SunRider: Book 1 (The SunRider Saga)

by Hohmann, Rafael

  He took the metal clamp attached to the rope and connected it to his belt, tugging to make sure it was fastened. Finn rappelled through the hole and let go, free-falling into shadow. The sounds of desert wind were replaced with the hum of the depths. His stomach lurched, then settled as the rope came to a stop. The ingenious pulley system contained safety devices that slowed his descent if he fell too fast. With his free hand, he grabbed at the goggles dangling around his neck as he swung within the sunbeam streaming into the dark. Like sibling pipes standing in rows, lines of light filtered from the Mole-Holes above, cutting into the sunless chamber. Fitting the goggles over his eyes, the dark expanse took on a bright orange definition. The goggles were made of a crystal that allowed the user to see in dark spaces such as the mine. Without them, miners and cave-divers would walk into walls, getting lost all throughout the Crust.

  The noise of a thousand pickaxes clinked, sending sparks flashing into the dark as metal met stone. Commanding shouts rang out in bored tones as miners switched shifts, carted material, and wished for better lives. Like a large beehive, rows of groaning scaffolding and precarious wooden ledges ran to the bottom of the shaft, forming horizontal ridges that grew smaller and smaller, creating a cone shape. Platforms carting men and supplies were pulled up and down between the superstructure, their movement giving life to the construction. Spaced in patterned intervals along the layers were hundreds of oval caves and offshoots, worn smooth by decades of miners. Men bustled over them, appearing and disappearing like ants. A boy was reprimanded for dropping a shovel and another sang of sleep, before he too was reprimanded.

  Flicking a metal switch on his belt, Finn free-fell once more. When he gained sufficient speed, the rope again slowed him to a stop, causing the switch on his belt to revert back the other way. Turning the switch, he dropped further. The pattern continued until he was at the bottom of the mine. Finn unlatched the rope and adjusted his rough-hewn, stained shirt. Around him stood eight other boys all between the ages of 7 to 15. They also wore goggles and their faces were dirty with cave dust. They greeted Finn with nods.

  Apart from basic commands, they hardly spoke to each other. There was no friendship between any of them: they couldn't afford it. Cave-diving, unlike quarrying the walls of the mine, was a job where death was not only expected, but occurred frequently. The boys were tasked with finding natural crevices and cracks in the stone. They would squeeze their bodies into them, following the sharp tunnels in search of mineral veins. They went where no human had ever gone before, into the cold hard dark. They bent and shoved through erratic turns and holes so small, mice would have turned the other way. Sometimes one would get stuck, or there would be a cave-in. Many mummified bodies haunted the mines of the Crust.

  Finn, 16-years-old, was the oldest and most experienced of the cave-divers. Having survived two cave-ins, and one time a rock trapping his leg for three days before he was rescued, he’d grown into an expert. He’d been told by many a miner to stop dreaming of traveling Lenova, he had plenty of exploring to do underground. Because of those words—and not only his enslavement—Finn despised his job. But as shift lead, it was his responsibility to stay motivated and organize the other boys, telling them where and where not to go.

  “Digger, Tunnel Six. Lindo, Tunnel Two. Goblin and Mudd, with me to Tunnel Fourteen.”

  He commanded with his mind only half-aware, shouting over the noise of grinding rock and chiseling. Instead, his thoughts wandered to what lay beyond the Crust. Beyond the Slaglands. He imagined places of water and of green vegetation. Well, he tried to. He'd seen pictures of cities painted in mud by wrinkled miners, stared with longing at strange artifacts worn by passing merchants, and grew jealous of the gleam in the eyes of those who’d once been free. He'd heard their stories and starved for a life he’d never experienced. The desire ran deep into him, nestling into his core.

  Before the boys left down their respective tunnels, Finn reached into a small pouch at his belt and handed them a blue pebble each. They were Aquamarine Tears: small magical stones that when sucked, brought moisture to a miner's mouth and kept them hydrated for a few hours. The stones were only one of many types of enchanted rock found in the Crust, and one of the few that miners and cave-divers could use for themselves. Materials such as the Ghost Topaz, which could multiply a man’s senses, were for nobles and those rich enough to afford it.

  He led Goblin and Mudd to Tunnel Fourteen. The two had arrived only the day before and Finn chose to keep the new boys with him to supervise over them. The three were to explore a cave which had formed by temperature change. The opening was temporary, and when the Summer season waned, the rocks would once more shift and hide its passage. The fluctuation of the ground was an infrequent event, but when it happened, the mine supervisors were eager to send boys to their death over the potential for more wealth. The two younger cave-divers didn’t ask Finn about his bruised face, marks of his fight with Gunther. In return, Finn didn’t ask about them, or where they’d come from.

  Following a narrow but tall crevice in the shape of a doorway, they came to a chamber housing dozens of cave offshoots. Finn scraped his shoulder, but accustomed to the scratching of the rocks, his body didn’t register the injury. Puddles lined the ground and a distant drip echoed and bounced between the walls. Mudd pointed to an opening near the floor and to the far left. It could have been a mere slit cut from where floor met wall. With his goggles, Finn made out a chalk-drawn arrow, indicating the unexplored section. He rubbed the skin on his arms to stay warm. In the deep it was easy to have all your heat stolen from you.

  Mudd took lead and one by one, they crouched and wiggled through the tight space. Finn sucked in his chest and squirmed his body, using techniques learned through years of practice to move forward quickly, even though he was the largest cave-diver. He bent at the waist around a curve, hissing in discomfort and thinking about what trees looked like.

  The tunnel opened into another cavern. The chamber was full of tan crystals embedded into the walls and ceiling. They looked like glass hands glued upside-down, reaching for the boys. Finn pulled out a small parchment and marked the discovery with a coal pencil. They trudged onward, annotating and exploring tunnels, finding dead-ends and veins of various types. Coming across a small oval passage only knee-high, Mudd pushed forward. Although brand new, he was confident. Had the boy had done something similar before being enlisted by the Crust? The tunnel they followed was long—longer than Finn was used to—and halfway through, the boys took a break, the ceiling and floor pushing against their bodies. It was easy to panic: they were swallowed by the earth, compressed by the looming weight touching their neck hairs. It was hard to breathe without choking on the dead dust spores that kicked up when disturbed. They were deep, sliding through a forsaken intestine of stone. Cave-divers had gone mad with hysteria in the depths, hugged tight by solid matter thicker than existence itself. Yet there was no room for claustrophobia in the Crust. Those who lost their nerves—died.

  Feeling his lungs throb with lack of air, Finn wiggled a pinned arm into his pouch, contorting his limb to pull free a stone fragment. Like the Aquamarine Tears, this was another material the miners could use: Miner’s Pumice. The cream-colored sponge chip was light and fragile in Finn's hand. He cracked it open in front of his face and fresh air broke free from the fragments. He sucked in a breath, his companions doing the same. Breaking Miner’s Pumice in a confined space was dangerous. If one smashed a large enough chunk, the pressure released could set off a cave-in. For want of air, one could die, crushed beneath rubble. The boys began to crawl again.

  As minutes passed, Goblin grew tired and slowed, causing Finn to match the younger cave-diver's pace. Mudd pulled ahead and disappeared. Finn swore under his breath. He knew better than to crawl alone in an unexplored tunnel. But Mudd, being inexperienced, overconfident, and untrained—didn’t. Once Goblin had caught his breath, causing Finn to use another piece of Miner’s Pumice, they continued after Mudd. Finn
crawled for what seemed like an eternity, each minute adding to his worry. Where was Mudd? What if the tunnel ended? They'd have to crawl backward for kilometers.

  Finn spat out a dry Aquamarine Tear and stuffed another into his mouth. He sucked and small rivulets of liquid ran down his dusty throat. The movement was an echo of his entire life. Mechanical; copied and repetitive. How many more tunnels would he crawl through as the years went by? Thousands? Millions? Not even finding rare gems could change the monotony. He figured tedium would kill him before the Crust did. Ahead, Goblin vanished with a thud, his body sliding free into the next chamber. Finn dragged himself forward, elbows scooping at the small space, fingers splayed. The rocks leaned down, wanting to pin his head to his chest, push his thighs together, flatten his feet. But then it let go, opening up and spilling Finn out of the tunnel. He lifted himself and stretched his legs and arms, arching his sore back in the new room. Turning in place and looking for Goblin, a strange mix of sounds met his ears: quiet panicked breath and wet splats, as if someone was jumping in a puddle. With his goggles on, he searched the dark room, hued orange by the lenses.

  There. Goblin's form faced away from Finn and slowly backed to him. The boy's body trembled and without notice, pushed closer. “What's wrong?” Finn asked, perplexed. The wet sound echoed again and Finn looked about, searching for water.

  Something moved in the dark. Finn froze in place, feeling his limbs grow cold. A strong musky smell hit his nose, the smell of mold and wet rocks. What he thought was the chamber contracted and stretched open, as if shrinking in the middle, then expanding. It was like watching a magic room change size. The walls, floor, and ceiling seemed to peel backward, splitting free and wiggling. They glistened; wet, round, and fleshy.

  Finn was horrified. The cavity they’d nearly stepped into was no chamber at all, but the mouth of a limbless and tube-shaped form, wiggling like a living pipe. It was the mouth of a vat-worm, contracting and expanding, yet not attacking. It was still, as if unaware of their presence. Finn’s body shook with tremors and his nostrils flared. He was unable to blink and his eyes wobbled. The hundred-meter-long insects were deep-dwelling monsters of the Crust, feeding upon rocks, gems, and whatever unfortunate life-forms that came across them. Talked of in whispers by the miners late at night, they were the source of nightmares by many in the mining community. If it weren’t for the massive chewed-out tunnels they left in their wake, many would believe the vat-worms to not exist.

  Each vat-worm's outer skin was encrusted with its favorite flavor of gem: some made of sharp crystals, others of flaming coal, and some—in the case of this vat-worm—made of Orpiment, a dark yellow rock full of arsenic and sulfur.

  Finn spotted something small resting along the edge of the sleeping vat-worm's mouth. A body. Finn nearly shouted in terror. Mudd's corpse leaned against the lethal rock shell, sagged and sunken. The dead boy's eyes were milked over and his skin looked scaled. Having gone ahead of his companions, Mudd must have come across the vat-worm first, not even realizing what he’d walked into. He’d unknowingly gone to his toxic death.

  The vat-worm closed its mouth once more, then opened it, exposing row-upon-row of sharp trowel-shaped teeth glistening black and gray—perfect for cutting through the toughest of minerals. Fetid breath misted the chamber and Finn’s goggles fogged over. He gasped and stifled a cough as the snort heated the room. For all he knew, the atmosphere had suddenly grown toxic. It became quiet. Finn swallowed, copying Goblin and backing as well.

  Without warning, the vat-worm awoke. The entire chamber exploded into movement: contracting, sliding, and twisting. There was a hollow groan from deep within the yellow beast’s throat. The enormous mouth slammed open and shut, tasting the air a hairsbreadth away, teeth bending out and shaking; hungry. Unfortunately, it seemed Finn’s meaningless existence was about to end—just not in the way he wanted.

  CHAPTER TWO:

  Worm Chase

  —Thus awakened! Thus awakened! Glorious King Nelmir has found the prime well of magic! Now our sleep-veil dissipates! Praise to our race! Hear and heed the secret whisper of our King! Come in, come in to the coven, we the Enlightened Few! Let us unite science with the archaic arts!—

  -Faded ancient description found in the depths of the city of Pania, estimated to be over 200,000 years old.

  Finn howled, spinning in place and scrabbling for the tunnel. The vat-worm barrel-rolled in place, shattering rocks and shaking the confined space. Its immense body pulsated, and grating sounds crackled from its toxic shell. It snapped out like a predatory bird, trying to suck Finn and Goblin into its tooth-lined gullet. Its mouth was so big, it had a hard time getting to them. Instead, its gut moved forward, followed by its body, dragged in a rippling movement. It wedged itself closer. Chewing through rock and stone, its teeth overextending to dig at the sides of the walls, it widened the chamber.

  Finn, goggles slipping away from his eyes, shoved at Goblin, who’d thrown himself headfirst into the compressed narrow tunnel they’d come from. The boy grunted with strain, wiggling forward. Despairing, Finn knew no matter how fast they moved through the tunnel, the vat-worm would catch up, crunching through everything and swallowing them whole. Their bodies would be crushed between millions of tons of dirt, rock, and ore, shredded by the beast's bite. The only way to survive would be to either kill the beast—a feat no human could possibly do—or outpace it.

  Backed against the chamber wall and watching Goblin's feet disappear, Finn held his arms over his head in protection as stones crumbled about him in the vat-worm's glutinous fury. The creature shoved itself forward again, trying to pin Finn against the chamber, or at least graze him with its Orpiment hide. Finn curled up, making himself as small as possible, his body trembling in horror. The beast let out a monstrous moan and its teeth gnashed in waving patterns, as if begging for Finn to jump inside. Deep within its moist terrible mouth Finn could see the last bits of Mudd sliding into oblivion. Bile rose to his throat and his bladder quivered.

  Goblin was out of sight, finally giving Finn the room to escape. The vat-worm smashed against the chamber wall again, coming so close, that an Orpiment shard jutting from its lower belly nearly poked Finn's eye. As it reared back, contracting against itself in the confined space, Finn got a brilliant idea—a suicidal idea.

  Before the beast could strike again, demolishing and eating another section of the wall to make room for itself, Finn reached into the pouch hanging from his belt. Years of experience working with rocks allowed his fingertips to recognize the chunks of unbroken Miner’s Pumice—four pieces of hearty size. As soon as his fist closed around them, drawing the material out of the pouch, he dove into the small tunnel. The enclosed space ripped at his sides, tearing lines into his shoulders, back, and arms. Finn didn't care, nor was he cautious with his movements. He shoved himself forward, meter at a time, grunting with panicked strain. Behind him, he could hear the frustrated bellows of the creature, the stone walls around Finn shuddering as the beast chewed a path forward. Finn knew as soon as the vat-worm had enough wiggle room, it would plow ahead at full speed and there would be nothing Finn, Goblin, or all the miners in Lenova could do to stop it.

  Thought of the creature's immense size urged him on. Finn had only seen the beast's head—the vat-worm was a giant. It had to have been Finn's terrible luck that he’d crawled right into its lair, waking it from its nap.

  As soon as Finn put a few meters between himself and the chamber, he dropped the Miner’s Pumice, and as carefully as he could without breaking the pieces, crawled over them. Using small bits of the material was dangerous enough, only called for when there was no air to breathe, but to use four large chunks all at once—it was a guaranteed cave-in. Finn was counting on the vat-worm to chew its way forward and he hoped if the beast moved in a straight line to them, the pumice would be crushed between its teeth and cause a concussive explosion. Would that be enough to stop it, or even throw it off their tracks? Finn doubted it, but all he could do
was crawl for his life. He applied all his expertise into moving, body shuddering in time with the walls as the vat-worm tore the chamber apart behind him.

  Going as fast as his skills allowed, Finn caught up to Goblin, who was panting in uncontrolled fear. The younger boy was making a critical mistake. It was a lesson drilled into them since day one, a lesson that’d taken Finn his whole life to master. In a deadly situation, control your breathing. If you don't, the Crust will have you. Finn had found himself stuck many times, panic and claustrophobia sinking in as he tried to break free, deep within the bowels of the earth. Air ran out in the abysmal mines and cave systems. Chastised by the cave-divers of the time, now all adult miners or dead, they’d reprimanded Finn for not controlling his breathing. Years later, it had become second nature, Finn’s lungs working separately from his terrified mind. Goblin though, brand new, had yet to learn the technique. Being ahead, the boy was sucking up the limited oxygen far quicker than Finn would like.

  The cave system behind them gave a gut-wrenching shudder. The vat-worm had made enough room for itself. It was on its way, at a speed seemingly greater than a running stallion, its unbreakable rows of teeth moving as a blur, its body swallowing and projecting everything it broke. Already going as fast as his body would allow, Finn gritted his teeth, expecting to be smashed flat as the tunnel caved in, carved by the monster. His face pushed into Goblin's feet and he was forced to slow down. He wrestled with the mania trying to rise out of him. He nearly screamed for the younger cave-diver to move faster, but knew to stay quiet. The boy was at his edge and it would be the end of them both if he froze in terror. Finn squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the tremor behind him grow stronger and stronger. The vat-worm was coming.