.

  After she exited the pool, she dried her hair on her towel, a much easier task now that her once butt-length hair ended abruptly at her shoulders. Quickly she dried off and dressed in the new miners' clothing that had been left on her bunk.

  She knew exactly what she was doing.

  Ranelle should’ve known the governess didn’t care what happened to her. Ultimately when kids were assigned to the mines, they were removed from the youth dorms shortly after that and put into miners’ quarters. The sooner Ranelle adjusted to mining life, the sooner the governess would be rid of her indefinitely. For obvious reasons, the thought of leaving the dorms gave her a momentary sense of anticipation.