Being the Suun

by J. A. Culican

  “Your thoughts are so loud, I cannot sleep,” said a man’s voice.

  I looked up and saw Arun Phina standing over me. His hair had dried in a frizzy halo around his head, once again hiding his ears. He almost looked like any other prisoner.

  “Same here,” I said, that same blasted flush creeping up my neck.

  “It’s hardest in the beginning. May I?” He gestured at my cot.

  I scooted down to make room for him to sit beside me. The cot was small, and we were big, so our legs brushed though neither of us moved away.

  “I am sorry if I was rough with you in the mines. It’s best that the guards not see you associating with me. How are you feeling after your first day?”

  “Fine. I’m no stranger to hard work.”

  “No, I didn’t think so. But working here is harder work than most.”

  “It’s draining, isn’t it? Do you miss the sun?”

  “Every day.” Arun shifted slightly, tilting his head up as if he could still feel it on his face. “And the wind on my face as I soar through the sky, and the patter of rain on wooden decks, and the easy banter of free men.” He smiled, but it felt sad in the way that remembering a loved one who had passed did, like an eternal ache somewhere deep inside. “But this isn’t about me. I came to check on you.”

  I wanted to tell him that it was about him, but I wasn’t sure that this was the time for the big reveal. “Well, thanks. I’m fine. How is Bertol?”

  “Also fine,” Arun said. “Recovering. He gets attacks sometimes, maybe due to the years he’s spent down here. Some say that the dust turns our insides to coal over time. Another reason for us to wash it off at the end of the day—to delay our decay.”

  “How’s your arm?”

  He gave me a puzzled look.

  “Where you took the lash.”

  “Oh.” Arun looked surprised and held his arm out for inspection. “Not a mark.”

  “Wow.” That was impressive. His close proximity and easy banter were strange to me. Usually men were afraid of me or pretended I didn’t exist, but Arun Phina made me feel seen.

  “It was good of you to talk to Xalph.”

  So he had been watching me. “I like him. He seems like a nice kid.”

  “He is. Especially considering he has Luthair blood in him.”

  I turned to look at Arun, leaning away. “I thought he was Haklang’s son.”

  “Oh, he is.” He didn’t elaborate, and before I could ask more questions, he changed the subject. “So it’s not every day we get a new body down here. Luthair reserves these depths for people who’ve really pissed him off. What did you do?”

  I considered lying, and then I considered telling a half truth. But I felt like Arun Phina needed to know. I only had three days, after all. “I plotted with an elven woman named Tsarra Trisfina to free you.”

  “You— Tsarra—” He stood and someone from a nearby cot shushed him. He lowered his voice. “What?”

  So, in a hushed voice, I told him everything about my meeting with Tsarra and my brother’s refusal to help. About Tsarra’s promise of passage out of Bruhier and safety in Lamruil. About Luthair’s offers and finally, his threat to have my brother take Arun’s place.

  He was quiet for a time, taking in all the details. “Tsarra came to Barepost?”

  I shrugged. “That’s your takeaway?” If I was being honest, it irked me that he seemed to appreciate her small act of kindness over my own bravery. I wasn’t in this to be the hero, but I wouldn’t turn my nose up at a “thank you.”

  “No, I mean, it’s just . . . You don’t know her. She isn’t the type. She must be truly desperate.”

  “It seemed she would do anything for her family. As would I.”

  Arun sat back down and rested his elbows on his knees. This time, where we touched, it felt like my skin was on fire, crackling between us with secrets. “Why are you here, then? What do you want, if freeing me means enslaving your brother?”

  “I think that with your help, it won’t come to that. We’ve wasted three years on Bruhier, and it’s time to go home, all of the Svands. I took a chance coming here with the hopes that you’re the one to help me do it.”

  He considered me again, this time looking more amused than baffled, and I felt hopeful for the first time since entering the mine. “Well, your gamble might just pay off. I have at my disposal the only method of travel from Barepost that doesn’t require Governor Luthair’s permission.”

  “Which is?”

  “A ship.”

  I thought of the Green Gem at the wharf and the heavily monitored and patrolled marina. Luthair had complete control over the ships’ comings and goings, signing every single departure notice. If we were discovered missing, he would stop all marine traffic, search every ship leaving the wharf. “You—”

  “An airship.”

  “A what?”

  “A flying ship.”

  I studied his face—the square jawline and long, straight nose, the perfectly arched brows over dark, bottomless eyes—waiting for the joke. But it never came. “There’s no such thing.” Then I remembered him telling me about missing the wind on his face as he soared through the air, and my conviction wavered.

  “Oh, I assure you there are. Dozens dock at Lamruil, but they stay above the veil, so they are out of reach of Bruhier’s monsters.”

  There was a small noise at the entrance to the sleeping quarters, barely audible from where we sat, but Arun held a finger to his lips. A figure moved into the small square of light, paused, and then out again, footsteps fading down the corridor.

  “The only problem,” Arun said in an even quieter voice than before, “is that they’re always watching.”

  It was true. After he returned to his own cot, I lay on mine for hours, waiting and listening. To the gentle snoring of other miners and to the footsteps of the guards patrolling the mineshaft. Guards whose only job was to keep us inside, when all we wanted was a breath of fresh air and the wind on our faces.

  Chapter 10

  Bertol was back the next day. I was taken off of sorting duty and moved to extractions.

  “What’s this?” I asked when the guard handed me a pickax with a blade so dull it was practically round. I rubbed it with my finger to show him.

  He wasn’t concerned. “Your ax.”

  I was pretty sure he was smirking when he said it, as if he knew Luthair had my real ax and that if I’d had it, he would be dead by now. The shovel he gave me was about two feet too short for me, but I snatched it from him without complaint. Then, before I could leave and fall in line with my group, he added. “You have to fill four carts today before dinner.”

  “What?”

  “Your quota,” he said, holding up four fingers as if I would not be able to count that high otherwise. “Four carts. Per day. Which means you owe us two more for yesterday, four for today, and four more tomorrow before your sentence ends.”

  “Does anyone else—”

  “Come on.” A hand on my shoulder stopped me from arguing and I turned to see Arun Phina smiling at the guard. “Four carts is nothing.” He kept his hand on my shoulder until we were in the tunnel as if he thought I would turn around and demand answers from the guard otherwise. He probably wasn’t wrong.

  We made our way down the tunnel with careful steps. He helped me with the clips and the rope when I needed it but didn’t say anything else.

  Down in the mineshaft, Bertol and two other men from Arun’s team worked our section of the seam with me, extracting and sorting in turns.

  I moved to Bertol. “How are you feeling?”

  The old man waved me off. “Right as rain.” Then he looked up at me from the conveyor belt that was moving the rock in front of him. “When’s the last time you saw rain?”

  At first, I thought he was kidding, but then realized he’d probably been down here much longer than I could imagine. “Practically every day.” The better question would be, when did I last appreciate the rain? I wo
uldn’t have had an answer to that.

  We worked tirelessly through the morning, but when Xalph came down to deliver lunch, we had only loaded one cart.

  “Luthair’s doing it to you on purpose.” Xalph plopped down next to me.

  I had already guessed as much, but it was nice to confirm it wasn’t all in my head.

  “The quota, anyway. The crap tools are because the guards don’t like you.”

  “Gee, thanks.” I grabbed a bag of lunch.

  Xalph slapped my hand. “Not that one.”

  “What?”

  “This one.” He picked a larger bag out of the bottom of his basket and handed it to me. Something crinkled inside. Xalph looked over his shoulder. Satisfied that the guards weren’t watching, he gestured for me to open it.

  Inside was a folded piece of parchment, the creased lines so thin and worn that it was obvious the yellowed paper had been folded and unfolded countless times. I held the paper down low so no one would see it and studied the image drawn on it in charcoal. It took me only a few seconds to realize I was looking at a rough map of the mines.

  I looked up at Xalph. “Is this—”

  “A map? That I drew? Yes.” He beamed. He pointed at a spot near the bottom of the page. “We’re here. The original entryway has been blocked off, but there are still paths that might lead to exits on the ocean side of the cliff. I’ll have to look at those tonight.”

  I followed his finger as he pointed out the edge of the mountain where it curved out into the ocean on the opposite side of the island from Barepost’s wharf. “You shouldn’t. It’s dangerous.” But a good idea. There wouldn’t be anyone over there to catch us.

  He smirked. “I’m not afraid.”

  “I didn’t say you were.”

  He continued. “The ventilation shafts are too small. I haven’t been able to fit through them for five years.” His finger traced other lines, all of them ending at the top of the mountain.

  I studied the map while I ate and Xalph passed out everyone else’s lunches. The more I saw, the more hopeless it looked. There was no obvious way out except the main entrance, and there was no way Arun and I could just march out without being noticed.

  “Can I keep this?” I asked Xalph when he came back by to collect trash.

  He nodded. “Sure.”

  “Why are you doing this? Why are you helping us? Won’t your dad be mad?”

  “Da?” He cocked his head to the side, looking genuinely like he’d never considered it before. “I’m breaking him out too.”

  He left and I went back to work, hacking at the coal until my hands and sleeves were black with dust. The map, folded up in one of the pockets of my tool belt, felt like it weighed a ton. It tugged on me all afternoon. I didn’t have long to figure out how to get out of here. Arun’s airship was certainly the best option we’d ever had, and the only one that didn’t require Luthair’s permission. It occurred to me that I didn’t necessarily even need Arun, not if I could find someone to pilot the airship. Harbin was my only connection to the sailing world, though, and he was gone. Who knew when he would return? But if I could get Arun out, and we could find the airship . . . Even my brother would have to see that this was the best plan we were ever likely to encounter. He’d done so much for Barepost. There was no way anyone would consider his life-debt unpaid.

  But how could I do it? Could I rally the men in just one day? Inspire them to rebel against the guards? There were certainly plenty of men to do it, but I didn’t know that they’d even want to revolt. They all seemed pretty resigned to their fates.

  There were the ocean-side exits that Xalph suspected still existed. I wondered if they were accessible and, if they were, how Arun and I would ever get away. A distraction, maybe?

  And I couldn’t shake the idea of the ventilation shafts. Could I reach one via the outside and tunnel my way down into the mine? How long would it take me? And could I even reach the top of the mountain? I’d never gone higher than Barepost, never been above the veil.

  We’d filled three carts when the bell rang for dinner. A guard, the same one from the first day who’d tried to beat Bertol, stopped at our small group as the others were filing out around us.

  “I see you’ll be here a little longer tonight.” He knocked a boot against the next empty cart that had been wheeled into position in front of me.

  Bertol and the other men shifted uncomfortably but didn’t object.

  I turned to them. “You all go on. This isn’t your quota to meet.”

  “You think you can do it alone, then, D’ahvol?” The guard rubbed his thumb across the handle of the whip in his belt. “You think you are so much better than us humans?”

  One of the other men raised his eyes to mine.

  I realized shamefully that I didn’t even know his name. “No. But why should they be punished because Governor Luthair doesn’t like me?”

  The guard sneered at me. “Does anyone like you?”

  “I do.” Arun entered my line of sight with a shovel over his shoulder, sweat glistening on his wide brow. He’d stayed away all day, probably lost in his own thoughts about his betrothed and his imminent escape. I was just glad he wasn’t as stubborn as my brother, who would insist on serving the duration of his sentence, no matter if it meant dying below the mountain.

  The guard was unfazed by his appearance though. “Anyone of any real importance, I meant.”

  Arun laughed like he hadn’t just been insulted. Then he sobered. “I’m the team leader. I’ll stay and finish the last cart with her.”

  “No—” I started.

  “The rest should go to dinner.”

  The guard looked uncertain, and I realized that Arun meant the guard should go too.

  Arun shrugged. “Where are we going to go? I’ve been here long enough to know there’s no way out except back the way we came.”

  He had a plan, a way out. Why else would he be so adamant that everyone else leaves? I tried to look as innocent as possible, not something I had any practice at.

  With a grunt, the guard nodded and turned to Bertol and the others who’d been watching quietly. “To the mess hall with you.” He pointed a finger at Arun. “No funny business. The cart will be full when I come back for you or it will be lashings for the both of you.”

  Arun nodded. I wondered how common it was to receive lashings down here if it was the accepted form of punishment.

  The group departed, the echoes of their footsteps fading slowly away.

  I looked at Arun. “So?” I was ready to be done with this place. I’d spent all day hopelessly spinning my wheels and coming up with nothing. What I needed was a win, and I thought Arun might have it.

  “So.” He hefted his shovel in one hand and pickax in the other. “Get digging.”

  And to my surprise, that was exactly what he did.

  Chapter 11

  Arun’s ax hit the seam of coal, burying itself deep in the crumbling wall. Arun tugged, breaking free a large chunk of black rock and tossing it behind him. Then he lifted the ax again.

  “Wait,” I said before he could swing. “Don’t you have a plan?”

  “A plan?” He looked back at me. “For what?”

  I dropped my hands to my side. “I don’t know. Escape, maybe? Isn’t that why you wanted to get rid of the guard?”

  His brow furrowed. “I just figured we would finish faster without you butting heads with him all night.”

  My gaze went to the cart, then back to the wall and the single rock that Arun had broken free. I really had to do this. I was going to leave this mine a failure and would have to face my brother and sister, and worst of all, have to admit they were right. There was no way to free Arun, at least not like this. The only thing left, the only thing I hadn’t considered, was making a bargain with Luthair. Giving him one thing that he wanted that he never did have. Free Erik and Arun, and trap myself.

  Was it worth it?

  His eyes narrowed, and he bit his bottom lip as if he
knew I was assessing his value. He was handsome and kind, and maybe more importantly, he was needed. Someone needed him to save their family, and I certainly understood that. Maybe by saving the Trisfina family, I could save my own too.

  I picked up my ax. “Tell me about the ship.” I drove the ax into the coal. My arms burned with fatigue, but I didn’t mind the hard work. It was better than lying in the dark, driving myself mad with worry.

  He smiled, returning to his work. “She’s called the Iron Duchess. I won her off of another gentry elf in Lamruil when he challenged me to a duel.”

  A duel? The D’ahvol did not waste our time or our talent on foolish games, but I was intrigued just the same. “And if you had lost? What would he have won?”

  “My estate.”

  “Your whole estate?”

  He shrugged, chucking another rock into the cart. “I have no use for it.”

  I considered that. For all that I wanted to explore the world, it was always a comfort to know that Bor’sur and our family home would be waiting for my return. That I had somewhere to go when I was tired and weary, somewhere to call my own with my own people. And here Arun was, willing to give all of that up in a game between nobles. He’d also given up his freedom without a second thought while I’d been fighting to regain mine for three years. It seemed to maybe be a difference between us that wasn’t worth arguing over, so I changed the subject.

  “And how does she fly, your Iron Duchess?” A piece of coal broke off in my hand, staining my fingers, and I tossed it behind me into the cart.

  Arun grinned at me. “Magic.”

  Of course. Magic. The D’ahvol could fight and survive in a hostile environment, but one thing we couldn’t do was cast spells. We had no connection to the elements or to the ley lines that were said to run beneath the soils and waters of Iynia. The only advantage we had over humans other than our size and strength was that we were actually able to resist most magical influence. So not only could we not perform magic, we repelled it.