by Alan Mundle
Half an hour passed before the door to Torbin’s cabin opened. The hiss of the self-retracting door sounded. Though he had lived in this place for months, Torbin still expected to be hit by a lethal gust of cold air every time he opened the hatch. But none ever came. In front of him existed what was installed in every working cabin within the facility, keeping everyone within warm outside of his or her armour. Like the very suits they wore, the cabins fed off the energy of even bigger Fire Runes that created a field of power resisting the cold and protecting the occupants from a quick and cruel death. Torbin sometimes had to stop and marvel at how far his people had come throughout the years. But there was no time for that now. He had things to do before the day’s work began. Fully armoured, he passed safely through the field and into the rest of the prison.
*****
The facility was a buzz of activity. Though far from finished, everyone was determined to get through his or her work as fast as possible. He took many twists and turns throughout the vast corridors that stretched the length of the prison, avoiding workers moving creates of equipment, techs installing power conduits and new bulkheads. Despite his own grumblings, Torbin was proud of the progress he and the rest of the expedition had made. In a matter of months, they had established a base on the cold icy surface and excavated down hundreds of meters. Though they had spent many months performing the same work, many Dwarves were still afraid that the Runes in their armour and working cabins would fail. Though proud of his invention, he got the strong impression that some of his fellows secretly hated Torbin for being responsible for allowing them to be brought to work in the worst place in the world. He didn’t blame them one bit. During the times he spent walking through the prison he saw a few workers doing many curious things. Some walked through the icy tunnels that hadn’t been laid down with decking with their arms out, afraid they were going to fall on the ice and never get back up. Though Torbin and designed the boots with solid, retractable grips, some Dwarves thought to walk on anything but the land was blasphemy. There were times he even heard some of them chanting to themselves for the Great Rock not to abandon them before they did any work.
But there was nothing he could do about it. Despite the riches he had gained, his efforts had made sure that he joined them in their suffering. He reported to the section where the excavation teams were set to work for the day. As he inspected his equipment, the sound of working machinery growing steadily louder. Torbin turned round to find the familiar sight of the Crawler approaching from a newly created tunnel. This aptly named vehicle was used daily, using large heat beams of Magical energy to melt away large sections of ice while using large mechanical legs to move and dig. As the machine reversed from its newly made tunnel, Torbin looked over at the rest of his team. Though their faces were hidden, it wasn’t hard to tell that none of them wanted to be there. The workers moved at a slow pace, ensuring their equipment was ready with reluctance.
Torbin remembered when he first started working at the prison and wondered how he was supposed to tell one Dwarf apart from another. His teammates had taken to putting pieces of cloth around the belts on their armour, usually with colours that signified where they were born. Torbin wore cloth with blue and gold strips, signifying that he was from the surface city of BlueStone, one of the largest cities that shared the continent with the mountain of Mordabinn. Regulations specified that expedition members were only allowed to wear the crests on their breastplates that signified their rank. As time progressed in the prison, even the higher ranking Dwarves had let this rule slip when it became an issue being able to tell one member apart from another at a distance, appearing with their own family colours firmly tied to their own belts.
As Torbin approached the work party, another Dwarf wearing a band of brown and yellow waved at him to approach. Torbin knew very well who this Dwarf was and quickly made his way over before someone else could get in his way. Though none of the teams were prisoners, Torbin couldn’t help feeling that the irony of trying to have a private conversation during a work detail was as illicit as two prisoners passing secrets, which was precisely what they were doing. Torbin joined his companion and set to work beside him, making sure that all of their equipment was ready for the day.
‘By the Gods Borin, I am so glad to see you.’
The Dwarf gave Torbin a friendly nudge to the side, so as not to be seen by the others. ‘Sorry I couldn’t make it for morning meal, my friend. I had to make the rounds with some other fools who were crying into their helmets for their special packages and not get caught by the guards.’
Torbin laughed at this. ‘By the Gods, I’d still like to know how you do it. This place has the best security invented by our kind and most of it still isn’t finished. How do you manage to get all your goods past security? Surely some of them must be in on it?’
‘If I removed the mystery from your life, good Torbin, you would surely have nothing left to wonder about in this place. I couldn’t live with myself knowing I took your only reason for living away. The Great Rock would never forgive me.’
The horrible part was that his friend was probably right. Despite all the odds, Borin had managed to maintain something of an in-prison smuggling ring that kept a few select Dwarves from going mad and trying to swim back home. There had been opposition from many around the world to building Void Prison on the coast of a frozen wasteland, not for the criminals but those unlucky souls that were fated to manage it. The Warriors overseeing its construction had kept the best vigil on all those in the expedition, making sure that none of them brought over anything from the mainland that could aid its future occupants harbouring any ideas of freedom. But the days were long and unforgiving for those who had never gone so long without a few home comforts. Borin kicked a small bag over in Torbin’s direction.
‘Don’t look at it now. Leave it here with the spare equipment and make sure you take it with you at the end of your shift.’
Torbin smiled inside his helmet. It was comforting knowing that after this gruelling day was over, he could relax in the privacy of his cabin and savour the taste of home-brewed whisky. Well, not exactly home brewed. He and some fellow Scholars had spent many nights at BlueStone University indulging on many of the local beverages. This whisky, in particular, was very popular for its woody flavour that seemed to burn all the way through your stomach on a cold night. Something Torbin desperately needed in this place. He was so glad to have a friend and ally in this unbearable place and hoped very much that, once their time in the prison was over, that they would work together again on the mainland. It never hurt to know someone who knew what you wanted and where to find it.
‘Well,’ Torbin said, ‘However you do it, you must be the most popular grunt in the whole prison.’
‘Not too popular, I hope. Can’t run the risk of being this prison’s first official resident.’
The two of them laughed and went about getting ready for the day ahead of them. Through the course of the previous night, the Smiths had used the machine of theirs to excavate a large corridor through the ice. It was the team’s job to make room for the adjoining cells. Torbin saw the huge Crawler lying stationary ten meters from the expedition members. Smiths were chipping away at the ice caught in large amounts within the giant blades.
'I sometimes dream I am caught in the path of that damned thing, its beams cutting me up like shredding cow meat to be served on a plate,' said Torbin.
Borin looked over to the machine then knocked on his friend's shoulder-plate. 'Then be a good Dwarf and create a set of armour that can do our work by itself while
we drink the mead.' The two of them laughed. 'I'm glad you're here my friend, look who we've got for a third today.'
Borin gestured behind them to an approaching Dwarf. It was none other than Forin. All Dwarves in their ranks loathed the day when they found this Dwarf in their company. He was by no means unpleasant, and everyone knew he had the strength of a bull. But while the Great Rock blessed him with strength, it
forgot to add a brain.
'Hello.'
The boy's voice was, as ever, was slow and monotone.
'Well met to you, Forin,' said Torbin. 'You're sure you have what you need this time?'
It always took a few seconds to answer a question, but Forin looked confident today. 'Oh yeah, I got everything. Thanks for helping me this morning Torbin-'
'That's enough Forin, why don't you look at the plans for today, you might learn something.'
Forin looked at them both without moving. Finally, Torbin turned him around by his shoulders and pushed him towards the main table. He felt Borin looking at him and the young Dwarf braced himself for a lecture.
'What?'
'You went to his cabin this morning, didn't you?'
'What of it?' replied Torbin.
'You wasted Fire Runes so that idiot can do his job?'
'Yes, I did, and I'm not sorry. Well, apart from having missed morning meal.' Torbin took his colleague aside by the arm and kept his voice low. 'You know better than most that if that boy isn't ready for the day, he'll get himself and probably the rest of us killed.'
'I know it, and so does everyone else. If the boy can't tell one end of a hammer from the other, let the Void claim him. The time you spend saving his rump, you'll get yourself killed, you girl.'
Torbin snapped. He sent his helmet plunging into Borin's, sending the Dwarf to the ground. Torbin quickly rushed down and yanked him up by his chest plate. 'Now listen closely, you hollow head. If you think Lord Zentin will just accept that his only son died in an industrial accident, you're more stupid than Forin. He'll come down here himself with an army and heads will roll. So get your head out of your rump and get the gear!'
Torbin pulled him up from the floor. Borin seemed poised to hit him, but slowly, his armour slumped and he slowly headed towards the supply table. As Torbin watched him, he couldn't help but feel guilty over the whole thing. Borin had only just given him something very precious, and he had rewarded his friend with a knock to the head. The other workers stared at them, wondering what to do. But the more Borin retreated, the more they started to go about their business. I'd do it again, Torbin thought. Someone had to stick up for Forin. He had no more asked to be here than Torbin had, and there was no honour in picking on the helpless, especially when lives were at risk. He couldn't blame the others for thinking like Borin. Having Forin around was a costly mistake, but if he had to waste time and resources to keep the poor whelp alive, he'd do it. It also didn’t help that his First Father was a Lord of the Empire. Torbin could only think of one reason why the lofty Lord would send his simple son out to the Wastes, and that was to get rid of him. But even in exile, Lord Zentin would not allow his soon to look like every other worker. His thermal armour was exquisitely crafted with gold on the helmet, the arm plates, boots and his belt. Many of the other Dwarves didn’t like this for several reasons. Apart from the fact that it further set him apart as a rich boy, it was practically considered blasphemy for any other than one of the Empress’s Regents to wear gold on their armour. So it was fair to say that Forin was considered to be the most hated Dwarf in the Wastes. But Forin suddenly became the least of Torbin’s worries as he quickly received a swift bang to his own helmet.
'If anyone is going to knock some heads around here, young Torbin, it will be me.'
He whirled around behind him to see Tenabin. Torbin was sure their Commander had just witnessed the whole scene. Though most respected him immensely, it was never a good idea to get on the boss's bad side.
'Understood, Sir. I was just-'
'Just taking it upon yourself to discipline one of your fellow team members. Well, we'll see if polishing all the expedition's armour makes you appreciate that you are a subordinate and not the one in charge.'
It was fortunate that Torbin had his face hidden beneath a helmet. He fumed in silence but tried his hardest to make his voice sound respectful.
'I obey, Commander.'
Torbin knew his reply seemed strained, but Tenabin was not in the mood to care, there was too much to do today to drag out a small matter of an in-team brawl.
'Everyone, gather round now,' shouted Tenabin. All of the expedition approached their leader. 'We are going to be completing the excavation of the north wing of the facility. By the time we finish today, we'll have finished excavating the most important part of this prison, letting the Smiths in to start installing the required decking and tech. While I respect that I say this every day, I'm going to do so again, that this part of our excavation effort is critical. Should we fail even in the smallest way, it may lead to a bigger problem for security later down the road that could give a prisoner a chance to escape. A report has come in. The First Battalion have started moving Treygen.'
Everyone stood shock still. Treygen. Torbin didn't think it was possible for the prison to get any colder, but it felt like it every time he heard that name. It was a chilling reminder that it was not only his invention that brought him here but also the most hated Dwarf alive. He and a group of followers committed the worst crime in living memory, the brutal slaying of many young Dwarflings. The crime shocked the world. All four Nations were still crying out for the death of their leader. The Empire met the needs of the people halfway and publicly executed his followers, but the Empress decided that Treygen needed to be made an example to all by sending him to Void Prison. 'So keep your wits, look out for each other and may the Great Rock and the Gods go with you.'
The teams disbanded to begin the day's work. Torbin's team found their designated spot and laid down their equipment. They set a hook into the opposite ice wall and connected each other to it with a long length of rope. Forin was put at the back of their single file line, keeping him out of trouble. Borin was in the middle, half of their equipment on his back, leaving Torbin with the other half at the front. The young Dwarf stopped two meters in front of their wall and held his arms out in front of him while pressing down a small mechanism on each of his gauntlets. Long rods extended from each gauntlet and the Fire Runes on his armour glowed with a brighter intensity. Then the whole chamber lit up. Fire leapt from his arms in controlled, large jets, melting the ice in front of him. For an hour he stood, slowly melting the ice before him. When that time passed, he swapped tasks with Borin. The day continued much the same with small food breaks in-between long, hard shifts.
*****
The evening eventually came upon them, and Torbin volunteered to take the last shift at the front of the line. Before they took their positions, he looked back at Forin. Even through the thick armour, Torbin could tell that his poor friend kept hoping that maybe this time he would be allowed in the front. But Torbin couldn't bring himself to trust the boy with fire. One of the main reasons for helping him prepare his armour for the next day was to make sure Forin couldn't burn anyone.
When they changed rope lines, Torbin took position and resumed blasting the ice. More than anything he wanted the day over. He saw his Runes beginning to lose their glow and started to feel some cold creep into his armour. Changing Runes outside of a warm zone in the camp was not a pleasant experience. Onwards they pushed further and further until finally, Borin shouted the best words of the day.
'Fifty meters! All done!'
With a great sigh of relief, Torbin retracted his flame rods and started to walk back with the others. It happened in under a second. The ice beneath his boots shattered and the Dwarf plummeted down. The rope pulled the others off their feet, and they all went speeding towards the hole after their leader until they stopped dead. Torbin found himself hanging by the rope above a vast vertical chasm. He forced himself to look down to find the bottom, but all he could see was darkness.
'Torbin, you alive? Talk to me!'
'I'm here, Borin!' Torbin’s body ached with the impact of the sudden stop. He was in shock and struggled to find his breath after being severely winded. 'What happened? Why aren't we all dead?'
'That Forin, he somehow had the brains to trigger his wris
t blades and sink them into the ice. Not sure how long he can hold us though!'
Torbin felt relief flow through him. If there was one thing Forin wasn't, it was weak. He and the others saw the boy lift the Crawler onto its side when one of the other workers caught her foot under it. Granted it had been Forin's fault in the first place, but everyone learned not to upset the young Dwarf directly after that day.
'Can you pull me up?' Torbin called.
'You're too heavy! Forin could, but if he turns off his blades, we're all dead!'
Torbin survival training started echoing in his head. He hit mechanisms that connected him to his equipment and felt all of it fall off towards the darkness. It helped, but the young Scholar was still to heavy to be pulled up. Torbin could only see one way. 'Borin, disconnect yourself from the rope. Run and get help. Forin can hold me for longer without your weight!' None of them said anything. Torbin knew they couldn't wait around, every second counted. 'Go, Borin, that's an order!'
Borin disconnected from the rope in a hurry and ran as fast as his armour would allow. A loud ring issued in the tunnel. Torbin recognised it as the standard alarm device attached to the chest plate of all thermal armour. Smart, Torbin thought. That will cut the team's reaction time down by half.
