by Jon F. Merz
Ran turned back to Mithrus. “Zal wouldn’t like one of his new possessions being killed.”
Mithrus grinned. “You think Zal gives a damn about you? All he wants is your ability to mine rock. And we’re about to find out just how talented you are at that job.”
Iqban cleared his throat. “You’re taking them now?”
“Unless you’ve got a better idea?” Mithrus nodded at the guards. “Surround them and make sure they don’t try anything stupid. If they do, you are authorized to kill them.”
Iqban stood in front of Ran and Kuva. “I wish you both luck. You were formidable enemies on the field of battle, and you have my respect. I fear this will be the last time we see each other, however. The catacombs below hold no solace for even mighty warriors like yourselves.”
Ran smiled. “One never knows what the gods have in store for us. Who knows? We may yet see each other again.”
“If we do, I will have little choice but to run you through with my sword,” said Iqban.
“That is one possibility,” said Ran. “The other is that I live while you die by my hand.”
Iqban grinned. “I’m almost wishing I didn’t sell you. Devising a prolonged painful death for you would be a very enjoyable activity for me.”
“Keep thinking about it,” said Ran. “You never know what the future holds for us.”
“Enough,” said Mithrus. “We’ll see how cocky you are after a day’s work down in the catacombs.” He nodded at the guards. ‘Take them away.”
Ran let himself be led away, with Kuva next to him. The squad of guards directed them down the tunnel where their flickering blue torches shone. Ran peered ahead and saw that the ground sloped downward at a steep angle. Set into the ground were wide steps. Torches higher up in braziers lit the way. Sounds reached his ears as well. Hammers and picks on stone, he reasoned as they descended lower into the depths. Each step he took, the air seemed to grow more stale and the scent of sulfur hung heavier. Next to him, Kuva coughed.
“This air is horrible.”
“Get used to it,” growled one of the guards. “You’ll be breathing it until you finally die.”
Kuva eyed him but said nothing.
The stairs curved around as they went deeper into the mountain. While the air stunk, it was at least cooler than Ran had expected. Noisier, too. With each passing step, the volume grew until when they at last stepped off the final stair, the din was enormous. Ran frowned and thought about covering his ears. But what good would it do? Eventually, he would have to get used to the noise. Better to do so immediately than suffer later.
Around them, the remnants of people toiled. Men and women both worked down here in the catacombs. Most of the men worked at hammering into the hard rock before them while the women lifted the heavy rocks and piled them in buckets on some sort of conveyor belt that led into a small tunnel climbing upward. Ran eyed the conveyor belt for a moment and wondered where the rocks were taken once they left the mines. Surely they had to be taken to the outside? Where else would Zal be able to store them? Eventually, he would run out of room.
Ran filed that away for the time being. Everything he observed was locked away so he could revisit it later when he was done working—whenever that might be.
The guards drew them to a stop, and Mithrus gestured around them. “This is your new home. You’ll stay here and work. Once you’re done for the day, the guards will return and escort you to your quarters with the rest of the slaves. If you’ve done a good amount of work, then you’ll be rewarded with food. If not, then you won’t. And you’ll be expected to work twice as hard the next day. My advice, give it your all and don’t think about escape. There is none.”
There’s always escape, thought Ran. But he said nothing.
Mithrus continued. “You’ll be working together. One of you hammers while the other one gets rid of the rocks. Work fast. Zal wants to break through with the next week.”
Ran eyed the wall of stone before them. How thick could it possibly be? What lay on the other side? If he’d heard correctly, there was some type of kingdom down here. But what sort of place could live inside of a mountain? How was that even possible?
“One more thing,” said Mithrus. “While there aren’t any guards here during the day, you do report to that guy.” He pointed.
Ran and Kuva looked. Toward the far end of the catacombs was a towering figure that looked more like a beast than a man. He stood taller than anyone else, including Kuva. Dark, coarse hair covered his entire body and he held a long steel whip in his hands. A curved dagger hung on his belt.
“Who is that?” asked Ran.
“What is that, might be a better question,” said Mithrus. “We call him Bagyo. No one knows where he comes from. Iqban brought him to us a while back, and we decided to use him after we saw what he can do to a man.”
“What does that mean?” asked Kuva.
“It means that Bagyo doesn’t like people who don’t pull their own weight. Try to slack off and he’ll punish you. Try to escape and he’ll kill you. He might even eat you. There have been a few times when dead slave bodies went missing. We can’t prove it, but we all think Bagyo ate them.” Mithrus shook his head. “Pretty awful way to go, if you ask me.”
Ran frowned. “Bagyo.”
Mithrus nodded. “Don’t do anything to upset him.” He waved the beast over, and the giant came trundling toward them, his eyes cruel and unforgiving as he looked at them.
“New?” was the only word that came out of his mouth.
Mithrus nodded. “Yes. I’ve just been telling them all about you and the rules for living down here.”
Bagyo chuckled. “Living. Ha.”
Mithrus shrugged. “Call it what you want then, I don’t much care. But make sure they do their work. Zal has high hopes these two will be strong enough to ensure we meet the goal of breaking through within this next week.”
Bagyo prodded Kuva with a stubby finger. “This one strong. He will work good.”
Ran waited as Bagyo assessed him. The giant sighed. “This one smaller. No work so good.”
“I’ll work fine,” said Ran. “Just let me get to it and don’t worry about the fact that I’m not as large as Kuva there.”
“You work. Hard,” said Bagyo. “Otherwise, you get whip.”
Mithrus laughed. “All right then, I’ll leave you two in Bagyo’s caring hands. Enjoy yourself. We’ll return at the end of the work day.”
“When is that?” asked Ran.
“When I say it over!” roared Bagyo. Instantly, the whip cracked, and Ran felt the steel tip bite into his shoulder, scoring a neat line down his arm that flashed red as bleeding broke out. Ran winced from the pain and stemmed the tidal surge of rage that swelled within him. He could have taken the whip and killed Bagyo with it, but what was the point? He was here to see if Cassandra was a prisoner. There would be time enough for dealing with Bagyo and Mithrus later.
Bagyo pointed at a section of rock. “There. You work. Now!”
Kuva put a hand on Ran’s other shoulder. “You all right?”
Ran nodded. “I’ll be fine. Whip hurts like hell, though. Does it look bad?”
Kuva shook his head. “Not really. Just broke the skin with it, is all. I’d get some water on it later, though. You don’t want it to get infected. In a place like this, it will go bad real quick.”
Ran sighed. “You want the pickax first or picking up the rocks?”
“Which one’s better for you? You just got whipped after all.”
“I’ll pick up the rocks first,” said Ran. Doing so would give him an opportunity to move around a bit more than if he’d opted to hammer first.
“Fair enough,” said Kuva. He picked up the pickax and started swinging it at the rock face. Bits of stone flew out from where the ax bit at them. Ran started collecting the rocks with a shovel and scooping them into the cart nearby. As it got fuller, he looked around, noting the route that the other slaves took to dump the cart conte
nts into the carrying boxes on the conveyor belt.
His shoulder ached from where Bagyo had hit him with the whip, but Ran was determined not to let the pain keep him from doing his best work. Bagyo would almost certainly be looking out for him to slack off. And that would only earn him another whipping.
With his first full cart done, Ran got behind it and started using his legs to shove it forward. The small wheels underneath resisted moving along the uneven floor of the catacombs, but Ran put his shoulder into it and shoved it again. This time, the little cart shuddered forward.
Ran’s breath was coming hard by the time he reached the conveyor-belt area. He unloaded the cart into the carrying boxes and watched as they drifted skyward on the conveyor belt. The more he looked at it, the more it looked like a viable means of escape. If the carrying boxes could hold the weight of all the rocks that were being dumped into them, then surely it could hold Ran’s and Cassandra’s body weight.
Kuva, too, he reminded himself. There was no way he could leave the big man behind.
Ran turned to bring the cart back. Bagyo stood close by, watching him intently through the thick black brows that covered his eyes. Ran nodded at him once then lowered his head and started pushing the cart back to where Kuva waited.
As he did so, he passed the entrance to another shaft. So Zal had two distinct points of entry being mined at the same time. Interesting.
Even more interesting was one of the women he saw working down at the end of the shaft. It was hard to make out any fine details, but Ran felt his heart bounce when he saw her.
Cassandra.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Her clothes were tattered, and grime streaked her face, but Ran thought she still looked beautiful. She kept her head bowed as she worked, and Ran wished he could call to her. Even from this distance he could see that her once proud demeanor seemed nearly broken. Still, she couldn’t have been here too long. And if she knew that Ran was here, it might help lift her spirits.
Ran took a chance and called to Bagyo. “This cart has a broken wheel.”
At the sound of his voice, Cassandra looked up. Her eyes were momentarily dull until she spotted him. Then he saw a gleam come into them and just the hint of a grin.
Bagyo crashed into him from behind, sending him sprawling. “Get up!”
Ran turned and saw the beast standing over him. He pointed at the cart. “One of the wheels. I think it’s broken.”
Bagyo turned his attention to the cart and easily turned it over. He shook his head. “Nothing wrong with wheel.”
Ran leaned forward and got slapped for doing so. He tasted a bit of blood and shook his head. “It wasn’t moving properly. I only thought that I should tell you—”
“You work now,” said Bagyo. “Interrupt me again and you get whip.” He turned and thundered off.
Ran watched him go and then risked another look at Cassandra as he wiped the blood from his face. She smiled at him and then went back to working. She had seen him, though, and Ran felt better about the encounter as he returned to where Kuva still hammered.
Kuva frowned when he saw Ran. “You get yourself in trouble again with Bagyo?”
“It was worth it,” said Ran. “The woman I was searching for is here.”
Kuva put his pickax down. “She’s here? In the catacombs with us?”
“Yes,” said Ran. “Now it’s time to formulate a plan to get us all out of here.”
Kuva massaged his shoulder with his other hand. “That would be nice. I don’t know how much of this work I’m going to be able to endure without a better meal than the one we had last night. Honestly, the work doesn’t faze me much, but the lack of food certainly does.”
Ran stopped pushing the cart and took up the pickax. “Let me have some time at it now. You’ve been working for a while.”
“Fine with me,” said Kuva. “Just be careful of your eyes. Tiny shards of rock fly off in all directions while you’re swinging that thing.”
“Understood.” Ran hefted the pickax and swung at the stone wall before him. Rock broke off and tumbled to the ground at his feet. Ran settled into a rhythm of swinging the pickax, drawing back and breathing in, and then out as he swung down again. The rate he swung at was almost hypnotic after a few minutes. Ran stripped his shirt off as it soaked with sweat. He felt the muscles of his back and shoulders working well. After days of captivity, the release of swinging the ax actually felt pretty good.
Now that he had located Cassandra, Ran needed to figure out a way to escape from this place. He cared little for what Zal had planned; it didn’t concern him. Nor did he expect the clan elders back at the Nine Daggers would think much of it. Ran’s chief assignment was to scout the mountains in case the rumors of an invasion turned out to be true. Now that he had reconnected with Cassandra, Ran felt much better about carrying out that assignment. He and the princess could always head west after his mission was complete.
The question was: How were they going to escape?
An obvious option was the conveyor belt. It looked as though it ran right up to the surface and deposited all the rock out there somewhere. But without knowing more, it would be silly to try. What if the belt led them up to a guard station where Zal’s men would simply kill them? Ran would need better information before he committed to that route.
The tougher option would be getting out the way they’d come in: through the tunnels. But escaping that way would leave them open to harassment from guards both from Iqban’s team and Zal’s. The less people they had to fight, the better. And if they could escape with no one being aware of it, so much the better.
Back in Gakur, Ran had been schooled on various methods of escape and evasion. His instructors had never taught him how to get out of a mountain, however. Jail cells and stockades, yes. But imprisoned as he was deep underground? Not an easy feat even for a shadow warrior. Still, Ran suspected the same principles ought to apply. He remembered one of the lessons he’d had back at the school.
Rinzo was a tall, thin, wiry skeleton of a teacher. He looked as though he weighed perhaps fifty pounds, but his thin frame belied an incredible strength. And Rinzo was famed in the clan for having successfully escaped a punishment of certain death in boiling oil. How he had managed to do was still a fiercely guarded secret that the elders kept from the aspirants until they had graduated the training.
“One of the keys to a successful escape is diversion,” said Rinzo one warm morning in the late spring of Ran’s tenth year in Gakur. “You need to make sure that the people looking for you are distracted or focused on something else. If they believe the real threat—you, for example—is elsewhere, then your path to freedom becomes that much more accessible. For that reason, you may be equipped with smoke bombs or devices for creating incendiary diversions. You may not always have these at your disposal, however, so you’ll have to make due with what you have on scene.”
“What if we don’t have anything like that around us?” asked another student.
Rinzo smiled. “Then you have to create something out of thin air. Use your imagination, isn’t that what we’re always telling you? A creative mind is far superior to one locked within the confines of ego and fear. Shinobujin are taught to free themselves from those shackles so they can accomplish things that do not seem possible to normal people. In this way, you will also find the method to use if you are ever captured and imprisoned. It was the only thing that allowed me to escape a certain death when I was caught.” He chuckled. “Of course, I had some pretty incredible motivation to do so. Being boiled alive in oil is not a very romantic way to die.”
A soft breeze blew into the classroom, and Ran closed his eyes as it washed over him, driving away the heat of the day. When he opened his eyes again, Rinzo had vanished. The students with Ran glanced around, but their teacher was gone. Somehow, he had disappeared in mere seconds.
“Where did he go?” Ran heard himself ask. Surely Rinzo had to be somewhere. But the classroom held only one long tabl
e that the students sat at and a small circular table for any notes the teacher wished to present. Otherwise, the room was bare save for a small alcove holding a tapestry at the far end. The tapestry showed a mountain scene in winter with a fox making its way across the landscape.
As they watched, the tapestry shifted and Rinzo walked out from behind it. The class broke into shy laughter, but the expression on Rinzo’s face was serious as he resumed his place at the front of the class. “You see my point now?”
The students glanced at each other. None of them knew what Rinzo might be referring to. Ran chewed his lip as he replayed the scene. He remembered the breeze. It was a delightful reprieve from the heat. And he had allowed it to distract him. His awareness had vanished in those few moments.
“You took advantage of the breeze,” Ran said.
Rinzo swung his gaze around to Ran. “Go on.”
“You waited to start teaching until we’d been here sitting in the heat for a while. You knew that there would eventually be a breeze. And when it came, we would all react the same way: by tuning you out to concentrate on the coolness.”
Rinzo smiled. “Exactly. Which is why one of the best tools you have at your disposal—even when you have nothing else—is an understanding of how the human mind works. What it latches on to despite its best efforts at maintaining discipline. If you know these things, then you can use them to your advantage. The same way I used it to illustrate a point. Moving silently is no challenge for you now. You’re all students that have been here for years. Now is the time to start developing your innate understanding of how people think. Where are the gaps in their awareness that you can exploit? What do they cling to as solid beliefs that you can manipulate to your advantage? Study this and study it well. It could save your life one day in the not-so-distant future.”
Ran stopped swinging the pickax and looked around. The section of stone wall before him had been reduced greatly. Sweat soaked his entire body, and he felt warm and tired. But relaxed as well. He smirked. Remembering his lessons in Gakur usually helped him ponder on difficult challenges like the one he now faced.
