The Strayed

BOOK ONE
OceanofPDF.com
Meike Woermann

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Copyright © 2023 by Meike Woermann

Meike Woermann has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this Work in accordance with
international copyright laws.

This is a work of fiction. All characters and descriptions of events are the products of the author's
imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locations is entirely
coincidental.

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Contents

. Chapter
. Chapter

1. Chapter 1

2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3

4. Chapter 4

5. Chapter 5

6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7

8. Chapter 8

9. Chapter 9

10. Chapter 10
11. Chapter 11

12. Chapter 12

13. Chapter 13

14. Chapter 14

15. Chapter 15
16. Chapter 16

Epilogue

Thank you

Acknowledgements

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You hold the energies of the universe—
All you have to do is connect.

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The Mines
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter One

N
o, no, no….
She was so late!
Dread at the consequences filled her.
Ayda was running through the narrow streets of the Populance, trying to
avoid the biggest puddles while not losing her balance on the treacherous
ice still scattered in places where feet hadn’t yet melted it. She was
unsuccessful. Her worn-out boots were soaked within minutes, her toes
painfully cold, and the back of her legs were splattered with biting mud. But
she would have much bigger problems once she made it to the tunnels.

Her grandfather had fallen that morning, earning himself a big gash along
the top of his head, so Ayda was forced to drag him to Sidri to be stitched
up. Sidri was the closest they had to a healer in the Populance. He was
always busy, never had enough supplies and could barely see what he was
doing these days. That morning, Ayda had to thread the needle as well as tie
off the knot once the stitches were done because his eyes couldn’t focus
properly. He was getting old—probably one of the oldest people around
seeing that he didn’t work in the tunnels and, that way, wasn't exposed to
the gas or the cave-ins that regularly claimed lives. Sidri was busy teaching
the trade to an apprentice, but it was too early for Naia to be in the little
room that was used as the hospice.

After Ayda had put her grandfather to bed, she went in search of the Head
Overseer. At this time, he was usually in his office in the centre of the
Populance, which was where the trouble came in. Ayda had to rush all the
way to the Inner Circle to give the Head Overseer the token from Sidri,
which proved that her grandfather wasn’t going to be able to work today,
and then she had to run all the way back to the outskirts to make her way to
the tunnels.
It wasn't that she had to traverse a long distance. The Populance was built
into a fairly small space, but it was so cramped and the path through the
houses was so confusing that everyone kept getting lost. The path was ever-
changing due to new houses constantly being put up in whatever space still
remained, or old houses falling apart due to the regular tremors the volcano
gave, blocking entire pathways.
All, except for the Inner Circle, which housed the Watchers and Overseers
—the only place in the Populance that still had brick buildings and provided
shelter to the people of power.

It was said that the entire Populance was once an organised city. A proper
trading post had been set up in the square, the hospice right next to it, and
apparently, even a little place of worship had existed for everyone to visit.
The streets had branched off the square like a spider web, allowing houses
to flank the streets at respectful intervals… but that was generations ago.
The population had grown, requiring more space than the Crater floor was
able to give, so people started to erect buildings between the existing
houses, making hovels out of anything found lying around, forcing little
paths to pop up and creating a labyrinth that was impossible to memorise.
One simply chose a general direction and found one’s way through trial and
error. These hovels didn’t often last long. They were too unstable and the
materials too flammable. A few years ago, one of them caught fire and
burnt down a third of the Populance—32 people died that day, either caught
in the flames or trampled by people trying to escape them. Some still
carried the scars as a reminder of that dreadful day.

After three wrong turns, Ayda finally came across the wall, flashing her
token at the Watchers on guard—it was the only way anyone from the
tunnels was ever allowed to pass the threshold. Once within the walls, she
quickly found the building she was looking for. It was one of the few with
walls made from bricks that hadn't crumbled over the years. Its foyer had
been turned into three separate offices, and beyond that, Ayda never got the
chance to explore. Now was not the time to wonder about the layout of a
building and she soon stood in front of the Head Overseer’s door. After
knocking, she found the man sitting behind a small desk, the door barely
having enough room to close.
"Good morning, sir."
The Head Overseer paid her no attention and she had to keep herself from
tapping her foot in irritation. His desk was littered with parchment and he
was scribbling something into his ledger, which was open in front of him.
He was the only person in the Populance who was able to read and write.
The only person who had contact with the Farmers a couple of days' climb
up the slope to the Rim… the Rim, where the Magiks lived—or so it was
said. She shivered involuntarily at the prospect. Ayda had never made that
climb herself—no one had. No one left the Mines. If you were born here,
you died here, and if you were brought here as a Peep, you died here, too.
The only people who actually left this place were the Watchers that brought
the supplies and took the rocks, but since they didn’t actually set foot in the
Populance itself, she supposed one couldn’t say that they left. They only
came for visits. It was all done via the one Outpost that separated the only
road leading all the way from the Rim to the Mines. The one chance of ever
making it out of here. The only option anyone had.

But it wasn’t an option. Not even a possibility. No one left, even though
many had tried. The sheer walls that led down from the Rim were too
smooth to climb. There were some handholds that had been chiselled into
the rock over the years, but the sounds were too loud to go unnoticed by the
Watchers that kept an eye on the odd spot that would allow for an escape at
all times of the day and night. Over the centuries, a few bodies had been
found in the mornings of people trying to scale the cliffs overnight—the
ones that had been driven to desperation to give that impossibility a try. It
was certain death. Even if the fall didn’t kill you, the lashes you received
afterwards would, or the hours spent in the most dangerous parts of the
tunnels.
So, the only other way was somehow getting past the highly fortified
Outpost. If you miraculously made it beyond the gate, the road supplied for
safe travels but the lack of vegetation made sure that you weren't able to
keep yourself from being seen by the Watchers while you made your way
up the road to the Farms. It was said that someone had once made it out a
few years before Ayda was born. Whether that was via the smooth rock, the
Outpost, or some other unexplored way, no one knew. But two days after he
escaped, his body was thrown back into the Mines, barely any skin left on
his back from all the lashes he'd gotten, most of his bones broken from the
beating he'd received, his face unrecognisable. No one tried for a few years
after that.

"What is it, girl?" the Head Overseer’s words brought her back to the
present. He was pinning her down with his steely eyes, his expression
leaving no room for compassion. Not for the first time, she wondered
whether there was anyone in his life that he cared for.
She put the token on his table. "My grandfather, Jaron, won't be able to
work the tunnels today," she said softly, eyes slightly averted.
With a grunt and a shooing motion of the hand, she was dismissed. Sidri
was the only person in the Populance that distributed these tokens. They
had one meaning—you were physically unable to work the tunnels that day.
If you needed to be excused for two days, then you needed two tokens. If
you didn’t show up to the tunnels without having dropped off a token, you
received lashes. It was a simple and brutal system. Barely a week went by
without someone receiving lashes for some offence, the stick falling at all
hours of the day due to an Overseer's foul mood or someone not working
quickly enough for an Overseer's liking.
"Thank you, sir."
She closed the door behind herself and rushed from the building.
She was so incredibly late!
 The further she got from the Inner Circle and the closer she got to the
tunnels, the more the buildings started to look like hovels that had been
thrown together, barely protecting their occupants from the cold. The smell
also got stronger. Once inside the tunnels for a couple of hours, one barely
noticed it anymore, but it would come as no surprise to find out that
everyone simply carried the smell around with them in any case. In their
clothes, their hair… it was the initial concentration of sulphur that really
knocked people off their feet. It made your eyes water and throat itch. Then,
once you got to work, your muscles soon started complaining and the smell
moved to the back of your mind.

Ayda burst into the tunnels in a flat-out sprint but quickly had to slow her
pace so she wouldn’t run face-first into a boulder. The light diminished
quickly the further she got from the lip of the tunnel due to the small
entrance. A grown man could barely stand up straight and her fingertips
touched both sides of the walls when stretching out her arms. After a few
paces, this initial tunnel led to an antechamber, and from there, spread out
into a series of channels, some running horizontally to the opening, some
moving further below ground—a lot further. The deepest of them
backtracked towards below the Populance. Everyone wondered when the
day would come that someone would remove the wrong rock from the
tunnels and the whole thing would just simply erupt, sending its boiling
rock flying into the air, and with it, all of them.
A sharp, searing pain exploded in Ayda’s upper arm, sending her to her
knees with a yelp. The pain shot straight down, all the way to her elbow and
across her shoulder. Tears were threatening to spill over and she forced
them back with quick, shallow breaths. She couldn’t cry, not here. It would
bring her no favours. The Overseer was leering over her, sneering into her
face. "Decided to grace us with your presence, girl?"
Her eyes were slowly starting to adjust to the gloomy light. It was the
short, podgy one—just her luck. His stick was almost as long as him, still
wobbling with the impact it had made on her arm.
"I had to drop my grandfather’s token off with the Head Overseer this
morning." Her voice was a steady rasp through the controlled anger boiling
up in her.
"And I had to pick flowers for my loving mother this morning," came the
snide retort from the Overseer. "Yet here I was, right on time."
That stick makes you so important, she thought but said nothing, breathing
in through her nose and exhaling slowly, counting each breath, allowing for
the anger still simmering inside her to calm. With deliberate slowness, she
rose back to her feet, now standing a head above him. Responding would
only give him another excuse to use his power. At least this way, he was
forced to look up at her. She resisted a small smile at that.
"You get to work with the Peeps today, put in an extra two hours. Maybe
that will encourage you to be on time tomorrow."
A cold shiver ran down her spine at his words, knocking that threatening
smile right off her face.
The Peeps’ tunnels…

The Peeps were called such because they couldn’t talk. They didn't make
a single peep.
They were murderers or worse, sent to the Mines to work the tunnels for
the rest of their lives. Whether they came from the Farms or the Rim, no
one knew because their tongues were cut out before coming here. Some still
tried to talk out of habit, which was how they knew that their tongues were
intentionally cut out right before being sent into the Mines. They all
signalled for quill and parchment to somehow have their questions
answered, but because no one could read, there was no way of
communicating. Not that there were any such items readily available in the
Populance. But even that gave them some information about the outside
world. Beyond the Mines, wherever these people came from, everyone
could read and write. And seeing that they understood what the Overseers
shouted at them, it was the same language that was used out there.
It wasn’t the thought of working with the Peeps that had her in a cold
sweat, but rather where the Peeps worked that threatened to send her back
to her knees. In order for the Overseers to differentiate between a life
sentence and 'hard, honest work' for those born down here as they liked to
call it, the Peeps worked in the deepest channels of the volcano. The ones
that were so stuffy with heat that you could barely breathe. Where the
tremors ran deep and rock falls were common. People being crushed down
there or being trapped by fallen boulders was a common occurrence and
most of the dead came from those passages. If the rock falls didn’t get you,
the stuffy, dusty air threatened to collapse your lungs. And if it wasn’t the
dust… it was the gas. Being sent down there meant that there was a good
chance you weren’t coming out again at the end of the day.

"Get to it, girl! Or you'll get another hour." He shoved her in the back,
hard, and she stumbled down the passage.
Ayda had been down there once before. Two years ago, the day after her
brother had died. She hadn't managed to get out of bed. Her whole body
ached. Her heart ached. Her thoughts were dulled by some fog, her limbs
heavy. She hadn’t cared about anything in that moment. Jiri was gone. He
would never make her laugh or come crashing through the door again. He
was gone.
It was Yanni, her best friend, who had dragged her out of bed on his way
home from his night shift. He knew what would happen if she missed a shift
without Sidri’s token—they all did. Only, on that day, she hadn’t registered
it. Her heart hadn’t allowed for anything other than grief. Yanni dressed her,
forced a spoon full of soaked grain down her throat and pushed her all the
way to the entrance of the tunnel. She had missed the first two hours. The
stick came crashing down on her arms and legs, and when she didn’t react
to it, the effort was redoubled. She hadn’t felt anything. Her whole body
was numb—Jiri was gone. After some time, they sent her down to the
Peeps. She couldn’t recall much of the day. The pain from the beating was
secondary and she barely noticed the rock falls. She didn’t care what
happened to her that day, and looking back now, she didn’t know how she
survived it. Some invisible, leading hand.

The passage started to get uncomfortably hot with all her clothes, so she
peeled back the layers she was wearing, hiding them within a crevice in the
rock wall. She mentally marked the spot so that she would be able to find it
again at the end of the day, then carried on slowly. Clothing disappeared all
the time. With the snow and ice outside, the hovels lacking any form of
insulation and firewood being limited, layers were the best way of keeping
warm during the night. She frequently lost her layers to others, either
through not hiding them well enough or having prying eyes while hiding
them, and had suffered the occasional icy, sleepless night because of it. Her
current coat came from a corpse, who had been hit in the head by a falling
boulder. There was just a little bit of blood on the collar and it was only
slightly too big for her—a good find. The shoes had already been removed
though, so her worn boots would have to last a few more days until she
found a replacement for them.

The Overseer hadn't followed her into the passageways, but if he caught
her in her usual spot instead of the one she had been sent to, she would be
heading off to the whipping posts and she was unsure how many lashes she
would receive as punishment for something that was already punishment to
begin with. So, she trudged on to the lower levels.
It didn’t take long before she was struggling to breathe. Her movements
became a little more sluggish, and she was so glad to finally see the
entrance to the Peeps tunnels that she exhaled too quickly without being in
control of her next inhale.
Luckily, she didn’t have to enter the actual passage where rock fall was a
daily occurrence.
Men worked the rocks. They chiselled away at the natural crevices and
dug out the individual stones. Elderly women then collected the rocks from
the individual men chiselling away and brought them to a collection point,
where younger women would then carry them to the collection point on the
surface before returning to get their next load. The roles were not divided
by skill or strength, solely by gender and age. It was something Ayda had
questioned many times, especially since finding and freeing the rocks from
the tunnel walls paid much better than the simple transportation of the rocks
to the tunnel entrance. But the last beating she had received in response to
her questions, forced her to let the topic go… for now.
 Even though she was the only runner, there was just a single rock at the
collection point. At this time of day, she would have found a couple dozen
in her usual spot, but the rocks in the Peeps tunnels were rare. Things were
done a little differently down there. For a runner, it involved a lot of waiting
in the hot, stuffy tunnels—a lot of waiting for loose rocks to hit you with
nowhere to go.
There were three different types of volcanic rock to be found within the
tunnels of the volcano. The two found in the higher levels were fairly
common and a single person would be expected to find at least 15 a day.
The ones down there, however, were not only rare in number, but were
often found in places that no one dared to remove them from… unless you
wanted to cause a major tremor, rock fall, or even cause a pool of boiling
rock to shoot to the surface. Here, a person found one that they could
actually remove from the claws of the mountain every few months.
Why they bothered with the rocks in the Peeps passages, no one knew.
Some were convinced that it was purely to make sure that the Peeps were
seen punished for whatever crime landed them down there. There was no
other reason for all the effort the Administration went through to get the
prisoners down into the lower tunnels.
Her grandfather had told her another, more reasonable explanation.
Everyone knew that the rocks were taken out of the tunnels for the
Magiks. What exactly they were used for, she had never found out. But her
grandfather said the different types of rock possessed different properties.
That they were each used for a different type of magik. Apparently, that’s
what Grandma had told him. She was a Peep but they somehow managed to
create a language between one another that allowed them to communicate.
Grandpa had still not given Ayda an adequate answer to her question of
exactly how they were able to talk to one another if she was mute and him
illiterate. He just said that they simply knew what they were thinking when
looking at each other in a certain way. She was sure that he thought he
knew her well enough to make out her thoughts, but that didn’t allow for
information from the world outside the Mines. Grandma had died giving
birth to Ma's younger sister, so Ayda never got to meet her. Her mother
didn’t speak of her often, but every time Grandpa spoke about his late wife,
Ayda could still feel the love that had existed between the two.

She picked up the singular rock and placed it in her container, then lifted
the container up to the shoulder that hadn't been brutalised by the Overseer
that morning. Even though she would be lucky for a handful of rocks to be
found that day, she would have to be quick about her rounds. The Overseers
liked having the Peeps’ rocks the moment they landed in the collection area
in case the passage collapsed. How they knew that a new rock had been
found, she didn’t know, but she wasn’t going to chance it. Besides, her
lungs were struggling. The air was getting clearer the further she got away
from the Peeps, and soon, she was cold once more. The icy air hit her lungs
and she gulped it down greedily before depositing her little rock into its
allocated bin and heading back the way she came.

She had worked these passages since she was four years old. As a little
girl, she carried water to the workers and brought them their hunk of bread
for lunch. When she had gained a couple of years and some height, she
started stacking rocks from the collection bins into the transport bins that
left the Mines every second week. After that, she ran the tunnels in search
of any rocks that had fallen out of bins or been left behind by accident, and
for the past few years now, she had started carrying rocks between the
collection bins at the end of the passages and the lip of the tunnels. This
was going to be her task until she got too old to carry the rocks over such
distances, especially because they got longer and longer by the year and
would finally end up collecting the rocks men chiselled away from the
walls, to then dump them in the collection bins at the end of the passages.

She had only made the one trip by the time someone showed up with her
piece of bread, and she was allowed to sit down for a few minutes to wash
down the dry grains with a little bit of water. A few minutes later, a tremor
shook underfoot and warning shouts rang out from further below, rocks
crashing. She didn’t hear any shouts of agony but didn’t stick around to find
out if any would follow, jumping to her feet, a new rock lying in the deposit
area and making her way back to the surface. At the lip of the entrance, she
found the Overseer sneering at her, but she paid him no mind, returning
back to the tunnels. One rotation later, another tremor went through the
mountain, and although it was a smaller one, one of the Peeps had to be
rushed to Sidri—a smashed foot clearly visible through the mangled mess
that started right beneath the shin. He would still be expected to return to
work in the morning, seeing that he would be able to slide along the floor in
order to get into position around the next rock he would free from the
mountain.

The afternoon dragged on, the two extra hours draining the little energy
she had since breakfast had been interrupted. Her replacement arrived and
they worked in silent tandem for the remainder of her shift. The tunnels
were worked at all hours of the day and night, with the only exception being
a half-day once a week.
The night shifts were more desirable than the day because you were inside
at all times in any case, not seeing the sunlight. So, if you finished your
shift in the morning, you at least had some light before going to bed as well
as when you woke up. They were switched out once a year, although this
time, it had been two years since Ayda held the night shift and was hoping
that would change again in the summer.
Once her two hours were up, she collected her layers from the crevice
she’d hidden them in and rushed home.
Ma and Grandpa had already eaten since they didn't know that she
received extra hours for being late that morning, although neither of them
were surprised. Her grandfather knew when she had left home after putting
him back in bed—he knew the rules all too well. Her mother, Ayda’s
spitting image with hair shorn short, was devastated that she had to work
with the Peeps in the lower passageways, but that was done now and
tomorrow, she would be back to her usual spot. Ayda barely managed to eat
and wash up before falling into bed, exhausted.

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Chapter Two

T
he morning came a little too early for Ayda's liking. Her shoulder still
stung a little at the spot where the Overseer had whacked her with his
stick—a big blue mark blooming nicely across her upper arm. She found
her grandfather standing at the table, portioning out porridge for the two of
them, eyes still slightly dazed from the gash he had sustained to the head
the previous morning. But she noticed with satisfaction that he was steady
on his feet.
"Morning, Grandpa."
"Good morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep enough? I wanted to wake you
earlier but you were still too far gone," he responded with a soft smile.
"I can't wait for half-day tomorrow. Is it just me or do those Overseers
expect more and more from us every year?"
"Hmpf…"
Her grandfather was a soft-spoken, compassionate man. She had never
heard him say anything bad about another human being before, and
whenever confronted with a slightly negative topic he wasn't willing to
comment on, his response was always 'Hmpf'.
She smiled at the polite dismissal and sat down opposite him to eat
breakfast.
"How do you feel today? How is your head?"
"A little sensitive. But nothing I cannot deal with until I get some more
rest tomorrow afternoon."
He was on his feet so there was no way Sidri would give him another
token today. Her grandfather was going to have to come into the tunnels
with her, but Ayda wasn't worried. He was strong. He was still fairly young
and very capable with his hands. Seeing that he didn't have to move around
much and could sit down to do his work if he focused his search on rocks
closer to the ground, he would be fine today.

She grabbed the two empty bowls and went outside to rinse them. "Is Ma
up yet?" she shouted back through the open flap.
"Yes, she took the remaining grain to see whether she can trade it for
something to patch up that hole in the roof. She was hoping that Gunnar
might have something and wanted to catch him before his shift."
Gunnar was a not-too-distant neighbour who had lost his wife in the
winter cold a few years ago. The winter cold claimed souls every year,
usually either the young or the old. Ayda had only caught it once, although
it didn't last very long. There wasn't much anyone could do about it, just
wait it out.
"Alright," she said, reappearing with the clean bowls. "We better get
going. I can't be late two days in a row."
"No, you cannot."
 Ayda and her grandfather worked the same shift in the same tunnel that
year. She was part of the team of runners that transported the rocks between
collection bins, which he, together with five others, filled throughout the
day. They usually arrived together, finding crevices to hide their outer
layers within and replacing the ones who had worked the night shift. One of
those was Yanni. He had beat them to the lip of the tunnel—someone from
their team arriving ahead of them this morning and was already heading her
way.
"I'll see you for lunch," Grandpa said and headed for the right-hand
passageway.
Yanni was smiling and waving. "Hey, Dya! What happened to you
yesterday? Neither you nor your grandfather were here, I was worried!"
Just a few months ago, he would have been at her door straight after his
shift, seeing what was holding her up that morning, making sure there
wasn't anything he could do to help get her to her shift as quickly as
possible.
But that was before Kala had caught his eye. He spent every free minute
with her. He didn’t talk about anything else anymore either and no longer
had time for Ayda.
It wasn't that Ayda didn't want the best for Yanni. He deserved to be
happy and Kala was a good fit, she supposed. She was pretty with big eyes
to go with her big hair. She had always been very polite towards Ayda—
never bad-mouthed her the way most others did as far as she was aware.
But Ayda was… jealous. Not like that! She didn't have feelings towards
Yanni past a best friend.
Although, he did kiss her once…
 It was on a half-day while they were scouting the Outpost and a Watcher
was about to find their hiding spot. In order to make it seem as though they
were there to find a quiet spot to be intimate and not get into trouble, Yanni
grabbed her and kissed her. It was a short kiss—her first. They’d been
interrupted very quickly by the Watcher and she remembered her relief
when that had broken it off—the relief obvious on her face. Yanni saw it
and she could see the pain dart across his face before he had a chance to
school his expression.
Later, he laughed off the moment as a brilliant plan, but afterwards, she
noticed him looking at her in a certain way for months. She hadn't meant to
hurt him. At times, she wished that she could reciprocate his feelings. It
would make life so much easier for her. But she just didn't. She wasn't
attracted to him. Sure, he was good-looking. He was tall and life in the
tunnels had given him broad shoulders. He had a kind face and his sandy
blonde hair made his eyes stand out, which had the ability to hold your full
attention. But she’d grown up with him and knew everything there was to
know about him, from when he had stopped wetting his bed to the way he
was bullied by Uri growing up. He was like a brother to her, not a lover.
Not much longer after that, he started spending time with Kala. Ayda
knew that it had started as a distraction and a way of proving to himself and
her that the kiss meant nothing to him. But she had encouraged him, feeling
guilty about the whole situation, and soon, it had grown into something
more.
It seemed as though he really did care for Kala and maybe even loved her.
She was happy for him. She just missed her best friend. Missed spending
time with him. Missed talking to him about everything. Even leaving the
Mines. That had been their promise to one another. If they ever got the
chance, they would leave the Mines together.

"Grandpa fell yesterday morning and caught himself a nasty gash along
the back of the head. I had to take him to Sidri to be stitched up, and after I
put him back into bed, I had to run his token to the Head Overseer. I was
late…" She made a face at him.
Yanni grimaced back. "What happened?"
"Well, I'm sporting a new mark on my shoulder and the short, pudgy one
sent me down to the Peeps for the day with two extra hours."
"No kidding. That's harsh… glad your grandfather is back on his feet," he
said with a back-handed motion towards the passage her grandfather had
disappeared through. "At least you look like you are still in one piece. No
broken bones or missing legs."
She grinned at him. "Still, I don’t want to be sent back down there today. I
better go. See you at the lake tomorrow?"
They had been meeting at a secret spot by the lake for as long as she
remembered on half-day. Until now, Yanni still managed to come, even
though the amount of time he spent there with her became shorter and
shorter. At least he hadn't brought Kala along yet. He knew how protective
she was about that spot.
"Sure. See you then, Dya." He gave her a smile and headed for the
Populance.
That silly nickname. Him and his siblings were the only ones who called
her Dya, and although she had tried to get him to stop for years, she failed
miserably.
 She plodded after her grandfather, not looking forward to a repeat of the
same day she’d had and would still have for many years to come and was
soon peeling away her outer layers.

By the time lunch came around, her arms and legs were aching. She still
couldn’t hoist the container onto the shoulder that had turned blue overnight
and doubted that she would be able to until after half-day.
Her grandfather was sitting next to two of his teammates and she plopped
down next to him. He smiled at her, asking after Yanni, and they spent
lunch exchanging small talk with his teammates. His easy nature always
allowed him to be welcome by everyone. He was so comfortable around
people that it made her uneasy. What a strange concept that was… her
mother had always teased her about it, but it was his readiness to outright
trust anyone that gave her pause. It wasn't that she was cynical or explicitly
distrusting, she just preferred listening to her intuition and feeling a person
out before she told them her life story. Grandpa, not so much. But it was
that trusting nature that made him so endearing.
She was back from her second round after lunch when she heard someone
cry out in agony.
The timing was unusual. Normally, these instances were brought on by a
tremor or some rock fall. But she had neither felt nor heard anything. It took
her a while to register that the outcry belonged to her grandfather.
She froze.
She didn’t think it possible, but it felt as though her heart simultaneously
stopped and skipped a beat at the same time. It was against all the rules for
her to enter the passage the Chisellers were in.
But that was her grandfather!
 Before her container had even touched the ground, she was already
sprinting towards the sound he was making.
With anguish, she realised that he was whimpering! She had never heard
him make such a sound.

The tunnel was deeper than she had anticipated. She sprinted past two of
the team, both looking around, unsure of what to do with her. The rules
were simple. She was to be reported if she ever passed over to this side of
the passage. But she was gone by the time they made up their minds,
frantically looking for his familiar form.
He was leaning against a section of the rock wall, clutching his arm to his
chest. His hand was coated with blood, his shirt already drenched with it.
He had curled his index and middle fingers towards his chest, his face
snow-white.
No… he hadn't curled the fingers in. The fingers were missing. They had
been cut clean off just above the knuckles, the white of the bones showing.
She spun around and vomited into the passage. There, lying on the
ground, were the two missing digits, looking like foreign objects.
"I-I tried to stop my chisel from hitting the glass, b-but the momentum
was already too great, and instead of halting the blow, it skidded off the
surface and hit my…" her grandfather was muttering. "I… I…"
Breathe, Ayda. By the volcano, get yourself under control!
After another steadying breath, she turned, lifting her eyes to the pale face
and put her hands on his shoulders.
"Sit, Grandpa. I'll get you some water."
A pitcher soon found her hand and she was tipping it down his waiting
mouth.
 "Do you think you will be able to make it to Sidri on your own or do you
need me to come with you?"
He seemed to have collected himself a little bit. "You know that the
Overseer won't let you come with me. Heck, you aren't even supposed to be
in here! Get out, Ayda!"
She levelled a look at him. "I asked you whether you can walk on your
own?"
He took a couple of deep breaths and slowly began to stand. "I'll be fine.
Get back to your station before they notice what's going on!"
She waited for him to take a few more steps, still clutching his injured
hand to his chest, one of his shoulders pressed against the wall, keeping him
upright. He would be fine on his own.
She turned around to glance at his fingers again, still lying on the ground.
Am I supposed to leave them? Or…
Her grandfather’s words finally registered. He had wanted to avoid hitting
glass.

Just then, a shimmer caught her eye, right next to the forgotten chisel. A
clear sheet, half still stuck in the wall, the other half lying on the ground,
split into two pieces. Glass was extremely precious. She had never seen any
before, and as far as she knew, her grandpa had never found any himself
either. He only saw it once when he was still a boy himself. She had asked
him to describe it to her and she had to give it to him… he got it right.
Although this one was still covered in dust, she was sure that it would be a
lot clearer once washed. Apparently, because of its rarity, it was extremely
valuable. What it was used for, she had no idea. But it intrigued her. It was
right there…
 She glanced up, looking around. No one was close to her, a group having
formed around her grandfather, still struggling up the passageway. Before
she could change her mind, she grabbed the outermost piece and slid it into
the folds of her shirt. No one would know that there was a third piece—
there was a jagged line on both sides of the sliver, so the only one lying on
the ground now could just as well have been the beginning bit.
She stood up and rushed after her grandfather, consciously leaving her
hands at her sides, so as not to draw any attention to the piece of glass now
hidden on her person.
A commotion started further up the front—the Overseer caught wind of
the accident. She needed to get back to her station before he came around
the bend and saw her! But the passage was filled with the team surrounding
her grandfather and if she was to shove past them now, she would draw
attention to herself. She would have to try to sneak past the Overseer while
he was debating whether he would allow her grandfather to head off to see
Sidri.
The voice boomed down the tunnel before the footsteps could be heard.
"What is going on here? Get back to work!" The sharp whoosh of his stick
could be heard sailing through the air, landing on someone's back, followed
by a muffled cry. "I said, back to work!"
She sank into the shadows. Just a little further… she could see her
container still lying on the ground just in front of the team. She was
mentally spurring the group on. Begging them to move just a little bit faster.
Another snap of the stick.
His figure came around the bend.
"What—" The Overseers’ eyes first fell on her grandfather’s bloody hand,
then rested square on Ayda’s face, pinning her to the spot. "And what do
you think you’re doing in this section?" His voice was stone cold.
She swallowed audibly. "My grandfather sliced his fingers off, sir."
"And you were going to magically reattach them back to his hand? I
didn’t realise you had such powers."
No sympathy.
The passageway fell deathly quiet.
"Five lashes after your shift."
He turned to her grandfather, dismissing her completely as though he
hadn’t just ordered her to be whipped.
"You, go and bandage up your hand. You are bleeding all over the floor."
The response was drowned out by the sound of blood rushing through her
ears.

She was going to receive five lashes.

The same number of lashes as taking those volcanic rocks the last time…
how could this possibly be seen as the same offence?
And she was going to have to wait for them until the end of her shift.
How…
She had only been tied to the whipping post that one time before.
She—together with Yanni—had been stupid enough to be caught with a
little volcanic rock in each of their pockets, no larger than the length of her
thumb. They had thought themselves to be clever, smuggling it out of the
tunnels to examine it properly in daylight. It was curiosity that had driven
her. Yanni, on the other hand, wanted to impress Ayda. She had always
gotten into trouble for asking too many questions. Opening her mouth at the
wrong times. By then, she had learnt to keep her questions to herself, and
rather, find the answers without drawing attention to herself.
 Not that time… Yanni had been fumbling with the rock in his pocket, and
when leaving the tunnels, the Overseer noticed the uneasy way he carried
himself. When jumping to his defence, she had promptly been searched too
and the little rock in her pocket was discovered shortly after.
Her throat had been raw from screaming by the time they received the
lashes. The first had been such a shock that the only sound she made was a
whimper. The second brought a full scream, and by the time the fourth had
severed the skin from her back, she had passed out from the pain, being
jolted awake by the final lash. She swore that day that she would never
again suffer the pain of a whip. And yet, there was nothing to be done about
the lashes she would receive this evening.
Dread filled her.
The glass! If they found the piece of glass in the folds of her shirt when
they removed it from her back…
If she had received such a punishment for a small piece of volcanic rock,
what would they do if they found out that she had taken a sliver—
She couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. Her body wasn't allowing her
to breathe properly. She couldn’t…
Panic. She was panicking.
She keeled over with her hands on her knees, a sound like a sob escaping
her lips.
Breathe.
A rattled breath followed.
Breathe.
A little steadier.
One slow, deep breath through the nose.
Her lungs started to obey.
 She'd find a crevice to hide the piece of glass in before the end of her
shift. They wouldn’t find it on her person. If it was gone the next day, then
so be it. But at least she wouldn’t be punished for it. She'd just have to keep
her eyes open for a suitable spot. A little opening, preferably going fairly
deep, below knee level. One that was way too small to be of interest to
anyone trying to hide their outer layers. That's what she would do. It
wouldn’t come to them finding it on her person.
She took another deep breath and started towards the lip of the tunnel
once more. She had a plan.
She was so focused on finding a suitable crevice that it took her three
rounds to notice people staring at her. News travelled fast in the tunnels.
Everyone knew that she would be strung up at the whipping post after their
shift. She wouldn’t make a sound. She refused.
It took her another two rounds to finally find a crevice for the treasure she
was carrying with her.
After listening hard for any footsteps for a few heartbeats, she kneeled
down and slid the fragment into its hiding spot, quickly rising back to her
feet and moving along the passage. With her heart racing, she kept her
footsteps even. The worst thing she could do would be to draw attention to
herself.

The passageways were abuzz with the news of glass having been found.
It had been decades since the last time someone came across it.
Apparently, the Overseer had let out a little squeal. A squeal of delight…
until he whacked the nearest unfortunate soul next to him with his stick
when noticing that the fragment had been broken into two pieces.
 She was barely able to listen to the chatter around her, too overwhelmed
with what the next two rounds of her shift would bring. Maybe she could
get past the Overseer in the commotion. Maybe he would forget about the
punishment he deemed appropriate. If she could just slip past the people
that had started to gather at the lip of the tunnel…
But no. On her previous drop, she had already noticed two extra
Watchers. The news of glass too valuable. And where would she go?
There was nowhere. Everyone knew where she lived, she would just put
her family in danger if she went home. She had no way of leaving the
Mines—that was something people had attempted for generations. And
hiding wasn't an option in this desolate place, especially since they would
just punish her family instead and she would have to show up for her next
shift in any case. A whipping wasn’t something that was easily forgotten
down here. No, there was nowhere to run. Knowing this was punishment of
a different kind.
This is probably the kind of thing he lives for. The power. The knowledge
that he has my life in his hands.
She started to shake. Whether from the anger she felt or the dread
coursing through her, she wasn't sure.
She clenched and unclenched her hands.
It was her final round. She was on her way towards the lip of the tunnel.
Maybe she could slip past the Watchers after all. They were excited
themselves. Had their hands full in trying to keep the crowd back, just
wanting one little glimpse of the rarity that her grandfather had come
across.
She could see the fading light of the sun coming through the opening
ahead. Her feet heavy, almost leaden.
 Her breath loud in her ears.
She passed through the gap, moved to the collection bin, mechanically
went through the motions of moving the stones over into it, dropped her bin
on the floor, all while scanning the crowd to look for an opening to escape.
There were unnaturally many people collected at the opening, the
discovery of glass a sensation.
She caught Yanni's eye, dread written clear across his face. And pain—he
knew what was to come. And resignation. Seeing that resignation almost
made her knees buckle. She hadn't realised that until then, she had still
clung to some hope that she would somehow be able to avoid all of this.
But the resignation erased all that.
Next to him stood her grandfather, although he couldn’t look her in the
eye. She saw guilt and something else. Guilt because he held himself
responsible, his face ashen. Was that because of what was to come or
because of his hand? What had happened to his hand? She needed to ask.
Before she could even take a step in their direction, someone grabbed her
arm, hard. She tried to pull free, but there was no breaking that grip. She
looked over into the face of the Overseer.
"Let's go, little miss." No kindness in those eyes.
She frantically looked in Yanni's direction, losing a battle with her will.
Helplessness flashed across Yanni's eyes, then they went hard. Resolve
was forced onto his face. He was being brave for her. His chin going up
ever so slightly.
So, she had to be brave too.
She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and looked back at the
Overseer.
 A hush fell over the crowd parting for them as the Overseer pulled her
towards the whipping posts, her legs wobbly.
She wondered at the amount of people, usually not interested in a
whipping since there was a chance they would experience it themselves at
some point during their lives. There was a whole sea of faces, mostly
colourful eyes. The Peeps tended to steer clear of bigger gatherings, but for
some reason, this was a spectacle they wanted to witness. They probably
knew what the glass was used for outside the Mines and were here for it
rather than her.
The posts were splattered with old blood, grooves slashed across them at
irregular intervals, from fingernails digging into wood, rogue lashes
marking the poles. She received a shove from behind and stumbled the
remaining two steps.
Cold fingers caught her left wrist and twine quickly found its way around
it, pulling her hand over her head towards one of the posts. Another
Overseer appeared to her right and did the same with her second wrist, her
arms pulled taught above her.
Without warning, two rough hands gripped the nape of her shirt, ripping it
down the middle and exposing her back to the people assembling behind
her. Her cheeks flushed pink—the act extremely degrading. Icy air was
biting her bare back, the cold—
"Where is the whip!" The words rang out across the little square, not as a
question but a demand.
Footsteps could be heard crunching through the snow, a moment passing,
then footsteps removing themselves again.
"You will receive 10 lashes for going against protocol, by going into the
rock passage in order to break or steal the glass this afternoon!" The voice
was laced with smugness.
Her face drained of any life… 10! Not five… 10.
Was this because she had looked at him with her head held high?
A murmur went through the crowd. This was news to them. She was a
thief. Just like her grandmother had been—or worse. Was this punishment
justified then?
Dark satisfaction coated her thoughts.
Of course, he brought the glass into this. He wouldn't be so self-satisfied if
he knew how accurate he is.
The whistle of the whip tore her out of her thoughts, the satisfaction
turning to terror.

A whipping in the summer was one thing.

But in winter…
With the cold heightening her senses, the pain was excruciating.
A scream tore through her.
Hot blood trickled down her back, collecting in the remains of her ripped
shirt.
A second lash shredded through her skin, her shoulders rigid, her body
somehow trying to absorb the pain.
The square was deathly silent after her scream died away. As if the crowd
was holding its breath.
The third lash connected, her back arching, her breath ragged, tears
streaming down her face. A sob caught in her throat, blackness threatening
at the corner of her eyes.
Four.
Her legs had given out, her body being kept upright by her bound wrists.
 Five.
Darkness took her.
She was ripped out of her short, sweet reprieve.
Six.
Four more. She could get through this. She would get through this!
Seven.
The scream that tore through her left her voice in shreds. Blood was
pooling at her feet, her shirt soaked through.
Eight.
Darkness threatened once more but she desperately clung to
consciousness, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.
She was better than that.
Nine.
Her next scream was silent, her voice unable to form a sound.
The whip whistled through the air one last time, making contact with her
skin, blood drops spraying through the air.
Ten.
Her body wasn’t responding to her. Her limbs were numb, hanging from
the twine, fire moving across her exposed back.
"Get her out of my sight," the quiet words laced with disgust carried
across the crowd.
She couldn't hold back the whimper that escaped her lips.
A moment later, two sets of footsteps rushed towards her.
Yanni's trembling fingers struggled with the knot at her wrists, her
grandfather coming up next to her, supporting her weight, the unbound arm
wrapped across his shoulders, his other arm awkwardly trying to reach
across her back without touching it.
 The second wrist came unbound, Yanni caught her before she hit the
ground.
It was slow-going, but they made it through the crowd, every brightly
coloured eye in the square trained on her, down the path to the outskirts of
the Populance and all the way to their little building.
Her mother was hovering at the door. Face completely white, arms
shaking slightly, though a neutral facial expression was firmly plastered in
place.
She hobbled towards them slowly, her stick her constant companion.
They moved her to her cot, face down, careful not to touch any of the
tattered skin, a clean cloth and water bucket at the ready, some herbs
crushed into a paste, probably courtesy of Sidri.
How much grain had that cost them? Hadn’t she just traded it all the day
before?
They left, leaving her with her mother sitting down on the edge of her cot,
cloth in hand.
"Ma, I—" her voice cracked.
"Shhhh…" Her mother’s voice was soothing.
She dunked the cloth into the water and carefully started cleaning the
blood away from her back.
Ayda jerked away from that first touch. A few moments later, she noticed
how rigid she was and forced her muscles to relax into the mattress.
As her mother started humming a song she had sung for her as a little girl,
the tears started rolling down her cheeks.
 It was still pitch black when her eyes cracked open.
She realised that she was cold. Her back was exposed to the night air, her
mother not wanting to cover it with any bandages, allowing fresh air to dry
the scabs forming on her skin. Every other inch of her was piled with
blankets, her boots still on her feet. Both her grandfather and mother had
slept without a blanket that night, she realised, guilt flooding her system.
She set her palms onto the mattress next to her shoulders and slowly
pushed into it, raising herself onto her hands and knees. Her back exploded,
three lines running hot from shoulder to hip. Her muscles tensed up and she
willed them to relax, breathing down her spine, giving her body time to
understand the pain.
She lowered her feet to the ground and pushed back with her hands, now
standing.
She would have to go into the tunnels again today, Sidri would not be
allowed to give her a token, so her best chance was to warm up her muscles
and keep them as loose as possible.
Dawn was starting to break beyond the window and she moved towards
the hearth, poking the remaining coals back to life and filling a pot to
prepare breakfast for her ma, grandpa and herself. Mother would want to
see how she was doing this morning and re-dress her back for the day
ahead.
She had gently washed her last night. With as much tenderness as the cuts
allowed, she had pushed the herbs into the slices going down her back, an
infection now the thing they needed to keep from happening at all costs. It
wasn't the whipping itself that usually took lives, it was the infection that
claimed the ones that died afterwards, deep within the tunnels.
 Cleaning her up and dressing her back was her mother’s way of showing
support, of keeping strong for her, not being able to watch them mutilate her
back. She couldn’t witness that.
Footfalls made her turn, her mother’s face appearing in the doorway. She
wouldn’t have gotten much sleep that night. Listening to every little sound
Ayda made.
"How do you feel?"
"Tender." She gave her a small smile. "Thank you for looking after me."
She came closer, motioning for her to turn her back to the light of the fire
catching in the hearth. "Hmm," Ayda heard a mix between satisfaction and
determination in that small sound. "Let me re-dress these before you get
ready."
They moved back to her cot. Her mother took a little heating water from
the pot over the fires and began washing away the salve on her back,
reapplying it generously and awkwardly wrapping bandages around her
shoulders, her torso, wrapping all the way to her midriff, making sure not to
pull too tight.
“How is that?” Ma asked.
Her shirt scraped against a couple of cuts along the top of her back, where
it was impossible to wrap them, but she was hoping that the sensation
would fade away throughout the day. She had never been this grateful for a
half-day before.
“Thank you.” She smiled at her mother once more.
Grandfather had added the grain to the boiling water and was sitting at the
table, watching the flames dance across the food.
"How do you feel?" The same question.
 "Better now that Ma has re-dressed the cuts." A reassuring smile, one that
didn't exactly reach Ayda’s eyes. He saw past it, but returned it for her
benefit.
"Sit, the porridge will be ready in a bit, you must be hungry. You didn't eat
last night." She had passed out at some point while her mother was applying
the salve.
She sat and silence filled the room.
"I'm sorry." The words were soft, tentative. His face turned away.
"You have nothing to be sorry for, Grandpa." She waited for him to turn
towards her. "Nothing."
"If I hadn't been so careless…" Such pain, such guilt.
"I am a grown woman. I make my own decisions." She smiled at him, for
real this time. "You even shouted at me to go back to my station. How is
your hand? How do you feel? I didn't even ask last night."
He lifted his hand absentmindedly, bandaged all the way to his wrist, air
greeting her where two fingers should be. Her eyes filled with tears. "Oh,
Grandpa."
He chuckled and she looked at him in bewilderment. "Nothing I can't live
without, sweetheart. Stop your fussing, your ma is going to complain that
you never showed her this kind of sympathy."
“I was one year old!”
Her mother was caught in a rock fall when Ayda had barely started
walking, one of her legs squashed to a pulp and Sidri had been forced to
take it off just below the hip. Because she now needed a stick to help her
walk, she couldn’t hoist a container onto her shoulder properly, which
meant that she couldn’t run the rock. Instead of allowing her to work the
rock with the men, she was refused access to the tunnels, eliminating her
from any rations.
It was a cause of constant guilt in her mother’s life. The knowledge that
she was eating without contributing to the food arriving every week. She ate
just enough to keep her upright, her portion sizes about half the size of
Ayda’s. It was the one thing they fought about.
He placed a steaming bowl in front of her, already manoeuvring with ease
to her delighted surprise. He, too, would have to work the passages today.
They ate in silence, her mother taking the bowls out back once they were
done, while Grandpa helped her lift her outer layers over her head.

Yanni was running towards them, hands gesturing through the air, eyes
roaming, searching for the hurt that was covered by layers, not touching.
"How do you feel? How is your back? Did your mother apply the salve we
got from Sidri? Oh, Dya, you stupid girl. What, by the volcano, were you
thinking?" He carried on muttering.
She sighed with a smile, "I'm fine, Yanni. Just need to get through the
morning."
His eyes lifted to her face, those brown orbs still searching. "Uh-huh. I'll
see you later," he replied sceptically, slowly moving past them, observing
her every step.
They reached the tunnels, eyes moving in her direction. No one said
anything, probably still not sure whether the punishment had been
deserving or not. Grandpa helped with her layers again when they found a
crevice, then started helping her with her bin when arriving at her station.
"You realise that I will have to do this on my own throughout the day, right?
Get to your station." She shooed him along.
 He didn't reply, looked her over once, and moved off.
She lowered herself to her knees, trying to avoid bending her back, and
picked up the first rock to place it within the container. Her back was
straining. She wouldn't be able to lift it onto her shoulders, so she'd have to
carry the bin in front of her belly, unable to fill it completely. With one hand
on the rock wall for balance, she pushed up through her feet and felt a
newly formed scab crack back open. A trickle of warmth ran down her
back. Well, that had been expected. With a sigh, she resigned herself to her
day and started moving down the passage towards the lip of the tunnel.
It was slow-going, but she made it.
On her third round, she remembered the glass. How had she forgotten
about it?
She didn't have much more time until the end of half-day and she would
have to find an appropriate time to slip the sliver back into the folds of her
shirt, if it was even still there. She located the crevice on her return back
into the passage, but she wasn't alone so she had no way of checking it.
The second time she passed it, footsteps could already be heard behind
her, and with how slow she was moving, she didn't dare stop, so she passed
the spot once more.
By the time she came to the crevice through her third passing, her heart
was racing. She slowed, ears straining. There wasn't a sound. Ever so
slowly, she first lowered herself onto her knees, then her hands, and felt
through the gap for the piece of glass. Her back strained, more cracks
opening back up, her hand patting at empty air… where? Her breath started
to pick up, the blood pounding in her ears…
Was this the wrong crevice? If someone came around a bend now and…
Her hand closed around a smooth yet jagged surface.
 She pulled the fragment free.
Footsteps sounded in the distance and she jumped to her feet, sudden
agony shooting down her back. A gasp escaped her lips, heat running down
her back in rivulets, her free hand catching the wall, the other pushing the
glass into the layers of her shirt, nipping her finger. A shallow slice showed
on the side of her middle finger.
Move.
She set a shaky foot down in front of her, the second following.
With her heart racing, she slowly moved further into the tunnels.

Half-day was collection day.

Depending on their age and gender, they had different-sized containers
that would be filled with grains, beans, potatoes and carrots. Water was
distributed via household every evening. On odd occasions, an apple would
find their hand, but that didn't happen often. During the winter solstice, a
fowl would be distributed to the households, and if you were a small one,
you shared. It was a celebration of having survived the longest and coldest
night of the year, the days growing with every passing of the moon. Some
warmth soon a promise.
Ayda had learnt at an early age how to kill and pluck a fowl, and how to
take the entrails out of an animal. It wasn't a process she enjoyed, but the
meat sustained her and the rarity of it brought a solemn celebration of life.
They picked up their containers at home and headed towards the storage
area, the line long, and settled into the wait.
 She had formed a routine many years ago.
Finish at half-day, pick up food for the week, head off to the lake to meet
Yanni.
Mother would prepare the grains for the week, she would bake a loaf of
bread, and that evening, they would have a beautiful feast.
Her grandfather persisted on re-dressing her back before she headed
towards the lake and groaned at the fresh blood collected at the bottom of
her back.

The Mines were divided into three sections—the tunnels with the Outpost
and storage facilities in the east, the Populance taking up the middle,
although it was more on the eastern side than the centre, and the lake in the
west.
The lake covered about half of the Crater floor, the water a brilliant blue,
almost turquoise, initially running clear along the outer edges, then turning
a deep colour that didn’t allow the eye to penetrate to the bottom the deeper
the water got. You could climb along the edges, almost all the way around
the lake, with the rock face only becoming too sheer along the northernmost
edge. Ayda and Yanni had explored every inch of the surrounding area,
finding little hollows behind boulders that shielded them from any prying
eyes from the direction of the Populance, the rocks loose enough so that the
sound of them scattering prevented anyone from sneaking up.
She headed towards their usual meeting point and wasn't surprised to find
that he had not yet arrived.
Ever since Kala, he started arriving later and later, leaving earlier in the
day than she liked. But at least he still came without her, so that was
something to be grateful for. He knew how much she treasured this day and
this spot was the only place in the Crater that was theirs. No one came here.
Or at least, not as far as she knew.
She sat down in a little hollow, making sure her back didn't touch the big
boulder behind her and pulled out the glass fragment.
It was the first time that she was looking at it in the sunlight. She hadn't
dared take it out in the house earlier on, hadn't even permitted her hands to
pat down the area in her clothes where she had hidden it.
The sliver was small. No bigger than half the palm of her hand, as thin as
her index finger, sharp along the edges. Dust was still sticking to the sides
where the surface was uneven and she blew on it without much success.
She reached for her canteen and carefully trickled water on the piece,
washing away the remaining dirt.
It was now clear, her palm underneath a little distorted through the
concave surface, the sunlight reflecting off it—or maybe through it?
It was solid, not porous like the volcanic rocks, hard, her nail making a
clicking sound when tapping against it. It was incredible; like holding a
solid piece of ice in your hand, but instead of cold biting into your skin, the
material was warm to the touch, never diminishing in size.
Little rocks scattered across the ground and she quickly hid the fragment
in her folds.
Yanni's face peered down at her, roaming over her face. "Hi."
"Hi, yourself. Care to join me?"
He settled in next to her with a sigh. "How are you feeling after your shift
today?"
"I'm alright. A few of the cracks opened up again, but I knew that would
happen. I'm not jumping over any boulders today, if that's what you're
asking." She grinned at him, reaching back into her shirt, intending to pull
out the glass for him to inspect.
He didn't return her smile and instead said gravely, "That was pretty
stupid, Dya. What were you thinking? Was it worth it? Defying protocol?"
She looked at him, perplexed, and pulled her hand out, dropping the
fragment back into its hiding place. "I wasn't thinking, Yanni. My
grandfather was hurt! What was I supposed to do?"
"Wait for him to come past the entrance point."
Her bafflement turned to anger. "Like you would have waited!"
"I would have! Protocol is clear on this. Those few extra minutes wouldn't
have killed you. Or him, for that matter."
"Why are you angry with me?"
"It was the glass, wasn't it? You just had to get a peek." His voice was
sharp.
That stung. Tears threatened to fill her eyes and she pushed them back
angrily.
"Where is this coming from?”
"Kala says—"
"Ah. Kala says!" Her voice was rising now.
"Yes! And she is right!" A defensive tone had crept into his voice. "You
are way too reckless. It's completely unnecessary."
"A few months ago, you would have understood why I needed to see
whether my grandfather was alright! A few months ago, you would have
raged at the fact that they took a whip to me simply because I wanted to
make sure that my grandfather wasn’t buried underneath rocks. A few
months ago, you would have challenged them on their stupid protocol,
which keeps only women from certain areas in the tunnels. A few months
ago, you wouldn’t even have listened to Kala’s miserable chatter."
"Well, we all have to grow up at some point, don't we, Ayda? We don't all
have people bending over backwards to make sure we are alright, no matter
what the cost is to them. We weren’t all protected the way you were your
entire life."
She stared at him, shocked at his words. "That's a low blow, Yanni." Her
voice was quiet, eyes lowering to her lap, fingers interlacing.
It was years later and she still had nightmares about his body lying in the
cold snow, not moving, his back a bloody mess.
"You need to wake up and stop acting like a child, going after your every
whim. Stop putting everyone in danger." He stood up, moving away from
her.
She was fuming. They were no longer children. That luxury had been
taken from them years ago. How could he…
She turned towards him, a retort on her lips, but he was already gone.

In order to try and distract herself from her barrage of emotions, she once
more reached for the sliver.
It was so easy for him to say. As a man, he was allowed in all sections of
the tunnels. He would never be faced with such a dilemma.
The hand holding the glass shook.
A piercing, startlingly vivid green eye stared at her through the glass, a
tuft of black hair visible in the corner, olive skin filling the rest of the
surface, the beginnings of a nose detectable in the opposing bottom corner.
With a start, she almost dropped the shard, taking in a sharp breath.
She collected herself and looked back into the glass.
 Nothing.
The surface only showed the cloth of her trousers underneath.
What?
Had she imagined it?
Surely not… the calculated observance in that eye had been too palpable
for her to have conjured it up in her mind’s eye.
She turned the sliver around, looking at it from all angles.
What had she seen?
She closed her eyes, clenched tight and reopened them.
Nothing.
She stared at the shard for a few moments, imagining the green to come
back, but nothing happened.
She turned it over in her hands a few more times, but still, nothing seemed
to change.
With a frustrated sigh and a shake of the head, she slipped it back into her
folds, carefully leaning against the boulder. What was going on with her?
These last few days had been so… chaotic.
She needed to find a way to clear her head. The next week would be so
much messier with the new Peeps arriving.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Three

T
wice a year, new Peeps arrived.
No one knew where exactly they came from.
Either the Farms or the Rim, obviously, but it was such a mix of
individuals that Ayda couldn't shake the thought that they had to come from
somewhere… else.
It wasn't that they looked any different, not dramatically at least. Sure,
some of their eyes were varying colours, but that had always been the case.
Without exception, Miners had deep brown eyes. Peeps, on the other hand,
sometimes had vivid colours. Yes, the majority had the same deep brown,
but some ranged from green to yellow, blue and grey. She’d even noticed
some with a purple hue before.
Due to the fact that Miners couldn’t communicate with Peeps, they tended
not to get married. Her grandmother and grandfather were an exception, and
thus, the deep brown had prevailed within the Mines.
Her own eyes maintained the rich brown colour but had taken on a gold
ring around the pupil, scattering around the iris, making them stand out in
her face. Her grandmother had golden eyes and although her mother hadn't
inherited the colour, they found her a generation later.
For the longest time, Ayda despised her eyes. They had been the cause of
much bullying and humiliation in her younger years and branded her as an
outsider. They were the reason she had grown her hair long, even though
she questioned that decision every winter. It allowed for the thick, brown
curls to fall across her face, hiding her eyes.
It wasn't until Gil had brushed her hair behind an ear to better see her face
that she started pulling her hair into a braid across her back.
After Yanni had kissed her, she tried a few things with other boys, never
really going beyond kissing anyone until Gil had shown interest in her. He
told her how attractive she was with her captivating eyes and full lips, hair
to get lost in. She supposed she wasn't unattractive but knew that she was
all bones underneath her layers, although there was little she could do about
that. They made do with the food they had, and although she hadn't felt true
hunger in many years, she only ever felt satisfied after their meal on half-
day.
Gil had been some time ago now—she stopped seeing him after a few
weeks, not really understanding what the fuss was about. Not that she had
spoken about it with anyone—she had no girlfriends. And Yanni—after the
kiss, they no longer talked about that kind of stuff.

When the Peeps arrived, they always came with a promise of violence.
Most of them were still healing from the removal of their tongues, if not
physically, then mentally. They were usually still shocked, trying to form
words through habit. With most of them, you could still see the refusal and
utter disbelief flash across their faces when caught off guard, every one of
them reacting differently—either going within, denying their situation,
panicking every time they realised their new reality, or even showing
aggression. One way or another, it was always extreme.
They weren't given anything when arriving. Their clothing was usually
made for a warmer climate, and except for a hunk of bread and water that
everyone received upon passing the Outpost, no one was allowed to bring
any possessions with them. They weren't allocated any housing either, so
throughout those first nights, there were always one or two that froze to
death.
When she was younger, she had begged her family to take them in, but
they had nothing to give themselves, no extra clothing or food to spare. The
arrival was always timed just before half-day when food reserves in the
households were low or none and she had quickly learnt that some of them
showed no form of compassion themselves, many taking anything they
could get their hands on, no matter what force was required.
You could see the frenzy in people’s eyes and the primal need to survive
clearly showed in those first, desperate days.

They prepared as much as they possibly could for the arrival.

The two or three empty buildings that could be found around the
Populance were clearly marked, the meagre food stores hidden where
possible, the blankets tucked underneath mattresses. She carried a knife
with her, obsessively reassuring herself that it was still strapped to her side
during those first couple of weeks, prepared to defend herself, especially
since that one night four years ago.
She had been cornered by a new Peep in an alley.
 She would never forget his eyes. The way he had looked at her… like a
predator looks at prey.
He had pinned her against the wall and started pulling up her shirt, terror
freezing her for a second before she started pushing against him, screaming
at the top of her lungs, trying to kick him, scratch him—anything. But she
had been helpless against his weight, the superior bulk of his body.
He shoved her against the wall, hard, stars appearing in front of her eyes
and was busy with his belt buckle when five people of the Populance came
running into the alley and she managed to slip away, not stopping long
enough to see what happened to the Peep. She had never seen him again.
Through what grace she had received help, she still didn't understand to this
day. She didn't even remember who it was that had helped her that night.
But it was a feeling that haunted her still. That helplessness.
The very next day, she traded their remaining potatoes for a knife and
asked her brother to show her how to use it.
Jiri had never asked where her sudden fervour came from or questioned
the trade of their precious potatoes. But she had felt his eyes on the finger
marks wrapping around her upper arms when removing her outer layers in
the tunnels and was more than happy to show her how to handle the knife,
the few manoeuvres he knew that used an opponent’s weight against
themselves and how to outwit them in close quarters. She, in turn, had
never asked who taught him and why, but from then onwards, they trained
for a few minutes whenever they could find the time and it was a skill that
she would always be grateful for. Her speed made up for her height because
although she was not insanely short, she was shorter than most men, her
weight another disadvantage. But she had learnt to use momentum against a
heavier opponent, so she managed to extricate herself from the situation she
landed in the previous year. To this day, she wasn't entirely sure which body
part her knife had sunk into, but she lost no sleep over it and he never
bothered her again after that, although she saw him around the Populance
every once in a while, a slow smile creeping over his features every time he
spotted her.

After the first night, Peeps that hadn't fit into the empty buildings or found
some scraps lying around the streets to erect a temporary hovel started
attacking households in numbers. More often than not, people died.
Usually, the old while trying to protect the young, or if they were not quick
enough to get out of the way. At times, neighbours intervened, but everyone
was only trying to survive, and if doing so would put their family in danger,
you were on your own.
Work in the tunnels continued as normal and the difference between the
Peeps that were used to physical labour and those that were not was very
quickly noticed. As well as the ones that knew how to follow orders and the
ones that were used to giving them. The ones that had already been
imprisoned for a few months before arriving in the Mines and the ones that
had just been sentenced. Deaths from exhaustion were frequent, the
whipping post used most nights.
Those first two weeks were gruesome, and no matter how often the
process repeated itself, it never got any better.

Because the conditions were so tough, there was no love lost between the
people born to the Mines and the people that arrived at the Mines as
prisoners—the divide apparent. This meant that the marriage between her
grandmother and grandfather had marked them as clear outsiders, and to
this day, her family was still seen as such. She often wondered whether their
love was worth all the trouble it brought them. She wondered whether it
hadn’t been selfish.
It had never bothered Jiri, though she supposed that he never had the time
for friends. If he wasn't working the tunnels or fixing something around the
house, he was too exhausted.
With her grandfather too old to work the lower tunnels and her mother
unable to enter them at all, it was Jiri who looked after her growing up,
even though he couldn’t have been much more than six or seven years old
at the time.
Her father had died when the tunnel he was working in collapsed while
she was still very young. Four others died that day. She didn't really
remember her father. The only thing she remembered were his hands, strong
enough to lift her high into the sky and put her on his shoulders. But what
she did remember was the hunger that followed. For years, that was all she
remembered until her brother was old enough to work the rock and provide
for her family. It hadn't been much, but they survived, and over the years,
he had gained enough strength to be allowed in the dangerous tunnels with
the more precious rocks that paid out higher rations.
The constant exposure to the gases in those tunnels and the dust that
coated every surface had worked its way into his lungs. When it started to
show, it killed her that she wasn't able to take his place. Even when he
started waking up in the middle of the night because he couldn’t breathe
properly, there was nothing she could do. She had begged the Overseers.
Day after day, she had run up to them to plead with them. Ignored the stick
that rained down on her when they were bored of her… when they’d had
enough of her wondering mouth as they called it. But they refused her
because protocol was clear. Women weren't allowed within the active
passages to dig out the rocks and carrying them between collection points
paid out fewer rations. Because their mothers leg meant that they were one
ration short, Jiri continued in the dangerous tunnels to try and make up for
it, and two years ago, he had simply not woken up.

Because of Yanni, the fact that she had been labelled an outsider never
bothered her much either. Not until she realised that a community would
come in handy at times when your family needed someone desperately.
They had been friends ever since she could remember, but these last few
months, she noticed how lonely she was without him.
And now his last words at half-day…
They hadn’t spoken since, always missing one another at the tunnel exit,
somehow. Or rather, she was sure that it was on purpose. But with the new
Peeps arriving that evening, she had other things to worry about. The
tension could be felt all around the Populance. Younger kids had started
staying at home instead of playing in the streets, women were moving
around in groups, knives could be seen on more than one belt. She was
grateful that her back had healed over so remarkably fast, allowing for
access to a great deal of her bodily range. She felt as though she was
capable of protecting herself. Already, only faint red lines could be seen
along her back, and although she still felt the deeper lying pain, she couldn't
help but wonder whether those were only phantom aches her brain tricked
her into.

The tunnels had been remarkably quiet all day, people rushing back home
straight after their shift had ended, either going back to their own house or
the house of a family member or friend who was working the night shift
and only had young children or women that wouldn't be able to defend
themselves.
She had decided to do neither. At the tunnel entrance, she told her
grandfather that she would meet him at home, and although he wanted to
object, he thought better of it, when he saw the determination on her face
and only told her to be careful. He knew not to draw attention to themselves
and knew that there was no way of convincing her otherwise once she had
made up her mind. He also knew that she was able to hold her own. While
he rushed off in the direction of the Populance, she made her way towards
the Outpost.
There was a spot that allowed for a pretty good view of the gates, almost
within hearing distance a short way off the path and that was where she was
headed. With the attention of the Watchers on the other side of the wall and
the darkness as her ally, she made it without incident to the spot wedged
between two boulders, about two and a half meters above the ground, and
settled into the hollows, bracing herself for the cold that quickly engulfed
her.

She didn’t have to wait long before a voice could be heard beyond the
wall. It was too far away for her to make out any words, but it was clear that
a command was shouted across the distance, probably the Head Watcher of
the group.
The gates opened, and thanks to the torches, she could see three Watchers
on horses emerge, followed by a line of Peeps. The Peeps were bound
together at the hips, walking behind the horses in single file, haggard and
cold. Some faces were downcast, others looked around, trying to make out
the shapes of the Populance. There were 23 of them—19 men and four
women, as far as she could tell, none younger than her, only one showing a
shock of white in his hair. They were followed by a further three Watchers
on horseback and then the gates closed once more. Halfway down the path
towards her, the procession came to a halt and the Watchers dismounted,
one of them moving along the line of Peeps, unlocking the chain wrapped
around their waist, allowing it to fall to the ground with a loud thump. A
second Watcher followed the first, handing out a hunk of bread and a small
canteen of water to each Peep.
"Welcome home," that same voice announced loudly, an obvious sneer
clearly audible. "Find yourselves a place to sleep and be back here at
sunrise. You'll be happy to hear that we will put you to work instead of
letting you rot away. For those of you who fail to show up in the morning,
there is a beautiful whipping post waiting in the square. This is a small
place. We will find you if you have any wondrous ideas. Getting out is
impossible, so don't even try it. Many have done just that, just as many have
failed and they never have a second chance to try again. Sweet dreams."
With that, the Watchers mounted their horses and rode back towards the
Outpost, the gates opening for them to pass and closing with a resounding
thud, leaving no room for argument. The whole ordeal had taken no longer
than a few minutes.
The Peeps looked at one another, the gates or the bread clutched in their
hand and then slowly, turned towards the three lights shining in the distance
of the Populance. One by one, they started trickling in that direction, some
faster than others and were soon out of sight.
 About five years ago, the people of the Populance had first tried the lights,
and so far, it had worked well for that initial night. The three lights that
could be seen all the way from the Outpost marked the three hovels the
people could spare for the new arrivals. No one was there to greet them—
the first year, Trel had done so, but he had been followed home, and when
trying to dissuade the Peeps from entering his house, it had gotten violent.
So, no one had attempted to explain the situation since. Not even other
Peeps that had been in the Mines for years now.
They realised, though, that the message was clear enough for that first
night, the Peeps too exhausted from the road and new surroundings to be a
problem. It was the second night that usually meant trouble, the newcomers
desperate for food and warmer clothing, the available space too small. At
that point, they had seen the Populance by daylight, knew that there were
more options than the three hovels, better insulated buildings. They were
told that they would get food the following day as it would be half-day, but
the way their bodies were fed—almost round when they first arrived, none
of them had ever experienced hunger or at least not to the extent almost
everyone in the Populance had experienced at one point or another, so two
days with nothing to eat but a little bread made them reckless.
Then came half-day. It brought utter chaos, with the Peeps having time
and daylight to explore the city. On extremely odd occasions, Peeps took a
fellow Peep in. Ayda had speculated whether they knew one another from
outside the Mines in a different life. But she never shared that thought with
anyone else—it’s not something they would ever be able to find out
anyways.
She made her way home, past the lit hovels, being careful to stick to the
shadows, muscles tensed, ready to move at the slightest sign of danger. But
except for a loud clatter that went up in the structure to the left, which
suggested a body being thrown across the room, everything seemed quiet.
Her mother and grandfather were still awake, although not even a candle
was lit, talking to one another in hushed voices. Her ma jumped when she
noticed Ayda in the doorway, having unintentionally snuck up on them.
"By the volcano," she breathed. "Where have you been? Actually, don't
tell me. I'm sure I don’t want to know."
Ayda gave her a tired smile. "Sorry," she mumbled and moved towards
the cold hearth. "Any food left?"
"There's a bowl on the table for you," Grandpa said.
"They brought 23 this time. Four females, no one younger than me—one
elderly," she informed them.
Pointed silence followed her announcement from her mother, her
grandfather responding after a heartbeat. "Again, more than last time. Well,
let's hope the elderly has a calming influence on the lot. It's been a cold
winter. There will be trouble around clothing and blankets, so make sure
you are extra careful around where you hide your outer layers tomorrow in
the tunnels."
"I know." She smiled at him softly.
"And don't even try to talk to them."
"I won't."
"I mean it, Ayda," he said sternly.
"I know, Grandpa," she responded in exasperation. "I've lived through a
few of these by now, you know…"
He was worried. He always was, but she got the feeling that there was
more to it this time around. Something was bothering him. Something had
been bothering him ever since the day of her whipping. But before she
could ask, he was already on his feet. "We better get some sleep, tomorrow
will be exhausting. Goodnight."
"He's right," her mother responded. "Goodnight, honey." With a kiss to
the forehead, she was off to find her cot.
They were talking about tomorrow night. No one managed to close an eye
during the second night of the new arrivals when they started prowling the
streets of the Populance.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Four

T
here was an odd mix of silence and unrest in the tunnels the following
day, one that people seemed to come back to every time new Peeps
arrived.
People had seen them being shoved into the lower tunnels in the morning,
some stupid enough to resist and earning themselves the stick, others
looking so frightened that they might pass out at any moment. With silence
seeping into their very pores, Miners waited for the arrivals to disappear
through the tunnel opening before starting hushed, excited conversations
amongst one another and slowly moving towards the entrance themselves,
preparing for the day.
The constant chatter about the size of the group, the type of new arrivals,
who they needed to look out for and debating who would pass away in the
cold first, filled the tunnels throughout the day, but it died away completely
every time one of the arrivals passed on her way to the surface, carrying a
container, which wasn't too often, since the rock was so rare down there.
 The sound of the stick was heard often, the newcomers not accustomed to
the strict rules of the Mines, or the fast pace that was required or the skill
that they learnt with time. Probably breaking more of the rocks than the
Overseers liked, but not being shown how exactly to find the proper points
to strike with their picks either.
Towards the end of her shift, Ayda walked past a new Peep, extremely
unsteady on her feet, the exhaustion palpable on her face. She wouldn't
make it through the night.
A couple of steps behind her, Ayda heard a loud clatter and turned to see
the woman having collapsed, rocks flying in all directions. She hesitated,
and after a moment, took an unsure step in her direction, already stooping to
pick up the rock that had skidded towards her. Loud, unforgiving footsteps
came rushing through the corridor, a booming voice accompanying them.
"Get up!"
Ayda turned away just in time to not fall under the Overseers' scrutiny.
She did not rise, she had most likely fallen unconscious. There was nothing
Ayda could do to help her.
"Get up!" came the voice behind her once more, and seconds later, she
heard the stick flying through the air and connecting with skin.
"I said, get up, you lazy filth!"
The stick flew a second time and she heard the woman wake with a loud
cry of agony.
Ayda hurried down the tunnel, trying to escape the violence she was
powerless to stop.
She had been mistaken. She would probably not even make it through the
shift. There was a good chance she would be beaten to death right where
she lay.
 As she emerged from the tunnels, her eyes scanned the clearing, quickly
locating her grandfather and rushing over to him, the death of the woman
having already spread throughout the crowd, her body lying off to one side.
A young man was busy being dragged over to the whipping post, his
resistance earning him more lashes by the second.
The crowd dispersed quickly, in contradiction to the mass of people she
had acquired only a few days earlier. This was going to get ugly, quickly.
They were all eager to get home.

Her mother was pacing by the time they rushed through the doors and
looked up, relief visible on her face.
"I could hear the commotion all the way over here. It's bad, isn't it?"
"A woman is already dead," her grandfather replied solemnly. "A man is
busy being whipped. By his resistance, we can be sure that it's going to be
quite a number of lashes that he’ll receive. Unless someone picks him up,
he will freeze by the whipping posts tonight." Her mother’s face went pale.
It was nothing that hadn't happened before, but what kind of monsters
would they be if they didn't allow for such events to affect them?
"What do we do?" Her mother’s words were a whisper.
"There is nothing we can do." Her grandfather’s words were just as soft.
"You know what would happen if we did."
She did – so did Ayda.
They would be made a target.
They would be seen as Peep sympathisers and every last one of them
would single them out and try to take advantage of them.
 Even if no violence was intended, it always found those who helped,
without exception.
And yet…
She could still hear the stick flying through the air as it connected with
skin and the scream that followed as the Peep was forced back to
consciousness, only to be beaten to death. Her scream that sounded from
the very soul, no tongue required.
"I…" her mother’s voice broke.
"And what would happen to our souls if we knew he died in the night
even though we could have done something about it?" Ayda asked, her
voice soft but not weak.
"Sweetheart…" her grandfather started.
"I know, Grandpa. We should be used to this. It happens every time the
new arrivals come to the Mines. But maybe we are a little too used to it by
now. Maybe, I have seen one too many die."
"Ayda…" he started again.
"I heard him beat her to death." It was her turn to whisper. Her hands had
started trembling and she shoved them into the folds of her outer layers. Her
mother’s eyes followed them. She took a tentative step towards her
daughter, one arm outstretched, then quickly dropped it when she noticed
what she was doing.
Softness was useless in the Mines. It didn't do anyone any good to show
weakness.
"I just walked away as his stick was raining down on her." Her shoulders
sagged with the shame that was overpowering her. "I didn't even look back.
I just walked away, hearing her screams."
 Her grandfather’s hand rested on her shoulder. "There is nothing you
could have done, Ayda."
Her mother’s eyes filled with tears.
"I know. But there is now." She looked up into his eyes, pleading with
him.
She had asked so many times growing up. She had begged her family.
Cried herself to sleep.
"Only for one night. Please."
Her grandfather looked at her helplessly.
"One night." Came her mother’s voice from behind her grandfather, a lot
stronger than it had been only moments before.
"He can stay one night as long as he does not come back the following
one." She looked determined now, an energy within her that Ayda hadn't
seen in a long time.
Her grandfather sighed, showing his resignation. He would allow it.
"We don't go until after nightfall," he warned.
She gave him a rare hug. "Thank you."

Her mother had prepared Ayda’s cot and was boiling some water by the
time Ayda and her grandfather left the house. The remainder of the salve
that they had used for her lashes a few days earlier was already waiting
beside the bed.
The little of the warmth the day had brought with it had already escaped
with the setting sun and the temperature was dropping further with every
step.
The night was quiet—a shocked silence had fallen over the three indicated
buildings that attempted to house the new Peeps, some huddled figures here
and there on the ground in front of the doors where they didn't fit within the
meagre shelters.
Is this the right call to make? Am I being utterly irresponsible just like
Yanni keeps telling me?
They gave the buildings a wide berth and silently made their way back to
the tunnels.
Please, let someone else have picked you up.
Her heart was thudding by the time the tunnel came into view.
The only reason they were able to see it was because the entrance of the
tunnel was an even darker blackness than the night around them, with no
stars providing any light, only the slightest glimmer of the moon shining
through the clouds.
Thanks to memory, they turned to the right, heading in the direction of the
whipping posts, only too aware that someone could emerge from the tunnel
mouth at any given moment.
Which was exactly what happened… a minute later. They froze in place.
The female deposited her container and disappeared back into the tunnel
without even a look around.
Ayda let out the breath she had been holding onto and nudged her
grandfather back into a silent walk.
Please, tell me you got up and walked away.
A soft whimper sounded through the air.
Her feet picked up speed, her heart thundering in her chest.
A dark figure was slumped on the ground, the tremble in his limbs visible,
even in the near darkness.
She kneeled down and reached for the figure.
He flinched away from her the moment her fingertips grazed his form.
 "It's okay," she whispered, barely audible. "We're here to help."
He stilled and another whimper went through him.
She felt her grandfather kneel on the other side of the Peep, reaching for
his shoulders. "You're going to have to be completely silent," he warned. "If
you make a sound, we will need to leave you behind."
Instead of responding, silence greeted them.
Good.
She reached for his shoulders herself and slowly, carefully, started pulling
him upright, her grandfather doing the same.
She felt his body going rigid, warm blood flowing over her hands, but to
his credit, he didn't let a single sound escape his lips.

They half dragged, half carried him back, stumbling every once in a
while, under his weight. He was heavier than anyone else she could think
of, even though he didn't seem to be that tall. His arms had a generous
amount of flesh on them and if she tried to put her arms around his back to
support him further, she was sure that she wouldn't be able to feel any of his
ribs through his layers.
What am I doing? Why would I risk my family like this?
As they stumbled through the door, her mother shot to her feet and came
rushing towards them.
"Shut the door, sweetheart."
She let her mother take her place, awkwardly manoeuvring his body’s
weight, while using her walking stick to support her own, allowing for Ayda
to turn towards the door. By the time she was facing the room again, they
were lowering him onto her cot.
She took in a sharp breath when she saw the mess that was his back.
 Whole pieces of flesh had been severed from him, there were even two
places through which bone could be seen.
"Fetch me the water from the hearth, Ayda." Her mother’s voice was
steady, although she could see the horror on her face.
She forced herself to turn towards the hearth, grateful to have something
to occupy her hands.
Her mother mixed the still boiling water into the bowl already waiting
beside the bed, cooling the water to a milder temperature.
"Pass me the rag."
Ayda did as she was told.
Her mother dunked the rag into the water and wrung out the access before
hovering the cloth above his back.
"I am going to clean out your wounds. It's going to hurt, but if I don’t do
this, they will get infected. Infection is nearly impossible to heal. You
cannot make a sound." She spoke the words slowly, softly.
After a small pause, her mother continued, "Sweetheart, go and fetch
another rag so he has something to bite down on."
Ayda jumped to her feet and came back with another cloth, passing it to
her.
"Here." She placed the cloth at his lips, waiting for him to part them, and
pushed it between his teeth. He obeyed her after a moment of hesitation.
"Good," her voice was still soft, reassuring.
She dunked and wrung the rag once more, then placed it over his wounds
and gently washed them out.
He gasped into the rag on many occasions and seemed to pass out a
couple of times, but just like the walk back, he kept quiet enough for no one
to hear him in the surrounding houses.
 Ayda fetched new water a couple of times, washing out the rag in the
boiling water a few more times and fetching her blanket when he started
shivering so much that her mother could no longer continue washing out his
wounds.
She placed the salve over the worst cuts, not having enough to dress them
all and bandaged them when she noticed that she was forced to cover the
cuts with his shirt and outer later. He would freeze to death if they couldn't
cover his back with blankets. His body wasn't accustomed to these
temperatures and tonight would be a bad one.
When they had finally washed out the last bowl and cleaned the last rag,
ensuring that not a trace of blood could be seen, Ayda curled up at the open
hearth, her outer layers wrapped tightly around her, and fell into a deep
sleep.

Before dawn had even broken, her grandfather woke her once more.
Ayda was exhausted, her body still bone weary, but she remembered the
man in her bed and sat bolt upright.
"We need to move him before it gets light out," her grandfather whispered
softly.
Weariness washed over her.
"Is he awake?" she asked.
"I don't think so."
She got to her feet and moved to the cot.
His hulking form was still, his breath even.
She reached out with a tentative hand, shaking his arm softly.
"Wake up."
He didn't stir.
 She shook his arm a little harder.
"You need to go."
He almost cried out with a start, but she covered his mouth just in time,
muffling the sound.
"Shhh. You need to go. No one can know that you were here and you
cannot come back either."
His eyes were wide, the pain visible on his face.
"Don't come back here, do you understand me?" She was staring at him.
She knew how unkind her words must sound to him, but she needed him
to agree to never come back.
"You're going to kill us if you come back here. It cannot happen." She was
still staring at him.
He swallowed, staring back.
"Take it as a trade. We saved your life. In return, you have to promise to
save ours."
He was still staring but nodded slightly.
She looked him in the eye. A soft blue orb looking back. Honest. Those
were honest eyes.
It was good enough for her. It had to be. "I'm sorry."
She helped him up, listening to his soft whimpers.
"You have to be at the tunnel entrance this morning, ready to work. If you
don't, you will receive another lashing and I don't think you will survive a
second one. Go there now, it is almost dawn."
She guided him to the door and opened it a crack, looking around before
opening it further, pointing in the right direction and closing the door again
behind him.
 It's fine. He won't be any trouble, he can’t even talk. How is he going to
tell anyone that it was us who helped him?
She was trying to convince herself and she knew it.
She could tell that her grandfather was thinking the same.

Even though she jumped at every little sound and eyes felt as though they
followed her every step, the day was uneventful. No one seemed to know
about their involvement the previous night.
After the second day was just as quiet, the only news about the man, a
general wonder at his incredible endurance after such a thorough whipping,
she was able to breathe a little easier once more. The Peeps had not made
much trouble, even though they were allocated to day and night shifts by
now, possibly due to the fact that there was now more sleeping room since
only half needed a bed at a time.
But she could still feel the unease within her grandfather.
That evening when she couldn't take it anymore, she asked him about it.
"What is it?"
"What is what?" He looked at her, confused.
"You're worried about something. More so than usual. What is it?"
Understanding washed over his face, then it was as though he stepped
away mentally.
No.
A wall!
From her grandfather…
He had never shut her out like that before.
"Grandpa?"
"It’s nothing, sweetheart."
 Her heart contracted a little.
He had never lied to her either. Not to her face.
"Why are you lying to me?"
He looked at her, sighed, and his eyes softened. "It really is nothing,
sweetheart. Just something your grandma used to tell me about."
"What was it?"
"Things about Magiks."
She made a constricted sound and physically withdrew from him, not
having expected that response in the slightest.
"Why would she have spoken to you about Magiks?" She realised she was
whispering, her heart hammering in her chest.
Magiks were evil beings. Everyone knew that. They were forced to slave
away for them, day and night because of their rocks. They were the ones
that kept them down in the Mines instead of on the Farms. They were the
ones that didn't care about the conditions they were placed in and the deaths
that were caused each and every single year. They were probably the ones
that brought the Peeps in as well, even though she was fairly certain that it
was normal people delivering them every six months.
Magiks possessed powers, that could make any normal person do their
bidding. Some even believed that the entire Crater was under the power of
the Magiks, otherwise, the people of the Populance wouldn't be this cruel to
one another.
Why they were so wicked, no one had ever been able to tell her. But she
knew that she never wanted to face a Magik.
"She spoke to me about many things, sweetheart." A small smile appeared
on his face.
"Why are you telling me this?"
 He looked at her, surprised. "Because you asked me about it, of course."
"Well, yes… but not about Magiks. They are evil." She was still leaning
back from him.
"Indeed…" he murmured, almost to himself.
"So, why was she telling you about them?" Her voice was a little
bewildered now.
"Does it matter? We were married. We spoke about all the things in the
world. Just like you and I are talking about Magiks right now."
"That's not the same…" she said, a little defensive.
"Let the topic rest, sweetheart." He was smiling at her with that soft smile
of his. He didn't want her to carry on prying.
"But…"
"That's enough, Ayda." His tone hadn't changed, but the wall was back.
She didn't know what to do with that wall. It was usually her mother that
kept close to the wall. She hadn't even known that her grandfather
possessed one.
She was about to talk back to him when the door opened and her mother
walked through.
Her grandfather turned to her with a smile.
"There you are. How was your day?"
Ayda withdrew from them and went to lie on her cot, suddenly exhausted.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Five

T
he wagons picking up the volcanic rock arrived during her shift a few
days later and some of the younger kids were moving the rocks
between the collection bins and the three transporters waiting to leave
again.
The stick wasn't heard as often as on that first day, especially after that
woman had been beaten to death and no one batted an eye at the act.
But the whipping post had been used again the day before, though only
for three lashes, so this man had walked away from it on his own.
Something was off though and she didn't like it. This group was too quiet.
They were too complaisant.
No one was capable of accepting slavery easily, not even if you’d been
warned that it's better that way.

Her shift ended and the weariness still hadn't left her, so the wagons were
a welcome distraction. She needed something else to occupy her mind.
 She had made all of one step in the general direction of her hideout—the
Populance just as easily her destination as her spot, to all eyes except—
"Where do you think you're going?"
She sighed in exasperation. Yanni. Not right now.
She turned to face him.
"Hi," her voice portrayed her irritation clearly.
If she was being honest with herself, she was a little hurt that he hadn't
shown up at her door even once, checking up on her after the lashings,
checking whether her grandpa was alright after losing his two fingers. She
didn’t care who he was with. Friends treated one another better than that.
He lifted an eyebrow at her tone.
"Doing something you shouldn't, I take it?"
"You've joined me plenty of times in the past," she challenged him.
"And then I grew up and realised what the consequences of my actions
would be," he shot right back at her.
That irritation moved from her voice into her very being. "Some of us
cannot simply accept our fate."
"That is a childish response to make."
"Since when do you consider the notion of slavery being wrong,
childish?"
"Kala says—"
She was definitely irritated now. Her hands turned into fists, her temper
rising.
"Oh, by the volcano, Yanni. Would you forget about what Kala says for
just one moment?!"
He pinned her fists with a stare before shooting his eyes back to hers
defiantly.
 "Your stubbornness and brute refusal to accept your situation is going to
get your entire family killed. You are going to ensure that everyone around
you keeps getting hurt and I cannot be a part of it any longer. Kala deserves
better than that. My wife deserves better than that."
His next words were soft, but they battered her like a falling boulder.
"I’ve asked to marry her."
Silence.
Utter silence—in her heart.
"She said yes."
Her hands slackened.
"I see. That’s great, Yanni," she all but forced past her lips.
"It is."
She could hear the hurt in his voice. The hurt that she didn’t seem to
understand that all he wanted, all he craved, was a loving home. He wanted
to be able to share his responsibilities. His siblings were old enough to look
after themselves. Old enough in the Mines, at least. They all earned their
own rations, and if he so pleased, he would be able to have his own children
without fear that they would starve to death. The hurt that proved he knew
she wasn't happy for him. Not truly… because she wanted more for him.
For both of them.
She didn’t understand. She didn’t understand how he could give up on
their dream of leaving this wretched place. She was aware that they
wouldn’t be able to leave right this minute. If they didn’t manage to take
them the Overseers would punish their families for them disappearing, but
marrying Kala felt like giving up. It felt like giving in to the life that they
had been born into. A life that she would not accept. Could not accept.
 It hurt her, just as much as it hurt him that neither could understand the
desires of the other. That neither could accept the desires of the other. That
he was clinging onto a life that she saw as impossible to carry on living and
that she was clinging onto a life that he saw as impossible to attain.
"She is a lucky girl to have you."
He shrank back ever so slightly from the words. Letting go of the very last
hope that maybe, just maybe, there was the smallest chance that Ayda
would have chosen him. Chosen a life with him.
"No… I am the lucky one."
His face soft, he took a step back, then another.
"Goodnight, Dya." And he turned from her, towards the tunnels, towards
Kala, towards that wretched life.
A goodbye, not a goodnight.
She swallowed audibly and took a steadying breath.
She should be happy for him.
She should want what he was offering.
She should be taking what he was offering.
She should, but she didn’t. She couldn't accept that there was nothing
better out there.
She turned towards her hideout, the darkness creeping in to keep her from
prying eyes.

It was the same spot in which they had caught Yanni about three and a
half years ago…
Caught him when it should have been her.
But he had taken the punishment in her stead.
 That day, the transporter had come through and she went to scout the
Outpost. She hadn’t told Yanni that she was going because the whipping
from the year before was still vivid in her memory—a whipping that he had
only received because she wanted to examine the volcanic rock in daylight,
no one ever wanting to give her an answer as to what was so special about
them, that they spent every waking moment in those tunnels, recklessly
throwing lives away and never even making any use of the rocks
themselves.
She had been sitting in their hiding spot for quite some time, but when the
gates finally opened, no sign of anything causing them to swing inwards
was visible from where she hunched. The gates had seemed to seamlessly
open on the wind. She jumped down from her spot and silently crept
forward, wanting a better view. It had occurred to her that she had never
noticed a lock on the gates. No chains that were visible with which they
were drawn open, nothing that indicated any physical force that moved
them. This made absolutely no sense to her, so she inched forward slowly,
trying for a better view. The gates still hadn’t closed, so maybe she would
see what they used to move them. But when she had gotten close enough to
make out faces, the gates seemed to glide back closed on their own accord.
She had been puzzling over this so intently that she hadn't noticed the
Watcher on his round until it was too late. He had made her out. Not her
specifically—she had been sure to be in the shadows, but he had made out a
dark silhouette and started approaching her—fast.
She turned tail and sprinted back to her spot, her only hope was reaching
it in time for him not to notice her jump up because running home only
meant that she would put her family in danger of being punished. But he
was fast and there was a good chance that he was going to catch her before
she made it up the swift climb to the ledge. She remembered pumping her
legs as hard as she possibly could, to no avail.
This wasn't good. She had been visualising the Watcher dragging her in
front of the Head Overseer when a figure grabbed her and started wrestling
her up the wall.
Yanni.
Of course, he had followed her that night. He knew exactly where she was
going to be.
She had been panting loudly and agonising over how she was going to
keep her breath under control when she reached the ledge and hauled
herself up, twisting around to get hold of Yanni’s hand, his sleeve, his hair
—anything. The Watcher’s footsteps were upon them.
This really wasn’t good!
Her heart had been in her throat.
She reached down so far that she almost lost her hold and crashed back to
the ground, but she managed to catch herself.
Just as she thought that her fingers were going to close around his sleeve,
he turned away and took a step in the direction of the Populance.
What was he doing?!
Not half a second later, the Watcher's stick had caught him across the face
and he crashed to the ground.
She almost cried out and had to bite her tongue not to. She could still taste
blood in her mouth from that day.
She could remember the urge to jump down to shield him from the second
strike that had descended upon him, but his eyes locked on hers, filled with
a single demand: Don't.
 Her eyes filled with tears as the sound of the stick connecting with his
shoulder, a loud thud, reverberated through her entire being.
He heard how close the footsteps had been, had known that he wasn't
going to make it up in time, and had hidden her from being discovered by
turning away from her.
It had taken every little fibre of her will not to jump down on the Watcher,
but Yanni's eyes were still pinning her to the spot. That damning demand in
them.
He knew that there was nothing she could do. That the only good it would
bring was her being punished with him.
The Watcher hauled him to his feet, Yanni's eyes finally breaking free
from hers, but not quick enough before she could see the pain fill them.
"You wretched little vermin, thinking yourself clever enough to spy on
us? Let's see what the Head Overseer has to say about you."
The Watcher dragged Yanni away and she soon lost them in the dark. But
even when the silence had spread around her and she could have jumped
down from her hiding spot seconds, minutes, hours ago—she had no
recollection of time. She stayed rooted to the spot in shock.
What had she done?
They whipped him.

They had whipped him within an inch of his life.

So many lashes that she lost count, and when the whip finally stopped
whizzing through the air, only silence filled the square.
The Overseer who had held the whip didn't bother cutting him down from
the posts. He didn't bother addressing anyone to do so either. He simply
walked away.
 She had sprinted to his limp form hanging from the posts, hands shaking
so badly that her attempts at undoing the knots were completely futile. She
was sobbing so hard that her entire body had shaken and gentle hands had
to pull her aside to reach around her so they could undo the knots in her
stead.
She didn't know who had helped him down. She hadn’t registered it.
His back. His back was a mess of raw skin, bones visible everywhere you
looked.
Was he breathing?
Was he going to live?
He made it through the night and the next.
Then the fever hit and the next three days were hell.
She’d had to be in the tunnels but spent every free second at his side,
tending him where she could, looking after his younger siblings.
Even then, he had been alone with them, his parents having died a couple
of years before.
The guilt had eaten her alive.
Every last grain of her rations went to him and his siblings. She begged
her family to spare whatever they could. Begged anyone that would listen to
spare anything they could.
He hadn't made it out of bed for two weeks and wasn’t able to stand on
his feet for more than a few moments, for a week after that.
Once he had made it back to the tunnels, it took a week until his rations
were paid out.
His family had nearly starved in those weeks.
Her own had come close too.
He was 14 years old.
 Maybe he was right in settling down. In accepting his fate in this place.
Why keep risking your life in such a futile manner? And inadvertently,
through the responsibility he carried, the life of his family.
And what was she doing?
Even though she didn't carry the same responsibility, it was her mother
and grandfather that would be punished if she stepped out of line. If she
disappeared without an explanation. If she ever did find a way…
But maybe they would come with her.
At the same time as that thought hit, a voice whispered that if the smallest
thing was to go wrong in a plan she had no right to even believe would ever
exist, the guilt would kill her if the punishment didn't.
She sighed softly, her shoulders dropping, and turned towards her hiding
spot.
Maybe she would never be able to accept this place and maybe she would
scout out the transporter until she was wrinkled and old. It didn't mean that
she had to act on any of the information she gleaned.

By the time she had heaved herself up into her little spot, which no longer
seemed that far up the cliff wall, the transporters were almost fully loaded.
The kids filling the wagons with rocks would only have to make another
three or four rounds for the transporters to be ready to leave.
The Watchers that accompanied the wagons never stayed the night. No
matter how late it got, they always left.
 There were six of them. Two women and four men, two per wagon. Each
wagon was pulled by two horses, a lantern attached to the first wagon
leading the way. Missing a pothole meant the possibility of a tipped-over
wagon, which, in turn, meant the possibility of an injured beast or worse…
the loss of a load.
Once the wagons were fully loaded, a tarp was thrown over the top of the
rocks and then secured in place by rope. Ayda assumed that this was to
ensure no rocks were able to roll off the wagons during transportation.
Where exactly the rocks were taken, no one had ever been able to tell her.
But there was only one road that left here and it went through the Farms,
straight to the Rim. After that… Ayda could only guess. Was that it? Or was
there more out there, beyond the Crater? How many people lived on the
Farms and the Rim? What kind of life did they lead?
The kids had put the last rocks in place and were quickly dismissed back
into the tunnels by the Overseer, who had been accompanying them. He
assisted the Watchers with the tarp, and when that was done, two mounted
the wagons behind the horses per transporter and then, right on cue, they
started off towards the gate.
A loud boom sounded from the direction of the Populance, the rock
shaking beneath her and she whipped around, seeing flames go up in the
centre of the mass of buildings, turning night into day as flames started to
leap higher into the sky.
What had caused it?
This was going to spread. Fast.
The horses neighing brought her attention back to the transporters, who
had all been drawn up short, some of the Watchers having jumped to the
ground, others trying to calm the beasts.
 The Overseer was rooted to the spot, well aware of how close the flames
were to the buildings that housed him and the rest of his brethren. Although
their buildings were made of brick, the flames would devour the
possessions within, the heat crumbling even the stone.
As if coming to the realisation himself, he jumped up, frantically
gesturing to the Watchers to follow him, knowing that no one of the
Populance would lift a finger in trying to stoke the flames if they didn't
spread beyond the Inner Circle. Yes, punishments would be harsher in the
coming days and they would be dealt out for no other reason than that no
one came to the rescue when the flames had taken root amongst their
homes. But these were going to be dealt out no matter whether anyone
came to the rescue or not, seeing that there was nothing anyone could do to
save the two or three houses that had already been engulfed in flame. This
way, at least no one put themselves in mortal danger and people were ready
to act if the flames were to jump the line and start on their own homes.

After a few more seconds of wild gesturing and something that could only
be interpreted as threats; although she was too far away and the commotion
behind her had become too loud for her to understand anything that was
being exchanged between the Overseer and the Watchers; they reluctantly
sped off in the direction of the flames.
She would have to wait for them to be a safe distance away before
following, well aware that although the Overseer was too frantic to notice
anything around him by this point, the Watchers were still vigilant,
reluctantly following him into the depth of the Populance, the flames giving
them enough light to see by.
 She followed them with her eyes and only came out of her hiding spot
when she was no longer able to make out their silhouettes against the
flames.
Once she had reached the ground and turned to move in the direction of
the flames, her eyes came to rest on the three transporters, standing in a
line, completely unoccupied.
Even the remaining Watchers on the wall were entirely focused on the
flames spreading towards their buildings, most of them having followed the
Overseer to help fight the spread, only too aware of the danger they
possessed in destroying their property.
The transporters were still unoccupied.
Just standing there, waiting for her to come closer so that she could
inspect them properly.
This was her one chance.
She would never get this chance again…
Could she dare run up to them?
She turned, staring into the flames—not a single figure was coming back
for the wagons.
Her heart started pounding.
Her palms were sweating.
Was she really going to do this? So close after her last whipping?
They would remember her this time. Would they give her a harsher
punishment?
What would the punishment be? She hadn't heard of anyone wanting to
have a look at the transporters before.
 There was little to hide behind on her way to the transporters. Only a
couple of boulders, which might protect her from the eyes of those on the
wall but would do nothing if anyone returned from the Populance.
It was now or never.
With her heart thudding in her ears, she made for the wagons.
She covered the distance quickly, spearing for the first boulder and
peering over the top of it, forcing her breath to calm so that she could hear
something above her own panting.
No one had moved, everyone was still staring into the flames.
She darted to the second boulder, repeating her previous observations, and
then sprinted for the last transporter, intending to use it for cover just as she
had done with the boulders. The little circle of light, given off by the lantern
around the front of the first wagon, meant that she would stay as far away
from it as possible.
She reached the wagon, the horses noticing her, but for some blessing of
the volcano, they seemed to tolerate her sudden appearance at their backs,
only lifting their heads slightly, one moving a foot before standing still once
more.
She was huddling behind one of the wheels, relying on the semi-darkness
to allow for the Watchers to question what they were seeing if they spotted
her, holding her breath.
Nothing happened. No call sounded.
After a couple of minutes, she let out a soft sigh, her shoulders relaxing
slightly, although her heart was still thudding in her ears.
What was she even looking for?
 She already knew how these things worked, having observed them for
years every time they came through. So, what did she want?
She pulled at the tarp tightly strapped over the rocks—no room for
another handful of rocks, let alone a human bulk to hide beneath.
Peering at the front of the wagon, she slowly moved forward, ensuring
that her head stayed below the top of the wagon, her movements slow so as
not to frighten the beasts pulling them. The front of the transporter only
sported a bench for the two Watchers to sit on, and although there was room
for a body to squeeze below, there was no way she wouldn't be noticed if
she was to fold herself into the space. Any form of material she could hide
beneath would also be spotted straight away and even if there was a way for
it to be overlooked, she would need to try and get off again without being
noticed. That would prove impossible.
The wagons were otherwise open and there seemed to be no further room
anywhere behind the bench or in front of the tarp.
Extremely disappointed, she turned to move back into the darkness when
a sudden cry went out.
Instinctively, she dropped to her knees, rolling below the transporter, heart
in her mouth.
Had they spotted her?
Not a second later, a loud crash was heard and more shouts went up, this
time coming from the direction of the Populance.
She was lying on her back, staring at the bottom of the wagon, her body
already locking up from the icy ground beneath her.
There, connecting the two back wheels, was a sort of pipe that ran
underneath the wagon and… she moved her eyes above her head towards
the front of the wagon, a second pipe not far, connecting the two front
wheels as well.
Would this pipe move when in motion?
Her fingers reached up and tried to shake the pipe.
Nothing.
It was locked in place.
I think. Would it be possible—
Another explosion went up and the entire volcano seemed to broil.
Her breath caught.
No…
The rumbling continued and she could feel it. She could feel the volcano
coming to life beneath her. Could feel the energy moving from its very core.
No, no…!
Pure terror took her at the sheer power that was collecting below the very
ground.
The unspeakable might that drew together.
And then—like a candle—it was snuffed out.
Utter silence.
Then… shouting from the Populance.

She forced her limbs that had locked up in place from cold and terror to
allow her to move.
Twisting her head, she saw flames reaching for the sky, no longer in the
centre, but…
New terror gripped her heart.
She had to move.
Now.
 Within her next breath, she had rolled out from underneath the wagon and
was sprinting towards the flames.
She didn't care if the Watchers spotted her, didn't care if someone was
chasing her.
Those flames…
They were coming from the direction of her house!
Her foot slipped and she came down, hard. A gash opening up on her
right palm, her knees screaming at her.
She was up again, the ache bellowing in every limb, but it was secondary
to the redoubled terror that spread through her the closer she got to the
Populance.
No, no, no…!
She had reached the outer edge of the buildings, sprinting through them,
hauling herself around a sharp corner, another…
The flames were looming over her.
Close.
Too close. By the volcano it was HOT—
She had rounded a final corner, slamming into a building that caught her
momentum.
And…
"MA! GRANDPA!"
The shriek that came out of her was a sound she had never heard before in
her life.
She collapsed to her knees and was instantly scrambling back to her feet.
"MA! GRANDPA!"
No, no, no.
 The house was entirely engulfed in flame, the roof had collapsed in one
corner, one of the walls crumbled away.
She had to get inside!
She made to sprint for the disintegrated wall but strong arms caught her
around the waist.
"Ayda!" It was a harsh whisper in her ear.
"LET ME GO!"
She was struggling with all her strength, trying to kick her captor’s legs
out from underneath him, but he had her pinned against his broad chest.
"Ayda! It's me."
She didn't stop struggling. "I need to get inside!" The words were a sob
more than anything else.
"They're gone, Ayda."
"No!" Her elbow connected with something soft, and with a grunt, the
grip around her waist loosened enough for her to struggle free, but before
she made it two steps, his body collided with her and she landed face-first
in the mud, the weight on top of her unbearable.
"Ayda! I saw them. They had knives. They’re gone."
Her body started shaking uncontrollably and another sob broke free.
The weight lifted and two arms pulled her to her feet, then started
dragging her back.
"No, you can’t…" But the fight had left her. Her knees threatened to give
out from underneath her again, and just before she collapsed back to the
ground, those arms pulled her up and carried her away from her burning
home.
Her body was still shaking.
 They didn't go far. Before she knew better, a door closed behind her,
shutting some of the light out, the burn disappearing within the few meters
they had put between themselves and the flames, the freezing night
swallowing the heat.
She was placed on a stool, and within moments, a blanket found its way
around her shoulders.
Footsteps retreated and the sound of liquid being poured reached her.
A cup was placed between her trembling hands before being removed and
placed on the table next to her instead.
"Ayda." The voice was soft as though he was talking to a frightened child.
She lifted her eyes, having to blink a few times before being able to focus
on the face.
Blurry eyes looked back at her.
"Gunnar." The word was a croak. "Who?" She was barely keeping
upright.
He knew what she meant.
Who had come with knives?
"The newbies. The explosion in the Inner Circle—it was a distraction.
They used it to get into the houses of people that had gone to make sure that
the flames didn't jump the line. There were five of them. All men. When
they encountered resistance, they pulled out their knives. They took
whatever they wanted. When they came here, I heard your mother
screaming at them. She was pointing a finger at one of them, the one who
had been whipped on the first day. When one of the others tried to move
past her into the house, she tried to block his way but he pushed her back.
That's when the flames started—I don't know where they came from…"
He was taking a shaky breath, tears streaming down his face.
 "I couldn't get to her. Flames had jumped up in front of me and people
were streaming out of houses. Elle ran at the one that had pushed her down
and he just rammed a knife into her. She collapsed on the spot. That's when
your grandfather came running around the corner, probably having seen the
flames go up. He saw Elle and went berserk. I've never seen him like that
before in my life. He lost it. He ran at the guy with the knife, and before he
could even reach him, another stepped in his way and pushed a knife into
his neck. They didn't even take anything from the house. Just left them to
burn in it."
Gunnar was crying, his arms wrapped around himself as though he was
trying to hold himself together.
"The guy that was whipped," Ayda whispered. "Him?"
"What?"
"Is he the one that put the knife in my grandfather’s neck?"
Icy cold had gripped her heart.
"The one that was whipped…" His voice drifted off, his hands trying to
wipe the tears from his face, but they kept coming.
Her body had gone numb from the cold mud plastered to her skin and she
reached for the hot mug with trembling hands.
The outside was still full of shouts but her head had gone silent.
"…if you want?"
She blinked at him. He had said something and she hadn’t heard a single
word.
"What?" She was whispering again.
He smiled at her with a sad face.
"I said that you could stay here if you wanted. I don’t mind."
"I…"
 Her mother and her grandfather were dead.
A cold feeling spread through her heart and the sobs took over. She was
trembling so hard that Gunnar had to put an arm around her shoulders so
that she wouldn't fall off the stool. She turned into his chest and let the sobs
out freely. He didn't say anything, just held her, and when the sobs finally
subsided, he waited for her to pull away first.
She didn’t know Gunnar very well. He had lost his wife a few years ago
and his children had children of their own. He had been in love with her
mother for the longest time, something everyone knew but he had never
admitted to himself. She thought it was because he had already loved her,
even while his wife was still alive and he was ashamed of it, maybe even
holding himself responsible for her passing.
"I'll make a bed up for you by the fire." He started to turn…
"I've got to go," she said. Her voice was a lot stronger than she expected it
to be.
The tears had washed through her and a clarity seemed to seep into her
bones instead.
"I've got to go," she repeated and started to get to her feet, pulling the
blanket—no, outer layer—from her shoulders.
She needed to move.
She needed to move now or she would jump out of her own skin.
"Where are you going?" Gunnar turned back to her and pinned her with
narrowed eyes.
"Away," she said, her voice steady, her insides roaring, her arm pushing
the outer layer towards him.
"What do you mean, away?" He took a small step back, closer to the door,
his eyes not leaving her.
 "I can't stay here." Her voice started to shake again and she took a
steadying breath.
"That’s alright. I’ll ask my daughter if they will make space for you for a
few days."
"No. Here. I can’t stay here." She gestured wildly through the air, trying
to encompass everything.
Trying to tame the fire now blazing within her.
Realisation at her meaning washed over his features. "You can't leave. It
hasn’t been done." Gunnar was taking another step back, his arms going out
defensively, as though he was trying to block the door.
"I'm going to get out with the transporters."
"That's impossible." His arms were coming back around himself. "They
will kill you."
"They will think I died in the fire, with Ma and Grandpa. They won't even
look for me," she whispered.
"There is no way, Ayda." He was starting to plead with her. "Don't do
anything stupid."
"I can't stay here." She walked up to him, pushing the outer layers into his
frame. "You cannot tell anyone. They must think that I died in the fire."
He looked at the outer layers in her hands helplessly.
"Ayda…"
"Promise me."
He hesitated. "There is something I need to tell you."
"Promise me!" She was almost hissing at him.
He looked at her, eyes still pleading, but said, "I promise."
She pushed the outer layers at him again but he only shook his head. "You
need them more than I do."
 She pulled her hand back, grateful, and flung her arms through the extra
layers.
"Ayda, there—"
She cut him off. "I need to go." Panic was starting to claim her again. She
needed to move.
"Thank you," she said softly and turned for the door.
"I hope you make it."
She pushed thoughts of her mother and grandfather aside and stepped out
into the freezing night.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Six

Y
anni.
Maybe Yanni would come with her.
The moment that hope rose, the words he had spoken to her a mere couple
of hours ago crushed it again.
He didn’t want to be a part of her recklessness any longer.
He would never be able to leave his siblings behind, and for her plan to
work, there couldn't be more than three of them.
This was her risk to take. No one else’s. The likelihood of this working
was near nil.
He had Kala now. He had a chance at a life of his choosing and if this plan
didn't work out and they beat him to death because of it, she would never be
able to forgive herself.
He had a family he needed to protect. Her family… she pushed that
thought aside before her constricting heart could push her to her knees.
She had the perfect alibi, no one would even suspect that she would be
anywhere but that burning house.
 This opportunity, no matter how slim, would never come along again.
She had nothing left to lose.
He had everything.
She could say goodbye to him though…
But he was in the tunnels and would try to stop her. He would be the first
person they went to if they ever figured out that she was not in the burning
house.
It was better if he didn't know. If he was mourning the way they expected
him to.
The realisation hit her battered heart and stopped her in her tracks.
She would have to make him believe that she was dead, even if she made
it.
Even if…
She took a deep breath and turned in the opposite direction, towards the
transporters.
The glass!
Yet again, she stopped short.
She had left the glass in a hiding spot by the lake, not wanting to risk her
mother finding the sliver in the house somewhere. It would have put her in
danger. If Ayda had carried it around in her outer layers, she would have
risked it being stolen if anyone was to discover her crevice and take her
clothes.
She spun around on her heels and ran in the direction of the lake.
She would have to be quick.
The moment those flames were under control, the Watchers would be
leaving the Populance, and if she wasn't in place before they headed back to
the wagons, she wouldn't be going anywhere.
 Sticking to the shadows, her plan relying on people not seeing her, her
going was slow. But the moment she drew away from the flames, Ayda
turned her run into a sprint.
The commotion was now behind her, people still battling the flames in
different parts of the Populance. The lake came into view and, soon, she had
to slow down again or risk her feet losing their footing on the loose rocks
surrounding the water.
It wasn't hard to find their spot. She had been there every half-day since
she could remember and the sliver was exactly where she left it. She slipped
it into the secret pocket she had been working on discretely all week in her
folds and made her way back to more even ground.
Skirting the Populance in order to get to the transporters wasn't an option
since every little piece of earth was taken up by some form of hovel, but
people were still running for snow to throw on the flames, so no one paid
her any attention, although she doubted they would have, even if they
weren't occupied with the destruction of the Populance.
She was panting by the time the wagons came into view and, for some
reason, the Volcano was looking out for her because the Watchers still
hadn't returned.
She slowed down to a walk, forcing shallow, quiet breaths into her lungs
and took stock of the Watchers on the wall. There were a couple looming at
the entrance, for once animated and not just their dreary selves, chatting
amongst one another excitedly, probably trying to figure out whose property
had gone up in flames and whether their own was still intact. They all
wanted to leave their posts to check on the progress of putting out the
flames but knew the consequences of leaving the gates unattended and so,
instead, stood watching for every possible movement of someone's return,
bringing news.
Great.
It meant, that she was going to have to back-track and approach the
wagons from the direction of the tunnels, otherwise, she would be spotted
straight away.
She waited for the Overseer at the tunnel entrance to move back into the
passages after the last runner deposited the contents of her container into
the collection bins, and silently moved around the wagons from the tunnel
side. The returning dark provided her cover and, soon, she was scrambling
under the wagon at the very back, hitting her knee on the back wheel in her
hurry and missing a large rock that scraped along her exposed hand, causing
a deep gash to open up along the inside of her palm.
She swore under her breath, her heart beating in her chest, her ears
pricked for the softest command to check out any movements that could
have been spotted from the gates.
Nothing came.
No footsteps sounded.
The air a continuous, soft chatter of the Watchers debating their chances
of being relieved to check out the flames.
After what felt like half an age, she allowed herself to let out the breath
she had been holding in anticipation of being discovered.
Her hand throbbed. Her knee felt as though it was doubling in size and the
scrapes she had been accumulating throughout the night were burning. Her
heart felt hollow.
Focus.
She pushed all aches and pains, whether physical or not, aside.
 She needed to figure out how she was going to be able to hold onto the
underside of the wagon if she wanted to leave through the gates
undiscovered.
She lifted her foot and hooked it under the back pipe connecting the
wheels, then lifted the second and did the same as with the first. If she
swivelled her toes under one of the planks sticking out, it was almost
impossible for them to come loose.
Good.
She then reached up to the top pipe with her hand, the cold metal biting
into her palm and pulled herself up, hooking the elbow of her other arm
around the pipe, releasing her hand and hooking her other elbow around as
well.
Her shoulder blades screamed with the effort, her back exploding along
lines that were too fresh and too deep to have allowed for the muscle to heal
completely underneath the skin.
She grunted with the effort, then let go with a fright, realising that the
sound could have carried across to the wall.
The back of her head hit the ground with a thud, a fresh pain shooting
through her body.
By the volcano.
Her feet were still stuck between the bottom pipe and the plank.
Well, at least I don't have to worry about appearing from under the wagon
and being discovered as a pitiful heap of bones. My body will be dragged
along in case my arms give out.
She was sounding pathetic, even to her own ears.
After giving herself another heartbeat to collect herself, she studied the
pipe above her more intently.
 If only she had some rope, she could…
But she didn't.
The words of one of Jiri’s lessons filled her mind.
Work with what you've got, not what you wish you had.
The pipe was too close to the underside of the wagon for her head to
squeeze through and her entire upper body to lie between the two, so that
wasn't a solution.
Think.
She didn't have rope, but she had the outer layers Gunnar had given her.
If she tied the sleeve onto the pipe, then looped the material underneath
her body and tied the second sleeve to the pipe on the other side of her, she
could use the outer layer as a sling to cradle her upper body to the underside
of the wagon, taking some of the weight off her body.
That could work.
Awkwardly, she removed the outer layer and did just that, then, just as
awkwardly, shimmied her butt down so that her knees were drawn up to her
chest. She then moved her head through the open loop and pulled her upper
body through, the material of the outer layer lying just below her shoulder
blades. The material lowered underneath her weight but held fast, only an
inch above the ground.
If she tightened the knot a little more…
She shimmied back out and started unfastening one of the knots.
The ice underneath her was starting to melt and freezing water was
penetrating her clothes, making her shiver.
If I lie here much longer, I'm going to lose some toes.
She made quick work of the knots and when she was sure that they
couldn't go any tighter, she started shimmying back through the loop before
thinking better of it and lowering her body to the ground instead.
Better not to stress the material for longer than necessary. If it broke…
She kept her feet securely wedged between the pipe and wooden boards
though, her knees drawn up to her chest, ready to shimmy through the loop
at a moment’s notice.

The sound of a whip startled her awake, making her pull in her shoulders
instinctively.
She was cold to the bone and her feet were cramping.
The sound came again, followed by the scraping of something large
against the ground.
Not a whip—the reigns of the horses.
She was under a wagon and they were heading out. The first one was
already moving, the reigns of the second one connecting with the beasts—
Unless she was lifting her upper body into her makeshift sling right this
very second, she was going to be dragged along by her feet.
Her fingers were numb from the cold but she forced them to pull her body
up against the needles stabbing into her palms.
No sooner had she lifted her shoulders from the ground when the wagon
started moving.
Her feet shouted in protest and she tried to wiggle the toes in her boots to
get some blood flowing in them again.
She had managed to slip one shoulder through and then, without warning,
the wagon came to an abrupt stop. Her shoulder banged against the rocky
floor, sending shock waves through her.
They had reached the gates.
She made quick work of pulling her second shoulder through, hooking her
arms around the sling, then they were moving again.
Her feet were cold. They were very cold. She was still wiggling her toes
but didn't seem to be able to get the blood flowing properly. She needed to
get her feet out of her boots so that she could massage them back to life.

They passed the gates, the shout to close them back up ringing through
the air.
She had actually made it outside the walls.
She had actually managed to find a way that allowed her to leave those
damning gates.
She couldn't feel the excitement she expected though. Didn't feel elated or
relieved. Her heart felt empty—cold. Like someone had snuffed out the
light. Like someone had squeezed it a little too hard.
Grief threatened to take over her senses and she pushed that door on her
emotions closed with everything she had. Forced it to stay shut. She
couldn't afford any of this right now. Couldn't allow herself to get lost
within that pit the way she had done the day Jiri died.
Her forehead knocked against the underside of the wagon and she let out a
soft groan—they had driven over a rock in the road.
Great.
She held her breath, counting her heartbeat in order to focus on something
besides the immense danger she was in from being discovered and waited
for someone to order the beasts to stop.
 But nothing came, the wheels scraping along the road, the Watchers
shouting at one another across the distance between the wagons.
Sounding… chipper, she realised in shock.
Her neck was straining to pull her head back, arms and shoulders straining
to keep her upper body within the sling, toes wiggling and heels pushing
into the wedged space to keep her legs from coming loose and dragging
along the ground, which would not only wear through her boots within
moments and then start scraping through her skin, but would also make
enough noise that they would come to investigate what was dragging
underneath the wagon.

She had no idea how long they had been on the move, but her entire body
was aching, reaching exhaustion.
She wasn't going to be able to hold on much longer.
The sky had reached its darkest point, the moon disappearing, the day
readying itself for the meagre sunlight that sometimes managed to push
through the clouds.
She hadn't decided what to do next, how she was going to leave the
wagons undiscovered.
She hadn't expected to make it this far.
If she lowered herself onto the ground and stayed still in order for the
wagon to pass over the remainder of her body, she would be able to simply
use the darkness to hide her until the wagons were well out of sight. Then
she would be able to follow them on foot until the safety of night left and
she had to find a place to hide for the day.
She was about to shimmy out of her makeshift sling when she realised
that if she left the sling behind and it was discovered, the Watchers would
know that someone had made it out and they would start questioning people
in the Mines and searching for someone out here.
No one made it out.
No one left the Mines.
The fire was her greatest protection. The belief that she was dead.
She started pulling at the knot to her left.
It had pulled taught underneath her weight. She pulled herself up with her
other hand. She had carried much heavier loads in the tunnels, so this
should be easy. But she was so tired, her limbs so cold.
The tops of her fingers and knuckles scraped against the wagon, blood
dripping into the sling.
Her shoulders were screaming at her.
The knot came loose, her shoulder crashing towards the ground, but she
managed to pull herself back up before it made contact.
She turned towards the second knot.
If she loosened it, she could simply let the outer layer fall to the ground.
She would backtrack to retrieve it once she had freed her feet.
The second knot took even longer to loosen, but once it did, only a tiny
little tug was needed for the cloth to fall to the ground.
The back wheel went over the mound it created on the floor and she held
her breath, waiting for the Watcher to find the oddity within the appearance
of a mound in the middle of the road.
He didn't even seem to realise.
Clinging onto the underside by only her arms, she started shimmying her
feet loose from where she had wedged them.
Her left foot was stuck. It didn’t want to come loose from between the
pipe and the wagon, no matter how hard she pulled, no matter how much
she tried to wiggle her toes in order to create a little bit of room.
Her breathing picked up but she would be damned if she started panicking
now!
With another pull, her foot came free and slammed onto the ground.
She had to bite her tongue from screaming out in pain. A sharp rock or
piece of wood or whatever it was had sliced a gash along her calf. Deep.
She could feel the blood seeping into her trouser leg, now hanging open, the
cold air biting into the gaping wound.
She needed to get down. Now.
They were going slowly enough that dropping to the ground while on the
move should be possible, but it would still hurt.
She took a slow, steadying breath and commanded her arms to lower her
slowly.
With her teeth gritted, her breath coming a little louder than she wanted it
to, she moved towards the ground inch by inch.
She readied her right foot to let go, her left hanging uselessly an inch
above the ground, her arms trembling uncontrollably.
She let go.
Her body made contact with the freezing ground.
She hit her head, saw stars, but didn't make a sound.
She was holding her breath, not moving an inch, her arms and legs as
close to her torso as possible.
The wagon kept moving.
The back wheels moved past her torso, her head, then—nothing.
The wagon had passed, rumbling along the road ahead of her, but she
didn't dare move a muscle.
 Ayda lay there on the freezing cold for an age… until she couldn't hear the
procession no longer… until another age had passed.
Her muscles had locked up, the cold was seeping into her, she needed to
get some warmth into her limbs.

If she didn’t take off her boots to start massaging her toes, she would lose
the odd one, she could feel it.
It wasn’t pretty, losing toes—there were only too many in the Mines that
had lost them in the winter, little black stumps falling off a person’s foot.
The image was enough for her to slowly peel herself off the ground.
Everything hurt.
She tugged at her right boot, then pulled her sock free, using her frozen
fingers to massage some life into her foot. It took some time but her fingers
and toes seemed to thaw a little. She replaced her sock and boot and
repeated the exercise with her left foot.
The darkness was fading and light started to appear above the rim of the
volcano, high above her.
It was still too dark to make much out, but she felt vulnerable in the open
—exposed.
So, she pushed up onto her feet, but before she could put her full weight
onto her legs, her left gave way.
With a little yelp, she went down.
Right.
The gash was deeper than she had anticipated, probably cutting into the
muscle slightly. It was going to be slow-going. She looked back down the
road but couldn’t make out the mound of the outer layer Gunnar had given
her. With painfully slow steps, she limped down the slope, grimacing at
every step that bore her weight on her left leg. After long meters, she found
the piece of clothing and only hesitated for a moment before she pulled out
her knife and sliced into the material. She used the piece of cloth to bind her
leg tightly, inhaling deeply at the sharp pain, but then relaxing into it with a
sigh.
Better.

The light had filtered in and, for the first time, she could see her
surroundings.
She was sitting on a rocky path, winding up the steep slope of the Crater.
Vegetation lined the path, small shrubs that were mostly brown and grey,
some green leaves dotting the odd one. A bit further up the path though, she
could see the green colour spreading, taking over the slope, shrubs turning
into something bigger, a plant she had never seen before.
She turned from the bright sight, down to the path she had come during
the night and was struck with the view of the Populance in the Crater below.
The place looked pitiful.
Except for the brilliant blue lake that covered half the space.
Every last little bit of open ground was covered by black hovels, tiny from
so far above, a clear circle displayed at its centre—the Inner Circle. There,
ground was visible between the brick houses—even from this distance. But
the brick too, seemed to be falling apart, everything looking so breakable
from up here.
To the right, the black hole of the tunnel greeted her, although it was so
much smaller than everything else down there that she would never believe
anyone if they told her of the vast tunnel system underneath had she not
worked those passages herself.
 She looked towards the hated place of the whipping post, though it was
too small to even make out.
Slowly, painfully, her eyes moved towards the space where she knew her
house had been. A black spot lay in its wake. By the look of the area, the
fire had spread to a few of the neighbouring houses, but how many it had
taken, she wasn’t sure. Not more than two or three others.
Tears filled her eyes, but she gritted her teeth, swallowing them once
more.
Not yet.
She was completely exposed.
If a Watcher looked up the slope now, would he be able to make out a
black dot sitting on the road? She doubted it since she wasn’t able to make
anyone out on the wall herself, but Ayda wasn’t willing to take that chance.
She had to find cover for the day.
Twisting away from the Mines below, she looked to the side of the road,
past the shrubs, for any form of shelter.
A rock or boulder, a hollow—anything.
A few hundred meters up, she noticed a rock that would possibly hide her
form if she stayed vigilant.

With a heavy sigh and a grunt, she got to her feet, pushed her arms
through the extra outer layer, now missing the bottom section, and trudged
off the road, onto the uneven ground, making her way towards the boulder.
It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. It would hide her shape from the
road if she sat behind it.
She was bone tired and if she had to move another step, she might just
topple over.
 She sat down on the ground, heavily.
What she wouldn’t give for a sip of water at this point.
Her stomach growled loudly—she had missed two meals, but she knew
hunger and this wasn’t it.
She assessed her body.
The cut along her calf was definitely the worst of it. It was throbbing and
still bleeding. She tightened the material around it. Her palms were a
bloody mess, though she assumed it looked worse than it actually was. Her
knees had scraped open and her head was pounding from a few bumps she
had received underneath the wagon. But it was her muscles that she was
most worried about. They were aching so much from clinging onto the
underside of the wagon that she wasn’t sure whether she would make it
back onto her feet come nightfall. And from experience, she knew that in a
few hours, they would be so much worse. She would have to keep moving
if she wanted to survive.

It was lucky that she would be resting during the day and travelling at
night. Had she been forced to lay down during the night, had she not had a
second pair of outer layers, she might have frozen. But this way, she stood a
chance. She could feel the sun’s rays on her skin now. Not particularly
warm, but the bone-crushing cold of the night was slowly seeping back into
the ground, her fingers and toes coming to life through her consistent
massaging.
She needed to sleep. Needed to get her strength back, but sleep wouldn’t
come.
She wasn’t scared—which worried her a little bit—she just felt hollow.
Hollow and tired. So tired.
 She readjusted her body uncomfortably. Something felt off. It made her
nervous.
She strained her ears.
Nothing.
Oh.
It was the silence.
A deep and impenetrable silence.
She had never heard such silence. It didn’t exist in the Mines. Not with so
many bodies packed so tightly on top of one another. Not with the
consistent rumbles of the volcano, the rattling of the roofs and walls of the
houses, threatening to fall apart if the wind got a little too strong, the shouts
of the Overseers, the outcries of the unfortunate soul who was under their
mercy at that particular moment.
This silence didn’t exist down there.
She had moved her body in a way that allowed her eyes to roam over the
buildings seen far below her.
What is everyone doing right now?
The day shift had started some time ago, the night shift was probably
already fast asleep.
Anyone that had not been affected by the fires had probably already
forgotten them—people lost their houses way too often and people died… a
lot.
The ones that had lost their homes would be cold tonight. They would
have lost their extra food stores too. Maybe the night would bring violence
with it.
Had Yanni only found out now that her ma and grandpa were… she
pushed that thought away, starting her breathing exercises.
 Did he believe that she was in that house too?
Was anyone suspicious? Had Gunnar kept his word? Was anyone being
interrogated? Was Yanni being beaten because of her?
She pushed those questions away, too.
No one had any reason to suspect that she was beyond the walls.
None, unless Gunnar had been unable to keep things to himself…
She closed her mind to the possibility.

The land around her had become bright. It took on an intensity that she
didn’t think she ever experienced in the Mines. Everything seemed to be
more vibrant up here, although the prevailing colours were still brown and
grey. The green scattered around though… what a beautiful colour. She
picked up a rock lying next to her hand and studied it.
The rock wasn’t grey at all. It had so many colours mixed together that it
appeared grey from a distance. There were reds and browns, white and
black, even silver. There were so many aspects to the little rock that she
would never even consider had she not found herself with time on her
hands, looking down on the place she had spent her life. The place her
mother and grandfather had spent their entire lives and never seen anything
else.
This time, she embraced the ache that came, silent tears running down her
cheeks.
Her body was too tired to mourn them, to allow for sobs to wreck her
soul, so all she could do was hold onto the deep, paralyzing pain and clutch
at her hollow heart.
 It was still light when she woke up—barely.
Her throat was parched.
Something had woken her and she strained her ears, keeping perfectly
still.
She was in the same place, not having moved an inch, her subconscious
mind concealed her, even in sleep.
A fluttering motion caught the corner of her eye and her head snapped
towards the movement.
There, on a little shrub not too far from her, sat a little bird. Fatter than the
ones who so rarely landed in the Mines, but also a lot smaller.
It was beautiful. Different shades of browns and whites speckling its
feathered form.
A little, yellow beak opening and closing on something—an insect. That
had been the flutter. It had caught something out of the air and was now
enjoying its evening meal. A moment later, it took to the skies.

She relaxed back against the boulder and glanced down the steep slope
into the bottom of the Crater. After today, she would hopefully never have
to see that hateful place again.
The sky darkened and she glanced back towards the road, memorising the
path she would have to take in order to reach it, knowing the moon
wouldn’t appear for a while longer.
She would follow the path up the steep slope, keeping to the barren rock
underfoot, knowing that if she brushed against any form of vegetation, she
would have to steer back onto her course.
She didn’t know where the path would lead. Didn’t know what she would
find at the end of it, but if she could believe the little information she
possessed, the Farms lay somewhere on the way to the Rim.
The Rim… where the Magiks lived.
Which only left her with one option, because encountering Magiks wasn’t
an option at all. She would make her way to the Farms.
And then… she would figure out the rest.
She didn’t allow herself to speculate. Didn’t allow her thoughts to turn
towards all the dark possibilities the place held.
She would face it. Whatever it was, once she reached it.
She took a deep breath and swallowed what felt like a rock.
With the darkness came the cold, and although her every limb ached with
the strain of getting to her feet, she looked forward to being able to warm
herself through the movement.
Her left leg wouldn’t take her full weight, so she limped along slowly,
trying to stay as quiet as possible and focusing on putting one foot in front
of the other.
She stumbled often, fell to her knees a couple of times, and added some
fresh cuts and bruises to her body.
But she kept going, slowly making her way up the slope of the Crater.
When the moon was at its highest, the little sliver lending the tiniest
amount of light, her path was intersected by another, running parallel to the
Mines, by all counts encircling the entire slope. It didn’t look as used as the
one she was on, but still, she could make out tracks. Clearly, the path went
somewhere. Was she supposed to change direction? Move horizontally to
the Rim?
 She had never heard of a second path, but that wasn’t saying much
because the information that people had was filtered down through
hundreds of years, from the time the Populance was first established.
She would stay her course, follow the same path, taking her further away
from the place she had called home her entire life.

Light broke across the Rim above her and she could make out a line of
boulders quite a distance ahead.
The vegetation had changed around her overnight. Shrubs were still
scattered around the earth, although most were now green and bigger plants
were scattered around as well.
She could even make some out that were double, maybe even triple her
height. They were gigantic! And the stem… as thick as her own torso. Long
and brown, green at the top. Would they hold her weight? Maybe she could
somehow manage to climb one of these giants. The greenery at the top
would hide her from any wondering eyes and she would have a brilliant
vantage point.
She would have to decide on a spot soon.
Ayda was exhausted. The night had tired her more than she thought
possible, she had never felt this form of exhaustion in her life. Both
physical and emotional.
Simply tired to her very core.
Her feet were dragging, her every thought focused on her dry throat,
breath raspy.
She needed water. She wasn’t going to be able to get much further without
it.
 But there was no snow… no water to be seen anywhere along the
brightening sky.
She had no choice but to keep going.
She lifted her head in determination and almost fell to her knees again
when her foot caught on a loose rock.
Those weren’t boulders in the distance… they were houses. Lined up
neatly against the morning sky, row after row, stacked up against the slope.
There were maybe 30 or 40 of them. More! All seemed to have a roof, all
seemed to have walls that looked strong. This must be the Watchers’
quarters… but there were so many!
She realised that she had stopped.
They would have water.
She could still make it there. She could push her body one more time
before she would rest.
She pulled up the remaining crumbs of her strength and lifted her foot.
You can’t do that.
She couldn’t walk into the house of a Watcher in broad daylight. They
would beat her into a pulp if they caught her stealing from them.
But she could get closer.
Did she dare?
She would manage one last day without water.
Maybe she could find a hiding spot to observe them from one of those big
plants strong enough to carry her, figure out where they kept their water.
Maybe something to eat.
Her stomach had been growling consistently throughout the night—
nothing she couldn’t handle, but still. Food would be nice. Right on cue, her
stomach grumbled once more, her mother’s freshly baked bread filling her
mind.
She moved forward, picking up her pace now that she had a goal.

She was close to the first row of houses by the time the sky had gotten
dangerously light.
She picked out a plant that seemed thick enough at the top and moved
towards it.
When she was only a few meters away from its base, a branch snapped
behind her.
She froze. Dropped into a crouch. She could now make out footsteps.
How had she missed them?
Her heart started pounding in her chest.
The steps were even, unhurried. Whoever it was hadn’t noticed her yet,
but they were coming towards her.
She needed to somehow get out of the person’s path. Only… they weren’t
following one!
If she could make it to the boulders not too far behind the plant, she could
possibly avoid them.
Silently, she straightened ever so slightly, then moved forward.
She had reached the base of the plant when her foot stepped onto one of
the many tiny sticks lying around its base. She froze, the footsteps seemed
to have stopped behind her as well. She stooped lower, holding her breath.
"Hello? Who’s there?"
A man’s voice.
No, no!
She had made it too far to be caught by anyone now!
 Stupid, impatient. She shouldn’t have risked coming this close!
She took a step… then another. Her foot caught another stick.
"I can hear you!"
The footsteps sounded behind her once more.
She sprinted. Calf howling in pain. The boulders were so close.
Had he spotted her yet? He seemed to be far enough away.
She leapt behind them, almost crying out in pain at the searing agony that
shot through her leg on impact.
Calm your breathing, calm your breathing!
She took a staggering breath.
Calm down!
One more.
She strained her ears.
The footsteps were rushing towards her.
Where could she possibly go?!
He wouldn’t find her. He wouldn’t!
"I know you’re here somewhere."
Close—too close.
She crept behind a shrub, the vegetation thick.
"Let’s talk."
She was holding her breath, her heart threatening to jump out of her chest.
Crouched low to the ground, her hand slid her knife free from her belt.
If she attacked him and he survived, they would make an example out of
her. She’d seen them do it before. No one had dared to raise a hand at a
Watcher again.
But she wasn’t going back. It wasn’t even an option for her anymore.
They would throw her corpse over the wall.
 Better to take her chances with her knife.
"I don’t have time for this nonsense."
Impatience and authority could be heard in the voice.
The steps were getting closer. Heading straight towards her. She had
probably left footsteps in the earth and all he had to do was follow them.
She could run but her body was exhausted and she had nowhere to run to.
She readied herself.
"Do you have any idea, how much—oh."
His head had appeared above the boulder.
The anger in his voice was instantly cut off and replaced by surprise.
The scowl had turned uncertain, eyebrows raised in surprise.
He didn’t look like a Watcher. Certainly, he didn’t have a stick in his
hand.
She hesitated.
He took a step towards her and, to her chagrin, she fell backwards onto
her bum.
His face didn’t change but he took another slow, deliberate step towards
her.
"You aren’t who I was expecting." His voice was soft, slow, in total
contrast to a few seconds ago.
He raised his arms as though he was herding her.
"I don’t mean you any harm."
He was almost whispering at this point, movements as slow as possible,
palms outward as though he was talking to a frightened animal.
She supposed that’s what she looked like.
He didn’t seem to spare the knife in her hand a single thought.
He carried on approaching and she scurried backwards on all fours.
 He raised his arms a little further and stopped dead in his tracks.
"I won’t hurt you," he repeated a little more firmly. "I can help you." He
slowly gestured towards all the cuts and bruises on her exposed skin, the
blood drying on her clothes.
Who was he?
Was it possible that he was a Farmer?
"I can help you."
Why was he constantly repeating himself?
The confusion and indecision must have been visible on her face because
he said, “You can come to my house. I have food there.”
At the mention of food, her stomach rumbled. He probably heard it.
"Watcher?" Her voice was raspy, thanks to her dry throat.
"What’s that?" He looked confused.
"Overseer?" She tried again.
"I don’t know what you are saying."
She relaxed slightly. But maybe they simply called themselves something
different over here.
She looked him over carefully. There weren’t any concealed weapons on
his person as far as she could tell. He had a slim frame and surprisingly
weak-looking arms. He didn’t seem to use them to work or to swing a stick.
His palms were smooth, free of callouses, although black stains were visible
on them. She could probably take him in a fight.
Where else could she go? She doubted that he would allow her to simply
walk away. And if he had food, then he had water. She needed water. Her
body wouldn’t make it much further without it.
She didn’t seem to have much of a choice.
 She straightened out of her crouch, wincing inwardly at the weight change
in her leg—he seemed to notice.
"I’m keeping my knife."
His eyes flashed towards her hand for the first time, going slightly wide.
He hadn’t noticed it, she realised.
Uncertainty crossed his face.
Good.
He saw her as the threat she was, injuries and all.
"As long as you don’t stab me with it."
She didn’t reply, only indicated with her chin. "Lead the way."

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Seven

T
hey walked straight towards the buildings and she was about to
demand how he thought she was going to simply walk past all the
Watchers looking the way she did—blood everywhere—when they turned
towards two buildings just off the outskirts of the cluster.
They entered the longer of the two, the walls made of wood. The sheer
size of it amazed her. The other was a lot smaller at the base but went so
high, she had no idea how anyone ever repaired the roof. The sides of the
second building were smooth brick—no climbing possible.
The wooden structure housed a big, open space. A few hearths could be
seen scattered along the walls, only one alight, a pot bubbling atop it,
although she couldn't smell what was boiling inside. A whole lot of tools
she had no idea what to do with were lying on tables and benches, some
very dry-looking grass heaped in one corner, the entire ground covered in
the stuff.
There were so many things in the space, her eyes didn't know where to
look first.
 A window in the roof—had you ever heard of such an absurd thing?—let
in some light, chairs were strewn across the space. It was a very odd house
indeed.
She couldn't see a bed, but maybe he simply slept on the ground as it
looked soft enough.
"I'll be right back," he said from behind her, interrupting her gawking.
She whirled towards him. "Where are you going?"
"Wow. Calm down." He raised his arms defensively. "I'm just going into
the house to get you some food. I still have some breakfast left over." He
made a show of looking her up and down. "And a bucket for you to wash at
least some of the gunk off of you. Stay in the barn."
He turned on his heels and stomped towards the entrance, which was
huge.
She wanted to be offended by his condescending tone, but she looked
down at herself—she really was filthy. She wrinkled her nose, then turned
back towards the… barn. Whatever that was. He seemed to have another
house. He must be part of a massive family.
He wouldn't go to the Watchers, she was fairly certain of it. He’d had
every opportunity on the way here and could have led her straight to their
Head Overseer if he felt like it. She had watched his every step, considered
every change in posture, every look back at her. When his eyes started
darting around, she had almost poked her knife into his back but quickly
realised that he was making sure no one was watching them as he led her to
this building. Maybe he didn't like the Watchers either.
He had left the door open. She could leave if she wanted to.
But he had said something about breakfast and the mere thought made her
stomach growl again.
 Maybe there was something here that she could take along. But where
would she even go? She had no plan, apart from finding water and food,
both of which she was about to receive.
She would have to take her chances with the man.
It didn't hurt to have a look around though.
Her eyes roamed the space once more and landed on the bubbling pot on
the hearth, mouth parched. She would probably burn her tongue on the
boiling contents, but she needed something to drink.
She moved towards it quickly, eyes scanning the tables for a plate or ladle
and landing on something that could pass as a bowl. She scooped it up and
lifted the lid, a pungent aroma wafting towards her. She almost gagged and
slammed the lid back on the pot.
By the volcano! What was that??
She was doubled over, hands on knees, breathing slowly through her nose.
At least there was nothing in her stomach to throw up.
A snicker drifted towards her.
She lifted her head to see an amused smile on his face.
"I wouldn't eat that if I were you. This—" he lifted the plate in his hand,
"is definitely going to taste a whole lot better."
He placed the plate and a jug of water on the nearest table and pulled two
chairs towards it, indicating one and sitting in the other, a small smile still
on his face.
"How many people live here?" She indicated the empty space, ignoring
the invitation to sit, even though she was ready to go into the Peeps tunnels
for a sip of water. Well, at this stage, she’d prefer a whole lake.
They must all be at work since she hadn’t seen another human being.
"Here? This is a barn. It’s my workstation. But I live alone."
 …Alone?! This whole space was for one person! She realised that she was
staring at him and quickly averted her eyes.
The entire space had been made available as his workstation, which
explained why she hadn’t found a bed.
Who was he?
The smell of bread wafted towards her, her stomach rumbling in response.
He must have heard it all the way across the enormous space because he
snickered once more.
"Food, then?"
She moved towards the table slowly, trying to read his face.
He seemed to be relaxing into the chair as though he was having breakfast
with a long-lost friend.
She didn't like it.
"Oh, come on. I don't bite," he said pointedly and indicated the food. "It
really is good, I promise."
She sat cautiously and sniffed at the water jug, yearning to gulp the whole
thing down, but all too aware of his eyes square on her face.
It smelled of water.
She took a small sip, then another, and soon, there was none left in the
jug. It hit her empty stomach painfully and she grimaced at herself. That
had been rather silly.
He read the expression incorrectly. "What's wrong?" He almost sounded
alarmed.
She filed that piece of information away for later and decided to humour
him.
"My fault. I haven't had any water in almost two days. I shouldn't have
rushed it down like that."
 He kept his expression neutral, although he needed to work hard for it.
"Two days, huh?"
Of course, he had made some of his own assumptions.
She only looked at him, placed her knife on the table next to her empty
jug, and looked at the plate.
There was some bread on it, freshly baked by the smell of it. Her mouth
started watering.
Slowly, she reminded herself. Her stomach wouldn't be as forgiving if she
scoffed the food the same way she had just thrown a whole jug of water
down her throat.
There was something on top of her bread. Something… orange. What was
that? She looked at it sceptically, then back up at him, eyebrow raised.
He looked at her in bewilderment. "You haven’t had bread before?"
"Pfft, of course I’ve had bread! What's the orange stuff?"
"Marmalade…" he said slowly.
When her facial expression didn't change, he went on, "From oranges?"
"What's that?"
"A fruit."
"Like apples?"
His mouth was almost hanging open. "Yeah. Like apples… only, oranges
are from a different family, taste completely different and are, clearly,
orange."
"I see."
She looked back down at her plate and picked up the bread with
marmalade.
It smelled nothing like apples.
She took a small, tentative bite.
 Her eyes widened in shocked surprise.
"By the volcano!" It was a whisper.
She had never tasted anything this good! The marmalade was sweet and
absolutely delicious, the bread was full of—she had no idea what. It was
rich. She didn’t know how to describe it otherwise. She didn't know the
flavours that were in it, didn't know what to compare them to either. It was
nothing like the bread her mother made. That bread had one flavour. This
one was bursting with different ones.
She took another small bite, being careful to chew it properly, thoroughly.
She wanted to eat it all in one big mouthful, it was so damn good, but she
remembered the first time she tried fowl. She'd thrown the precious food
back up again because her body didn't know how to handle it.
She was so engrossed in the rich goodness that she had gotten through her
bread before looking up at him again.
He'd recovered from his hanging mouth moment and was now studying
her intently. Very intently.
Not exactly subtle, this one.
She almost felt amused.
"How can I help you?" she asked with half a grin.
He jumped slightly and cleared his throat. "I, uhm… you're from the
Mines, aren't you?"
"Yes." She waited for him to continue, schooling her expression into
neutrality and settling back in her chair. There was no denying where she
was from.
This was going to take a while if the look on his face was any indication.
She was quite surprised at how calm she felt. Was it because he didn't
seem like a threat and through that, she felt in control?
 She didn't know this man, didn't know this place, didn't know if he was a
Watcher, Overseer or someone else entirely. She couldn't allow herself to be
this comfortable.
With that thought, she straightened a little bit, ordered her muscles to
wake up again and her mind to sharpen. Already, she could feel a little
energy return to her body after nourishing it. She strained her ears for any
sounds outside.
She could have been killed or captured in those moments of complete
ignorance while eating her bread, she scolded herself.
He noticed the change in her demeanour and shifted uncomfortably.
Instead of feeling smug about this, it made her think.
Clearly, he was uneasy about something. Did she look that scary with the
blood and dirt on her? Or was it the knife that was still lying between them
on the table?
She waited patiently, allowing him to speak first.
"People aren’t allowed to leave the Mines. I have never heard of anyone
coming back out once they have been sent there. What did you do to get
out?" His voice was tight, disapproving. He was looking at the blood on her
clothes pointedly.
She regarded him coldly and instead of answering his question, asked one
in return.
"And why do you say people are not allowed to leave?"
He raised his eyebrows at her. "Because you belong there."
Well, she hadn’t expected that. "How so?"
"You deserve to be there! You shouldn’t be allowed anywhere else!" He
was getting angry with her.
 She definitely hadn’t expected that. The words or the anger. Who was he
to declare such things? Who was he to say that she deserved to be destined
to a life of slavery, of being beaten and whipped, while he… he ate
marmalade?! And lived in a space that could fit whole families? And she
hadn’t even seen his house yet! Her own anger was rising.
She asked through gritted teeth, trying to keep her voice from doing what
her temper had just done, "And why do you say that?"
He snapped out a laugh, contempt now clear in his voice. "You’re joking."
His eyes drifted back to her blood-splattered clothes.
The change in him was drastic, from the snickering male who had brought
her food a few minutes ago to this one sneering at her from across the table.
Her hand was itching to touch the blade but she forced it back to her side.
With a forcibly calm voice, she said, "Enlighten me."
He was now glaring at her openly. “People who believe that they have the
right to simply take a life disgust me. If it was up to me, you would all be
executed instead of allowing you to do honest work, mining the volcanic
rock. Locking you up is the least the Administration can do. I should notify
the guards right now.” He almost spat the last few words at her.
So, he thought that she was a murderer. The pointed looks should have
warned her. But what were guards?
"So, why are you feeding me?" She was genuinely curious. The disgust he
had towards her was obvious, yet he was helping her. Maybe he had already
called the Watchers and they would be there at any moment. She strained
her ears once more. But he still hadn’t needed to give her any food and
water.
He gave her another withering look. "Because I haven’t decided what to
do with you."
 Was he telling the truth? That meant that he had not called the Watchers
after all. She still had a chance to get away.
She kept her eyes on his face, making sure not to look at her knife.
"It’s pretty obvious what you think of me, so how is this something you
are willing to debate?"
He seemed surprised at her words, but his voice was still hard. "Maybe it
shouldn’t be. You belong in the Mines."
She scrutinised him.
"They wouldn’t allow that, you know. The Watchers. Not anymore – I’ve
come too far. They would beat me to death, then throw my bloodied corpse
across the wall as a warning to the others. For them not to try it
themselves."
He swallowed at her violent words. "I already told you. If it was up to me,
you would all be executed in any case, so why should I care?"
Was he just a bitter person or had something happened to him?
"I’ve never killed anyone."
His eyes shot towards her. "Don’t lie to me. Of course, you have! You’re
from the Mines." His anger was flaring again.
"I was born in the Mines. I didn’t have to kill anyone to end up over
there."
"Don’t think me stupid. You’re all savages! Just look at you."
She cringed back at the word. Savages. Did people outside the walls think
this of them?
"The blood? That’s all my own." She couldn’t help the sneer that entered
her voice. It seemed to egg him on.
"Acting out of line or simply a family dispute?" He sneered right back.
Her hand lashed towards her knife, her lip curled up over her teeth.
 He did not get to speak about her family!
Not her finest moment since it seemed to prove him right. Her temper
didn’t always do her any favours.
He jumped up, toppling his chair and put several feet between him and
herself.
He had gone bone-white again, his arms were out in front of him and he
was stepping back slowly, inching towards the doors.
If he locked those doors, she had no way of getting away… she took a
step towards him, which only seemed to threaten him more.
She slowly lowered her knife back down to the table and showed him her
palms.
"I’m not going to hurt you." She almost laughed at the words. How
quickly their roles had reversed.
He took another step back, then dashed outside and slammed the doors
shut behind him. She could hear a bolt sliding into place.
She sighed out in frustration.
By the volcano, why did she have such a temper?
She banged on the doors. "You didn’t answer my question."
"Neither did you. What did you do?" His voice seemed to have found its
composure again.
She stayed silent. Anything she said right now would only aggravate him
further.
With a soft sigh and a shake of the head, she stepped back.
She’d get out. There would be something in here that would help her with
it.
She turned and observed the space once more, noting every little detail.
The amount of stuff in this place! It was insane. The majority of the tools
looked completely foreign, the precision of the walls and window above her
head astounding.
When she heard the footsteps recede, she tried the door once again. No
luck. It didn’t move – at all. She gave the door a withering look. Perfect,
just like the stupid window above her head.
She walked along the wall, tracing the even surface with her fingers, the
individual boards so closely interlaced that she couldn’t even notice a
breeze move through them. There wasn’t a single loose slat, the nails sunk
deep into the wood. Without a tool, there was no chance that she would be
able to loosen one enough to be able to pry it free.
Her eyes started roaming again.
She was tired but the food had given her enough energy to be able to
secure a hiding place if she found a way out of the barn.
She tilted her head back, considering the window and went to move one
of the tables against a wall.
By the volcano!
How was it possible for a table to be so heavy?
She looked for something to pile on top of one another but nothing
seemed stackable enough. Not for how high she would have to go.
She moved towards a shelf, the boxes on it looking rather promising.
Maybe they would hold a tool to help her with the nails.
Footsteps echoed from outside.
She stilled and moved back towards the door, listening.
Had the man changed his mind? Had someone seen them walk into the
barn?
Her hand grasped her blade and she positioned herself beside the door,
ready to strike.
 "You should have a little more to drink. I brought you something warm."
She let go of her breath. The man. No Watcher, then.
She waited for him to open the door. This would be her chance.
Nothing happened.
She shuffled her feet in irritation.
He seemed to hear it. "Move away from the door."
She rolled her eyes at said door. "I’m not going to hurt you."
"Well, excuse me if I don’t take your word for it."
She rolled her eyes again for good measure. Would she be able to reach
the door in time if she stepped away from it?
After a little hesitation, she moved back a few paces.
"Did you step away?"
"Yes."
He paused. "I want you in the centre of the barn."
"And if I told you that I’m in the centre now?"
"Then I would peg you as a liar because you still sound way too close."
She managed to roll her eyes a third time. "Fine."
Maybe he would come inside while leaving the door open.
He opened the door a fraction of a slit, and once satisfied that she was,
indeed, in the centre of the barn, he opened it just far enough to be able to
push his arm through and deposit a cup on the floor.
The door slammed shut and the bolt fell back into place.
Great.
"Are you scared of me?"
Maybe she’d be able to talk her way out.
He scoffed, a little too forced to be genuine. "Sure. Just drink. Slowly—
it’s hot." With that, he retreated back into the direction of the house.
 The cup contained something else besides water.
Something… earthen? She inhaled deeply. It reminded her of what she
had gotten from Sidri that one time she’d been sick. But she wasn’t sick
now.
She sniffed at the contents once more.
She hadn’t known what marmalade was and it had been delicious.
She took a slow, cautious sip. The hot liquid made its way down her
throat, into her belly, warming her from the inside out.
It was nice.
She would warm herself a little, then continue her search for a way out of
this place.

She awoke from the soft creak of the doors being pushed open.
It was still light, although… that was early morning light.
But she had still been awake in the morning.
Had she slept through the day and night?!
She moved towards the sound, her skin brushing against something odd.
Something soft.
She looked down and bolted upright, the movement too sudden, a groan
escaping her lips at all the pain washing through her, the brief darkness
taking her sight before her vision cleared once more.
"You changed my clothes? And washed me?!" She stared at him
accusingly.
How, by the volcano, had she slept through that?
 Where were her clothes?
Her mouth felt funny, she needed something to drink.
As if she had said it out loud, he handed her a jug of water.
She glared at him once more, then mumbled her thanks. She wasn’t a
particularly private person—such things didn’t exist in the Mines. But
bathing her was a little much… no one besides her mother had ever done
that before.
An ache passed through her chest.
"How long was I asleep?"
"A day and a night," he confirmed.
She sat down in stunned silence. She had never slept that long. Well…
never had the opportunity to, she supposed.
"I’m sorry about yesterday," the words surprised her. "I shouldn’t have
shouted at you like that. Can I try again?"
She only looked at him.
He seemed to take that as an invitation to continue.
"My name is Erinol. And yours is…?"
"Tula." It sounded like a nice enough name. If he decided to call the
Watchers, they would kill her. But chances were that they wouldn’t stop at
that. They might go after Yanni too. They would need to set an example.
She had avoided them for a number of days by now, after all. Better give
him a different name just in case.
She leaned back in the soft grass.
"Tula," he repeated, seemingly tasting the name. "You’ve collected quite
the number of cuts and bruises."
It wasn’t a question, so she kept her mouth shut.
He seemed to realise this. "Mind telling me how you got them?"
 She considered him for the first time.
His hair colour was very similar to her own— a rich chocolaty brown,
although his was dead straight, unlike her waves, combed back and cut just
above the shoulder.
He was a little taller than her, slim. But nowhere near as skinny as herself.
He had the deep brown eyes the Mine-born favoured, a small nose, and
ears that stood out a little, which almost made him look charming.
Almost…
There was something strange about him though and it wasn’t that he was
cleaner than anyone she had ever seen before in her life. Neither was it that
his clothing didn’t have a single hole, tear or patch sewn onto them.
Not a speck of dirt. By the volcano, he was better dressed than the Head
Overseer.
But it was something else still.
In the Mines, you gathered scars the same way you gathered birthdays.
Erinol, with his callous free hands and his smooth skin, didn’t seem to
have a single scar on his body, even though he must have been ten, maybe
fifteen years older than her.
He looked too perfect.
"I clung to the underside of a wagon transporting volcanic rock to get out.
It was a bit of a bumpy ride. The dismount wasn’t too smooth either."
There. Let him do with that piece of information what he wanted.
He looked at her funny, then started to laugh. A sound that brightened his
eyes. "Seriously?"
"You thought that I slaughtered every Watcher on the wall to escape?"
"Watcher… you mean guard?"
 That word again. He had used it in ways she would have used the word
Watcher. "I suppose they’re the same."
"Honestly, yes." He had no shame. "But after… removing all the dirt off
your skin, it was apparent that the blood on your clothes and skin was,
indeed, your own. And…" he had the decency to look a little
uncomfortable. "I saw some other scars too."
She didn’t reply to that one.
"So, if it was that easy, how come no one else has ever gotten out?"
She swallowed. "There was a little distraction…"
He regarded her through slit eyes. "What sort of distraction?"
If she ever wanted to get out of there, she would have to gain his trust. Or
at least, he would have to get comfortable enough around her for him to
drop his guard and make a mistake. If he kept seeing her as a murderer,
she'd never accomplish that.
She took a deep breath. She didn’t need to go into detail. "The Peeps had
only arrived about a week ago—"
"Peeps?" He interrupted her.
"Yes. The actual murderers that get sent to the Mines once every six
months? Not the ones born into it." She glared at him. "Don’t interrupt me,
otherwise we’ll never get through this."
He was about to say something else, clearly irked by her commanding
him, but closed his mouth.
Maybe he is smarter than he looks.
"The first few days are always chaotic because they get sent in without
proper clothing, food or instructions. One or two freeze and others die of
exhaustion as they aren’t used to the work conditions or because they open
their mouths one too many times. They haven’t figured out how to survive
the Mines yet, so they simply take, as you so kindly put it.” Another glare
in his direction. He didn’t even blink. “They set fire to some houses of the
Inner Circle, then used that as a distraction to go through people’s property
and set fire to other houses within the Populance. I’m sure they claimed the
ground they burnt down to erect new houses." And she had brought them to
hers, she was the one who had felt pity towards the one who was whipped.
It was her fault her ma and grandpa…
She forced the thoughts away. Not now. "An Overseer forced the
Watchers that travel with the wagons to help stop the fire in the Inner
Circle. I used their absence to sneak underneath the wagons. It was all a
coincidence that the fires were started while the wagons were about to
leave. They would have discovered me if I had snuck under while they were
loading and I would have never gotten close to them if the Watchers were
there. If any other houses besides the ones in the Inner Circle had been
targeted they would have never left the wagons unoccupied. You know the
rest."
He took a moment to absorb the information.
"Won’t you be missed?"
"One of the houses they burnt down was my own. They will think that I
burnt in the fire.” Before he could ask any more questions, she asked one of
her own. “Where are my clothes?"
"I put your knife somewhere safe, don’t worry." Then, he continued under
his breath. "Though I don’t want to know what sort of infections one would
get off that blade."
"My clothes," she pressed.
He looked at her. "You’re not wearing them again. They are absolutely
vile."
 "Erinol, my clothes."
Her use of his name seemed to stun him into responding.
He indicated with his head in the direction of a hearth. "I’m burning them
the next time I make a fire. I had to cut them off of you in any case, they
were so encrusted with blood and dirt and only the volcano knows what
else." He seemed genuinely disgusted. "The smell…" He wrinkled his nose
for emphasis.
She looked down at the clothes she was currently wearing. They looked
like nothing she had ever seen before—and they were so soft!
She forced herself to look disinterested, to not jump up straight away, and
said, “As long as you let me keep these,” she gestured down her frame,
“you can do with those whatever you want.” She pointed to the pile that
were her clothes.
"Consider them yours. They complement your eyes nicely." He gave her a
small smile. "Do all Miners have funny eyes like yours?"
Funny eyes?
She almost raised an eyebrow at him.
So, Farmers also had brown eyes like the Mine-born. Herself the only
exception, of course. This meant that Peeps were only ever sent into the
Mines, never to the Farms.
"You mean the colour? Only some. The majority has your colour eyes."
She couldn’t be bothered to explain her heritage and the skipping of a
generation and so forth.
"I see. Do you know why?"
"I mean, why do you have brown hair? Either your mother, father or both
had brown hair. Same for the eyes."
He nodded.
 "Alright. Let me go and grab you some food. I wasn’t sure whether you
would be awake or not."
He got to his feet and left through the doors, sliding the bolt back into
place behind himself.
The moment the sound of his footsteps had disappeared, she jumped up,
wincing at the sudden pain in her leg—she had completely forgotten about
the gash in her calf—almost tripping over the material flying around her
and sprinted over to her clothes. She crinkled her nose. They did smell. Her
hands ruffled through the material, searching… where was it?! Had she lost
it? Had it fallen out at some point? She had been very meticulous in
constructing this little pocket, but the material might have torn at some
point during her escape. Had Erinol found it and was still deciding what to
do with it?
Her hands grasped something solid. She sighed out loud in relief.
Thank the volcano.
She ripped through the yarn of the inner pocket and pulled out the sliver
of glass, then ripped the cleanest piece of cloth she could spot off what
looked like her inner shirt and wrapped the sliver in it, hiding the treasure
on her bodice.
She rushed back to where she had been when Erinol left, feigning
boredom, and waited for the food to arrive, her stomach grumbling once
again.
 "I need to actually do some work today seeing that I didn’t do anything
yesterday."
She looked up at him, mouth full of something that should have been
potatoes but wasn’t. The flavours were insane, each bite seemed to contain
a different one and green things were chopped into the mix of the non-
potatoes.
She swallowed her mouthful. "What is this?" She couldn’t keep the pining
out of her voice.
He snickered. "Don’t get much variety down in the Mines, huh?"
She just looked at him expectantly.
"Sweet potato fried up with onion, some spinach and a whole lot of
spices. It’s very simple, really, but I like plain and hearty breakfast food."
Simple? Plain? Well, those weren’t words she would have chosen.
"Wait. You work?"
He laughed. "Of course, I work."
"But not in a mine…"
He gave her a withering look. "No. Definitely not in a mine. I work on the
final stage of the chemical process regarding the Protector."
He was talking another language. Her expression must have conveyed her
utter confusion because he tried again.
"There are three different types of volcanic rock that are mined in the
Crater."
He waited for her to acknowledge the fact with a shallow nod.
"One simply needs to be shaped, the second needs to be turned into a fine
dust and combined with certain minerals, and the third, the rarest of them
all" —she could sense pride from him— "needs to go through a number of
chemical processes—a method that changes the chemical compounds in
order to be considered complete. The final process, the one I work on,
defines whether a rock is strong enough to withhold the strain it will have to
endure or whether it proves to be of no use."
He looked at her expectantly, being done with his explanation, apparently.
"That didn’t clear anything up."
He sighed.
"I’ll show you."

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Eight

T
hey got up—her leg didn’t hurt nearly as much when she took it slow
—and moved towards the hearth with her pile of clothes next to it.
He gingerly grabbed them, clearly unhappy about having to touch the
‘filth’ and unceremoniously dumped them in the hearth before reaching for
a flint and setting them ablaze, then reaching for some wood and adding it
to the pile.
She looked down at the clothes currently on her body.
She had never seen anyone with clothes of this colour. They were a blue
the sky sometimes turned in late winter, with long sleeves that went past her
fingertips and a neckline that threatened to choke her now that the material
was heavy around her body.
It was a very strange garment. One that did not seem to have a middle and
that forgot she had two legs. It was completely open at the bottom and
simply fell to the ground. No wonder she had almost tripped over all of this
—cloth.
"What am I wearing?" she demanded.
 "My sister’s dress," he responded, waving his hand around in the air, idly.
Was his sister dead? She had to be—why else did he have spare clothing
lying around? But then, why hadn't he traded it for something else?
It was none of her business.
"Not whose, what?" She couldn’t help herself, she glared at him.
He turned towards her, eyebrows raised. "You have something against a
good work dress? Standards too high?" He scoffed at that last remark.
She was getting annoyed with him—his lack of answers. "Where is the
middle?" She was pulling at the material, showing him that it didn’t come
apart at her waist. "And where is the second leg? I have two, you know.
Even savages have two legs." She was glaring at him again.
He stared at her, then burst into laughter.
"Women don’t wear dresses in the Mines?" he finally asked after he had
collected himself again.
"Dresses," she repeated to herself.
He only shook his head. "This is going to be interesting," he said, almost
to himself, then added more loudly, "All women wear them here on the
Farms. Men wear trousers and a shirt, women wear dresses. Your old
clothes—" he gestured into the flames. "Were men's clothing."
He almost seemed to be scolding her.
She liked her clothes—preferred them, actually. At least she didn't trip
over the hem when she wore them and could move freely! She was
grumbling to herself, she realised.
"What was that?" he asked pointedly, turning towards her.
"Where do you get all that delicious food from?" she asked instead.
He looked at her for a moment, at the change in topic, but decided not to
press his apparent authority.
 "We grow it, of course. Through the same method you do, I assume." He
turned back to the flames and was poking at them.
"We don't grow any food. We receive our rations on half-day."
He considered this. "I suppose the ground would be too toxic down
there… well, we do grow some food for the Mines as well. The potatoes,
grain, beans and carrots are what you get from us. Everything else must
come from the Rim."
"We only get those four things."
He slowly turned back towards her, eyes intent.
"What do you mean, you only get those four things?" His voice had gotten
low, hard.
"Well, I think I've had an apple six times in my life. Or was it seven? I lost
count of the halves. And we usually get fowl over winter solstice. Not
always, but often."
Something like pity entered his eyes.
She had zero interest in it.
"How many people live in the Mines?"
"From the last count they did, about 800," she said through gritted teeth.
He startled. "That many! But we only ever send three wagons full…"
Zero.
"Where is your sister?" That ought to change his mood.
"She lives across town."
Not dead then. Right.
"How are your rations measured out?"
He was going to keep doing this then. She took a deep breath and sighed
it out.
 "They are age and gender dependent. If you don't work, you don't get
paid. The higher tunnels get a lower pay than the lower tunnels because the
lower tunnels are a lot more dangerous—more prone to gases and rock fall.
Don't get as much air, so the dust is a lot thicker. Men work the rocks,
women run them, except in the case of the Peeps. Peeps work the rocks, no
matter the gender, because there are not enough rocks found in the lower
tunnels to have so many women run them. There, one is picked per shift
and rotated every few weeks. If you work the rocks, your pay is higher. The
Peeps don't get higher pay, even though they are only allowed to work the
lower tunnels. That is how they differentiate between the Mine-born and the
Peeps. If you work the lower tunnels as a Mine-born, you're usually
desperate. No one in their right mind willingly works the lower tunnels."
She had gotten quiet towards the end. Jiri had been desperate. She'd been
born the wrong gender to be able to help.
As if he knew where her thoughts had gone, he asked, "What about your
family?"
She shot him a withering look. "That is none of your business."
He didn't flinch. "You asked about my sister."
"You mentioned her first," she shot back.
He seemed to concede.
Hmpf.

He poked the fire one last time, adding another log to the flames, then
moved off into the back of the barn and started collecting things. She had
never seen the majority of them, only recognised bowls and little jars like
the ones in which Sidri kept his herbs.
 But there were enough things that looked so foreign, she couldn’t believe
anyone had built them.
There were little cups balancing on tiny, straight sticks, plump stones in
varying sizes that were too regular to be stones, sticks and spoons with
ridiculously long handles—how anyone ate with those was beyond her.
It all looked rather complex.
Erinol was busy laying everything out on one of the tables, pulling out
fabrics with varying stains on them, some with holes, others looked like
they had never been used before.
He brought over a box she hadn’t spotted before and heaved it onto
another table close by. He seemed to be struggling with it a little bit. Was it
the weight?
After inspecting the flames once more and seemingly being satisfied with
them, he hung a pot from a hook and added water from a container standing
nearby.
He went to a hook and bound some thick-looking material around
himself, which now covered his chest and hung down to just under his
knees, looking like a dress had been cut in half and was now being held
together by string at the back.
I thought he said only women wore those?
She was getting more and more confused by the minute.
He pulled two chairs to the contraptions on the table and motioned for her
to sit on one of them, then pulled different types of jars towards himself and
opened them up for her to see.
They contained different powders and rocks, crystals and… sheets? One
of them even looked like the seeds they found in apples, although they were
red instead of brown.
 He took one of the long-handled spoons with a tiny mouth and scooped
some powder onto the cup-long stick contraption.
Just as she was about to ask what, by the volcano, he was doing, he
started explaining.
"The final process requires the rocks to be immersed in a liquid for a
certain amount of time, then allowed to rest and immersed in a different
type of liquid for another amount of time. The temperatures of the water are
important, which are calculated by the time between boiling point and
immersion. In order to achieve that, the correct amount of water to
chemicals needs to be added to the cauldron."
He was putting those non-rocks into the other cup and the thin stick
started moving.
"These give me the weight or the amount of powder I am measuring." He
added some more powder, then decided that he had added too much and
removed some again. Once he seemed satisfied, he dropped the powder into
a bigger bowl and started adding crystals to the measuring cup, exchanging
the non-rock with another. These were then dropped into a small bowl with
a heavy-looking stick, which he picked up to start grinding the crystals
down to a powder.
"These mix with the water and the remainder of the chemicals better when
in powder form. If left in crystal form when being added to the warming
water, they take a little longer to dissolve, which changes the chemical
make-up of the liquid."
She kept her mouth shut, even though this made very little sense to her.
Instead, she decided to observe.
He was repeating the same process with the contents of four other jars,
then added three sheets to the mix without measuring them. Maybe he had
already cut them according to size since they all looked identical.
"How do you know how much you need to add?"
"There is a formula, but I have prepared this so many times that I no
longer need to look at the parchment."
He got up and started rumbling through a chest, then returned with a piece
of parchment. Squiggles and lines greeted her in black ink. She had seen the
Head Overseer make these in his ledgers, though she had never seen them
up close like this.
She picked up the parchment—it was completely smooth, and when she
slid her finger across it, she could barely make out any bumps where the
quill must have pressed down on it.
She picked it up and turned it around—the other side was blank. In the
Mines, both sides were always written on.
She turned it to the front again, looking at Erinol expectantly. "What does
it say?"
He looked taken aback. "Y-you can’t read?"
Why did that shock him?
"Of course not," she was almost laughing at the notion.
"Why don’t you know how to read?"
He seemed deeply perplexed by this news, which, in turn, confused her.
"Do I look like the Head Overseer to you?" She had almost added the
word ‘stupid’ at the end of that sentence but decided against it. He
definitely wouldn’t appreciate it.
"I don’t know, what’s the role of the Head Overseer?" A crinkle formed
between his two eyes. He seemed to be concentrating a whole lot more than
when he had been measuring the powders and transferring them between
containers on that treacherous spoon-like contraption.
 What sort of a question was that?
"He…" she trailed off. She wasn’t entirely sure, actually. "He is always
writing in his ledger. When you bring him Sidri’s token, he writes in it.
When you receive your rations, he reads from the ledger and tells the
Overseer how much to give you, then writes something down when you
have collected them. Every time you see him, he is always with his ledger.
Besides collection day, I don’t think I have ever seen him outside the Inner
Circle, but Overseers and Watchers report back to him at all times. I assume
he writes all of those things down too."
"Who else looks at the ledger?"
Now she really was confused.
"Why would anyone else look at the ledger? He is the only one who can
read it."
His mouth popped open and he was staring at her. "What?!"
She jumped a little, surprised at his outburst.
"They don’t teach you how to read and write?!"
"What for?"
"I don’t know! To gain knowledge? To communicate?"
"I don’t understand." She was starting to get a headache. This
conversation was making no sense to her. She was trying to get annoyed
with him but he seemed just as confused as her, so there was no point.
He stayed quiet for a while, seeming to collect his thoughts.
"Didn’t you say that the criminals arrived every six months? Why don’t
they teach you?"
Seriously?
"Have you ever taught anyone anything without talking to them? And
besides. We don’t have ink and parchment around the Mines. The only one
that does is the Head Overseer."
"Why don’t they talk to you? Is it against the rules? Or do they keep you
separated? Wait… no. You told me about the chaos of the first few days of
arrival."
Her face cleared, realisation setting in.
"Oh… you don’t know, do you?" She was surprised by this piece of
information. Why wasn’t this common knowledge?
"Know what?"
What did they gain from keeping this a secret? Wouldn’t it deter people
from murdering one another if it was common knowledge that your tongue
would be cut out? And who cut them out? The Magiks? Or was it the
Administration? Were the two one and the same? The Farms had clearly
been eliminated from the list.
"Know what?" he asked again, this time through gritted teeth.
She almost smirked at his annoyance, clearly not used to being kept in the
dark. She decided to put him out of his misery.
"When the Peeps arrive in the Mines, their tongues have recently been cut
out."
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. He sat back in his chair,
seemingly deflated.
"Why?" It was a whisper.
She shrugged. "No one knows. The Mines isn’t the type of place where
you ask questions."
He didn’t seem to know what else to say, so she gave him a moment to
digest the news.
His voice was soft when he spoke next, "Would you like me to teach
you?"
 She turned towards him in surprise.
"To read and write," he clarified.
"Yes," she breathed and smiled for the first time since leaving the Mines.

They had added the powders and sheets to the cauldron at different
intervals, always looking at a device that seemed to be letting sand or
something similar through a narrow opening, apparently giving Erinol an
indication as to how much time passed.
He didn't say anything further, which suited her just fine.
She had a lot of things to think about.
She was going to have to learn how to travel in these new clothes since
her old ones were now a pile of ash. She supposed there were still enough
places on her bodice that she could strap a knife to—even hidden ones.
There also seemed to be a few pockets between the folds, that had secure
compartments, in which she could store the sliver and anything else that
seemed of great importance. She would use tonight to explore the place
thoroughly. If they left the hearth burning, she would even be able to carry
around a light in order to look at the corners.
There seemed to be enough water, but she wasn't sure whether she would
be able to find a water canteen in this place. The jars would become too
heavy over the long run and she would have to carry around several of them
if she was going to make the water last for a longer period than just a
morning.
Her biggest problem was going to be the food.
 He didn't seem to keep anything in the barn, so getting into the house was
imperative if she wanted to take anything along. Maybe he would leave at
some stage or he would forget to bolt the door. She would have to think
about this later when there wasn't so much happening around her.
But he had said that he would teach her how to read and write… Would
he actually keep his word?
Maybe she would have to wait to find out.
Where did she have to go in any case? Where was she planning on going?
She hadn't thought that far. Hadn't figured out whether she would even be
willing to go all the way to the Rim—even to just explore. The Magiks…
She felt a shiver down her spine. That's where they all came together and
governed over them. That was probably the place where they cut out the
tongues of the Peeps.
Maybe Erinol could answer some of her questions.
Maybe, just maybe, she could stay for a little while. Just until she got
some answers. Just until—
"Come have a look."
She jumped.
By the volcano.
"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you." He smiled with that soft smile. "Come
here." He beckoned her forward towards the cauldron. "See the liquid?"
The colour had gone from being clear, to a deep purple. While she was
looking into it, however, it was slowly changing to something lighter in
colour, though still dense.
"Why is it changing colour?"
"It’s the temperature change. I have taken the cauldron off the flames and
the liquid is slowly cooling down. This changes the colour as well. Once it
has changed to a milky white, it's ready for the Protectors."
You could see the pride he took in his work.
It was a foreign concept to her.
He walked back over to the table and opened the lid of the box that had
seemed so heavy.
Laying within, where dozens of the lower tunnel rocks.
She had never seen so many in one place before!
She took a step towards them.
They were just lying there. Would he allow her to pick one up to examine
it? She had never been allowed to do so in the past. Not even that one day,
when her and Yanni had taken one. Not one from the lower tunnels, of
course. But were they really that different?
"May I?"
She expected him to shut the lid, to smack her outstretched hand away, to
shout at her, but he only nodded, encouragingly.
Slowly, carefully, she picked one up.
These were the rocks so many people died for.
The rocks in this box alone, were probably the life’s work of two or three
people working the levels, not including the kids who packed them.

The rock from the lower levels, the Protector, as Erinol called them, didn't
look much different to the others she had seen every day of her life.
It was, perhaps, a little darker, the holes a little smaller, possibly a little
denser. Not taking the size into consideration, she was wondering whether
she would even be able to tell them apart if she saw them individually.
This was what she had received five lashes for as a kid.
 What could they possibly be used for, to justify spending so much life on
harvesting them?
Surely, Erinol would know? Seeing that he was working with them so
closely.
She carefully placed the rock back in its box.
"What are they used for?"
He laughed without humour. "If you want an answer to that question,
you're going to have to ask a Magik." There was a certain loathing in his
voice. Interesting. Towards the Magiks? The fact that there was information
he wasn't privy to? That he wasn't able to reap the rewards of his work?
"So, no guesses from your end?" She wanted to know how he would
react.
He puffed up his chest slightly, unknowingly, she suspected. "The rock
that we turn into a powder is used as a form of fertiliser. Add the correct
minerals and plants grow twice as fast and turn out twice the amounts of
fruit as under normal circumstances. They allow plants to grow in areas that
they would not be able to, without the rock powder and they ensure that
plants survive the harshest winters.
"The other two, I don't know. There are theories, of course. Some believe
Magiks use them to trap non-magicians, some believe that they put spells
on them to turn them into living pets, others believe they are used as
jewellery to make the wearer more beautiful." He scoffed. "To be honest, I
haven't the faintest idea if there is any merit to these farfetched theories. But
I can tell you one thing. If you ever meet a Magik, they aren't going to need
any form of rock trap in order to kill you." That loathing was back and she
couldn't tell why, but it scared her more than his words had.
 "One of the three—I don’t know which, unlocks a Magiks powers. Or so
I’ve been told. Who knows what’s true and what isn’t?"
He headed to the cauldron and peeked inside. The liquid had turned a soft
lilac, which was his indication to ready the rocks.
He filled a big bowl with water and added a few drops of another clear
liquid to the bowl. It turned green the second the liquids mixed. He then
used two metal tongs to dip each rock into the green liquid individually,
before setting them beside the cauldron. "This sterilises the rocks before
they go into the liquid. Nothing is allowed to interfere with the makeup of
the cauldron."
The second the liquid turned white, he added the rocks one by one, then
put it back on the flames.
Once the liquid was bubbling, he turned another of those time devices on
its head and ensured to turn it once more, the instant it had run its course.
Another empty bowl was brought forward and when the timing device ran
out a second time, he used a big spoon with holes in it, which kept the rock,
but allowed the liquid in the spoon to run off and removed the first rock.
It didn't appear any different to when she had been handling it, but Erinol
seemed to be happy with the result, as he continued to pull the rocks out of
the liquid. When he had collected about 20, he set the bowl aside and wrote
something down on a piece of parchment.
He explained, "These are the rocks that survived the first stage. They now
need to cool down completely, before going into the second liquid
tomorrow. The ones that survive the second stage as well, are considered
strong enough to be sent to the Rim. Over there, the Magiks…" He trailed
off, noticing her shocked stare.
"What?"
 "What do you mean, survived the first stage? Where is the rest?"
"I already told you that only the strong rocks are used." He was scolding
her for not listening well enough, of all things.
"So, out of what… four dozen, only 20 remain?"
"I put 50 into the cauldron—I always receive the same number… 20 is
pretty good. I have had times, where only a dozen makes it past the first
stage, a handful past the second. I believe that we could possibly have
above 10 this time around."
10 out of 50…
That was insanity! And 10 out of 50 was good. Three lives spent, for 10
measly rocks.
She could feel that she had gone pale, felt Erinol take a small step towards
her, reaching out a hand to comfort her for whatever he saw in her face, but
she took a step back, raising her hands.
What could it be? What could possibly be worth three lives? Or were they
not considered lives? Were they considered things? Property? Lives that
were now theirs, thanks to their crimes? They condemned generations. Not
just the individuals. They condemned their children's children too.
Her mind went blank.
Erinol had said something, then left a while ago. She didn't know what
he’d voiced.
Didn't really care.
She noticed that she had sunk to the ground, curled up on herself. She felt
cold, although the barn was warm, thanks to the roaring flames, the dry
grass on the ground. She had never been in such a warm place outside of
the tunnels and yet, she felt cold.
Something heavy was being wrapped around her shoulders—a blanket.
 A mug filled with something warm pressed into her hands—they were
trembling, she realised absentmindedly. Big hands wrapped around those
shaking hands and stilled them.
She slowly lifted her eyes to his face.
There were questions there, but he didn't voice them. He waited.
After a long moment, she nodded at him to release her hands and he sat
back in the dry grass, reaching behind himself towards a second steaming
mug, then focused his eyes back on her face.
"What happened?" he asked, not unkindly.

She took a deep breath to try and steady herself.

Her voice was a little shaky, but she forced some strength into it. "Those
50 rocks you just put into the cauldron, the ones that you say will only end
up being ten—they come from the lower tunnels. I was sent down to work
them a couple of times as punishment because I stepped out of line. The air
down there is so hot and thick that you can barely get a breath down. If the
exhaustion from heat and low oxygen doesn’t kill you, the rock falls that
happen almost daily might claim your life and if that doesn't do the trick
either, the gases and dust that work their way into your lungs will slowly
suffocate you, until even the cold night air can no longer help you and one
day, you just simply stop breathing.
"Those 50 rocks that turn to ten… that is the life's work of about three
people. How can 10 rocks justify three lives?" She trailed off, the question
floating around them in the silence.
Her voice was steady, but quiet when she started talking again.
"My brother worked the lower tunnels. We were busy starving, so he did
the only thing he could do, to feed us. I couldn't help him then and I
couldn't help him in the end either.
"You say we deserve to be down there, but what did my brother ever do,
besides getting born into the wrong place." It wasn't a question and she
wasn't accusing him, not really. He didn't know. How could she be mad at
his ignorance?
Her heart was sore. It was aching. It was hollow. Nothing there but
emptiness, gaping.
She could feel herself falling but didn't know how to catch herself.
She was alone. Her brother was gone. Her father, mother, and her
grandfather. That beautiful soul he had always spoken about, the golden
eyes twin to her own, lost on the same day her aunt had entered and exited
the world.
She was tired.
So very tired.
He steered her to where she had been sleeping and bundled her up in the
blanket.
It was the middle of the day, she should be in the tunnels right now,
running rocks.

The sun had travelled across the sky by the time she sat bolt upright.
It took her only a moment to realise where she was. Warm.
Erinol was sitting at the table, his back towards her, focused on something
in front of him.
She didn't know why she had told him about Jiri.
 She needed him to trust her. It would open doors for her. Get her the
information she needed to move on from this place.
But was there another reason?
That hollow in her heart still hadn't gone and she doubted it ever would,
but she embraced it. She cradled it and held it tight because it was a
reminder.
The chains had gone.
The oppression with it. She had made it. Had made it out of slavery – and
had left everyone behind.
Had left Yanni behind.
She curled back in on herself.
He was supposed to be with her.
He had come out of the tunnel that morning after his shift and had found
her house burnt to the ground. Everyone with it. The space already claimed
by the Peeps who had burnt it down, scraps ready to rebuild a hovel. As if
erased, as if she had never been. Just the smell of smoke clinging to one’s
nostrils when walking past.
It would have broken him.
And Gunnar would not tell him, even as he saw him falling apart in front
of his eyes. For her mother, he would not tell him.
And it was Kala that she placed all her hope in now, that she would be
strong enough to pick up the pieces and put him back together again.
She deepened her breathing as another wave threatened to overtake her.
Clung on to that thin rope that tethered her to this reality, this pain and
elation, this contradiction of life.
She rose to her feet, rustling the dried grass.
 He turned at the sound and smiled at her, uncertainty on his face. "You're
up. Good. Ready for your first reading lesson?"

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Nine

T
hey fell into a routine quickly.
In the mornings, she would help him with his rocks.
He seemed to receive them once every two weeks and had a week to
finish his own process before receiving the next lot a week later. They
packed them in cloth, neatly lining them up in a box that would be secured
to a wagon bringing it up to the Rim. The rocks needed to be dropped off in
town somewhere, a place he wouldn’t allow her to go.
Erinol was the only person on the Farms who was responsible for the final
process of the Protectors. The process seemed to be a complex one and any
single mistake would deem all 50 rocks useless. She had swallowed at the
prospect, when he had encouraged her to measure out the exact weight of
one of the powders, ensuring her every move was correct, not a single grain
of the precious materials lost. Her heart had been pounding when the
second stage had been completed and she was using the funny spoon full of
holes to fish the rocks out of the boiling liquid.
12. They had gotten 12 rocks out of that lot.
 Erinol had been pleased, her heart had sunk. They had put 24 rocks in,
short of his record by one, apparently.
When there weren’t any rocks that needed to go through the final process,
they were prepping the materials that needed to go into the liquids.
Grinding crystals to powder, cutting sheets according to exact
measurements, then dividing and boxing them up. She had known how to
count, of course, but he now taught her some further complex mathematical
problems, adding and subtracting large numbers to arrive at certain
outcomes he read up on parchment. She was able to write numbers now,
too.
He always arrived with new materials, then disappeared with them.
Where he got them and dropped them off, she didn’t know. He had never
offered to tell her and every time she asked, he avoided the question, asking
her about something relating to the Mines instead. So, she hadn’t pushed.
He had asked her about every little facet of the Mines. About the Inner
Circle and the Populance as a whole, her house and the way she had lived.
About the way people were introduced to work and how their
responsibilities changed with age. The roles men and women had, the lake
and the Outpost, the paths that led through the place and how they were
constantly changing. The Watchers and Overseers, the Head Overseer and
his ledger. He had been very interested in the ledger but soon realised that
she wasn’t able to answer any of his questions about it. She knew it
frustrated him, but at least he seemed to be most interested in the tunnels of
the Mine. The place from which his precious rock came. Those were
questions she could answer. He asked very little about the Peeps and asked
even less about the people she had known there. He had never brought up
her family again, even though she almost hoped that he would. She wanted
to talk about them, even though it hurt just to think of them. Wanted to tell
him all about her caring mother and storytelling grandfather. Her brother,
who had taken over the responsibility for her entire family at an age at that
Erinol seemed to have sat in a room with other children his own age,
learning his letters.
But he never asked and she couldn’t bring herself to speak of them unless
prompted.

The afternoons they spent practicing her reading and writing.

A quill was an extremely complex tool to use. The precision that was
required, like nothing she had ever needed to do.
Even patching up her clothing with the tiny little needle and thread her
mother had swapped for on a regular basis had nothing on the intricate,
ever-changing lines and swivels required to form letters, which in turn
formed words and sentences.
Her letters looked extremely crooked in comparison to the ones Erinol
drew for her to copy. The time it took her to create one probably 10 times as
long as his. But the volcano would damn her if she gave up on the gift he
was offering her.
Reading was an entirely different story altogether. The sounds the same
letters made kept changing, depending on the words and sometimes letters
were pronounced, other times they simply disappeared in the word. They
turned silent, as he called it.
She had thrown a couple of things through the room in frustration at the
slow pace and when Erinol scolded her, she scowled right back at him. How
did he find the patience for this?!
 The food was a completely different thing altogether. The flavours… by
the volcano. The flavours! Every day, they kept changing. Every day, her
stomach was warm and filled to an extent that she hadn’t experienced in the
Mines. She had put on a little bit of weight, she knew. Not much, her ribs
were still visible, but every day, she went to bed satisfied by the amount of
food that had filled her belly.
She slept well in her little corner of the barn. Warm thanks to the straw
and blanket that surrounded her. Tired enough to sleep through the night
and not be woken by the horrid dreams that kept tormenting her throughout
the night.
She was tired. Not in a physical sense, nor in the way lack of food made
you sluggish, but from a mental point of view. Something she had never
experienced before. There was so much new information being thrown at
her every single day, so much that she had to take up. She constantly had to
concentrate. No movement was familiar, no action automatic. She needed to
focus at all times and at the end of the day, she simply passed out, too tired
to even worry about Yanni or think about whether Gunnar was still keeping
her secret.

"I won’t be able to go through your letters with you this afternoon, but I
prepared a few exercises for you to go through on your own and then we
can look at them together tomorrow."
In the seven months she had been sleeping on his barn floor, he had never
missed a single one of their afternoon classes. He had left earlier or later at
times, but never missed an entire afternoon.
"Where are you going?" She sounded more hurt than she had intended and
scolded herself for it.
"Out."
"Out, where?"
"I have other responsibilities besides teaching you your letters, you
know?"
Maybe so, but that didn’t change the fact that he had never missed an
afternoon before. "Such as what?"
He was starting to get impatient with her, she knew. He didn’t like being
questioned like this. He hesitated just a moment, then said, "If I miss the
winter solstice, my sister is going to be too suspicious. I’ve already
neglected her too much since you arrived."
The winter solstice!
It was already here.
Everyone would have prepared for it last night.
Every year, they would all sit together this evening or morning—shift
dependent and build the fire just that little bit higher, roast their allocated
piece of the fowl, together with their remaining potatoes and have Yanni
and his siblings crammed into their little space. Grandpa would tell stories
and they would all fall asleep piled on top of one another. It was the best
day of the year.
Her chest constricted.
She couldn’t spend this night alone.
"Can I come?" she asked, hopefully.
"No." The word was short, firm and left no room for debate.
Her hope shattered. "But—"
 "I said no." He stood up quickly and strode to the door. "Do your
exercises." He ordered and closed the door behind himself, the bar sliding
into place with a definitive thud, which reverberated through her more than
usual. During all this time, he hadn’t forgotten to lock the door behind
himself when leaving for the day. Not once.
She curled up into herself and couldn’t stop the silent tears from rolling
down her cheeks.

She had finished her exercises quickly, her letters a little more crooked
than they normally were and realised that he hadn’t left her anything for
dinner.
Not that she really minded, she doubted that she would have been able to
eat much in any case, but it hurt more than she would have liked to admit to
herself.
She lay down early, willing herself to sleep, but it wouldn’t come, her
thoughts returning to her family, even though she tried to shut them out,
ripping her heart open a little at a time.
She stood up and went back to her exercises.
She could do them better. She grabbed hold of the quill and started
retracing the words one at a time.
But even that didn’t seem to distract her, so she went to the door and tried
to push it open.
Nothing. It was barred from the outside and there was no amount of
shoving that would allow her to get through it.
 She traced the walls. Surely, there was some way for her to get out. She
hadn’t tried properly that first night, not really. She had been too exhausted
to focus on the little details and after, she hadn’t wanted to get out. She had
gotten comfortable. Had started to want to stay. There was nowhere else for
her to go and Erinol—surely Erinol wanted her to stay too.
She had spotted the odd look he threw her way. Had noticed his hand
linger a moment longer than was necessary, had realised that the smirk
whenever she laughed at his jokes was one of satisfaction.
So, why would he lock her up? The voice that whispered these words was
small but insistent.
Why?
She had made her round. Not a single plank was loose, not a single one
could be pried out of place or shoved to the side. She had come to the same
conclusion that first night.
She tried another round, this time poking her toes underneath the dry
grass. Maybe there was a spot where the earth was uneven and she would
be able to move the remaining dirt out of the way.
But this too, wasn’t the case. The earth below the grass was compacted
and hard, not a single groove or opening underneath the slats.
She started to panic, her breathing picking up.
No.
Calm down.
Slow down.
Take a deep breath.
She sighed it out loudly, realising how silly all of this was.
She was being ridiculous. This was just another night. Like any other of
the past few months.
 But the realisation only seemed to freak her out more and she started to
breathe heavily again.
She had to get out.
Had to get out, now. Feel the cool night air on her face. See the stars that
had popped up through the window high above her head.
Her breathing had turned laboured, she was panting as though she was in
the lower tunnels, the air too thick to fill her lungs properly.
She had to get out!
A scream was building in her throat, sweat dampening her lower back,
running down the inside of her elbow, down her sides.
She swallowed the scream, forced herself, through sheer willpower alone,
to take a deep, shaking breath through her mouth.
A sob escaped her.
And out of thin air, as though her mother was standing right there with
her, she could feel her phantom hand, stroking her hair, breathing with her
encouragingly. She couldn’t help herself, the sobs racked through her,
shaking her entire body.
And all she was able to think about was how gentle her mother’s hands
had been, how they hadn’t faltered even once when she had fallen apart like
this, months after Jiri died and she just hadn’t been able to take the guilt any
longer, the shame that she hadn’t found a way to help, even though she
could feel her mother’s own grief breaking her.

She got up on shaky legs, head eerily clear and moved back to the wall.
The fire in the hearth had burned low, sharing little light.
She’d had an idea that first night.
 She looked at a single slab making up the wall and ran her hands along its
panel. Nails kept them together. If she managed to pry the nails free, maybe
she would be able to move the slabs far enough to squeeze through.
She scanned the barn.
There were so many tools packed neatly throughout the place, that she
was sure to find something that could help her out. She made her way to a
box that contained many of the prying tools, as she called them and selected
three different ones.
It wasn’t until she found something to squeeze underneath the nail in
order to give herself some leverage to pull against, that she managed to pull
a nail free, then a second, third and fourth. The slab came loose, only
attached by a final pair of nails, too high for her to reach.
She did quick work of a second slab and set her tools back in the box,
nails neatly next to it. She would have to reattach them when she got back,
without Erinol’s knowledge and she rather wanted to be prepared, than be
caught.
Moving over to another box, she found something heavy-looking and
checked the weight. If hit at the correct angle, the nails should find their
way back into the slab without a problem.
She covered the items with a cloth, then moved back towards the loose
slabs. She pried them apart and easily slipped through, into the cold night
air.

It had been a very long time since she had stood underneath the open
night sky and she hadn’t realised how much she’d missed it up until this
very moment.
 She took in a deep breath, savouring the cold bite of the night air in her
lungs, the sting on her skin.
She wasn’t wearing the correct clothing, but she didn’t care. She had
experienced and survived greater cold and being outside seemed to clear a
heavy weight off her shoulders, one she was surprised was lying there.
Her eyes didn’t need to adjust, the moon almost full, the snowy ground
dazzlingly bright.
She would have to be careful if she wanted to move around unnoticed.
The night was full of life, lights could be seen ablaze in the distance,
music was sounding not too far off and there was clapping and laughter
filtering through those high plants—trees—she had learnt recently. The
sounds pulled her forward and soon, she was gliding through the night,
instinctively keeping to the shadows, breath even, completely calm.
The sounds grew louder, feet stomping on the soft ground reverberating
through her.
She moved through buildings standing strong and high. Didn’t come
across a single soul, only the music beckoning.
It was when she had passed a line of trees that everything fell away and
she came across an open space, people everywhere.
She took a quick step back, her back colliding with something hard,
unmoving. Her breath caught in her throat, the sound of surprise lost among
the buzzing of people in front of her. A moment later, she realised that she
had backed into a tree trunk and let out a soft sigh of amusement. She
looked around quickly, then examined the trees in her immediate
surroundings. One jumped out at her and she used its branches to pull
herself up into its crown, now hiding her from below, but giving her the
perfect view into the clearing.
 The sight that greeted her, robbed her of her breath and it wasn’t long
until a small smile spread across her lips.
There were people singing and making music on tools that must have
been instruments. Her grandfather had always told stories and these
featured often. He would tell them the stories of people singing and
laughing together, dancing and being carefree. A word she had never
understood until now. These people were carefree. They were holding
nothing back, letting the music carry them through the night.
Her grandpa had danced with her and her mother. Never like this, but she
didn’t think that he had known any songs so full of life.
The colours people were wearing were so bright, she couldn’t believe her
eyes. And there were so many! Like Erinol had said, every woman wore a
dress, the same as her own garment, but the richness of the bright diversity
of colours was something she didn’t know what to do with. She also noticed
that every one of them wore their hair long, in extravagant plaits and
decorated with all sorts of trinkets. It was bewildering.
In the Mines, most people chose to wear their hair short, whether you
were male or female, didn’t matter. Short hair was easier to keep clean,
especially in winter, when the baths wear too cold and the time spent in the
tub minimised where possible.
There was food—piled high on a table to one side of the clearing. Never
before in her life, had she seen such amounts.
The smells were wafting towards her, making her stomach rumble.
Most people had jugs in their hands, drinking swiftly, some stumbling
around happily.
There were a few lying around on the floor, seemingly unconscious, but
no one seemed to be alarmed at their state, so she supposed that she
wouldn’t be either.

The night was happy and merry and it warmed her heart, so she didn’t
notice the cold that had seeped into her body and didn’t realise how much
time had passed, until she saw the first signs of the morning light break
through the sky, chasing away the darkness. The clearing had gotten fairly
empty, most people having found their beds at this hour and she realised
with a start that she better make her way back to the barn, hoping that
Erinol had gone straight to bed himself.
It was the first time she had thought of him and she realised that she
hadn’t even looked out for him down below.
Had he been there?
She climbed down quickly, her fingers so cold that she didn’t manage to
grasp the branches properly and crashed through the bottom half, a little
scream escaping her lips.
She landed on her bum, pillowed in soft snow and couldn’t help the
laughter that made its way up her chest.
A giggle sounded. "You alright?" Came a slurred voice, not too far behind
her.
The laughter stuck in her throat and she didn’t dare turn her head. “Fine,
fine!” She managed to sound offhand, even waving her fingers casually
through the air and got to her feet quickly, brushing the snow off her
clothes, back still turned towards the voice.
"Cool," came the reply. "I’m going home." The voice sounded further off
already.
She let out her breath and started in the opposite direction, forcing herself
into a leisured step.
 The voice had sounded strange, but she wouldn’t question her luck and
picked up her pace slightly.
She made it back to the barn without another incident, simply following
her own steps imprinted in the snow and now visible in the morning light.
She rushed towards the loose slabs, slipping through them easily and
reached for the cloth instantly, covering the nails and tool—
"What, by the volcano, do you think you’re doing?" The voice was low,
controlled—jarring.
She froze in her step.
In her haste, she hadn’t noticed the second set of footsteps coming
through the gate and since she had gone for the slabs, hadn’t seen them
move towards the barn door.

She took a breath and straightened, turned towards him slowly.

"I didn't want to spend winter solstice on my own." Her voice was steady,
calm.
His didn't change. "And how often, exactly, have you decided to take a
little stroll like this one?"
"If you must know, this was the first."
He didn't seem to like her tone because he took a threatening step towards
her.
"Do you have any idea how many people could have seen you, Tula?!
Today of all days!"
"I did not escape slavery just to be locked up in a prison, Erinol." This
stopped him short.
"I am not…" he trailed off, then tried again, tone changing drastically. "I
didn't realise that's how you felt."
 "Today was the first time in over seven months that I've been outside. You
lock me in here, every time you leave for the day. Don't tell me anything
about the town. How did you think I felt?" She still hadn't changed her
voice, kept it calm the entire time.
"I…" He sat down in a chair. "I'm so sorry."
She sat down herself, collecting her thoughts.
She hadn't thought of the barn as a prison. Not until today, not until she
had been denied the opportunity to leave it when she asked. When the grief
that she had been suppressing, had overcome her. The barn had been a safe
space for her. A place where she didn't have to confront her feelings. She
had been pushing that night away and used the barn, its warmth and
comfort, as a place to hide from it.
She took his hand without thinking, his eyes shooting up to hers.
"I didn't realise either. Not until today." She smiled at him softly.
The smile he returned was uncertain, but at least he didn't pull his hand
back. "Did anyone see you?"
"Would it have been a problem if they had?"
"It's a small town, Tula. There are only about 250 of us. Everyone knows
everyone here. There would have been too many questions. Questions that
would have reached the wrong ears."
Oh—that makes sense.
"No one saw me."
He relaxed into his chair, clearly in relief, hand sliding out of hers. "Thank
the volcano."
She gazed down at her empty hand—he didn't miss the look.
"Did you go?" she asked, tentatively.
"Go where?"
 "To the clearing. The dancing." She smiled at him.
"You went to the clearing?" he asked in alarm.
She shouldn’t have asked. "I climbed a tree. No one saw me."
"So reckless!" He hissed, though she wasn’t sure at whom.
"Did you?" She couldn’t dim her excitement.
"No. It’s full of drunkards, falling over one another, shouting at you to
dance. I don’t dance."
Her smile faded.
Oh.
What were drunkards?
Before she could ask, Erinol carried on talking, his tone now soft. "I got
you something," he seemed a little embarrassed.
She tilted her head at him, intrigued.
He fumbled around in his pocket, then pulled out a golden chain.
At the bottom of it, swung a golden, circular, fairly compact shape, the
surface worked into groves and mounds, the detail and fine precision
absolutely breathtaking.
He clasped the circle with his other hand. "This is called a locket. You
wear it around your neck. I've collected some of the volcanic rock that has
broken down in the first and second stage of the chemical process—" His
embarrassment deepened and he averted his eyes, rising to his feet and
reaching for a little box on a shelf by the wall. She followed him, not saying
anything.
A little latch opened the locket to display a hollow space within and he
scooped some of the powder from the box into this space, before closing it
once more.
 He held the chain out to her, the heavy-looking shape swinging between
them.
"This way their work wasn't wasted after all and you carry a piece of the
Mines with you, no matter where you go."
Tears filled her eyes.
She reached a tentative hand towards the object, examining it a little
closer. The intricate markings were a beautiful mess, creating patterns
across the centre, which were adorned by tiny black crystals—clearer than
the volcanic rocks she'd known her whole life. Almost like glass, though so
dark that you couldn't see anything through them.
She placed her hand on her heart and spoke softly. "Thank you. You don't
know what this means to me."
He smiled at her, reaching for the chain once more and lifted it over her
head.
She let go of the locket, which now dangled between her breasts.
"There." He stepped back, looking at her. "It suits you."
"It's beautiful." She clasped it in her hand once more.
"Wear it underneath your dress, on your heart. This is your secret. This is
where you come from."
Her eyes filled with tears once more and she blinked them away hastily.
She tucked the locket under her dress. "Thank you," she whispered again,
the metal warm against her skin.

They'd lit a hearth and had had some breakfast, after which he had gone to
bed, giving her a stern look before closing the barn door, but leaving it
unlocked.
 She supposed, now that she had another way to leave, locking it didn't
accomplish anything.
Apparently, there would be no work today. A 'holiday', he had called it.
She was lying in the dry grass, blanket wrapped tightly around herself,
hand on her heart, on top of the locket. She couldn't sleep. Her mind was
racing in all directions, remembering the music and the dancing, the
laughter and the carefree nature these people had displayed. What made
them so different from the Miners? A night like this added so much life.
What she would give for Yanni to experience this. For her brother to have
gotten the chance to let go of responsibility and to simply laugh and dance
with people he loved.
She wrapped her fingers around her locket, embracing the dust inside,
embracing the person she was and finding strength in what she had endured.
An idea popped to the surface and she got to her feet, finding the little box
in which Erinol had collected the dust that was now in her locket. Quite a
bit remained. After straining her ears for a long moment, making sure that
no one was nearby, she found the pocket within the folds of her dress and
pulled out a handful of cloth, unwrapping the glass sliver from within.
A sunbeam caught an edge and rainbow colours reflected through it. She
held her breath, turning it this way and that. Such wonders, this world had
given her this night. Her heart was achingly happy, something she didn't
deserve.
Pulling the locket out of her dress, she unlatched it and examined the
inner space.
This could work.
She grabbed a long-handled spoon, then scooped up a little of the dust
inside the locket and, careful not to let any fall to the table or the ground,
added it to the remaining powder in the box. There was no way he would
notice the difference.
Taking hold of the sliver, she carefully placed it on the dust still in her
locket, two of the edges touching the rim, and pushed it down far enough
that the dust came up around its sides and slowly buried it underneath, now
no longer visible.
She closed the locket and carefully lifted it to eye level, making sure that
no dust fell through any slits, that no light penetrated the locket, which
might give off some rainbows, that the sliver didn't clank around the inside,
making itself known. But the dust seemed to be pillowing it enough not to
touch any sides and the depth of craftsmanship would never allow for any
slits to be available.
Awe for its artistry moved through her. She had never seen anything with
this sort of detail before.
She packed away both the box and the spoon, moved over to the hearth
and placed that last piece of cloth from her old clothes into the flames of the
hearth, watching it catch fire and slowly turn to ash.
She was still clasping the locket in her hand, and when she realised this,
she tucked it underneath her dress, not only hiding away where she came
from but also ensuring that her secret stayed safe with her.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Ten

e should discuss what happened yesterday."

"W She had waited for him to raise the topic all morning, but when
he hadn’t and they had worked in silence, she had thought it wise to follow
his example.
He was angry with her, she knew. But at the same time, she felt as though
her reasons were justified and he begrudgingly seemed to agree with her.
His reaction to her words the night before proved that. He hadn’t given her
the locket as a form of apology because he had already planned on giving it
to her before he realised she wasn’t there, so to some degree, even if it was
unconsciously, he had known how wrong it was to keep her in the barn for
all of that time, locking the door whenever he left.
But she didn’t know how to approach the topic and she didn’t know how
angry he would be if she did before he was ready.
He wasn’t in control of this. Not to the extent that he would have liked, so
he was nervous about it.
She let out a soft sigh and straightened slightly.
 They were sitting around the hearth, warming their hands on something
he called a cup of tea. The same warm drink he had all but thrown through
the barn doors that first night, when he had been scared half to death by her
bloody appearance, but still concerned about her having no liquids the
previous two days. Tea was created by simply adding a bunch of leaves to
water heating up in a pot over the stove. The flavour changed, depending on
the type of leaves you used. It warmed her cold hands and spread a
delicious warmth through her insides, the taste full and sweet at the same
time.
"Indeed." She waited for him to continue, to see in which direction his
thoughts had gone.
"You should move into the house."
She should what? The words shocked her. Before she could collect herself
and ask any questions though, he continued.
"I should have moved you into the house a long time ago and for that, I
apologise. I didn’t think you actually minded staying in the barn though.
This might be closer to your normal circumstances than the house and the
arrangement seemed to work, so I didn’t feel the need to change it up. As
you have pointed out, however, permanently staying in a barn is absurd.
The move to the house will provide a change of scenery. For now, we can
go on early morning walks in the forest bordering this house, but that will
have to suffice because taking you into town is not an option. There would
be too many questions we wouldn’t be able to answer.
"Long term, we can arrange for you to seemingly come from another
Farm town for us to be married, but that requires some planning and cannot
simply be fabricated out of thin air. There will need to be a reason for
arranging such a thing. You would have to come from one of the two towns
we so rarely have contact with, that no suspicions are raised and no
inquiries can be made about the legitimacy of our claims.
"Then comes the issue of your education. I am going to have to teach you
about the Island, the customs of our people, the way a woman acts and the
way she carries herself. If you are to be good enough to marry me, we are
going to have to work on your vocabulary and we cannot have you slipping
up on questions like what is tea?"
Her eyes were bulging out of her head, her mouth had popped open, she
was so overwhelmed by these… news, for lack of a better word, he was
throwing at her that she didn’t know how to control her face. But he
barrelled on, oblivious to the enormity he was proposing.
"You are going to have to learn the ways of the Farms, so that means that
I am going to need to teach you the basics of working the rock. Women do
not, of course, work the rock, but they are around the processes their whole
lives since they clean up behind us when married and you would have
helped your mother as a child.
"If we are to go through with this, I would require your full support in that
which I plan to accomplish. But in order for me—for us—to decide whether
this is even an option, we are going to have to find out whether we can live
together under one roof. I am not old-fashioned enough to believe that it is a
good idea to marry before living together and since we do not have that
luxury in any case, this is as good an opportunity as any.
"Do you agree?"
His tone was so casual that she would sooner have believed he had
proposed starting a new vocabulary exercise than suggesting the idea of
marriage.
"Close your mouth. That’s not an expression a wife of mine would make."
 She hastily composed herself.
Had he really just proposed marriage? Between the two of them?
"Do you agree?" he asked impatiently at the prospect of having to repeat
himself.
"Why would you want to marry me?"
"I can’t think of another way to introduce you to the town." His tone
suggested that this was an obvious point she should have thought of herself.
"You would do that for me?"
"You are attractive enough. I haven’t found anyone in this town that
interests me and due to my position, I am unable to travel between towns.
There are lots of questions I would like answered from you and like you
pointed out—I cannot keep you locked up in a barn and you seem to be
learning quickly enough." His tone was practical. "How old are you?"
"18." Her birthday had come shortly after she arrived here.
"A suitable age, maybe a little old. This could play to our advantage. You
were clearly struggling to find a husband in your own Farm town."
"Why would you want me to stay?"
"Do you have anywhere else to go?" He raised an eyebrow, not giving her
the opportunity to respond, before asking the next question, “Where had
you planned to go?”
"I hadn’t. I didn’t know anything about the world outside the Mines. All I
knew, is that the Farms and the Rim exist and that the path would lead me
there. I was going to figure out what to do later."
"You realise that we are part of an Island, right?"
"A what?" That unfamiliar word in his earlier …ramble had snagged at
her.
He only shook his head. "We have a lot to learn." He got to his feet.
 She wanted an answer though. "What’s an Island?" She pressed.
He turned his head. "The Crater, which the Mines, the Farms and the Rim
are a part of, form the inside of a Volcano. Hence—the name volcanic rock.
The Volcano is situated on an Island, which in turn is surrounded by water.
The Magiks, live mainly on the Island. Whole cities exist there. The guards
are allowed over there, but we can never go. It’s forbidden. The Rim is
closely guarded by Magiks, so somehow making it past them and down the
other side of the volcano, is impossible. Trust me, I would know. Who
decided this, I cannot tell you. But it happened a long time ago and one
day," a glint entered his eyes, arriving with a sudden fervour that entered his
voice, his being. "One day, I am going to find a way for the Farmers to
leave this place and for the Magiks to call us equals."
He turned back to the door and walked towards it, but halted once more.
"I’ll prepare your room for you, then we will have your vocabulary lesson
this afternoon. You’ll move into the house after that." And he was gone,
without another backwards glance.
Ayda sunk back in her chair, utterly overwhelmed.
Whole cities. An Island.

When Erinol returned a few hours later, for her vocabulary lesson, she had
gotten no closer to steadying herself than when he had left.
Her mind was reeling and she couldn’t focus on anything at all.
She was getting frustrated with herself and he was getting even more so,
which led to a completely pointless lesson, but no matter how much she
tried to ground herself, she simply couldn’t accomplish it.
She was going to have to figure something out that night, otherwise, the
next day was going to be no better.
 For the first time since arriving on the Farms, she wished to be able to
empty her mind through the sweaty, gruelling work of carrying the volcanic
rock up through the winding tunnels, the simple task of setting one foot in
front of another and knowing exactly where that day would lead her.
The thought instantly appalled her and she berated herself for it, which
only led to unbalancing her further.

Erinol cut their lesson short, grumbling something about using his time
more sensibly and ushered her through the door.
He looked across the empty yard towards the road, the sun having set for
the day, the light fading fast and once he was convinced that no one was in
the vicinity, he herded her towards the house just off the side.
As they entered, he started explaining.
"Leave your boots and outer clothing here." He indicated a little bench
and hooks along the wall. She didn’t point out that she didn’t possess outer
clothing, but proceeded to take her boots off.
A big room opened in front of her, seating options and tables greeting
them. There was a big open hearth to one side, a square table with four
chairs to the other. "This is the sitting area. I also have my dinners here,
which is rather unconventional, but the place is too small to have a dining
area."
…Too small?
They moved past the square table and into a room whose walls were lined
with shelves and cupboards, filled with jars and pots, plates and bowls and
lots of other things. A second big hearth was located on the far wall, a big
pot hanging over coals on a hook. A long table filled the rest of the space,
though no seating options were available. "This is the kitchen. As you can
see, the food is prepared over here. I expect you to keep this house clean
and tidy and to note the allocated places for each item. I like my order."
They moved back into the sitting area and moved towards… she had no
idea what to make of the next contraption.
She turned towards him questioningly, but he only looked impatient. "Up
the stairs you go! Unless you don’t want me to show you the upper level."
Stairs. That’s what these things were called.
She moved up them, as though she was jumping over the boulders
surrounding the lake, but heard an irritated sound behind her. With a
backwards glance, she realised that he was simply walking up the stairs
with a slight upward pull of the alternating legs and expected her to do the
same.
Three doors greeted her at the top.
Erinol pointed to the door on the left. "That is my bedroom. This over
here—" he indicated the middle door, "is the bathing room. I live in the
only house in town that has their bathing room on the second floor." He
sounded proud and she made a mental note to ask him about this. "And this
—" they walked through the right door, "is your room." A bed greeted
them, a small table next to it, with a shelf on the opposite wall. There was a
window above her bed, the forest spreading out in front of her.
She spun around to face him excitedly.
"I get an entire room to myself?!"
He scoffed. "Of course. Living together before marriage is one thing. But
sharing a room…" He trailed off, shaking his head hastily.
She didn’t exactly understand the meaning behind his words. She had
slept in the same room as Yanni and his siblings numerous times before.
Had shared a bed with them and it had never been a problem. But then
again, they didn’t have this much space. She had never, in fact, seen a house
with this many rooms! Erinol had an entire room for preparing food alone.
And a bathing room inside the house, of all places. In the Mines, they had
shared a tub among their neighbours. It had simply stood out in the open, in
a space that wasn’t occupied by a path or a bed.
But the thing that astonished her the most, was the fact that she was busy
walking on top of a house, while still being inside the house. The strength
the walls needed to have to be able to hold all of this up, without breaking!
She couldn’t wrap her head around it, so she pushed it aside, to contemplate
later.
She turned back towards the window and looked at the trees longingly.
They reached higher than her window and she wondered whether she would
be able to climb them in order to look at the roof of this spectacular house.
The light had almost given way to the dark and Erinol cleared his throat.
"Wash your hands in the bathing room and meet me in the kitchen. I still
have some soup left that we can heat up and I baked a fresh loaf of bread
today."

The sky was waking up, birds greeting the day, as they walked through
the underbrush of the forest just outside the house and Ayda realised that
this had been the time of day in which Erinol had discovered her hiding
away seven months ago.
She smiled at herself softly.
The circumstances had been very interesting and so much had happened
since then.
She turned towards him.
 "Who did you think I was? That morning. You said that you had expected
me to be someone else."
He looked at her mildly and smiled at her open features. "There is this
group of kids in town, which likes making trouble. They were bugging me a
couple of years ago, but I ignored them long enough for them to get bored."
"Why were they bugging you?"
He made a face. "Small minds. I’d put my quota down in saying that they
won’t amount to more than working on the Feeders.” He scoffed. “What a
sad existence. I would go mad from boredom. Serves them right," he
mumbled the last couple of words under his breath.
Ayda chose not to press. Clearly, this still irritated him.
"Do you go for a walk every morning?"
He exhaled at the change in topic, visibly pushing his irritation down.
Seemingly almost frustrated at himself, for his mood to have been affected
by the topic. "Whenever I can, yes. It isn’t every morning, but most. I enjoy
the experience of the world waking up around me. The sounds in the
silence, before the clamour of work rings across town. This is why I chose a
house on the outskirts. I liked the silence that was so easily accessible."
She smiled at the way his body started to relax with the change in
conversation and decided to give him something in return.
"There is a lake in the Mines, too acidic to touch, but beautiful to look at
nonetheless. My friend and I spent every half-day there, skipping across the
boulders and watching the sun glimmer across the water. There was a game
we used to play when we were little—whoever managed to skip a rock
across the water 10 times first would be the one to decide the others’
character for the week, and then you had to spend that entire week
pretending to be that person. Except for in the tunnels, of course. One time,
he told me I had to pretend I was a Peep and couldn’t talk all week. Imagine
me trying to explain that to my mother. She got so upset with us, she made
us clean the entire hearth from top to bottom. We were completely black by
the end of it and were then forced to take an icy bath afterwards. It was the
middle of winter, so you can imagine how awful that had been, but at least
we got to sit in front of the clean hearth afterwards." She smiled fondly at
the memory.
She had been exhausted after dinner last night and had barely made it up
the stairs, before falling into a deep sleep, the mattress the softest thing she
had ever slept on and had had no chance to weave through her thoughts. But
this—the fresh air, the trees surrounding her, the birds’ song filling the early
morning—this made her feel steady. It allowed her to hear something else,
besides her reeling thoughts.
"Was he a good friend of yours?"
She smiled at him. "He was my only friend." It felt good talking about
Yanni. It was painful, but it felt good.
"So, why didn’t he come with you?" He seemed a little confused at this
prospect.
"We always planned to leave together. We dreamed up whole lives away
from the Mines, without knowing what existed outside of them. We would
scout the Outpost together, trying to figure out, well—anything, really.
Then one day, he was caught and punished for it. The incident harmed him
in ways that weren’t visible to the eye. He changed after that, lost hope.
He’s responsible for three of his siblings and was engaged when I left, so he
must be married by now. I couldn’t ask him to come along. It would have
been too selfish of me."
 Yanni had been responsible for more than just his three siblings. People
looked up to him. They respected him for what he had gone through and
how he had dealt with the situation. Removing him from the Mines would
cause more than just his three siblings and wife to lose hope. If Yanni
couldn’t deal with the life, then how could others ever hope to?
She sighed inwardly.
No. Yanni would never have left the Mines. Not the way she had. Those
dreams of theirs, they had only been that. Dreams. Dreams of children,
unaware of the responsibilities of the world.
"You spoke about other Farm towns yesterday. I didn’t know that there
was more than one."
"In total, there are five. The layout is fairly similar, or so I’ve been told. I
can only confirm that to be true for two others. One, I was born into. The
other was the place where I learnt the chemical process. The towns all hold
a similar population size, to fit the number of houses that were built here
700 years ago. When we turn six, we get sent to another town to learn,
away from our parents so that we can concentrate better on our studies. It
takes about five years and then you work in whichever position is required
at the time in the town. That lasts around 10 years and if you show any
promise, a speciality is chosen for you, depending on your greatest
strengths. My position is only held by one person per town, meaning that I
had to go to another to learn from the Head Chemist and spend two years
there, before coming back here. I’ve been back for about five years now.
While I was gone, my sister got transferred here and married someone
across town. It was the first time since I was six that I had seen her."
"Are you two close?"
 "Not really. I’d say we used to when we were little. But we have both
grown into complete strangers and the town in which she grew up, did
things quite differently. I don’t always understand her reasoning."
This felt nice. It was the first time that they were having an open
conversation.
"So, if you struggle to get along with your sister, who is from the same
place as you and whom you spent the first six years of your life with, how
are you planning on getting along with someone like me?" She was teasing
him.
"You’re young and you learn quickly. I have no doubt that you will get to
know our ways."
"I want to learn." She had realised her hunger for knowledge. Her
insatiable questions. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t feeling the
stick crash down on her body for asking them. Yes, sometimes he refused to
answer her questions and sometimes she was too shy to ask what was on
her mind. But not once, had she felt threatened by him. Not in a physical
sense.
She hesitated for only a moment, before asking. "Do people on the Farms
ever work glass found in the tunnels?"
He turned towards her, face blank. It answered her question without him
needing to say anything. "Glass? In the tunnels?"
Better to close the topic off again. "It’s rare. Very rare, actually. We have
only ever found it once in my lifetime. No one could ever tell me what they
did with it. I thought maybe they brought it here."
"With the pressure, I suppose it would be possible…" Erinol was
mumbling to himself.
 She didn’t want him to dwell on the topic. She shouldn’t have asked him
about it at all, it was too risky. But she could still see those vivid green eyes
as if she had imagined them just the other day. The intensity with which
they had stared into her very soul. As though they knew… everything.
She’d had to ask.
New topic.
"Yesterday, you said you had questions for me."
His relaxed body language, lost in thought, instantly vanished and he
became guarded. It saddened her to see the wall go up. She hadn't meant for
that to happen.
"This is not the place to discuss my questions. We'll have ample time over
the next few weeks and months."
She was about to insist, but he continued, "We are going to have to
change up your routine. You know enough about what I do by now, so in
the mornings I have a couple of books that I would like you to read. It is
going to be slow-going, but you should improve quickly. Your vocabulary is
extremely poor, so there are numerous words you won't understand, but that
is what will make this exercise so beneficial. You will practice your
reading, write out every word you don't understand, meaning you practice
your handwriting and then we will go through those words when I am
finished in the barn, through which you practice your vocabulary.
"Once you're through with my books, I can trade them with others in
town. In the afternoons, we will go over the Farm customs, expectations
and meals. We can cook together. You are going to have to learn how to put
the different foods together. When exactly, I am going to teach you about
the other rocks, I am unsure. But we can start with the powder. Most people
work on the Feeder as it is time-consuming and requires many hands. Even
if it is mindless work, people won’t ask too many questions about your
parents or their work, which benefits us in two ways. Less probing into your
past and less knowledge required on the shaping of the third rock."
"Right. I was wondering. Don't you ever have visitors come to the
house?"
"Of course, I do."
"What are you going to tell them about me?"
"I can meet some in the barn. With the ones where that would raise
suspicion, you are simply going to have to stay in your room. In other
words, the sooner you are suitable to appear in front of other people, the
better. We are both at risk at the moment."
A nervous flutter went through her. She hadn't thought of that. He would
be in trouble too. It wasn't something you could simply explain away,
especially since she was now in his house. "What would happen to you if
someone were to discover me now?"
"I don't know. And I don’t want to find out either."
Dread filled her.
Right. Quick learning, then.

When they got back, she felt grounded.

She owed Erinol her thanks for taking her out that morning. It was exactly
what she had needed, in order to digest the ideas that he had sprung on her
the day before.
She hadn’t decided what she made of his proposal to get married but told
herself that she would revisit the idea when the time came. With his
meticulous ways, it would take some weeks, even months until he thought
she was ready to be introduced to the town and she would use that time to
get to know him better.
He had been good to her. Had taken her in, without getting the Watchers
—guards—she chided herself, involved and had fed her, clothed her, was
even willing to part with knowledge for her. He had no reason to give her
such kindness and still, he had asked for nothing in return. She could do a
lot worse than him. So, she would give him a chance and when it was time
to decide, she’d know.
They had a quick breakfast, after which he asked her to take a seat in one
of the many plush chairs—it was insanely soft, almost lulling her back to
sleep. This was dangerous for studying! He moved to a shelf on the far wall
and returned with what he had called a book. It looked identical to a ledger,
though when she opened it, all the pages were already filled with writing.
"This describes the chemical process that I use in finding the suitable
volcanic rock among the many that get sent my way. It is not an easy text to
read, but I only keep books that are of use to me. We are going to start with
these and if they prove too complex, I will have to find something simpler
in town, whose interest for myself I can explain." He retrieved a piece of
parchment, ink and quill and left her with the instructions of writing out all
the words she did not understand.
Then he was gone.

Even though she had just prided herself on her thirst for knowledge that
morning, she struggled to stay awake while reading the book. The text was
not only complex but also extremely dull. There were words and processes
she couldn’t even pronounce and the chair she was sitting in was so soft…
when she caught herself dozing off for the third time, she decided to get out
of her chair and do a few exercises her brother had taught her years ago, in
order to be able to defend herself, in the hopes of waking herself again.
She had just about started when Erinol walked in and caught her in a
sweeping jab she had delivered to an invisible enemy. A rather smooth
move, if she could say so herself.
He did not look impressed, his hands coming up to his hips.
"I gave you a task to do. Explain yourself."
She was about to comment on her formidable opponent when she saw his
facial expression and checked herself. He was definitely not impressed.
"My mind was wondering. I wanted to shake it up a little so that I would
be able to concentrate again."
"If you consider this a laughing matter—"
"Of course not," she interrupted him, realising straight away that it was a
mistake and thanking the volcano that she hadn’t given in to her instinct of
rolling her eyes at him.
He glowered at the interruption and carried on, "Then we are going to
have to discuss your priorities. You are living under my roof, eating my
food and taking up my time. If this is all a joke to you, then tell me now. A
Magik won’t even spare you a second thought with that little knife you are
waving around in front of him. If you meet one, you will be at his mercy.
No matter your skill. If you do decide to take this seriously, then you can
play around in your free time… but do it in the barn. I don’t want you
breaking any of my furniture. In the meantime, I expect you to respect my
time."
Her eyes found her hands in shame, shoulders downturned.
She had practiced with Jiri in places that were a fifth this size, so there
was no chance that she was going to break anything, but she refrained from
voicing that thought. He was right, of course. There was no excuse. She
should be able to concentrate better. She was putting him in danger because
of it. Just like everyone else she had known her entire life.
She felt small. He was putting so much on the line for her to be here, so
much effort, energy and patience and how was she thanking him?
"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so rude. I’ll do better from now on."
His face softened slightly. "Tula, I know I’m being hard on you. I’m just
worried that we will be discovered and I don’t want to see you get hurt."
Her stomach sank. How could he be worried about her when this was all
her doing?
"I’ll do better," she promised.

They had gone over the vocabulary she had written out from the book and
he had been extremely patient in explaining every word, seeming pleased
with the ones she had written out, correcting her spelling in a couple of
instances and veering off into teacher mode on one or two occasions,
explaining the processes in detail, giving examples and telling her about his
own experiences with the volcanic rock. He seemed not to notice when he
would go off on a tangent, then catch himself after a few minutes and
quickly return to the topic at hand. She smiled to herself in those instances.
He was so passionate.
Farm customs seemed to be very different to the ones in the Mines. Up
until this point, she hadn’t even realised that the Mines had any customs.
Although there had been a very clear distinction between men and women
down in the tunnels, the remainder of responsibilities in life were shared. It
didn’t matter whether you were a man or a woman, you helped where you
could. Whether it was making dinner, fixing the house, looking after the
kids or dividing the rations for the week. You jumped in wherever you
could. Especially because shifts were usually worked alternately.
On the Farms, however, it wasn’t only the clothing that was split
according to gender. Women usually looked after the children by
themselves, until they were sent to school at the age of six. The food was
usually prepared by the woman, once a man had been married. Before that,
both genders learned how to cook. This was due to the man having a more
physically demanding job and needing to be able to collect his strength in
the evening, ready for the next day.
The thing that she found most fascinating, which had never been so
apparent in the Mines, was the governing body on the Farms.
Every town had something Erinol called a ‘Council’.
There, decisions were made within reason of the laws set out by the
Administration—who in turn, was a governing body that resided over the
entire Island. It was a group made up of both Magiks and non-magicians.
As long as these laws were abided by, the Administration didn’t interfere
with Farm politics.
The Council decided whether your plea for a house was justified, how
much grain was to be allocated to which fields, whether the processes and
schedules for the rock works were running smoothly, etc. Apparently, it was
a very complex process and only men were allowed on this Council. When
she asked him why that was the case, he said that since men were the ones
that worked the rock, they knew about the processes best and since the
Administration cared about the volcanic rock the most, they encouraged the
man-led Council.
"Are you part of this Council?"
 "No. I have more important things to do with my time, than allocating
sleeping arrangements. Besides—the Council meets in a different town
once a year, to discuss the figures and expectations of the Administration.
The trip takes between two to three weeks. I cannot leave town for such a
long period of time." If she wasn’t mistaken, he sounded a little bitter,
despite his words.
If she looked at the Mines, she supposed they also had a governing body.
It just did not include the Miners, but rather consisted of the Watchers and
Overseers. They, too, had to fulfil a certain quota a year, had to decide who
was receiving which rations. It was different and yet, it was the same.

When the sun approached the horizon, they had gone to the kitchen and
Erinol had pulled out jar after jar of herbs and spices, giving each a name,
letting her smell the different ones instructing her on which would go not
only together, but also with what sort of vegetable. It was a lot of
information, but it got even more complex when they started chopping
things up and throwing them in a pot. They had never possessed so many
different ingredients in the Mines. Had simply added water. This—this was
more complex than the chemical process they had followed!
What they had for dinner tasted wonderful, but if she had to replicate it in
the morning, she wouldn’t know where to start. The cooking was going to
be something she would have to pay close attention to.

They were sitting in the comfortable chairs in front of the hearth, a fire
blazing. She was exhausted. She had required so much from her brain
today, all it wanted was to rest. But just as she was about to excuse herself,
he started talking.
 "When I was a child, my father was murdered in front of me by a Magik."
A shiver went down her spine at the words. His voice had gone soft, lost in
the past and she stilled, not wanting to disturb him.
"I remember him as someone with a vision. Someone who held out hope
for the future. He was always busy, out of town whenever his work
permitted him. He worked with the second stone. The one that needs to be
shaped and when he reached his quota, he would simply disappear until the
next load came in from the Mines. I was always asking Mother where he
went, but she was reserved, never one to talk much.
"One day, I found out that he was going to leave the following night, so I
stayed awake and snuck out after him, following at a safe distance. He met
up with a group of people from town, all wearing dark clothing, all looking
over their shoulders, all tense without exception.
"I didn’t dare move too close, in fear of being discovered, but I chided
myself later, for not having the courage to listen to what they were saying.
"It wasn’t long before they prepared to leave once more, my father
seeming to want to travel further into the woods, instead of returning to
town. When they all rose to depart, a young man stepped out of the
underbrush and used some invisible force to strike them down. I still don’t
know what happened. It was all over too fast and my child’s mind cannot
remember the details, but at some point, when they had all dropped like
leaves from a tree, I realised that this man was killing everyone in the
clearing.
"My father was the last one standing and when the Magik approached
him, I let out a scream and hurled myself towards them. He was dead before
I could reach the man, but I flung myself at him nonetheless, clawing at
anything I could reach. He didn’t even struggle under my attack, simply
flung me off and I hit a nearby tree, hard. I blacked out instantly and when I
came to, there was dried blood on my head. He must have thought that the
blow had killed me and not bothered to double-check.
"I scrambled around in the dark and came across the body of my father.
He was cold and no matter how much I was shaking him, he did not wake.
"I ran, screaming back to my house and woke Mother in a panic, pulling
her out of bed, screaming at her to come with me, something had happened
to Father. When she found him, she flew into a rage. I had never seen
Mother like that. Quiet, reserved, Mother, who was cursing and shouting
into the world, blaming my father for the state he was in. I was in complete
shock, wanting to shake her, to demand how she could possibly hold him
responsible for the cold-blooded murder that had occurred in front of my
eyes.
"When I wouldn’t stop sobbing and pleading, she hit me across the face
and demanded a promise from me that I would never talk of this night to
anyone, less I wanted the rest of our family to end up the way my father
had. Shortly after, I was sent to another town for my schooling, a few
months ahead of my time. I always wondered whether my mother had
played a role in that."
He took a deep breath and silence filled the room. He continued, coming
out of his trans and fixing his attention on her.
"It wasn’t until years later that I learned that the young man had been a
Magik and that my father and the others had had no chance of surviving
that night. That the fact that I had been so little, had probably saved my life
because I didn’t pose a threat. He didn’t even bother to check my pulse.
"My father had been part of a group of people who knew that there was
more for us out there. That the world didn’t have to be controlled by the
Administration and that the Farms could be considered equal to the
remainder of the Island. That they had no right to oppress us the way they
do, to demand such hard work for nothing in return and that we should fight
for our freedom. That belief, that human right, is what had gotten him
killed."
That glint she had seen in his eyes when talking about this topic a few
days ago returned to them now and his entire energy changed. He believed
these words fully and completely. Believed that they should demand these
rights from the Administration, and why shouldn’t he? Hadn’t she had the
exact same thoughts? Wasn’t that the reason she had left the Mines behind,
never intending to return? Because she deserved better. The Mine-born
deserved better.
But he wasn’t just talking about walking away, the way she had. No, he
was talking about confronting the Administration; and the Administration
consisted of Magiks. Magiks! He had confirmed it himself, had lectured her
about the inability of a knife against them and they were the ones that
manned the Rim. How, by the volcano, did he ever plan on being able to
stand up against them?
He had a good life here. A peaceful one. Safe. No one to watch his every
move, incredible food, a strong house to keep out the cold, time to spend as
he pleased.
A good life indeed. Did he not know how to value that?
She had a terrible foreboding and a cold that had nothing to do with the
temperature, the fire crackling away in the hearth, started to creep under her
bones.
He stared at her with an intensity that made her uncomfortable, leaning
forward in his chair, elbows propped up on his knees.
 "We have been scouting the Rim for the past three years. There is a
suitable place underneath the Observation Post, a natural crevice that bores
into the rock for about 10 meters that if loaded with the materials from the
Mines, would create a big enough explosion so that it would take the entire
Observation Post with it. The whole thing would disappear, the Magiks
with it and we would be able to command the Rim. From there, we would
take control over the export of the volcanic rock and the Administration
would have to set up a Treaty—view us as equals. We would set our own
terms. Work under our own conditions. Decide the quantities of rock
coming out of the Mines. The type of rock. We would hold the power."
There it was.
Did he realise what he had just suggested? What he was trying to put in
motion?
His eyes didn’t leave her face, boring into her. She forced herself to keep
her expression neutral. To keep in check, any emotions that were
threatening to rise to the surface, the same way she had done so many times
within the tunnels.
It didn’t matter what she said right now. He had worked himself into a
state that would misinterpret anything she said at this moment in time, so
her best option was to remain silent.
After searching her face and finding nothing in it, he continued.
"We need your knowledge of the Mines to accomplish our task. Will you
help us?"
Her mind was racing. She needed time to digest his words, needed time to
pick hers carefully. She needed to somehow, lighten the situation slightly.
In a soft, calming voice, she said, "Do you mind if I make us a cup of tea?
This is going to be a long evening."
 He blinked at the tone, the words, breaking the intense stare. She had
thrown him, she realised in relief. It worked to her advantage.
"Sure." He sat back in his chair, taking in a deep, steadying breath.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Eleven

A
yda took longer than necessary to make tea, boiling more water than
was needed and letting the leaves steep for double the amount of
time.
She needed to figure out how to respond to him, even if he would scold
her for it.
He had taken a gamble in telling her about his group. Had put a trust in
her that she hadn’t had a chance to earn.
But it wasn’t like she had the option of going to anyone and confiding in
them. No matter what her opinion was on the matter, her hands were tied
and he knew it.
She walked back into the sitting room, his eyes intent on her face the
moment she passed the threshold.
She sat down, observing him keenly and handed him his mug.
"You took your time," he commented.
"You gave me a lot of information, I would think you knew the value of
careful consideration," she countered.
 He seemed to accept the response and waited for her to answer his
question from earlier.
She gave him a level look. "What exactly, do you require from me?" She
decided that she needed further information from him so that she didn’t give
him knowledge about details he would use in a way that everyone would
regret later.
"We need to get into the Mines, unnoticed. Throughout the Farms, we
have free reign, as long as we stick to our quota. The moment you reach the
gate to the Rim, the next step is prohibited. Before you hit the wall of the
Mines, however, there is an area that we are not allowed to cross into. This
area has made it impossible for us to scout out the wall—it is too vast.
Nothing to hide behind. The guards spot you within seconds. We do not
know their routines, we do not know their stronghold, we do not know what
we would find once we are inside the walls. We are blind. If we want to be
able to get hold of this material and deposit it without encountering a party
of Magiks that is expecting us, they are not allowed to know that we were
even there."
"You are asking me to do the impossible."
"You already did the impossible once. This time, you will be better
prepared. You will have resources from the Farms that you never had access
to in the Mines. You will have a team helping you along the way and you
will have a greater reason to need to accomplish this than your own life."
The gleam was back.
She took an audible, steadying breath.
"This material you want to use for the explosions. What are you talking
about?"
 "The explosives that cause rock falls in the tunnels, of course. I have
heard the rumbles of the collapse myself, close to the restricted area. You
have told me about them too. The ones in the lower tunnels."
Carefully, ever so carefully, she said, "Those explosions are caused by
gases that escape from the tunnel floors."
"Gases." He repeated, deadpan.
"Yes. It is not something you can simply pick up and transport, it
dissipates. If one could transport it, we wouldn’t have the explosions in the
tunnels. Think about it. It doesn’t just cause loss of life—death is something
the Overseers don’t care about. It’s the collapse of the tunnels. It slows
down mining the rock. The tunnels need to be cleared out again. It’s a waste
of time the Overseers don’t enjoy. The gas is undetectable, especially with
the sulphur in the air, which is too overpowering to note the subtle smell of
the explosive gas. If a spark from a pick-axe hits the wrong pocket of air,
there is an explosion."
He stared at her, dumbfounded.
She gave him time.
"No, that can’t be right," he was whispering. "There needs to be another
material there."
"Not as far as I’m aware. The only other harmful materials are the lava—
which turns into volcanic rock the moment it is exposed to the open air and
the water in the lake, which is so acidic that it burns through skin. It could
definitely be used as a weapon, but unless you have a use for it and a
container that would be able to withstand the acidity, I wouldn’t know how
to get it out of the lake."
He had gone completely quiet. She wasn’t sure what would come next, so
she did the only thing she could—stayed still herself. Allowed him time to
work through whatever was rushing through his head right now.
He stayed silent for a long time. After a while, his voice, quiet, rough,
sounded through the room.
"I have a lot to think about. Goodnight."
With that, he left the room.

He was reserved the next day. As though he was going through shock and
needed to process. He didn't even go to the barn, only sat in the sitting room
in front of the hearth, drinking tea.
She had a lot to mull over, herself.
Erinol had met a Magik. Had actually survived one, although that had not
been through skill. It had been luck. But even though he had been young
and in a very traumatic situation, she was going to have to ask him about
this Magik. See what he remembered about his powers, his appearance, his
aura. She hoped to never have to be confronted by one, but the more she
learnt about Erinol, the less likely she knew that this wish would come true.
So instead, she was going to have to collect information. The more, the
better, always. Yes, with knowledge came responsibility, but it also made
for constructive decisions. She had been forced to make them blindly for
too long.
Erinol’s father had been killed for something she had survived, but only
because she had been selfish in thinking of escaping alone, of ensuring her
own survival, while he had tried to free his whole people. She had been
struggling with this thought the entire night, images of Yanni being
whipped, of her grandfather curled around his missing fingers, of her
mother limping around with her severed leg. She had been rolling around
the soft bed for hours, before falling into a restless sleep.
 She had been selfish.
Had left everyone behind to die.
Erinol wasn’t thinking that way.
He wanted this freedom for everyone—except the Miners.
Decide the quantities of rock coming out of the Mines.
His words repeated in her head.
Even if she decided to help, the Miners would trade one master for
another.
There was honour in wanting to free one’s people, courage in exposing
oneself instead of others for the Cause, but the thing that Erinol's father had
died for, what Erinol himself wanted to continue, was going to end in
bloodshed and she worried that it wouldn't be the Magiks that were going to
lose their numbers.
According to Erinol, there was an entire Island filled with Magiks. A
whole Island that for some reason, deemed the volcanic rock important
enough, that they had enslaved an entire people. If they placed so much
value in them, they wouldn't simply stand by and hand over the Rim. Erinol
had said that a single Magik had taken out an entire group of Farmers,
through an invisible force. What would a dozen do? Two?
A shiver went down her spine. How did you fight something you couldn't
see?
She needed to find out what Erinol knew about these people. If you could
even consider them people.
His mother had reacted with fear. She wanted nothing to do with the
Cause her husband had died for. Whether that was through knowledge or
lack thereof, she would never know, but his mother had chosen denial.
Would Ayda be able to do the same; ignore the offered hand? Would she be
able to walk away, knowing that even if the Farms somehow managed to
gain a Treaty, the Miners would not? There would be no one to speak for
them. For Yanni, life would remain the same, while she was able to live her
new existence. And yes, the Farmers had a good life. They had a life of
plenty, of luxury. But it was not their own. It was not a life of freedom. So,
who was she to say that they needed to accept their fate? Who was she to
say that they needed to embrace the limitations that had been placed on
them?
If she wanted her people to have a chance at real freedom, she was going
to do better than Erinol’s mother. She was going to have to take the offered
hand.
But there had to be another way. Because the road Erinol had decided to
go down, was only going to get them all killed.

The morning rolled into afternoon, and still, Erinol was sitting in front of
the hearth.
She had finished reading for the day, but they hadn’t gone over the
unfamiliar words she had written out and he didn’t show any inclination of
starting her afternoon lessons either.
She prepared some bread for him, the same way he had done on that first
day she had arrived on the Farms and put on a fresh pot of tea.
He didn’t respond when she placed the tray on the little table next to his
seat, so she knelt in front of him and took his hand. In a soft, caressing
voice, she said his name, trying to call him forward. "Erinol."
He didn’t respond, so she squeezed his fingers lightly. "Erinol, I need to
talk to you about the Magik you saw that night."
He blinked down at her, then slowly found her face.
 "Erinol, the Magik."
He blinked again, focusing. "Three years for nothing…" and started to
turn away from her again, but she tugged on his hand slightly, keeping his
attention.
"Your plan wasn’t the right way to go about this. We will just have to find
another."
He wasn’t looking at her, exactly. Rather, he was looking through her.
"There is no other."
"Erinol." Her voice had gone stern, forcing his eyes to focus on her. "We
will find another way," she repeated.
He finally snapped out of his stupor and sat up a little straighter, noticing
his hand in hers and took that back too. "I told you. There is none. We have
been looking for another way for years now. Have been trying to make our
own materials out of the rocks that are sent our way. Have tried to grow or
chemically create something—anything.
"What? You think that this only started with my father? It’s been
generations. Our people have been down in this Crater for 700 years. 700!
We have been forced into a life with no reward, no ability to make our own
decisions, no means of leaving this place behind. One doesn’t treat humans
this way—locked up, no choice, no freedom. This is how you treat
animals." His voice had picked up in authority. He was lecturing. Had heard
these words repeated in many different forms over the years. This was
indoctrinated.
"You’re young. You believe that your ideas are unique, that they have not
been considered. But you come from a very sheltered place where
information and knowledge don’t pass. You don’t know anything about my
people. You don’t know anything about the land that we are trying to leave
behind, the way we are constantly being herded. When I tell you that there
is no other way, then believe me. There is no other way."
She gave him a moment to settle back into his chair, then Ayda responded
in a calm, clear voice, "You’re right. I don’t know anything about your
people or the Farms. I don’t know anything about the Magiks either. But I
do know something about the Watchers, the Overseers. They operate
through sheer force, through power. They have the tools to control and they
thrive on that control. If someone stands in their way, they inflict pain,
create fear or eliminate entirely. No one questions it. Now if they answer to
the Administration, if they are willing to stand below another governing
body, you can only imagine the power the Magiks hold. If you decide to
force them into a corner by taking not only the lives of the Magiks on the
Rim and the Observation Post, but also their volcanic rock, you will have to
be content with the entire force of the Magiks from around the Island. They
will not let you keep it. Not if it is important enough to enslave an entire
people." She willed for the words to sink in. They were opposite to the ones
he had heard all these years. He wouldn’t accept them, but she carried on
nonetheless. "In order to gain the upper hand, you need to understand your
enemy. Not the guards, but the Magiks. They are the ones that control the
Island. That hold the power. So, tell me. What do your people know of
them?"
He took the plate from the side table and finished his bread, before setting
the plate aside again and answering her question, "There is a rumour that a
Magik travels with the transporters that move the volcanic rock from the
Mines to the Farms and then from the Farms to the Rim. But it has never
been confirmed. The guards that travel with the transporters do not reside
here. They never stay the night or interact with the guards from the Farms.
On the way from the Rim to the Mines, they do not enter the town, move
straight past. On their way back, they arrive in the dark, unload and reload
within the hour and aren’t seen again for a couple of weeks. The entire trip,
from leaving the Rim to arriving back to it, never takes more than four
days. One day for every leg of the journey." He paused, taking a sip of the
tea that must have gone cold by this point. "The Magik that killed my father
exuded power. He had the eyes of a creature straight out of the pits of the
volcano. But other than his eyes, he was cold. Everything about him that
night was cold. The very ground he walked on seemed to freeze over. His
skin was ice cold when I clawed at him, his facial expression frozen in a
sneer, his voice echoed through the silent night. Although he only said one
word: die. He thrust his arms out and they simply did. Just dropped like
flies, clutching at their hearts. My father died differently. Somehow, unable
to move his limbs. Toppling over and then never moving again." His voice
had gone eerily quiet. The memories of a child, watching his father die,
helpless to the creature roaming the night.
"So, tell me, Tula. What do you make of that?"
She didn’t know.
"And you do not know anyone else who has ever come across a Magik?"
He considered it. "No. I don’t think so. Magiks have no reason to come
down here. If you ask me, the only reason they did the night my father was
killed, is because he was on to something. He had become a threat. I was
too young to ask questions back then. I have sent someone to my birth town
since to ask my mother. Yes, everyone from that night was killed. But
maybe she knew something. That is why she was so scared. She refused to
talk. Said she didn’t know a thing. But maybe…" He was quiet for a
moment. "Maybe, I need to send someone again. Maybe we didn’t demand
it strongly enough. I wish I could go myself, but it would take too long. I
wouldn’t be back in time to fulfil my quota." His fist came down on the arm
of the chair, frustration apparent in his voice.
Silence engulfed them.
Suddenly, he got to his feet. She shuffled back quickly. "I need to go to
town to get us some things for dinner. I won’t be long." He pointed to the
untouched list of written-out words from the morning. "Write those words
out 10 times. Your handwriting needs work." And with that, he was out the
door.
She sighed, then moved to the table to start writing out her words.

When she woke in the morning, the sun was high in the sky.
She sat bolt upright, shocked at the prospect. She had slept until noon!
Erinol would be so disappointed in her that she had slept through her
readings.
She jumped out of bed, putting her shoes on while she was hopping
through the door and down the stairs. Why hadn’t he woken her?
Maybe something had happened to him. Fear stabbed through her,
stronger than she would have expected, for someone she barely knew.
"Erinol?" No answer. She was halfway down the stairs, her second boot
almost on properly.
"Erinol!" She called his name loudly through the house.
Maybe he wasn’t in the house. Maybe he was still in the barn. But he was
normally back in the house by now! "ERINOL!" She was shouting his name
by this point, blindly running through the house, eyes flying towards all
corners. He wasn’t here! She ran towards the kitchen—
 "Hmpf!" She fell backwards, holding her forehead. She had run straight
into him, landing her on her bum on the floor.
"Tula! What, in the name of the volcano, is going on?!" He had stumbled
back a step, her momentum carrying through him.
She was panting, holding her forehead. "Are you alright? What
happened?" Her voice sounded panicked, she realised. She had to calm
herself.
"Of course, I’m alright!" His surprise was slowly giving way to irritation.
Of course, he was alright. She started to blush. "I’m sorry," she mumbled.
"It’s just, you didn’t wake me and you didn’t answer when I called for you,
I thought that…" She wasn’t in the Mines anymore. Mere seconds didn’t
mean the same thing on the Farms as they did down in the Mines. She had
completely overreacted. "I’m sorry," she mumbled once more, getting back
to her feet.
His face softened. "Don’t worry. Are you okay?" She was still massaging
her forehead.
"Fine," she grumbled. "Why didn’t you wake me?"
He laughed. "You were out cold. I tried and couldn’t. All of that reading
must have been really exhausting." He laughed again, turning around and
moving back into the kitchen. "Sit down. I stored away your breakfast when
you wouldn’t wake up. You can eat now and then do a little reading. I just
need to finish a thing or two in the barn, then we can go over the
vocabulary."
He dropped a plate in front of her and headed for the door.
She barely noticed, her mind reeling.
Why wasn’t he angry with her for missing an entire morning?
 She never slept long and she surely didn’t sleep through someone trying
to wake her. She had never had such luxury. No Miner did. If you slept late,
you got sent to the lower tunnels. If you slept through a tremor, you got
buried underneath your walls and roof. At the slightest disturbance, you
were wide awake, ready for anything.
There were two other times in her life when she had slept this long.
One had been when she was little, catching the winter cold. Sidri had
given her an herb for long sleep so that her body had time to fight off the
winter cold. He stewed it in water, the same way Erinol made tea, leaving
an earthy taste in her mouth. She had slept all night and all morning,
waking in the early afternoon.
The second being just a few months ago, her first night in the barn. She
had slept through Erinol not only moving her to the dried grass patch but
also through him bathing and dressing her, in a new environment in which
she felt unsafe, being on edge due to what she had just lived through those
last few days. It was something she hadn’t really given much thought,
pushing away the reminder that a complete stranger had been the only other
person besides her mother, who had ever bathed her.
But thinking back on it now, it would have been impossible for her not to
wake. No matter how utterly exhausted her mind and body had been. How
defeated her spirit had felt.
Impossible, unless…
Erinol had made her tea that day. Had made her tea last night too. Surely,
he wouldn’t… A feeling as oppressive as a heavy boulder settled on her
chest. Had he drugged her? Twice?!
She thought back to the taste. She remembered the earthy taste well, it had
been so very different to everything else she had ever had in her life. That
earthy taste had not been the prominent one in the tea last night, although
she could have sworn that it had been present. Whether that was her mind
playing tricks on her now though or whether it was the truth, she didn’t
know.
Erinol had so many different teas, she wasn’t sure whether the one on the
day of her arrival and the one from the previous night had been the same, or
not.
But sleeping through someone bathing her and someone trying to wake
her.
She felt utterly betrayed.
What could Erinol possibly need to hide from her, that he needed to put
her to sleep?
By the volcano, the man had let her into his life, his home.
He had proposed to her!
If she put aside her pride, she could understand that first night. Could
understand that she had scared him, with all that blood on her clothes.
Could understand that he wanted to protect himself, seeing that he thought
she was a murderer.
But last night?
She was going to confront him about it. Was going to insist on him giving
her an answer as to why.
She was out of her chair and halfway to the door.
But if she asked, he could choose to lie to her and she would be forced to
take it as truth. If she pressed on it, he would never tell her the real reason.
She stood in the middle of the room, undecided.
After a while, she went back to her chair and pulled the book she had
been reading towards herself.
 She eyed her breakfast suspiciously and decided to only eat her food. She
would be making her own tea from now on.

The days that followed felt awkward, although she wasn’t sure whether
Erinol noticed. Maybe they were just awkward to her because she was now
a little on edge.
He seemed to be somewhere else with his thoughts, although he was
always available for her classes in the afternoons.
Still took her out of the house as the sun came up.
Their morning walks were what she looked forward to most each day. It
was still a little too cold to take her boots off in the forest, but she was
looking forward to summer when her toes would feel the earth between
them, feet cushioned softly by the leaves lying everywhere.
She tended to wander, with Erinol calling after her to hurry up, to stop
watching the snail or bee or whichever insect she had happened across that
morning. She got lost in the colours, the textures, the detail. These things
didn’t exist in the Mines and the amount of life that existed here, surprised
her every day.

It wasn’t until a couple of weeks later, that Erinol seemed to be more

present once more.
She noticed the change in him straight away and instantly wondered at it.
What had been going on with him this whole time? Was it the conversation
they’d had? The information she had dropped in his lap? She supposed that
if she had been working on something for the past three years and that goal
was now no longer a possibility, she would have been upset too.
He was busy quizzing her on the Farm customs that afternoon when he
raised his eyebrow at all the correctly answered questions. It seemed as
though he had been paying attention a whole lot less than she had thought.
"Your lessons are coming along nicely."
"Does this mean that I will be able to go into town soon?" she asked,
excited. She enjoyed their morning walks, but she was curious. She had so
much more to explore within the town. She wanted to meet some people.
She wanted to know about their lives. Did they also live in such big houses?
What were the stages in their rock work? Did they also have books and all
the special food?
He gave her a single look. "You know very well that you will only be able
to go, once we have announced our engagement. And that won’t happen
until you are ready to face society."
Right.
"So, you're still planning on marrying me then?" She’d been mulling over
the topic for days now and still hadn’t reached a decision. He was a nice
enough guy, but if he drugged her without telling her, then how could she
trust him on anything?
"Of course. In due time." He said, without looking at her.
"What does that mean?"
"Soon." He responded. "Come. I think we are done with this. I would like
you to make dinner on your own today. See how you manage to combine
the spices without my guidance. I’ll make the tea."
They headed off to the kitchen and he lay out the ingredients for dinner,
then started preparing the tea.
 If he was going to watch her prepare food the whole time, how was she
going to throw out the tea, without him noticing?
She was racking her brain for excuses and reasons why he should wait in
the sitting room, when he simply said, "Here you go," placing the steaming
cup in front of her. "I’ll be in the sitting room. I wouldn’t want to make you
anxious." And left with a smile.
She let out a sigh of relief, threw the tea out of the window, then focused
fully on her task.
It was a fairly simple dish, the root vegetable onion always seeming to
come first, no matter what you cooked. She added a bunch of spices
afterwards, then added some tomatoes, which she absolutely loved—they
tasted good, no matter what you did to them. When she was done, she threw
in some of the leafy green vegetables growing behind the house, added
some water and let it sit. The kitchen was starting to smell really tasty. They
had pre-cooked some beans the day before, which she mashed with a fork,
then added to the mix and when they had integrated well, she simply took
everything off the heat and mixed in some of the grain they always kept on
hand. Cutting up some bread, she took everything to the sitting room and
lay the table.
In the Mines, they had simply eaten with a spoon. Knives were used to cut
the raw food, but never while eating, and forks were a new utensil she had
gotten to know on the Farms. He came to sit at the table and she served
him.
"Very good. You may have a seat." This had been a custom she found a
little strange—the man sat at the table and if he was satisfied with
everything on it, he asked the woman to sit. But every people were
different, she supposed. She wondered whether the Magiks also had this
custom.
She served herself, then had a seat.
He took the first bite, set down his knife and fork and concentrated on the
flavours.
"Hmm. The onions needed to be cooked a little bit longer. The greens
were added too soon, they are too soft, and you used rosemary instead of
thyme."
"Oh, yes, I wanted to try rosemary in this dish, I thought it would go
well."
He eyed her. "I see. But the correct spice to use is thyme."
"I remember. What are your thoughts on the rosemary though?" She asked
with a smile.
"Hmm. Not too bad, it's wrong though."
She let the topic drop. "Thank you for the tea," she said instead.
"Ah, yes." His eyes gleamed. "What do you think of that make-up? It's
quite earthy, isn't it?" He looked at her, expectantly.
"It is, indeed. It's lovely." She added, not having tasted the tea at all.
Earthy.
He had never asked her about the tea. Was he just making conversation or
was this the tea that contained the sleep drug?
She observed him discreetly.
He ate quickly, his eyes snapping towards the front door at every sound,
then drifting back to her face, observing her in turn.
When some time passed and she had finished her dinner, his eyes returned
back to her face, forehead scrunching up slightly—in confusion? In
calculation? His eyes darted back to the door.
 She took a chance, feigning exhaustion. She slumped slightly in her chair,
her hand quickly stifling an apparent yawn.
"I'm so sorry. I don’t know what's come over me. I'm exhausted."
He smiled at that. "Oh, not to worry, Tula. You've had a long day. Why
don't you head to your room, I'll clean up down here."
She kept the look of surprise off her face. So, he had drugged the tea.
Her stomach sank.
She thanked him and headed to bed, conscious of the sounds in the house.
Not too long after she had slipped between the sheets, she heard her door
open and Erinol poke his head through, listening to her even breathing.
What was going on?
Apparently satisfied, he closed the door once more and headed back down
the stairs.
The front door opened and voices wafted up to her room, a male and a
female, even and quiet. As though they were being careful to keep their
voices low.
Interesting.
As far as she was aware, no one knew that Erinol had a guest, who was
upstairs at this very moment. She couldn’t help herself… she slid out of bed
and toed to her door, opening it a crack.
"…asleep?” The man’s voice. Old, by the sounds of it.
"Last time I gave her this dose, she was out until noon the next day."
Erinol.
Well, there was no denying it now.
"When did she go upstairs?"
"About half an hour ago and I just checked—she is fast asleep. Now sit
down, the tea should be ready at any moment."
 So much for people not knowing. She almost huffed out loud at the irony.
She heard shuffling, footsteps, layers being discarded. She used the
opportunity to open her own door fully, crawling across the floor on all
fours.
Disappointment and hurt collected in her chest.
Erinol had drugged her before, had tried to do so again tonight and had
told these people, that she was upstairs. He had lied to her on so many
occasions and yet… she was surprised that she almost understood his
actions. Yes, it hurt that he had deceived her. But it didn’t bother her nearly
as much as it should. Why?
And the other question now was why he hadn't introduced her to these
people if they knew of her in any case and had clearly not given the
information up.
He said that it was for her own protection, that no one could know. But he
clearly had friends that trusted his judgement.
"Thank you." The woman’s voice—younger than the man.
The tea.
She desperately wanted to see down into the sitting room, but if she
moved closer towards the stairs, they would be able to spot her from below
and it was more important to find out what this was about than to see who
was below.
"Alright Erinol, you called this meeting. My wife thinks I went to go
check up on Pelita, so I don’t have much time."
"I want to question my mother again. She knows something, I’m sure of
it."
"We already tried that, it didn’t work." This was the woman.
 "I know. But we didn’t get an answer last time. We need to send someone
who is going to be more assertive."
A warning tone in the man’s voice. "More assertive, how?"
"Not to take no for an answer. I’d go if I could. But you know that I
cannot. Send Peltinol."
"Peltinol is too explosive and you know it. He would draw too much
attention to himself." The man again. "Are you sure that this slave from the
Mines knows what she is talking about?"
Ayda stayed completely still. She didn’t like the tone. Or the way she was
being described.
"What. About the materials? Yes, I would say so. It makes sense too.
From what she tells me, they die like cockroaches down in the tunnels. If
there was a way to transport the explosive material out, they would have
found it."
"Hmpf. I suppose."
"Do you trust her?" The woman.
"Trust her how?"
"To be telling you the truth."
"I have given her no reason not to trust me. Why would she be lying about
something like that? She has no intention of going back and has nowhere
else to go."
"Exactly. She doesn’t want to go back. Telling you that there is no
material for us to collect, means she doesn’t have to return."
"She’s not that clever."
"Ha. She is clever enough to have escaped the Mines."
"Luck of circumstance. Besides, she would have died if I hadn’t found
her. And even luckier that I didn’t hand her over to the guards."
 "We aren’t here to discuss her," the man interrupted before the woman
could respond. "We can’t send Peltinol. Are you sure your mother is our
only option?"
"You know what our last option is—it still applies. But that would take
away our upper hand. If we can avoid it, I would prefer to do so."
Ayda’s curiosity sparked. What last option were they talking about?
"Has she given you anything else since last time?"
The way the woman had said ‘she’, Ayda knew that they were talking
about her.
"Nothing of interest. She knows something that will be helpful, I just
don’t know what sort of question to ask in order to gain the answer we
need."
"You have time. No one suspects anything, I’ve been keeping my ears
open. And it looks like you two are getting along just fine."
Erinol grumbled in reply.
What did that mean?
"Could we send her to your mother?" The man.
"And put our lives in her hands?" The woman. "Absolutely not."
This time, it was Erinol who responded. "No. I’m working on the customs
with her, but she still doesn’t carry herself properly. She would stand out
like a sore thumb. It’s too risky. Besides. She has shot down each of our
plans so far. What if she gains the information and then decides that she
doesn’t want to share it? How would we ever know? I wouldn’t trust
anything she reported back to us."
"What is your plan with her?"
She strained her ears, making sure she got every word.
"I don’t know," Erinol mumbled. "Like you said, I have time."
 No mention of marriage proposals in this group, then.
"Okay, I have to get back. Where do we stand?"
"I’m going to have to think about it since you don’t want Peltinol going.
We carry on scouting the Rim. Maybe we missed something, but I doubt it."
She heard furniture moving and people getting to their feet. They were out
the front door, Erinol trailing them.
Was she supposed to confront him? Act as though she had no idea what
had happened and pretend to be asleep until noon?
After short consideration, she moved down the stairs and sat in one of the
chairs in front of the hearth.
Let him react however he wanted. She was done playing his games.

She didn’t have to wait long.

A few minutes passed and then the front door opened once more, Erinol
sliding out of his outer layers. He moved towards the hearth and froze.
"You." A single, shocked word.
She watched his reaction, seeing him move through the stages. Shock,
then irritation and finally anger bubbling up. Anger at her? At himself for
letting her outsmart him? At being surprised, not in control?
She didn’t allow him to voice any of those emotions. With her voice
chipper, which clearly irked him to no end, she opened the conversation.
"So, you want to pay mommy a visit, I hear. You could ask her whether
she’d approve a savage from the Mines as a daughter-in-law while you’re
there."
"You little…" he stomped towards her, fingers spreading in anticipation.
Was he trying to intimidate her?
 She didn’t let it rattle her. Didn’t even move a single muscle, kept her face
relaxed. He stopped inches from her, staring down at her face. "What, by
the volcano, are you doing down here?" His teeth were clenched, his chest
rising in heaving breaths. He was clearly keeping himself from shouting at
her.
She responded, just as chipper as before, "I had a few questions about
tonight’s conversation."
"You were supposed to be asleep." His teeth were still clenched.
Fine. Change of tactic, then.
She got to her feet, barely reaching his chin, but put that conviction and
pure confidence of her knife abilities into her eyes, which he had seen that
very first day. She lowered her voice and said slowly, "I am very aware of
that."
The change in her demeanour caused him to take a step back, uncertainty
flashing across his face.
In these last few months of playing along with his customs, he had
forgotten where she came from. What she had lived through and survived.
He knew very little of her and it was clear by the way he was holding
himself now, that he had no intention of finding out who she truly was.
"Sit down." To her surprise, he did so immediately, though rather stiffly.
She took her own seat again and relaxed back into that first position. She
altered her tone, taking out the menace, but focused on him intently. "Why
did you feel the need to drug me?"
"Look at you. Do I really need to answer that question?" He sounded
bitter.
She had no interest in his hurt feelings. He’d felt threatened then. Or
didn’t he trust her?
 "I know how you can visit your mother yourself."
At her words, his mouth popped open, defences falling. He had not
expected her to say that.
She wasn’t angry with him about drugging her. If she was being honest,
she would probably have done the same, if she had been in his position and
believed so strongly in his Cause. After all, she had been in a similar
situation and if he hadn’t been approaching it so ridiculously irresponsibly,
she might have even been impressed.
He was clearly not giving up on this and he definitely needed to go about
it differently, so if she could help guide him through this safely, while at the
same time helping her people, then she would.
After he had gotten over his shock, he squinted his eyes at her. "How?"
"I’ll do the chemical process for you, that way you don't miss your quota
and the travel time won’t be an issue," she said simply.
He stared at her for a couple of seconds, then burst out laughing. It wasn’t
a pretty sound. "You?" He carried on laughing.
It didn’t bother her. People liked underestimating her. It had worked to her
advantage on more than one occasion.
"It really isn’t that complex a process and you have time to teach me the
steps properly. Why not?"
At her tone, he sobered up and sat back in his chair. He seemed to have
relaxed a little and was half considering her offer. He scrutinised her
thoroughly.
"You actually believe that you can do the chemical process, without losing
all the rocks?"
"I’ve watched and helped you numerous times by now."
 "The steps in between are a lot more complex than I make them out to
be."
"I’m sure they are, but like I said. You have time to teach me."
He considered the idea a little more seriously.
"It's not just the process. The materials need to be prepared. The rocks
need to be received. They need to be packed and dropped off again. The
new materials need to be collected and there is a good chance that someone
might come by."
"You can prepare the materials ahead of time. Receiving and dropping off
the rocks can be handled through one of your friends that was just here—
there is no harm in them meeting me, since they know I'm here in any case
and they can just say that you are feeling unwell. The packaging is
something you can show me easily and the material collection can again, be
done by one of your friends. What the surprise visitors are concerned—that
can't be helped. I'll just have to stay out of sight and hope that they believe
you are out. Maybe the whole you are sick thing helps with them not
coming by. How many people know that I'm here?"
He barely acknowledged that she had thrown in a question of her own.
"Just those two and one other person. You realise that if you mess this up,
it's my head on the line, right?"
"Well then, you better teach me properly. If they knew in any case, why
haven't you introduced me?"
"Because they would be terrified of you. You have no idea how feral you
are. Why should I trust you with my head, so to speak?"
"Because you don't have another choice if you ever want to get any
answers from your mother. Feral?" She smirked. "Are you basing this off of
that very first day?"
 "I suppose I can try and teach you the chemical process. If you actually
manage to do it properly, then I can always still decide whether to go ahead
with this insanity or not." The words came out distasteful. "Ha. You should
have seen your face a mere minute ago."
"You are starting to enjoy my feral company."
"Oh, please. We have so much work to do with you," he said dismissively,
getting up from his chair to head to the kitchen. But she caught the smile
tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Are we going to talk about the fact that you drugged me? Twice? And
tried to do so a third time, may I add."
Silence greeted her question.
"One other thing," she shouted after him.
"What, Tula?" he asked in exasperation, coming back through the door
with a still-empty tea cup in hand.
"I’m going to go scout the Rim."
"No," he said instantly, turning back to the kitchen.
"I wasn’t asking, I was informing."
He stopped in his tracks and turned back around to face her slowly.
"Careful, Tula. I still hold your life in my hands."
"Yes, I thought about that. The thing is, if you hand me over to the guards,
I might just let it slip that the Cause your father died for, is now being led
by his son. So, it seems as though we are at an impasse." She tilted her head
at him sweetly.
He audibly growled at her, taking a step towards her once again, then
thinking better of it. "I could just lock you up again."
"That turned out great for you last time."
"You wouldn’t even know where to go."
 "So, help me. Sure, I can find my own way. But it would take me a lot
longer to come up with anything useful and I might miss something because
I’m not looking in the right places. We are on the same side here."
"Really? Then why are you threatening me?" he asked through clenched
teeth.
"Because the alternative seems to be you drugging me," she challenged
back.
He fumed at her.
Let him rage.
"Why, by the volcano, would you want to go to the Rim?"
"You said it yourself—you might have missed something. Let me help.
Let me look at it all with fresh eyes."
"Hmpf. Why do you keep thinking that you will notice something we
haven’t? What makes you so special?"
"Erinol. It is only about perception. I don’t think that I will miraculously
come up with the solution for the instant betterment of our lives. The simple
fact of the matter is that we see the world through two different sets of eyes.
Nothing else. Besides, what does it hurt? Either something of value comes
up or it doesn’t."
"I’ll think about it."
She groaned out loud. "Eri—"
"No, Tula. That’s enough. Don’t push me. Go to your room."

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Twelve

E
rinol wanted to start with the chemical process straight away. He
seemed to be warming up to the idea without having even started the
proper lessons. But the volcanic rocks weren’t arriving for another week, so
he settled on showing her how to prepare the materials that he had picked
up a couple of days beforehand.
It was a lot of measuring and counting precise numbers and exact cuts. It
bored her if she was being completely honest, but she’d never tell Erinol
that. As a result, time passed slowly and she lived for their morning forest
walks. She still read whenever she got the chance and Erinol used every
opportunity to correct her language or dinner etiquette. He didn’t talk about
the two visitors he’d had and they didn’t come around again either.
When the rocks arrived, she thought that time would start moving faster,
but Erinol chose to go into the smallest detail and seemed to think that she
had lost all her wits since voicing the suggestion of doing his job this one
time. He didn’t let her touch a single one of them, commanding her to
observe, take notes, and explain everything back to him at the end of the
day.
When the second load of rocks arrived, he allowed her to measure. To add
the chemicals to the cauldron and remove the rocks once more, the same
way she had done when she first arrived.
The third and fourth looked the same.
On the fifth round, he stood back and let her handle the entire process but
directed every last one of the steps, down to the way her hand had to move
in order to add the powders to the cauldron.
On the sixth, she was finally allowed to do the process on her own, Erinol
watching her every move like a hawk. She had 12 rocks when she was done
with the process, with him looking begrudgingly pleased with the result. He
showed her how to package them, talking her through the process in the
same amount of detail as the chemical one.
Her trip to the Rim was something he refused to talk about completely,
and every time she mentioned it, he refused to comment, sending her up to
her room.
She decided that if he refused to allow it, she would simply go once he
had left to see his mother and she had completed the process for him.
Chances were good that he wasn’t back and there was even a possibility of
her having returned before him and him never having to be the wiser.
By the time the seventh load came along, she completed the entire process
by herself, from receiving the rocks from him to packaging them off and
having them ready for collection.
"Well, I suppose that is passable. Not something people would see as my
best work, but it will do."
 She supposed that was the closest thing to a compliment she was going to
receive from him.
He continued, "I need to meet with Palua and Zelenol."
That had to be the two that were at the house the night she confronted him
about the sleeping drug.
"Are you going to introduce me?"
He looked displeased. "I am going to have to if we are going to make this
work."
"What about the third one?"
"Peltinol? No. He is too volatile."
That was the second time he had been described as such. "If he is so
volatile, how can you trust him to keep his mouth shut?"
"Because he knows that we deserve better. He wouldn’t rat us out. Under
no circumstance. He has gotten himself into trouble a few times because he
had an outburst or two about how we are being treated, but it was never
linked to any of us."
Her heart quickened. "What sort of trouble?"
"The usual. Extra quota, clean-up duty, early deliveries. Stupid things that
they do in order to feel superior. Ridiculous."
Oh, right.
"So, when are Palua and Zelenol coming around?"
He eyed her wearily. "Tonight, hopefully. I’ll go and drop off a message
this afternoon. You better be on your best behaviour."
She ignored that last comment. "Have you told them what we are going to
be doing?"
"I have not and we have not decided whether we are going through with
it. That’s why we are meeting up. I want to hear what their thoughts are."
 The man standing in front of her was short, hair completely grey, face
wrinkled. She instantly liked him, even though they hadn’t exchanged a
single word and she remembered his distrust of her from when she listened
to their conversation at the top of the stairs. He had a calculating look on his
face, making his own deductions about her.
The woman was younger than she had expected from her voice those
months ago, expression neutral, although her eyes gave her away. This was
a clever one. She was taller than Ayda, although that rarely meant much.
She would be pulling apart every one of Ayda’s words, which meant that
she’d have to be careful of what she said. Or she would simply have to be
completely honest.
They took a seat and Ayda brought out tea, placing the first cup in front of
the elderly gentleman as Erinol had instructed. Palua took note of this, of
course.
"Tula," Erinol spoke the first word. "These are Zelenol and Palua. Zelenol
and Palua, this is Tula."
"Nice to meet you," Ayda said.
They both simply indicated their heads.
Erinol continued, "The reason we have come together today is because I
want your opinion on moving forward with questioning my mother."
"Why is she part of this discussion, Erinol?" Palua’s voice was flat.
"I already told you that she overheard our last conversation."
Palua had to control herself not to say anything about that.
"Tula suggested that she do the chemical process while I travel to see my
mother. That way, I fulfil my quota and we finally get the answer we have
been looking for all these years."
 Ayda didn’t say anything, rather opting to observe the two visitors.
Palua’s eyebrows went up, Zelenol only asked, "And how do you expect
her to manage that?"
"I’ve been teaching her the process ever since she arrived. It’s been almost
a year. It’s far from perfect, but it’ll have to do. We shouldn’t be prolonging
this further. I want answers."
At his words, she was the one who had to control her face. It hadn’t even
been four months of his teaching—not a year. He had shown her what he
was doing, yes. But in the beginning, he hadn’t gone into any detail. She
glanced at him and noticed his look, daring her to contradict him. She kept
her mouth shut.
"Why?" Zelenol asked in surprise.
"I thought explaining the process to her might be helpful in combination
with her intimate knowledge of the Mines. That there was a chance of a
missing puzzle piece, but nothing has come up so far."
This was news to her. Why hadn’t he said anything? She supposed he had
been asking her a lot of questions about the tunnels.
"And you trust her to do this?"
"That is why I have asked you two to meet me today. I wanted to talk
about the risks we would be taking if we went ahead with this, and if we do,
I will require your help in picking up materials and dropping off rocks. She
cannot go into town."
The two were quiet for a while, then the old man spoke. "She can’t tell the
guards about us without exposing herself. She also cannot leave because
she has nowhere to go. The only obvious thing she could do to sabotage this
is not fulfilling your quota. It would be on you, not her."
 "If she was to do that, they would come looking for me and find her.
Again—she can’t afford for that to happen." Erinol looked at Ayda
pointedly.
"There is a good chance that she’ll mess up the process and none or a
limited amount of rocks make it past the second stage, just to spite you,"
Palua said.
"She has her own reasons why she doesn’t want that to happen," Erinol
responded, referring to the lives that were spent on mining those few
precious rocks. Palua was about to ask what he meant, but he continued, "I
don’t think that we are going to have a problem with Tula. I am more
worried about outside circumstances. What happens if someone comes
looking for me and she does something stupid in revealing herself while
I’m not there? What happens if some materials have run low and she
desperately needs to get something in town, which leads to the process
halting? What happens if I don’t show up at the drop-off time and they
demand to see me? There are many scenarios that could lead to something
along these lines."
"I can come by every two or three days. Pelita isn’t feeling well again, my
wife wouldn’t suspect a thing," Zelenol offered. "If she needs anything, I
will organize it. You not showing up for drop-off… well. That happens
sometimes. People fall ill."
"That’s what Tula and I were thinking too. Make it known in town that I
am not well and hopefully that also minimises visitors."
What Erinol failed to point out was that he didn’t receive many visitors in
any case. Except for these two, no one else had come here in several
months.
She refrained from stating that fact.
 "So, you think this could work?" Erinol asked the two.
Zelenol only shrugged. "Sure."
"I don’t like it." Palua was eyeing her sceptically. "What’s her play? Why
would she want to help us?"
This was probably her cue. Before Erinol could say anything, Ayda
responded, "I might not have been oppressed by these specific guards my
whole life, but trust me when I say that I want off this Crater just as much
as you do. The way they treat us down in the Mines isn’t something you
would like to experience and I have the scars to prove it."
Palua didn’t exactly look impressed at having been spoken to by her. She
turned to Erinol, "I still don’t like it."
Ayda bristled at the dismissal. Why was she doing this again? Right. Dead
Magiks equalled dead Farmers, she reminded herself.
"Do you have an alternative for me to speak to my mother?" Erinol asked.
She didn’t say anything.
"I don’t like it much either," he spoke to her soothingly. "But it’s the best
I’ve been able to come up with."
She felt Zelenol's eyes on her, so she regarded him in return. He had a
kind face, although there was a no-nonsense way about him. She liked
people like that.
"If you believe in her abilities as a stand-in for your role, then I think we
can trust her to do so. I'll keep her on the straight and narrow otherwise."
She couldn't believe it, but the old man actually winked at her.
She had to keep the smile off her face.
That, apparently, seemed to settle the discussion.
"When are you heading out?" Palua asked.
"The moment you are back."
 All three turned towards him.
"The moment who is back?"

"You want me to what?!" With a single sentence, Palua’s entire body

language changed.
If Ayda had thought that she wasn’t in the woman’s good graces before,
then she had been put into a completely different category now.
"No way. I am not taking her to the Rim!" Palua sat back and physically
crossed her arms over her chest. Her whole being shouted, ‘No’.
She turned towards Ayda, staring daggers directly into her. “If I haven’t
already made it clear, then here it is… I don’t trust her. Not one little bit.”
Well, at least she wouldn’t have to sneak off to the Rim on her own. But
why her? Why wasn’t Erinol taking her?
"Any form of me exposing you is going to get me killed instantly. If you
don’t trust me, then trust my situation," Ayda responded to the daggers.
"That doesn’t change my mind in the slightest."
"You’re taking her, end of discussion," Erinol cut in.
"Oh?" Palua definitely didn’t like that. She raised her eyebrows, her body
language now turning challenging. "If you like this idea so much, you take
her. Why me?"
Yes, Ayda wanted an answer to that one too.
Erinol bristled and sat up straighter, puffing out his chest. He did not like
being provoked. "You think you were my first choice? Of course not. But
you are a woman, which means that you don’t have a quota to fill and that,
in turn, means you can leave without raising suspicions. I cannot afford to
take her since I need to travel straight after, and claiming to be ill for such a
long time is asking for trouble.
"Now. Tula views the world through completely different eyes to us.
There is a good chance she sees something that we didn’t even notice. She
needs to go to the Rim before I go to see Mother. Our only option is you. I
don’t expect you to trust her. But if you want to continue being a part of
this, trust my judgement in sending her." His level gaze could have flattened
the entire volcano.
Ayda could visibly see Palua swallow her protests. "When do we leave?"
Her tone was clipped but Erinol chose to ignore it.
"In three weeks at new moon," he responded without hesitation.
He seemed to have thought about this thoroughly. Travelling on the
darkest day of the month made sense. The more cover they gained, the
better.
"Since there is no time between the two events, nothing can go wrong at
the Rim. If something were to happen, I’ll be prevented from seeking out
Mother just because the entire town has been put under surveillance. So,
make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid." He seemed to close off the
topic.
Palua acknowledged the information with an almost imperceptible nod.
"Was there anything else?"
She was ready to leave. The atmosphere of the room had gotten very
dense.
"That is all. Be ready to leave at new moon."
She got to her feet and made her way to the door quickly without another
backward glance or even a goodnight to Zelenol.
 The door closed behind her softly.
"That was poorly done, son," Zelenol regarded Erinol closely.
He shot the elderly man a death stare. "She was being unreasonable. What
else is she good for if not this?"
"Don’t let her personal history cloud your judgement, my friend." Zelenol
sounded as though he had expected a similar response.
"First your son, now your friend. I have a name, Zelenol. She’s already
embarrassed her parents. She’s not going to embarrass me too in confirming
that I made a mistake allowing her into the Cause. She has yet to prove
herself and this is the perfect opportunity. She should be jumping at it, not
talking back to me. So ill-mannered."
"Why do you say that she embarrassed her parents?" Ayda needed any
information she could get on the woman she was supposedly trusting her
life with in a mere three weeks.
Erinol looked as though he had completely forgotten that she existed.
"She refused to get married, even though she was offered the opportunity
twice. What possessed her to do so, I cannot tell you. But clearly, there is
something wrong with her, and if her parents allowed for such defiance,
then they are just as much to blame."
Ayda looked at him blankly.
She opened her mouth and closed it again.
What did he mean? Was he saying that in Farm customs, a woman was
expected to accept any marriage proposal that was offered to her? Was this
the reason he had simply stated his entire outlook of their life, rather than
asking about her thoughts? Had he even considered the possibility that she
would not be interested?
 He didn’t seem to mark her confusion, but she noted Zelenol picking up
on it.
She opened her mouth again, but before she could respond, he continued,
"Don’t worry. I am confident that if we plan everything for her properly, she
will be able to take you to the Rim safely and you will be able to make your
own deductions." He smiled at her.
Yet again, before she was able to comment, he added, "Now, walk me
through what you are hoping to discover at the Rim."
"Uhm…" His perception of Palua had thrown her a little and it took her a
minute to collect her thoughts.
"That’s not a very good start to a sentence, Tula. Concentrate, please."
Erinol used everything he could as a teaching opportunity. She was learning
so much, so quickly.
"A way in," she stated. Short, to the point.
"In, where?" he asked, a little impatient.
"The Rim. We have very limited information on the Magiks. They are the
enemy, so they are the ones we need to learn to understand. How can we
hope to gain any form of freedom from a people we don’t know anything
about?"
"You want to find a way onto the Rim?" He sounded completely
unconvinced. "That cannot be done. We tried for three years. It’s a waste of
time."
"I was looking for a way out of the Mines for most of my life. It seemed
impossible until an opportunity presented itself," she countered.
"You were lucky." He scoffed.
"And who is to say that I won’t be lucky again?" She winked at him.
He did not like that and she almost smiled.
 Zelenol cleared his throat. "Tula. Excuse my frankness, but you are only
just short of a child by a few years. If a handful of grown men were not able
to hold their own against a Magik, what could you possibly hope to
accomplish against them? Aren’t you afraid that you might be killed if you
try to gain access to the Rim?"
She regarded the elderly man for a moment. He seemed genuinely
interested in her answer.
"Like Erinol already pointed out, I perceive things differently to you. Our
people might share many commonalities, but there are just as many, if not
more, differences between us. I don’t believe that I would be able to win a
battle against a Magik. I only believe that I might not have landed myself in
such a situation to begin with."
Erinol was about to protest but she had expected it. "I mean no disrespect,
Erinol. Truly."
"So, you are hoping to find what, exactly?" he asked between clenched
teeth.
She had definitely upset him.
"I don’t know yet. But that’s the problem. We know nothing about them."
"I have told you plenty," he persisted.
She sighed inwardly. They’d had this discussion when she needed to
convince him about going to the Rim. Even though she hadn’t said so
outright, his information could not be trusted. It came from a traumatic
event, which was perceived through the eyes of a little boy.
"And it will be an enormous help in avoiding the people that wouldn’t
hesitate to take our lives. But we need more if we can hope to stand a
chance against them."
He stared at her without commenting.
 The silence stretched—it was getting uncomfortable.
"My wife is going to start wondering where I’ve gotten to," Zelenol
announced, breaking Erinol’s stare.
The man rose, heading for the door.
"Goodnight, Tula."
"Zelenol."
As Erinol was closing the door behind himself, she could hear him taking
in a deep breath before turning to face her. "I did not appreciate you
questioning me in front of my friends. It diminishes my authority."
"That is not what I was trying to do. It doesn’t help us going into
something blindly. We need information."
"You’re doing it again and it isn’t customary for the Farms."
"Well, maybe it should be customary in our relationship moving forward."
Her hands were balling into fists. It wouldn’t do her any good to lose her
temper right now, but he was being so infuriating!
He seemed to note that she was trying to control herself. He dropped his
voice into a calming tone. "Look, Tula, we are trying to make people
believe that you come from a Farms town where the customs are similar to
this one. We can allow ourselves the odd mistake due to the distance. But
this isn’t something that would be believed. Trust me when I tell you that I
want the best for you. You cannot contradict me like that in public. It
wouldn’t even be allowed in a town on the other side of the Crater."
She forced her breath out through her gritted teeth and unclenched her
hands. She was being unreasonable. She really didn’t need to react this way.
He was right. She should trust his judgement in this. Who was she to
think herself more knowledgeable than him on the Farms? And he had been
to three of the towns.
 "I’m sorry."
It wasn’t just the Farms he was more knowledgeable on. He knew so
much more of the world outside the Crater. On the Island that she hadn’t
even known existed a few weeks ago!
"I’ve lost so many people in my life, I wouldn’t be able to lose more. This
is me trying to prepare."
"Tula." He reached for her hand and only hesitated slightly before
grasping it between his own. "I know you mean well. But let me help you.
Let me guide you. I know what I’m doing."
She looked down at their interlaced fingers.
If they were going to get through this, they were going to have to work as
a team. Even if he didn’t know that, one way or another, he was also going
to free the Mines.
She looked up at his eyes and nodded.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Thirteen

T
hey were standing in the barn, waiting for Palua to arrive.
He was anxiously pacing, even though their agreed meeting time
was still a few minutes away.
She had packed a little bag with some water and enough food for four
days. They needed to travel as light as possible. Her outer layers would aid
her as a blanket and her pack as a pillow.
Her hand moved to her forearm for the third time, assuring her that the
knife was still safely stowed in her makeshift sling, ready to be pulled out.
A small, well-balanced knife, perfect for inflicting pain but not long enough
to reach any vital organs and take a life. She hadn’t told Erinol about taking
the kitchen knife, but he was bound to find out over the days that she wasn’t
there.
Snow could still be seen where it hadn’t melted yet, but spring was mere
weeks away and the days promised sun.
A twig broke outside, closer to the door than Ayda expected. She’d been
listening for the woman’s approach without much success.
 Not bad. Seems like she can be stealthy if she needs to be.
Palua slid through the open door, one foot still on the threshold. She was
ready to leave straight away.
"There you are. Did anyone notice you coming this way?"
"No."
"You sure?"
Palua exhaled before answering, "Sure."
"Let’s hope. Okay—water, food and something warm?"
Both Ayda and Palua nodded.
"Remember. Fiery eyes and their icy cold exterior moving out into their
surroundings are what gives the Magiks away. If you come across one, run.
If you cannot run, hide, be silent and hope that he doesn’t find you. Got it?"
Again, the two women nodded.
"Good. Don’t get caught." He nodded at each in turn, and sent them off
into the night.
Palua looked Ayda over once, then only said in a clipped tone, "Be quiet
and try to keep up," before slipping out through the door.
She set a brisk pace.
Ayda needed a minute to adjust to the dark, but her time spent in the
tunnels aided her well.
Even without the moon there to lend them light, the few stars that weren’t
covered by clouds pointed out enough of the boulders and rocks underfoot.
It was the little twigs that gave them away every once in a while, but to
Ayda’s ears, the two of them could just as well have been animals in the
night.
Palua moved with a confidence Ayda didn’t feel. The woman was quick
and sure-footed, her hand straying to her side every once in a while, when a
shadow met their path or an actual animal crossed the forest ahead or
behind them.
Was she also carrying a knife?
Even with the cold night air, Ayda quickly started sweating underneath
her clothes, the pace a little faster than had been required from her in the
tunnels, but not overly so. She was able to keep up, but her breathing came
louder than she would have liked.
They didn’t speak a word, ears pricked for the smallest sounds.
After what felt like half the night, her legs leaden, her chest aching with
the cold air in her lungs, Palua finally stopped for a break.
Ayda threw down her pack, her bum following, and reached for her
canteen. "Thank you. I’m not sure I would have made another half an hour
without a break."
Palua spun towards her, finger pointed threateningly into her face. "Listen
here, little girl." Her face was distorted in disgust, her harsh tone suppressed
into a sharp whisper, her chest even. It seemed as though the pace hadn’t
bothered her in the slightest.
"I have no idea why, by the volcano, Erinol would bother trusting you.
There are things you aren’t telling us and thoughts you keep to yourself. I
don’t like you, and if it was up to me, I would hand you over to the guards
without hesitation. I don’t care what they do to you. You are threatening this
Cause through your mere existence and your silly little secrets and you are
not ruining this for me."
She paused, levelling her stare at Ayda, allowing for the words to settle.
A cold shiver went down her spine. This woman meant every word she
said.
 "If we are discovered because of your incompetence or some agenda you
haven’t disclosed, I am leaving you behind. I will not help you. So, don’t
even bother with your attempts at friendly chatter, I am not falling for it the
way Erinol did."
Before Ayda got the chance to respond to anything that had just been
thrown at her, Palua turned away and started in the direction of the Rim
once more, her pace redoubled.
She groaned inwardly, laboriously getting back to her feet. So much for a
break.
After a quick swig from her canteen, she got back into step behind Palua,
working hard to keep her breathing from getting too loud.
What exactly had she done to gain such a strong dislike from the woman?
Instead of letting her mind wander, Ayda focused on putting one foot in
front of the other, ignoring her burning chest and aching legs.
She had found a rhythm and trusted the lead over to Palua, although her
ears still picked up the smallest sounds.
The light changed, dawn approaching fast, and Palua stopped so abruptly
that Ayda walked into her back.
Palua hissed at the touch, which gained her a mumbled apology and a
hurried stepping away.
"What’s wrong?" Ayda asked, not having heard a thing.
"We are too close to the Rim to continue with the approaching light. We
need cover." Palua sounded as though she would rather not be forced to
converse with Ayda.
She moved off again, another hiss from her. "Silence."
Ayda rolled her eyes at the woman’s back and followed in her footsteps,
aware of every little twig in the growing light.
 They found a little hollow behind a copse of trees, boulders adding
additional cover.
Ayda sat down with a grunt. Her legs wouldn’t have responded to her
much longer.
"I was going to ask—"
"I don’t care," Palua cut her off sharply. "Sleep, I’ll keep watch."
Ayda was about to try and ask her question again but decided against it.
This woman had made up her mind about her. She wasn’t going to change
that mind, at least not tonight.
She shrugged her shoulders and cleared the loose rocks from her intended
sleeping spot.
Ayda was out the moment her head hit her pack.

Something, or rather, someone was carefully touching her neck, searching.

Ayda focused on keeping her breath steady, imitating that she was still
asleep, her eyes shut, darkness engulfing her.
Every other sense went into overdrive the way she had needed to learn in
the tunnels.
The touch was soft, probing.
Her hair had fallen to the side, exposing her neck and the chain hidden
underneath her dress. It was this chain that the fingers were trying to pull
out of her clothing without disturbing her sleep.
If the individual, whom Ayda could only hope to be Palua, discovered
what was hiding inside her locket, she would have a lot more explaining to
do than just the piece of jewellery, which she wasn’t particularly interested
in doing.
She waited to see whether the hand would give up, but just as the locket
was about to slide free from its hiding place, Ayda’s hand snapped to the
knife at her forearm, the sudden movement taking the individual off guard,
her other hand and legs pushing her off the ground, her keen awareness of
the second body’s placement in space, allowing for her now free hand to
push the individual back on all fours, her knife arm coming up to the body’s
throat.
Palua made the smallest shocked sound before going rigid underneath the
blade.
Ayda opened her eyes, slowly adjusting to the lack of light around her.
"Explain yourself," Ayda all but growled at her.
"A savage, indeed. But maybe not as stupid as I thought." Palua’s voice
was surprisingly calm, steady.
"I said, explain yourself." Ayda didn’t move an inch.
"Or what? You’re going to slit my throat? Please. You don’t have it in
you."
Ayda almost laughed. "And you do?"
"You don’t know the first thing about me, girl." Ayda was in danger of
being spat at, which wasn’t particularly high on her wish list.
She eased back her hand, the blade coming with her, and sat back on her
hunches, ready to spring into action at the slightest indication that she
would be required to defend herself.
The woman was different to Erinol. She knew how to carry herself. How
to move silently through the night. How to be stealthy. The only reason
Ayda had woken was because of her life that had forced her to be so aware
of everything around her. She was shocked that Palua had made it so close
to her person to begin with.
"So, why don’t you tell me?"
She huffed, her hand moving to her throat slowly.
"Sure." She turned her back on Ayda. Risky, seeing that her knife was still
out.
But Ayda noted the slow movement of Palua’s hand to her own side.
Yes, she definitely carried a weapon on her person.
"Are you going to tell me why you were groping me?" Ayda pressed.
"I already told you." Her voice had gotten bored. "I don’t like your
secrets."
With that, she sat down, whatever weapon she carried now cradled in her
lap.

Ayda awoke at dusk, surprised that she had been able to fall asleep again
after Palua’s obvious indifference to her personal space.
She was instantly aware of the woman a few paces away from her, who
hadn’t moved a single inch.
She would have been awake all night but didn’t seem tired when she
turned around at Ayda’s rustling.
"Ready after your beauty sleep?" The few words were dripping with her
distrust.
With one hand in her bag, Ayda responded, "Do you want a bite to eat? I
need some food if you want me to focus properly today."
She held out a hand towards her, a wrapped sandwich in it.
"No."
Ayda shrugged. "Suit yourself." And took a bite out of the delicious bread.
 It disappeared with the remaining light.
"Let’s go." Palua had gotten to her feet, her own pack already on her back.
Ayda’s legs ached from yesterday’s strenuous march, but her head was
clear, her limbs full of energy. It felt good to do something with her body
and not her mind.
They didn’t have to walk far to leave the tree line and for light to pop up
in the distance.
Palua spearheaded it, apparently knowing exactly where they were going.
They stopped a safe distance from the light—the space clearly having
been used by other groups in the past.
Palua made to settle in.
Ayda looked around, the light not allowing her to see far, but far enough
to know that there was nothing to observe.
"What happens here?" she asked in confusion. Maybe they would wait for
something.
"The wagons pass just up the slope over there." She pointed, seeming to
have resigned herself to answering Ayda’s questions.
"I thought the next one isn’t due for another few days?"
"It isn’t."
"So then, what are we waiting for?"
Palua sighed in exasperation. "You are welcome to carry on walking, but
then you are going to have to go on your own. I would like to ensure that
everything is quiet before we risk coming face to face with a Magik. The
area moving forward is visible from the Rim."
Right.
Ayda sat down where she stood.
 "Thought so," Palua grumbled, then faced forward towards the lights.
"Now, be quiet."
Ayda focused her awareness forward as well as into her immediate
surroundings.
She became aware of sounds, smells and different light levels.
There was life but it wasn’t human.
Everything seemed quiet.
It wasn’t long until Palua seemed to reach the same conclusion because,
without a word, she got up and started moving forward, using natural
obstacles to keep herself from being visible from the front.
It was slow, concentrated going, but they made progress. The light grew,
but Ayda still didn’t know where it was coming from.
They stopped, once more.
"Now what?" Ayda asked, a little irritated.
"This is it." Palua sat, arms crossed.
"This is what?" She looked around, a little confused.
"Just beyond this point, is the furthest we have ever gotten."
"What do you mean? Can’t we at least go to the wall?"
"The wall. Ha!" Palua shook her head. "You know absolutely nothing and
yet, I was forced to risk everything bringing you here."
Ayda ground her teeth. She was getting tired of Palua’s distaste for her.
"Then at least make it worth our while and explain things to me, so that we
can move on and actually learn something from this expedition. Trust me,
when I tell you that I also prefer better company."
Palua looked as though she was going to stick out her tongue.
She didn’t.
She sighed loudly, then explained, "There is no wall around the Rim."
 What!
Ayda was about to say something, but Palua put up her hand to silence
her.
"There is no need for a wall because the Rim is situated as such that there
is only one access point. All others are either impossible to cross naturally,
or the Magiks helped in making them impossible to cross. There are
whispers that the same holds true from the other side. This makes the Rim
the ideal place to defend, which is why we are forced to be so cautious."
Ayda opened her mouth again, but once more, Palua put up her hand,
adding a stern look.
"I cannot believe Erinol hasn’t told you any of this. There is a crevice,
which runs deep enough that we believe its end is situated perfectly
underneath the Outpost. Whether the Administration is aware of this, we
cannot be sure. But except for the Cause, no one has been there in years."
This, Erinol had actually told her… partly.
"Everyone that passes the access point, is thoroughly searched. The place
is heavily guarded, even if the guards look to be more asleep than awake.
They are surprisingly springy when someone arrives, which they are made
aware of early on because all boulders and vegetation have been cleared
about 100 yards in both directions of the access point, in order to ensure
that no one has a place to take cover and hide."
Ayda waited for Palua to continue and when she didn’t, she raised her
eyebrows and pointed at herself, questioningly.
Palua rolled her eyes, but nodded.
"Thank you. What sort of conversations do the guards hold?"
"Didn’t you listen to what I just said? There is no cover for 100 yards
before the access point."
 "The dark can be your cover. Besides. Do you have any idea how far
sound travels, if there is nothing to break it?" The outcries of Miners had
always carried through the tunnels, all the way to the entrance.
"You say you can hear across the span of 100 yards?" Palua asked, her
voice highly sceptical.
"Maybe not an entire 100, but rather 60 or 70. But yes."
"Pfft. Be my guest!" Palua made an exaggerated sweeping motion
towards the lights.
It was Ayda’s turn to roll her eyes, but she focused her attention forward.
The trees currently hiding them from view, stopped abruptly, a short
distance in front of her. After that, it was open land until a pitch-black
surface area and then a brightly lit gate, which seemed to be hewn into the
very rock itself.
There might not have been a built wall, but nature had all but provided
one.
There, within the brightly lit space in front of the gate, she could make out
about five figures, casually standing or sitting in relaxed positions, turned
towards one another as though they were in conversation.
Ayda moved forward, to the edge of the tree line and waited for the backs
of all guards to be turned towards her. Palua was right. The guards didn’t
exactly seem asleep, but they were definitely unbothered by their
surroundings. The cleared space created by the guards themselves ensured
that anyone leaving the tree line during the day was noticed immediately,
while the circle of light surrounding the gate, ensured anyone passing the
barrier from darkness to light was noticed immediately.
It also meant, however, that Ayda had gained an extra 50 yards or so
because she was here at new moon. If she managed to move silently and
remained perfectly still when a guard turned to face the darkness, she
should be able to make it into hearing distance of the guards.
She decided to remove her boots, her bare feet better at absorbing the
sound of her footsteps.
Then she moved.
Palua would be able to see her silhouette, her body in total contrast to the
light in front of her. But the guards… the guards should only see dark on
dark. At least, Ayda hoped for her theory to be correct.
She walked on silent feet, shoulders hunched, body close to the ground.
She had made it all but a handful of yards, when a guard turned and she
dropped to all fours instantly.
Not a single sound could be heard.
She held her breath, willing her thundering heart to be quiet.
The guard’s eyes swept the open darkness, still in conversation, face
relaxed.
There was no indication that he had been alerted against anything.
She exhaled staggeringly through her nose and inched forward once more,
this time on all fours.
It was crazy slow-going, but sounds soon wafted towards her, then
individual words and when she was about to stop, too close to the line of
light, the words strung together into sentences.
She lowered herself onto her stomach and instantly froze. Two of the
guards had spaced themselves differently, now facing her.
Please let the volcano hide her in the dark.
Her chest was hammering so loudly, that she was convinced the guards
could hear it, but she knew how silly that notion was.
 Her every muscle was poised, ready to jump into action, to fly her back to
the cover of the trees, if that’s what it took.
But Palua was in the tree line. Did she really want to lead the guards to
her?
She pushed the thought aside.
She wouldn’t think about discovery.
She forced her breath to even out, to calm her thundering heart.
The guards seemed unbothered.
She focused her attention on the five individuals, three of their backs still
facing her.
Ayda noted the sticks first. All, except one with a hand resting on them.
That one didn’t rest his hand on a stick because he didn’t seem to carry one,
she noted in surprise.
Had he left it somewhere?
She considered his back. He looked almost too weak for a guard, his
shoulders slimmer than the rest. Ayda realised that he was standing slightly
apart from his fellow guards and seemed disinterested, not taking part in the
conversation, even though the remaining group was a little animated.
As if he could feel her attention on him, he turned to face her.
A Peep! His eyes were a startling blue, the colour obvious in his
otherwise bland face.
He took a step forward, face scrunched in concentration and she shrank
back in shock, trying to make herself as small as possible.
"Silence." The single word reached her ears with authority. Instantly, the
remainder of the guards fell quiet, all faces turning to pierce the darkness.
Not a Peep, after all. His tongue hadn’t been cut out.
No one moved, Ayda least of all.
 The seconds felt like hours, the moment stretching into a lifetime.
Blue Eyes took another step forward, then a third.
A small rock could be heard clattering in the distance and all heads
snapped towards the sound instantly.
"Just an animal, my Lord." One of the men said after a moment.
"Good ears. It must have been padding along the edge." A second put in.
Blue Eyes remained perfectly still for another moment, then nodded once,
before turning back to the group. "As you were."
The guards relaxed back into conversation, although there was now a
slight edge to the way they stood.
Was Blue Eyes something like a Head Overseer?
Ayda forced her muscles to unlock, though not to relax.
That had been way too close.
She would have to remember to thank Palua.
"Has anyone ever tried to sneak past?" The one referring to an animal
asked.
"Not since the collapse of the northern and southern tunnels."
"Isn’t that like 400 years ago?"
"560," Blue Eyes said, voice bored.
"560! So, why, by the volcano, are we wasting away at the gate? This is
the most ridiculous assignment they could have thought up. Is it to punish
us?"
Blue Eyes straightened and the two faces she could see instantly became
wary.
Interesting.
Why would they be careful of the one individual not carrying a stick?
 Maybe he had a different weapon on him. Maybe his authority was his
weapon.
The voice that followed, sounded almost dead, it was so flat. "The slaves
working the tunnels try some form of an escape most days. The ones
working the rocks have been intercepted over the years. Just because
something hasn’t arrived at your very doorstep, doesn’t mean it isn’t
happening. Don’t assume something, you know nothing about. These
people are savages. You don’t want them anywhere near your families."
A cold shiver went down Ayda’s spine, the tone affecting her more than
the words.
"Of course, my Lord." The words were said in such haste, that she almost
missed them.
Head Overseer, indeed.
When Blue Eyes didn’t say anything in turn, the rest seemed to relax
slightly, exchanging quick glances with one another.
An awkward silence followed before the one facing her spoke to no one in
particular. "So, what do you hear of Leon since he was transferred to the
east?"
Two of the guards tried answering almost simultaneously, clearly relieved
at the change in subject.
The remainder of the conversation was about people whose names
sounded foreign to her ears, places she could barely pronounce and
assignments that made no sense to her.
Blue Eyes had removed himself from the group and seemed to be bored
once more.
She had been trying to hear something, anything that could be of some
use, but when Ayda noticed a shift in the night, she realised that the sun
wasn’t too far from lending light to the darkness and just the smallest
amount of lessening of the night would give her position away instantly.
She kept herself from groaning at the stiffness in her muscles and started
inching backwards on her stomach, her progress excruciatingly slow.
She didn’t dare get to her feet, didn’t dare turn her back on the five men in
the circle. Not after Blue Eyes had almost made her out.
Ayda had barely cleared the tree line by two steps, when Palua yanked on
her arm, pulling her deeper into the trees.
"What the hell were you thinking? It’s almost light and we still need to
find cover!" She hissed at Ayda. "I should have left you here to fend for
yourself, gone for cover an hour ago."
She didn’t give Ayda a chance to respond, before pulling her along again,
then realising that she was touching her and quickly dropping her arm.
They all but ran through the trees, clearly heading for a certain
destination.
The morning was changing to a light grey, when they finally slowed their
pace and Palua crouched behind a bush, staring out into the open space
before them.
A few minutes passed and then she got up and moved out of sight.
Ayda followed through the trees and noticed a crevice, hidden behind a
massive boulder, a sheer rock wall stretching up in front of them.
Palua disappeared through the opening and, seconds later, Ayda followed,
only to run head-first into Palua’s back. Again.
The woman had stopped a few meters into the tunnel, clearly needing
time for her eyes to adjust to the dark.
She hissed at Ayda. "What is wrong with you?"
Ayda chose not to respond and focused on her surroundings.
 Her eyes seemed to adjust a lot faster than her guide’s and soon she
noticed a passage stretching out in front of her.
This would have been the crevice Erinol and Palua had spoken about. The
one that led all the way below the Outpost.
Palua moved carefully, her hands tracing the tunnel walls.
She stooped and pulled a torch out of a small crevice close to the floor
and moments later, the space illuminated.
The Cause seemed to be organised.
They moved forward, deeper into the passage, sometimes needing to
stoop or move sideways, the natural tunnel changing in size. Here and there,
amateur attempts had been made at widening a particularly tight squeeze,
but the markings were old and she could see that only the very necessary
strokes had been delivered to the rock.
Such a sharp sound would travel here, something you would want to
avoid at all cost, if you wanted this crevice to remain a secret.
They came to an abrupt stop, the passage coming around a bend and
simply ending.
Palua placed the torch in a holder designed specifically for this purpose
and deposited her pack on the floor, her body following.
Ayda got as comfortable as she possibly could and pulled out her food
reserves.
She handed Palua some of it, but like the day before, she refused, pulling
out her own reserves.
They ate in silence.
"Thank you," Ayda said after a while. She was aware that there would
have been a good possibility of her discovery, had Palua not interfered.
 "For not leaving you behind? You would have made yourself a nuisance
in the daylight."
Ayda shook her head. "Not that. The rock. Thank you for the rock." She
would have been able to hide herself during the day. Keep from being
discovered. But earlier, out on the ground in the open land…
She felt the after-effects of her fear and rolled her shoulders to be rid of it.
"I don’t know what you’re talking about." Ayda all but felt the wall Palua
put up between the two of them thicken.
The woman was incredibly guarded. And not just in front of her. She had
been just as much, in front of Erinol, in front of Zelenol. Her, she
understood. But her own people? It made little sense.
She remembered the disfavour of Palua that Erinol had all but voiced.
"Erinol seems to think that you disappointed your family. Why does he
believe that?" She had asked carefully, making sure not to put any
judgement into the words, but still, the wall grew in thickness instantly.
"It’s none of my business, I’m sorry." Ayda made to turn away.
"That is the first thing the two of us agree on."
Ayda shrugged slightly, readying herself to take stock of her remaining
food stores.
The tone was brisk, but Ayda detected some curiosity in the question,
"Why are you here?" She was leaning back, making out to be indifferent to
the answer.
"For the same reason you are, I suppose."
Palua scoffed. "I doubt that very much."
"Why? Because I wasn’t born among your people? Because you think that
I had an easier life than you? Because you believe I should be content with
my new-found ‘freedom’? I am capable of fighting for a people that I don’t
have a right to call my own, you know."
Palua laughed. It wasn’t pretty, but even though there was forced
arrogance in the sound, Ayda noted the hurt, begging to be heard.
What happened to you?
"You think I am fighting for my people? I’m here for myself, no one
else."
The statement surprised Ayda, but the longer she thought about it, the
more signs had been there the entire time.
"Why?" The word was voiced with simple curiosity. The Cause was
clearly, for the people.
"Why are you here?" Palua repeated her question, this time more
forcefully.
"Because we deserve better." Ayda opted for a simple truth. There was no
damage that could be done with that statement.
"Ha. According to whom? You? You have not even met my people."
Ayda forced herself to keep the surprise off her face. She kept perfectly
still, not responding in the slightest. People felt uncomfortable around
silence. They tended to fill it.
A few moments later, Palua continued, her voice filled with hatred. "My
people are scum. They listened to my father beat my mother and me every
day, not interfering. When I begged our neighbours for help, they told me to
be silent, not to ruin my father’s reputation. When I begged my uncle to
take Mother—his own sister—in, he told me that she needed to be a good
wife. When I tried to get the guards to help us, they turned me away,
laughing.
 "With time, I learnt to avoid him, to sneak around the house, block the
blows that would break bones if my mother would be the one receiving
them in my stead. The trick was to ensure he landed the ones that would
leave visible marks on exposed skin. He didn’t like seeing them and left you
alone until they disappeared."
Palua wasn’t talking to her anymore. She had landed in a pit of hatred, the
words simply falling out. Probably voiced for the first time since being
denied help all those years ago.
"When I refused to marry someone, who had chosen to do nothing while
my father beat us, Father took his dissatisfaction out on my body, broke a
few ribs. When I turned down the second man who asked to marry me,
while whispering in my ear what an obedient wife I would make, my
mother threw herself in the way of my father and me. He finally landed a
blow that connected with the wrong spot. She crumpled to the floor and
never got up again.
"What did my people do? They labelled it an accident, fully knowing
what my father did every day behind closed doors."
She paused, then whispered, "I cannot count the amount of times I have
stood above my father’s sleeping form, knife poised over his heart. But I
could never do it. I could never push the blade through his skin." She
seemed to collect herself slightly, becoming aware of whom she had spoken
all her secrets to.
She paled, slightly. Realised she needed to somehow close the topic off.
Her voice was hard as stone when she continued, "I don’t particularly like
cleaning up after the guards. But it was the only way, outside of marriage,
for me to get away from my father, my town and my memories. You don’t
know me. So, stop presuming you do." She turned those steely eyes on
Ayda. The hatred of her people now directed at her. "I couldn’t be bothered
less about what your precious Erinol thinks of me. The volcano can damn
him for all I care. As long as he helps me get as far away from my so-called
people as possible."
Ayda had remained silent the entire time, perfectly still.
Palua’s skills, her behaviours and distrust of everyone finally made sense
and her heart went out to the woman.
She was the only woman on the Farms Ayda had seen so far, who wore
her hair cropped short to her ears, her dress a dreary grey, in total contrast to
the bright colours Ayda had seen every woman wear on winter solstice,
their hair long, twisted and braided with decorations. This was a woman
that wanted no attention from any man or woman alike. This was a woman
who was more comfortable in the background—and for good reason.
To have your own flesh and blood beat you. To not have a safe place to go
home to. To have your own father murder your mother. To be completely
alone.
She suppressed her shudder, knowing fully well that if she showed any
pity towards her now, she would cut off any possibility of ever being on
equal terms with her. Palua would cut her out completely.
Ayda understood. She hated any pity that was directed at her too. The
look that had come into Erinol’s eyes when finding out about their food
situation in the Mines. And this woman was too proud. She would rather
fight tooth and nail than have anyone show her pity.
So, Ayda closed herself off to her emotions and did the only thing she
could think of. She returned the stare with a soft gaze of her own. Sent out
any loving energy she could muster and hoped that Palua was open enough
to receiving it.
 After what felt like forever, the woman blinked and got to her feet. With
her back turned towards Ayda, she growled softly. "If you ever dare
mention any of this to another…" She left the threat open-ended, allowing
Ayda to draw her own conclusions.
"Let me guess. No one outside your home town knows." Ayda responded.
Palua stiffened, not responding to the statement.
"It is not my story to tell." She put some softness into the words but didn’t
voice any sympathy for the woman. It wouldn’t have been received well.
Palua relaxed the smallest fraction and deposited herself a few meters
away from Ayda, facing the open passage. Ready to keep guard.
After a while, Ayda scolded her. "If you don’t sleep, you’re going to make
mistakes. Stop being so hard-headed and lie down. What am I going to do?
Hand you over to the Magiks? They will be a lot more interested in an
escaped Miner, than in you. Believe me."
The ramrod straight back didn’t ease.
She tried one more time. "No one is coming and if they do, there is
nothing we can do in any case. There is nowhere for us to go in this
passage."
Palua stayed where she was.
Short of knocking the woman out, there was nothing Ayda could do. So,
she shrugged her shoulders and lay down to sleep.

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Chapter Fourteen

A
yda awoke with no understanding of what the time was.
The torch had burned down to little over a stump, but what that
meant in regards to a time frame was beyond her.
Palua was slumped against the wall, her breathing deep.
She looked younger, with the guardedness gone from her features.
Looking at her now, she couldn’t be more than a handful of years older than
Ayda, even though she had always seemed to be in her mid-thirties, the
hardness giving her face an edge.
Sorrow for the woman washed over her.
She couldn’t comprehend the utter disregard for a life her people had
shown her. The need to obey stronger than one’s safety.
Her own father had abused her. Not an Overseer or a Watcher. The person
who was meant to protect her, look after her. The one who was supposed to
make sure she was alright, had made her life unbearable. He had then
murdered his wife, her mother and yet, nothing had been done. There had
been no repercussions, no questions, no help. He had been left to continue
beating, whomever he pleased.
Palua was right, Ayda did not know her and she would do well to
remember that about people. The Mines were a place of hardship, but the
Farms carried their own darkness.
She locked her emotions away and got to her feet.
Palua was sleeping so deeply that her soft prodding didn’t wake the
woman.
"Palua." She shook her shoulder slightly harder.
Faster than she would have thought possible, Palua’s hand snapped out
and gripped her wrist, hard. The second hand pulled back, fingers in a tight
fist. A threatening growl left her lips.
Ayda froze and gave her a few seconds to orient herself.
When her growl eased slightly, Ayda smiled down at her guide. "We’ve
got to stop waking up like this."
She growled once more and all but threw Ayda’s hand away from her.
Her eyes zeroed in on Ayda’s neck, the chain now hidden by her hair.
"What is that you’re hiding?"
Ayda flashed her eyes at the woman in warning. She didn’t particularly
like the tone. "Why should I answer that question?"
"Because you want me to trust you."
She debated the point. She was right about that.
"My past. That’s all you need to know."
Palua got to her feet, apparently willing to let the topic rest. Her gaze fell
on the torch. "Why did you wake me? It’s not dark yet."
So, there was a way to tell the passing of the hours by the length of the
torch.
 Clever.
"I want to see the surrounding area by daylight. See if we can get high
enough to spy behind the gate. See down into the Crater. Make out what the
pitch-black space is. Actually, it can only be open air. The black was too
intense."
Like the black of the Mine opening.
"How much time do we have?" Ayda asked expectantly.
Palua shook her head. "You’re crazy." But she started putting her things
back into her pack. "About an hour."
She grabbed the torch and headed back the way they had come that
morning.
It took for Ayda to step outside into the endless sky, to realise how
oppressive the crevice had been. It had been foreign and familiar at the
same time, being in a tunnel once more.
But being outside now, allowed her to breathe a little deeper.
"We are taking a major risk being outside right now, so this is on you.
Don’t lag behind." And she was off.
Ayda groaned inwardly.
Why does she keep doing this?
She took another deep breath and followed her guide into the cover of the
trees.
"This is as far as we are going in the light." The statement didn’t leave
room for debate, so Ayda didn’t even try.
"Find cover." Was all she said and didn’t wait to see whether Palua took
her advice before she leapt towards the closest, promising tree.
She had gotten better at climbing them. Estimating what sort of weight a
branch would be able to carry, finding hand and foot holds where she didn’t
initially think to find any.
She took it slow though, never having been required to be as silent as now
and she quickly realised that leaves were incredibly noisy and branches
were better left alone, if she wasn’t 100% sure that they would remain
steadfast, without groaning underneath her weight.
It made for a more challenging climb.
She reached the top and carefully popped her head through the canopy.
Would there be Watchers stationed above her?
Her eyes roamed around and she almost fell out of the tree.
The view from up here!
The land seemed to fall away underneath her feet, two Farm towns visible
in the distance, a black dot marking the bottom of the Crater, where she had
spent most of her life.
The colours changed from the majority holding greens and browns to
greys and blacks, the further you got away from the Rim. The vegetation
getting sparser, the barren boulders more apparent.
She turned and faced the Rim.
A wall greeted her.
Her heart sank.
So much for being able to look behind the gate.
How did people even enter the Rim?
She located the gate and with a soft gasp, she realised that she had been
correct in her assumption of the pitch-black space.
A massive fissure ran parallel to the Rim, after which walls climbed into
the sky and then… nothing. Open air. Just—blue.
She leaned her back into the remaining tree trunk, gazing at the enormity
that was before her.
 No wonder Erinol hadn’t found a way onto the Rim. The gate, that
singular connection, was the only way across, as far as the eye could see.
She could only assume that the Cause had traversed the entirety of the
opening, but if she had learnt anything about Erinol these past few months
—the man was thorough.
It appeared as though the Mines and the Farms had one thing in common
after all. The one thing standing in their way of moving forward was a gate.
Palua had known this and yet, she had humoured Ayda.
Why?
She took a final look around; the sunlight disappearing quickly and made
her way back down to the ground.
Palua waited at the foot of the tree.
"Satisfied?" she asked with a bored facial expression.
"You could have just told me, you know."
"Something tells me, you wouldn’t have taken my word for it and would
then have done something stupid to confirm it for yourself." She cocked her
eyebrow at Ayda.
She chose not to respond.
Palua was right, of course.
Her smug face told Ayda just how clear that little fact was to her guide
and she had the sudden urge to punch the woman in the nose.
Her emotions must have been clear on her face. Palua grinned even
broader.
"Let’s go."
They moved towards the gate, darkness descending all around them.
The exact same scene from the day before greeted them.
The same guards, the same relaxed positions.
 Ayda made to crawl forward, but Palua stopped her by grabbing onto the
back of her dress.
"My turn."
Ayda was about to argue, but Palua shook her head. "One, one. I’m sure
you can only agree with me that that’s fair."
Ayda couldn’t help herself, she stuck out her tongue towards the woman.
Very Farms-like of her, she was sure.
Palua winked at Ayda and then she was moving for the tree line.
It was nerve-racking, watching her crawl forward, out in the open, her
form extremely obvious against the light.
Ayda kept having to remind herself that from within the light, Palua
would not be visible to the five-person threat stood right in front of them.
The minutes turned to hours and Ayda was starting to get antsy.
A thought struck.
Just because she hadn’t been able to see anything past the gate in the
daylight, didn’t mean that lights from people’s houses wouldn’t be visible in
the dark. Everyone would have their hearth alight at this time.
She looked over at Palua. The woman seemed to have turned to stone, the
moment she had laid down to observe the guards.
Ayda needed to give her credit for that. She would definitely have had the
odd limb that had fallen asleep by this stage.
She looked over at the guards once more, four of the five backs turned
towards them.
She picked a tree, then thought better of it and moved a little further into
the forest, in order to make sure any stray broken twigs wouldn’t reach the
ears of the guards and put them on edge the way they had been the night
before. Ayda wouldn’t be there to distract them, the way Palua had.
 When she found a suitable tree, far enough away from the open area, she
started to climb, cringing at every little sound the leaves made, the odd
groan a branch gave underneath her weight.
She made it to the top, without hearing any shouts of alarm and spotted
the light of the gate straight away.
The light created a perfect circle, split in half by the gate in the centre, but
clearly, there was a group of guards on the opposite side as well.
Or at least, they kept a light going throughout the night, to ensure
visibility on both ends.
Were the Rim forbidden from entering the Farms, the same way the Farms
were forbidden from entering the Rim?
Where Ayda knew the way to be, complete blackness greeted her, creating
a single passage a little lighter in colour, leading from the gate into the Rim.
There, a great distance away, light could be seen changing the darkness
into a deep purple. A town then, or at least a number of houses stood in
fairly close proximity towards one another. The light of a single dwelling
would have been sharper.
Even though she hadn’t expected much from the climb, she couldn’t help
the disappointment that coursed through her being at the limited amount of
information she had gleaned from coming to the treetops.
She exhaled.
It had taken her 17 years to find a way to escape the Mines, she reminded
herself forcibly.
She was going to have to be patient, otherwise, she would make mistakes
and they wouldn’t result in a mere whipping. They would result in her
execution.
She sighed softly and turned in the direction of the Farms and the Mines.
 A shocked sound escaped her lips and she gripped the branch she was
holding onto harder.
Yes, the faint glow of the two Farm towns could be seen, but closer,
moving towards them at a steady pace, was a singular light, as though
strapped to a wagon.
Her mind went into overdrive.
There was no rock shipment due for another three days. They had taken
this into consideration when choosing the day of departure. Erinol’s quota
would be picked up in exactly two days.
No other wagons ever crossed the Farms. Erinol would have known.
Why was there a wagon heading towards the gate and where had it come
from?
Maybe it wasn’t bound for the gate. Maybe it would veer off in another
direction. A wagon they didn’t know anything about because it didn’t use
the same routes all others took.
She held her breath, following the wagon steer straight for Palua.
There was no denying it, the wagon was heading for the gate.
She swore under her breath.
If Ayda didn’t warn her, Palua would be caught in the middle with no
escape.
She would be discovered.
But if Ayda had understood things correctly, technically, according to the
rules, the Farmers were allowed in this particular area, the only reason they
were being so careful, was because the attention would be unwelcome.
Spying on the one escape route would raise obvious questions.
But exactly that was it. If a Farmer was caught, only questions would be
asked, then they would be encouraged to return to the town.
 If Ayda was caught however and the guards were being thorough, they
would realise that she had no place among the Farmers.
It wouldn’t simply be questions for her.
Make a decision, you’re running out of time.
She thought about the thrown rock the night before and before she could
change her mind, she was all but sliding down the tree trunk.
Splinters lodged themselves in her hands, the odd cut opening up on her
arms and legs, the skirt of her dress tearing slightly.
The light was dangerously close and if she was going to move quietly at
the edge of the ring, she needed extra time.
Her feet hit the ground and she made quick work of her laces.
She would have a greater chance of remaining silent if her feet weren’t
stuck in boots.
Ayda moved quickly, aware of the twigs and leaves, aware of the roots
poking out of the ground and so incredibly grateful for the morning walks
Erinol had been taking her on consistently these last few months.
Without them, she would have made a racket anyone would have heard
from a mile away.
The soles of her feet were soon tender, but that couldn’t be helped. She
would have time to soothe them later. Besides, this was something that
would heal quickly. The guilt of letting Palua be caught, no matter how
infuriating the woman was, would be something else entirely to deal with.
She reached the tree line, having been forced to slow her pace and looked
down at the stone frame that was Palua. She hadn’t moved an inch.
Ayda strained her ears. She couldn’t hear the wagon and she was listening
for it. It was the trees, blocking the sound of the approaching wheels. Palua
would definitely not notice it in time, too focused on the figures in front of
her.
What could she do? If she threw a rock, the oddity of the same event
happening two nights in a row would raise suspicion and there was a good
chance Palua wouldn’t even know what to do with the message.
If she rolled a stone towards the woman, trying to hit her form, she might
miss and the rock would skitter all the way into the circle of light.
And if she snuck up on Palua, she might get a fright and give them away.
Ayda heard something not too far away.
She was going to have to trust Palua to make her out before she was upon
her.
Her fingers had wound around the locket while debating her dilemma.
She squeezed it now, finding strength in the warm metal and tugged it back
underneath her clothes. Then she was on all fours, crawling as quickly as
she dared, towards the lump on the open plane.

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 Her heart was hammering rapidly in her chest and she willed it to quieten,
straining her ears for any sounds coming from behind them.
She was almost at Palua’s side.
If the light from the wagons penetrated the tree line, it would probably
still be too dark to make them out properly, but the attention of the guards
would be in their direction and their silhouettes…
Ayda was willing Palua to turn, to notice something coming towards her,
to feel a shift, anything.
A few more paces.
She reached her arm towards her foot, deciding to tap on her exposed toe.
Maybe she would think Ayda was an insect and not react too strongly.
She took a deep breath, then made contact.
The softest touch to mimic a light body.
Palua froze into something more solid than rock.
Ayda repeated the touch.
Ever so slowly, Palua turned, not a single sound escaping her.
Ayda thanked the volcano, then moved forward slightly, reaching for the
woman’s hand, her face inches from Palua’s own.
It was dark, yes. But a tug on her hand allowed Palua to relax the smallest
amount, then Ayda pulled on her arm again, moving back towards the cover
of the trees.
 Another sound was heard in the distance and the slightest change in
darkness could be seen in a singular spot.
Had Palua seen the change?
Had the guards?
Ayda was looking out for it. The rest wasn’t expecting movement for
another three days.
They needed to go, now.
With one final tug, she let go of Palua’s hand and hoped beyond hope, that
the woman was following behind her.
The light grew.
They weren’t going to make it.
She made her decision, picking up a stone and throwing it as far to their
left as she possibly could, then got to her feet and sprinted towards the tree
line, bare feet padding across the ground.
The sound of the approaching wagon was now obvious and Ayda hoped
that the clattering of the rock would be allocated to the wheels on the
ground, the horses pulling it.
She could feel Palua close behind, noticed the light breaking free of the
trees—
She dove, head-first into the thicket, landing hard, then rolling to avoid
the greatest impact.
Palua’s body crashed into hers, the sound of the impact surprisingly soft.
The lantern exposed the open land, the wagon rolling onto the even
ground.
Ayda pressed her hands over her own mouth, her breath ragged, her heart
thundering.
 Her palms screamed from the scratches the impact had inflicted, but they
had made it and it didn’t seem as though they had been discovered.
She looked over at Palua who was massaging her shoulder, clearly the
body part that had made contact with the ground first, before rolling into
Ayda.
They remained on the floor, barely moving.
A shout could be heard from the gate.
Ayda got to her hands and knees and found a gap in the thicket.
The wagon had made its way across the open plane and entered the circle
of light at the gate.
The guards had stopped their chatter and were all concentrated on the
wagon’s approach.
Not a single pair of eyes was searching the tree line, in the dark.
The relief that washed over Ayda was so great that she sagged into
herself.
She had to keep herself from laughing out loud.
She’d had some close calls over the years, but none this close that hadn’t
resulted in someone else getting hurt in her stead.
Her thoughts went back to Yanni.
She sent him love, then closed her heart off to him.
She needed to focus.
The wagon was drawn by two horses, two drivers sitting atop, just like
they were always positioned.
The back of the wagon was empty. Not a single rock was being
transported. What was going on?
She looked over at Palua, who had positioned herself next to Ayda and
was looking through the same hole in the thicket.
 The woman noticed the gaze and only shrugged her shoulders.
Her eyes were wide, the adrenaline still coursing through her. She was
aware of how close the two of them had gotten to being discovered.
The guards moved around the wagon, looking into the empty back,
underneath the front seat and in the horses’ bags.
Words were exchanged, but their meaning was lost across the distance.
Not long after, the gates opened, the same way the one at the Mines did,
seemingly on their own accord and the wagon moved through, before the
doors closed once again, behind them.
Ayda spun towards Palua with such force that she almost lost her balance,
an exclamation on her lips, but before she could make a sound, Palua
clamped her hand over Ayda’s mouth, eyes going wide, face bewildered.
She indicated for Ayda to be completely silent, then moved back, to reach
for her boots.
They left the tree line, backtracked to the tree Ayda had climbed in order
to collect her own boots, Palua only looking at her questioningly, but still
too wired to talk out in the open.
They kept walking.
By the time the sun broke across the top of the Rim, they had safely
reached a tiny crevice, boulders and trees blocking its entrance.
"Want to tell me what happened back there?" Palua asked, voice guarded.
Ayda couldn’t read her.
"You’re welcome."
"Looks like we’re even," Palua responded without hesitation.
Ayda supposed that they were and shrugged.
"So?" Palua pressed.
 Ayda recalled the events of the night. "I thought the only wagons
traversing this area were the ones transporting rocks? They aren’t due for
another three days." She closed off her report.
Palua was deep in thought. "Every few years, we hear of wagons outside
their schedule moving around the Crater. It is said that they are driven by
Magiks."
A shiver went down Ayda’s spine. "The wagon wasn’t exuding any icy
air. We were close enough, we should have felt it." She shivered again at the
prospect.
"I know." She was still deep in thought.
“What do you know about the Magiks?” Ayda asked, observing her escort
closely.
“Nothing.” She responded, way too quickly.
Ayda huffed. "Spit it out."
Palua cornered her with a stare. "I have no interest in contradicting Erinol
in front of someone that squeals about it the second we get back home."
"You don’t think they exude this freezing cold Erinol keeps talking
about."
Palua’s stare intensified. "You are such a nuisance. As a matter of fact, I
don’t. No." She crossed her arms.
"Why not?" Ayda pressed.
Palua exaggerated a sigh. "If you must know, there was a man in my old
town. He claimed to have come across a Magik once, a few years before I
was born. He had been travelling by wagon, outside of the schedule. He
was there to find out about his son that had been sent to the Mines."
"The Mines! A Magiks son?! …there is no chance that can be right. I
would have heard about a Magik breaking out of the Mines, no matter how
far ahead of my time it had been."
"That depends. What do we know about Magiks? Close to nothing. We
don’t know if the offspring of Magiks automatically also possess magik."
Ayda opened and closed her mouth.
Huh. Now there’s a thought.
"Anyways. I asked this man what had set the Magik apart and he said that
he looked and felt like any other human being. The only thing that was of
note were his yellow eyes."
"Well, that’s just a Peep, there are a lot of them in the Mines. None of
them have magik. You saw the one at the gate now too." Ayda responded.
"But if the man from your old town was right, then we have no way of
differentiating between the Magiks and the non-magicians."
Ayda shivered again.
"So, you think the same? You don’t believe that Magiks exude the
freezing cold?"
Ayda shrugged. "I don’t know what to believe. All I know is that Erinol
was young. He witnessed something terrible and the mind can play funny
tricks on someone in a traumatic situation."
She thought about how her own mind had trapped her in her grief when
Jiri had died.
Palua relaxed slightly but kept her guard up. "What were you foolish
enough to almost shout at the tree line?" She raised her eyebrow at Ayda
questioningly.
"You said they searched the wagons thoroughly."
"They do. You saw how they checked every possible hiding place." Her
tone of voice stated that she would have liked to add a question about her
lacking eyesight to the end of that sentence.
 "They didn’t check below the wagon," Ayda pressed.
"Because there aren’t any compartments below the wagon!" Palua was
getting impatient.
"There are two immovable pipes securing the wheels to the bottom of the
wagon. I escaped the Mines by hanging onto the underside of these pipes."
It was Palua’s turn to open and close her mouth.
Ayda continued, "It doesn’t help us in the greater scheme of things
because moving an entire people on the underside of a wagon is impossible.
But if we were to risk it, it would allow us to sneak onto the Rim and finally
gain some proper information on the Magiks."
Palua still hadn’t recovered.
"It would require a distraction to stop the wagon on the way and allow us
time to sneak under. No one is going to be able to hold on all the way from
the Farms. It’s a night’s distance. I barely made it half an hour. Only one
person would be able to go—more would not be able to dismount
undetected. The tricky bit will be sneaking back onto the Farms, as we
know nothing about the Rim. We don’t know whether there will be places
to hide, steal food from or get close enough to Magiks to get the
information we require, let alone sneak back onto a wagon."
Palua had finally gotten over her shock. "That will be the tricky part?"
She shook her head, then mumbled to herself, "Underneath a wagon."
"Yes, well. We wouldn’t know how long the person would be stuck on the
Rim for, which automatically means that we cannot send a man."
"I work for the guards. I would be missed too. The only reason I was able
to go on this little excursion, is because I worked double shifts the past
week. They only check up on me if something hasn’t been done."
 "Which leaves me, but Erinol doesn’t trust me to bring the right
information back to him. Unless there is another woman in the Cause that I
haven’t been told about?"
Palua looked at her, eyebrow raised. "Really? I thought you were his new
prodigy."
"His what?" Ayda shook her head. "Doesn’t matter. We need to plan this
properly."
"To answer your question: no. There isn’t another woman in the Cause
and even if you were able to send a man, I doubt they would keep from
being discovered for long. My people don’t exactly have the need to sneak
around or the interest of learning how to protect themselves."
"Yes, I was worried that you were the exception and not the other way
around," Ayda responded, more to herself than Palua.
Palua considered her anew, though she didn’t voice her thoughts.
Ayda was so done with not being trusted.
"Was anything interesting discussed today?" she asked Palua, tearing her
out of her thoughts.
"Not as far as I could tell. Gossip about someone’s wife and the disgrace
of a friend was as interesting as it got. You, yesterday?"
"Not really. Apparently, 560 years ago, there were two tunnels that
crossed over to the Rim, but they were collapsed because too many people
tried to escape via those points. Did you know about this? I think Blue Eyes
was the leader of the group. The others were scared of him, even though he
didn’t carry a stick. Probably had a weapon hidden somewhere on his
person."
"Maybe he was a Magik. His weapon is his power," Palua whispered.
She shuddered.
 Palua was grinning at her and Ayda realised that she was referring to the
man from her old town, referencing the blue eyes of the guard.
"Humour? From you? And here I was, thinking you were made of rock."
The grin slid off her face, leaving only the wall.
Ayda sighed out loud. "We need to get onto the Rim. These half-guesses
are driving me mad."

"You’re back."
Ayda and Palua slid through the back door, dawn only minutes away.
They had seen the smoke of Erinol’s fire and knocked to avoid him getting
the fright of his life.
His eyes zeroed in on their hands.
He missed nothing when it was out of place.
She sighed.
"What happened?" he asked instantly, pointing to the scabs and her
slightly torn skirt.
"Did you know that there are wagons moving around the Farms outside of
their allocated schedules?" Ayda greeted him.
"What? That’s not true."
"And yet, one showed up and nearly caught us."
"Did you fight?" He narrowed his eyes at her.
"No one saw us."
He whirled towards Palua. "I told you to be careful."
 "We were. We couldn’t have known that there was an unscheduled wagon
around the Farms. And besides, Tula is telling the truth. No one saw us."
"You don’t know that! Maybe they followed you back here." He spun to
the door this time.
Palua started fidgeting.
In agitation? Annoyance? Anger?
Ayda wasn’t sure.
He whirled back towards Ayda. "Was it worth it? The risk?"
She opened her mouth in response, but he continued. "You look ridiculous
with that tear in your skirt. I hope you know how to stitch that together
again. I don’t have time to teach you more things."
"I know—"
"I can’t believe I allowed you to talk me into letting you go to the Rim!
How foolish of me. Imagine you had been caught! Then what? All this time
would have been wasted. The teaching, the patience. I wouldn’t even be
able to go see Mother."
Ayda only looked at him. Did he expect a response to any of this?
"When do you leave?" Palua asked after an awkward silence.
"After the next load arrives, before she has any more insane ideas and
loses me my chance."
"Okay."
He seemed to finally realise that he had been on a rant and pulled himself
together, looking straight past Ayda towards Palua. "I will leave the night
after I have picked up the load—I cannot be seen leaving town, since I will
supposedly be sick. I have prepared the materials for two loads, just in case
I am delayed. Zelenol is going to come here every two or three days to
make sure Tula doesn't need anything. I need you to deliver the finished
rock and if I do not make it back in time, I will need you to pick up the new
load."
She nodded sharply in affirmation, then looked at Ayda uncertainly,
opening her mouth but then thinking better of it.
"Thank you," Ayda said to the woman.
She nodded again, then left via the door they had entered through only
moments before.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Fifteen

H
e had left the night before with a pack strapped to his back and a
stick in his hand. She didn’t know what he was going to do with the
stick, but if it comforted him, she was glad that he had it. She supposed it
made for a good weapon, although she doubted that he knew how to use it.
He hadn’t said how he felt about seeing his mother again for the first time
in over 20 years, he hadn’t spoken about the Rim either. He hadn’t asked
Ayda a single question about the two nights Palua and her scouted the
plane.
He was acting as though she hadn’t gone to the Rim at all. Like it never
happened.
Was it because he was so focused on the upcoming task? Was it a coping
mechanism of pushing away the danger Ayda had gotten herself into? Or
the fact that they had almost exposed the Cause by getting so close to being
caught?
Maybe he was nervous about his mother.
She noticed the tension grow within his body as the days crept by.
 Would she recognise her son after all these years? Would he be able to
open up to her about his life or had she grown into too much of a stranger?
The house had been eerily quiet when she went to sleep. She knew that
there were mice running around in the roof, but her imagination seemed to
be getting the better of her because the sounds she was hearing could not be
made by such small animals.
So, she slipped down into the kitchen and helped herself to the same knife
she had taken to the Rim—he hadn’t asked about the knife either, even
though he’d definitely missed it—he was too meticulous. It was similar in
size to the one Erinol had taken off of her that first day. Before going to the
Rim, she looked for her own knife, the volcano only knew how much she
had looked for it, but she wasn’t able to locate it. She suspected that he had
gotten rid of it after his mumbled comment about infection.
She’d slept much better after that, knowing that the knife was handy.
In the morning, she made herself breakfast, again, not used to the lack of
sound. Sure, she could hear a neighbour hammering steel, could hear the
sounds of children not too far in the distance, but her immediate
surroundings were completely silent. She hadn’t experienced that since her
first night outside the Mines. She noticed her steps were heavier than
normal, her movements more exaggerated and placements louder. She was
trying to create life in the house. How had Erinol ever been able to live on
his own?
She went to the barn to start the chemical process.
Erinol had prepared everything for her.
He laid everything out, went over her notes half a dozen times to ensure
that she had written every little step down, his remarks jotted all across the
pages, adding little reminders here, correcting some form of wording there,
even amending the odd spelling mistake.
She had to smile at that.
The cauldron was already standing in the hearth, the firewood piled high.
He had thought of the smallest detail.
Ayda moved across the barn and started the flames, ensured all the
instruments were present that she needed and started measuring out doses.
She took her time, aware of the fact that the wood needed to burn down
quite a lot and the water then needed to reach boiling point.
She checked and double-checked the measurements, aware that a single
mistake, just one, would break the entire box worth of volcanic rock and
would not only mean that three entire lives had been lost for no reason and
that it was her fault that Erinol had not reached his quota, but that they
would also come looking for him a week before he was due to be back in
town when no one showed up with his promised load.
The thought chilled her. What would happen to him if they realised he had
abandoned his post? What would he possibly be able to say was more
important than fulfilling his quota? The quota of the most important rock in
the Crater.
They wouldn’t find him. No, instead, they would find her, and when they
did and found out where she came from, they wouldn’t ask questions the
way he had. They would simply execute her, throw her body back into the
Mines, and probably execute Yanni and his family for good measure.
She shuddered.
Bad.
So, focus.
 When she had measured all powders, liquids and sheets, she double-
checked that she had added all items to the list, twice, and then sat in front
of the cauldron, waiting for it to reach boiling point.

She pulled 24 rocks from the liquid when the first stage was complete.
She gave a massive sigh of relief and then laughed at herself. She was so
incredibly tense!
When she was done cleaning up, the rocks stored away safely, waiting for
the second stage of the process, she went back into the house and pulled out
her book. It was a little bit more interesting than the previous one, although
not by much. It was about the same topic, although the writing style was a
lot looser. The author allowed for some humour and she found herself
imagining an elderly lady bickering with the person reading the book about
the different approaches of the processes that were possible and which she
was busy undergoing with close to identical results.
She read until she couldn’t stand the topic anymore, still writing out every
word, then went through some of the moves Jiri had taught her all those
years ago. She hadn’t gone for a walk in the forest in the morning, too
anxious to start the process, and was now anxious of leaving the house
instead. But it was still light out and Erinol would murder her if she went
out during the day. So, she practiced instead. She had strapped the kitchen
knife back onto her forearm, the weight a comfort, and now used it to stab
at an invisible opponent. It felt good to go through the familiar moves,
although she realised that she had been neglecting her practice. Her body
was stiff, the usually smooth motions staggering. She chided herself and
mentally added physical practice to her daily tasks. Just because nothing
ever seemed to happen on the Farms, didn’t mean that she shouldn’t be
prepared for any possibility that could arise, no matter what Erinol thought
about the usefulness of a knife against a Magik.

Ayda was in the middle of preparing dinner when she heard a sound from
outside.
She froze, straining her ears.
Footsteps. They were slow, halting.
Had someone noticed Erinol leaving last night? If they had, then the
smoke exiting the house would be suspicious.
The footsteps came closer.
She left everything on the workbench and moved towards the front door,
stepping behind it and pulling the knife from where it was hidden in the
sleeve of her dress.
It was dark outside, the room lit by the hearth. The visitor had the
advantage. He would be able to see her easily if he knew where to look…
while the night cloaked him from her eyes, the same way it had been for the
guards in the circle of light at the Rim.
She crouched low, muscles ready to spring, breath calm, quiet.
Her heart was thundering in her chest.
What would she do if the person posed a threat?
The footsteps halted in front of the door, then silence. A hesitation. A
single knock.
She didn’t move a muscle.
Was this person checking whether Erinol had returned so soon after
leaving with a heavy pack, clearly prepared to be gone a while?
After a moment that felt like half a lifetime, the door slowly started to
open.
 She was going to tackle the visitor before they could—
"Tula?" A soft whisper.
She knew that voice.
"Zelenol." She sighed out in relief, stepping out from behind the door,
lowering the arm holding the knife.
He jumped at her sudden appearance, then raised his eyebrows at the
knife in her hand.
"Come on in."
"Are you sure that’s safe?" he asked jokingly, although she could hear the
slight uncertainty in his voice.
"Sorry." She slid the knife back into its strap—he looked pointedly at it. "I
wasn’t expecting you so soon."
He came through the door and closed it behind himself.
"I’m busy making dinner. Do you want to join me in the kitchen?" She
didn’t let him answer, simply grabbed a chair from the dining area and set it
in front of the workbench in the kitchen. "Tea?"
His eyebrows didn’t seem to want to go back to their original position,
still high on his forehead.
Farm customs be damned.
"Sure, thank you." He took a seat while she busied herself with the tea
water, then went back to preparing her dinner. "Would you like to stay for
dinner? It’s not too late to add more."
"No, thank you. My wife would be wondering what was taking me so
long. I just wanted to make sure you were doing alright. Erinol left last
night, didn’t he?"
"That is very kind of you." She meant it and smiled at him. "I’m alright.
It’s a little quiet, which is not something that exists in the Mines, so it’s put
me a little on edge today—" She glanced at her forearm. "But I’m sure I’ll
get used to it quickly."
"I see. I can assure you that the knife wasn’t necessary. What would you
have even done with it?"
"I was busy deciding that when you opened the door." Another smile
crossed her face.
He didn’t seem to feel threatened by the smile, but rather, it appeared that
the notion made him sad. It surprised her. "Have you had to use it in the
past?"
"Yes," she said quietly, not feeling the need to elaborate.
"I’m sorry about that." The words were genuine.
It was the first time since leaving the Mines that someone was treating her
like another human being, instead of a slave or someone primitive. Even if
it wasn’t intentional.
She didn’t think Erinol meant to, but still. That authority and superiority
was very apparent when it came to how he treated her. The expectation of
obedience.
Zelenol now allowed her to relax a little bit, and only in doing so did she
realise how tense she had been all these months.
She didn’t know what to say, so she busied herself with the tea.
"May I ask you something?" His voice was soft.
"Sure." Her back was towards him.
"Why are you helping us?"
She didn’t turn. "I already told Palua, why."
"That was only half of the answer."
She turned at that and regarded him, his open nature. Very much in
contrast to the voice she had heard that very first night while spying on the
three. She placed a cup of tea in front of him, watching for his reaction.
"Because your initial plan would have gotten you all killed."
He wasn’t angry at her words the way Erinol would have been. Only
curious. "Why do you say that?"
He seemed to really want an answer to his question, so she decided to be
honest with him.
"Your people don’t know how to fight. You don’t even know how to
survive."
Palua had said the same through less direct words.
Again, that sparked curiosity. "What do you mean by that?"
She regarded him, then decided on honesty once more. "When Erinol
found me, I was broken. I had just lost everyone I loved, everything I knew,
everything I had been until that point. I hadn’t had any food or water in two
days, had barely slept and had quite the number of cuts peppered across my
body. In short, I was in bad shape. When I saw him, my only thought was
that I could take him if it came to it. I instantly knew that he wasn’t a
fighter." Her voice was matter-of-fact—no boasting or emotion at all.
He said nothing, so she carried on, "I could have taken your life in
seconds just now. Your footsteps were loud, you took the most obvious
route, you didn’t observe your environment before you entered, you left
yourself completely exposed and you weren’t prepared for anything, even
though you were the one with the advantage. You don’t know how to keep
yourselves alive and, granted, I have only met three of your people. But
right now, you are on high alert because you are exposing yourself to a
dangerous situation through the Cause, as well as through me, yet you left
yourself completely vulnerable. If you act like that given your situation,
imagine the remainder of your people, comfortably sitting in their homes,
completely unaware of anything around them."
He seemed to take her words seriously, contemplating them.
"But if we took out the Observation Post, we hold all the cards."
"If you took out the Observation Post, you would be dead within days."
He set his mouth. "Why?"
Seriously?
What were Palua’s thoughts on this?
"One Magik killed Erinol's father and friends because they were suspected
of knowing something they weren't supposed to. Not captured, not
questioned, not whipped—executed. If they were willing to do that for a
suspicion, what do you think they will be willing to do if you kill everyone
at the Rim and threaten them with something they consider valuable enough
to have gone through the trouble of creating both the Mines and the Farms?
Erinol told me that there is an entire Island filled with Magiks. Now I don't
know what that means in numbers, but if you only need one to so easily kill
half a dozen, then I don't know what 10 or 20 will do. How many Farmers
are even going to be part of this?"
Zelenol had actually gone a little pale.
They had been planning this for three years. How had no one even
considered the consequences?
Or did they not realise what sort of means people were willing to go to?
How easily people were willing to kill first and ask questions later.
Who was she kidding. Erinol and his friends were prepared to carry out
the same amount of violence.
His voice was a little rough when he finally spoke. "Erinol doesn't give
you enough credit. How long did it take for you to learn the chemical
process?"
"Four months."
"I thought so. It was your idea?"
She only nodded.
"Let's hope his mother can tell us something constructive."
He rose to his feet and headed for the door. "Thank you for the tea. I'll
drop by in two days to see whether you need anything."
He opened the door but turned back towards her before heading out. "I'll
knock three times like this—" He knocked on the door once, then twice in
quick succession. "You'll know it's me when you hear it and won't have to
draw a knife on me." He smiled sadly, then he was gone.

She enjoyed his visits. They were always brief and she did most of the
talking, but she spoke freely because he didn't judge. He didn't have
expectations or react in any certain way towards the information she was
giving him.
He simply listened.
She spoke about her family, never mentioning them by name.
Told him about the Populance and what life had been like over there.
Things hadn't changed just because she had made it out. Yanni was still
going for his shifts every day, his siblings with him.
How life circled around one thing—eating enough and staying warm.
She told him about her morning walks. The new pattern she had
discovered in a leaf or the little spider and its web she observed as long as
she had dared because the sun climbed too high in the sky.
She told him about how little she knew of the world and how she
constantly felt lost.
 In turn, he brought his tools and a couple of volcanic rocks—different to
the ones she was working for Erinol, and instead of drinking tea in the
sitting area, they went to the barn.
He showed her how to turn the rock into dust.
How to first clean it to remove all that was not a part of it—first through
water, then through a little chisel, and finally, with a brush.
How to find those few places on its surface that, when tapped with the
correct amount of force, simply fell away and instead of having a rock, you
now had a fine dust. Still the exact same material, but now in a different
form. She'd find the smallest little particles of it in her clothes and her hair
the next day, even after she had bathed. They simply went everywhere.
It took her a while, but with a sadness that went deep into her bones, she
realised one afternoon that the reason she enjoyed his company so much
was because she saw her grandfather in everything he did.

The visit she received from Palua two weeks after Erinol left was the
complete opposite to Zelenol’s.
She barged into the barn in the middle of the day, her arrival clearly
announced by her stomping feet, demanding the packaged rocks, and was
out of the door without another word or backward glance the second Ayda
pointed them out.
She didn’t know what she had expected from the woman, but that wasn’t
it. The two had saved one another’s lives after all and yet she acted as
though they didn’t share more than that initial conversation in the house
with Erinol commanding Palua to accompany Ayda to the Rim.
It was as though Erinol and her had decided never to acknowledge their
trip again.
 It frustrated Ayda to no end.
Erinol not being here would have been the ideal opportunity for the two of
them to discuss the matter of sneaking onto the Rim openly, without
judgement or preconceived ideas from him.
But if Palua wasn’t willing to spare her any time, Ayda was going to
confront Erinol about the matter.
She had given him grace throughout his distractions and nerves before
visiting his mother. But the moment he was back, she was going to lay out
her plans of somehow stowing away on a wagon that would bring her all
the way to the Rim.
This meant that she needed an extremely well-thought-through plan.
Erinol wouldn’t accept anything less and it would have to be her going
because everyone else would be missed and because she needed
information that no one seemed to be able to give her on the Farms. How
she was going to convince him of that matter, only the volcano knew, but
that was something she couldn’t necessarily prepare for.
What she could prepare for were the specifics of her plan and it was
starting to form in her mind. It even had the potential to work.
Ayda had pulled 19 rocks out of the cauldron after completing the second
stage—six more than Erinol ever had. Had she done something wrong or
gotten an incredibly good batch? There was no way for her to find out.
Erinol hadn't ever tested any of them either and she’d followed the precise
steps, so she decided not to worry.
She had almost kept one as it wouldn't be missed—the batch was so much
bigger than the other ones had always been, so she could show it to Erinol
to make sure that she hadn't messed up somewhere.
 She decided against that, too. She didn't have anywhere to put it. Her
locket was too small to hold both the glass sliver and the rock—even the
smallest one—and she didn't want to risk hiding it in the house somewhere
and then being found if they decided to come and ask questions about the
most recent quota.
She started staying in the forest a little longer every day, having found a
route that no one seemed to use, now familiar with the way the forest
moved and the way the animals behaved when she came near. She was able
to blend in a lot better than she had in those first few days and she had
figured out how to walk among the leaves and sticks without making a
sound, in great part thanks to her excursion to the Rim.
It was about a week after Palua had picked up the rocks and she was
heading back to the house when she stopped at the edge of the property, just
out of sight.
There were two men at the front door.
She didn’t recognise them, had never seen their faces before, but she
instantly knew what they were by the way they carried themselves.
Watchers—guards.
Her heart started pounding, fear spreading through her.
What did they want?
Had something happened to Erinol?
Did all the rocks end up falling apart in transport?
Had they finally discovered that she had escaped the Mines?
Had someone given her up?
Breathe.
Deep inhale, long exhale.
 She was focusing so hard on her breathing that it took her a second to
realise that the guards had given up on the door being answered.
They started circling the house and she shrank back further into shadow.
They entered the barn.
A moment later, they came back out, exchanged a few words and left
through the front gate.
She gave a massive sigh of relief but stayed where she was. They might
come back. Her heart was still pounding.
When nothing happened for about two hours, she decided that they were
not returning.
She would have to be careful not to be seen by anyone passing the front
gate, and after a few moments, she made a mad dash across the yard,
slipping into the house through the back. She put on a pot of tea, heart in
her throat, then started her breathing exercises, which settled her, the tea
spreading a calming warmth through her, but her nerves were on edge. She
went through the defence moves her brother had taught her, ears constantly
strained for the smallest sound from outside. She had no idea how long she
kept at them but she was drenched in sweat by the time she was done and
decided to bathe in order to ground fully.
The morning had turned into afternoon by the time she emerged from the
bathing room and her stomach was rumbling.
Right. Food, then some reading. She hadn't done anything she was
supposed to today.
Luckily, she was done with the volcanic rock, otherwise, this might have
messed up the process.
 She was sitting in front of the hearth, tea cup in hand, when she heard
footsteps.
Not one pair, but two…
Either Zelenol decided to bring a friend, or the two guards from that
morning had returned to pay her another visit.
Maybe she was lucky and Zelenol had thought it a good idea that Ayda
and Palua got to know one another better since she had questioned him
about the woman the night before.
But the footsteps were too loud. Palua at least knew how to walk softly.
She set down her tea cup, slipped out of her chair on silent feet and pulled
her knife from its strap around her arm.
If it was the guards, she wouldn’t be able to answer the door, and when
she didn’t, they would most probably enter on their own since they had
arrived at the cover of night. This wasn’t a social call.
There was a chest filled with blankets standing in a corner from which she
had just pulled one out for herself. If she piled the remainder in another
corner, it would appear as though that was their normal spot and she would
be able to fold herself into the chest.
She moved on silent feet, working quickly.
The footsteps had almost arrived at the door. She could hear a whispered
conversation between the two, although she could not make out the words.
Two men, definitely. No Palua indeed.
The blankets were in the corner and she had one foot in the chest when
the first knock came.
She froze. No second and third knock sounded—only silence.
She climbed into the chest and lowered the lid over her head. There was a
little hole just above her line of sight and she managed to angle her head
enough so that she could peek through it.
Another knock arrived, this time louder, almost a pounding.
"Shush." Came a loud whisper. "Don’t… neighbourhood…" were the only
two words she could make out.
The knife in her hand was steady, breath calm.
The door creaked open and the two guards from that morning walked into
the house.
Their eyes roamed through the room and fell in the direction of the
blazing hearth, then her abandoned cup of tea.
One of them elbowed the other in the side and pointed in said direction.
He spoke into the room. "Erinol? We just want to ask you a couple of
questions." He motioned for his friend to go in the direction of the stairs
while he pranced through the sitting room.
They left her line of sight and she strained her ears to figure out what was
going on.
She heard the stairs creak under some weight and footsteps moving into
the kitchen. Doors were opened, the back door checked. The bathing room
door opened upstairs.
The footsteps came back into the sitting room and she briefly saw one of
them move past the chest towards the hearth.
A third set of footsteps sounded from outside.
Another one?
By the volcano, she was in trouble.
The guard’s footsteps turned back towards her and she saw him coming
into view in front of her, moving towards the chest. Her hand tightened
around the hilt of her knife, muscles tensing, ready to jump. He would not
expect her to explode in his face. She would be able to knock him to the
ground before he even had time to pull the stick that was strapped to his
belt.
The front door was pushed open fully—they had left it open a crack.
"Why is the door open, T—"
Zelenol’s words caught in his throat.
Oh, no.
No, no, no.
The guard in front of her spun towards the front door, taking a step
towards it, away from the hole to give her a better view, hand going to the
stick at his side.
Zelenol had gone pale at the sight in front of him—stock still.
Footsteps came running down the stairs and he turned his head slightly to
see who the newcomer was. Hope at the sound and then dread at the sight
of someone else besides Ayda coming down the stairs.
"What are you doing here?" Zelenol’s voice was a little shaky.
"We wanted a chat with Erinol. Would you happen to know where he is?"
The guard in front of her took another step closer to Zelenol, the second one
now coming into view, moving towards the door.
They hadn’t picked up on the name Zelenol had almost spoken out loud,
the ‘T’ still apparent on his lips.
Get out.
Her heart started to pick up speed.
What was Zelenol doing? He had an escape route right behind him, but
with every second he waited, it was slowly being cut off by the second
guard moving in on him.
I said, move!
He only seemed to have eyes for the first guard.
 "I don’t know. I thought he was home." His voice still hadn’t regained its
strength. At that, his eyes jumped through the room, supposedly looking for
Erinol. They snagged on that tea cup at the hearth, then the corner in which
she had stacked the blankets. His eyes snapped to the chest she was hiding
in, then quickly moved back towards the guard, trying not to give her away.
"He was, by the looks of it, but he doesn’t seem interested in talking to
us." That first guard was moving closer to Zelenol, the second already
standing in front of the door.
Had he even noticed?
"Well then, maybe you should honour his wishes." His voice had finally
regained its strength again. He seemed to have gotten over the initial shock
and now knew that she hadn’t been discovered yet.
I’ll be fine, go.
If only she could say these words to him.
He didn’t move.
"I wish we could, but you see, this is rather important. So, how about you
tell us what you know."
Zelenol took a step back and almost collided with the guard behind him,
who placed a hand on his shoulder.
He jumped.
He hadn’t noticed that the guard was there.
She shook her head.
"There is nothing to tell." His voice started shaking again.
"Tsk, tsk. You see, that little shake of yours tells me the exact opposite."
He took another step towards Zelenol.
Her mind was racing. What could she do?
 She could easily take the guard closest to her, but the one with his hand on
Zelenol’s shoulder was too far away from her and too close to him for her
liking. Zelenol would be useless, he wouldn’t take the advantage she gave
him through catching the guards by surprise.
She would have to wait for them to leave the house.
"Come on. Let’s go and have a chat with the Chief."
The remaining colour drained from Zelenol’s face.
Who is that? Erinol has never spoken about a Chief.
"I—" Zelenol started.
"Yes?" the guard coaxed.
A grim expression entered Zelenol’s face. He straightened. Nothing. He
wouldn’t say a thing.
A rock caught in her throat.
Why would he protect her like that, even though he was clearly terrified
of this Chief? He barely knew her.
"Let’s go." The guard moved towards the door, the second strengthening
his grip on Zelenol’s shoulder.
They turned, Zelenol sending one last, fleeting look in her direction, then
they passed the threshold.
She waited for their footsteps to fade a little, then she silently opened the
lid and slid out of the chest.
She moved to the closed door, strained her ears, then ran for the back.
They would see the light from the hearth if she opened the front door.
She had moved around to the front of the house by the time her eyes
adjusted to the night—nowhere near as dark as the tunnels had been—and
saw the three disappear down the road.
She knew how to use the shadows and how to keep her footsteps silent.
 The three were making enough noise to cover any that might escape from
her.
She followed them into town, through neat pathways and solid buildings.
Towards the centre, the paths became a little narrower.
If the Farmer town was anything like the Populance, the Inner Circle
would house the guards’ quarters. She had no chance there.
It would have to be now—her biggest challenge to keep them quiet.
They turned a corner and once she was sure that there was no one else in
front of them, she stepped up behind the three, Zelenol slightly further
forward, the other two walking directly behind.
She was fast.
Her right foot shot out, kicking in the knees of the guard that had spoken,
coming down on the ground, hard.
Stepping out next to him, her hand came forward, hitting his throat hard
enough that he was gasping for breath—no sound. Her foot came back up
and kicked him in the side of the head, which made him topple to the
ground.
It only took a few seconds, but it was enough time for the second guard to
recover from his surprise and stupor of seeing his friend crash to the
ground. His stick was out and he was squaring her up.
He raised the stick. His feet were not positioned properly and she made to
move to his right but moved to his left at the last moment, forcing him to
twist unsteadily. His stick barely grazed her shoulder, but she felt it leave a
mark.
She used her left foot to kick his side, leaving him exposed, and went for
his groin with her knee. He gave a muffled gasp and folded in on himself,
the handle of her knife coming down on his temple, knocking him out cold.
 The two were lying on the ground, not moving.
She looked up and found Zelenol staring at her, mouth in danger of
touching the floor.
They didn’t have time for this.
"I told you your people didn’t know how to fight," she whispered, then
shook his shoulder. "Where is your house?"
He seemed to gather himself and shook his head.
"Are they dead?"
"No."
He only nodded.
"Where?" she pressed.
"This way."
They moved deeper into the city, then turned left and came towards a
small house, tucked into a curve of the path.
He opened the door and ushered her through.
She entered a little sitting room, the hearth blazing, an elderly lady sitting
in front of it.
"That was fast, Zelenol," she said without turning, then set down her cup
of tea, twisting. "Is everything alright with—"
She cut off, squinting at Ayda. "Who is—" Her eyes fell on Zelenol and
she was out of her seat and at his side in seconds—a lot faster than her old
frame should have allowed her.
"Are you alright? What happened?" Her hands cupped his cheeks, eyes
roaming, looking for anything that might be hurt. She found nothing, her
eyes returning to his face.
"Zelenol, talk to me!" a little shriek had entered her voice.
 When he didn’t answer, she spun towards Ayda, demanding, "Who are
you? What happened to my husband?" She was starting to panic.
Ayda approached her slowly, palms open. Non-threatening, her knife back
in its strap on her forearm, out of sight.
She grasped the woman’s hands and caught her searching eyes, forcing
her attention.
"What’s your name?" Her voice was soft but full of authority.
"Unali."
"Do you have children, Unali?"
She looked confused but answered the question. "Yes."
"Where do they live?"
"In a town two days’ journey from here."
"You are going to pack a bag and some provisions and you are going to go
and visit your children for a few days."
"W-what?!" Her voice started to panic again.
Ayda gripped her hands a little tighter. "Unali, I need you to listen to me.
Can you do that?"
Unali looked at her and seemed to find something in Ayda’s eyes. "Yes,"
she said, a slight shudder in her voice.
"Zelenol is going to explain on the way. But I need you to go and pack a
bag for the two of you. You are leaving within the next 10 minutes. Go."
Unali turned and went into the adjoining room on unsteady legs.
Ayda turned towards Zelenol. "What happened?" She was asking about
the guards’ knowledge that something was off. Not about what she had
missed while moving around the side of the house to get to him.
They had asked about Erinol, not her. So, what tipped them off?
He only shook his head. He knew as little as her.
 "Thank you. For having my back in there. It means more to me than you
can imagine." She gave him a smile. "You need to stay away for a few days
until I can figure out what this is all about. Find a suitable cover story. Will
you be safe at your children’s house?"
He took a deep breath. "Yes, we will. What about you?" There was true
concern for her on his face.
She smiled at that sadly.
"I need to warn Erinol."
"Where could you two possibly go?"
"I don’t know yet. But I’ll figure it out." She smiled at him again. "Now
go."
He took her hands and squeezed them. "Look after yourself, Tula."
She wanted to tell him her real name, but instead, she said, "You remind
me of my grandpa."
It was his turn to smile sadly.
She turned to the door and, soon, was lost to the night.

OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Sixteen

S
he couldn’t stay at the house, they would come looking for her there.
The smart thing would have been to kill the guards. They had seen
her face and knew that there was someone else besides Erinol at the house.
They knew that Zelenol had something to do with it.
But she wasn’t able to.
She was halfway through town when she stopped in her tracks.
She needed to warn Palua. There was no reason for anyone to suspect her
of anything, but on the off-chance that something did happen to the woman
just because she hadn’t been careful, it would be Ayda’s fault.
She had no idea where Palua lived. Would she still catch Zelenol on their
way out? But she didn’t know in which direction they had gone either.
Ayda berated herself.
Stupid. So stupid.
Think.
Palua had said that she worked for the guards.
Did the guards really live in the centre of town?
 Ayda swore under her breath and made for the centre.
What was she doing? The guards were looking for her, by the volcano,
and she was heading straight for them.
It was fairly quiet, the odd light seen in a house, but there was close to no
movement on the paths, not the way the Populance would be bustling at this
time of the night.
An individual stepped out of a lit house but it was simple to avoid him,
the town grid making it easy to aim for the centre the whole time.
Ayda came across a wall that encircled buildings within the heart of town.
It could have just as easily been the Inner Circle if everything was
crumbling and the gates were heavily guarded. But the wall was in
impeccable shape, not a single soul visible at the open gates.
She waited.
Nothing changed.
Surely, they didn’t leave these unattended?A woman walked through,
unhurried. Not a word could be heard, not even from behind the wall, which
Ayda couldn’t see.
Huh.
She waited for the woman to disappear behind one of the buildings, then
with her heart in her throat, approached the wall.
She felt utterly exposed.
If she had missed the sound of approaching footsteps, she would be
spotted the second someone rounded a corner. The second someone stepped
through one of the gates hewn into the circular wall.
She approached the gate—
And walked through it.
No one greeted her, no one stopped her, no one was even there.
 How was this possible?
In the centre were two buildings, both taller than Erinol’s house. These
were then surrounded by long, one-story buildings, numerous doors built
into the structures at intervals.
She had seen remnants of one of these long buildings in the Mines, but
they looked like they had been built only a few years ago!
Erinol had said that the Farms were created about 700 years ago and that
all Farm towns were built similarly. What if the same applied to the Mines?
But why would the Farms look newly built when the Populance was
falling apart at the seams?
She snuck behind a building and peeked inside. It was pitch black—she
couldn’t see a thing.
Ayda tried the next window, which was just as black. How was she
supposed to find Palua like this?
She sighed in frustration and walked around the outskirts of the buildings.
She found a light. Silently, she snuck to the window.
Two men sat in front of a roaring fire, playing cards. No Palua.
This was pointless.
She was about to give up and head back to Erinol’s house when a
commotion started at one of the gates.
The two men snapped their heads up.
Doors opened and a few shouts were heard.
She moved around the back of the building, peeking into the open square.
The two guards that wanted to take Zelenol to the Chief were limping
through the gates, one of them still unconscious, hanging off his partner’s
shoulder.
 The one that had been talking all night was pounding against someone’s
door, though the shouting hadn’t come from him. Doors were being opened
throughout the square, but not a single head peeking out belonged to Palua.
Ayda swore under her breath once more. She really shouldn’t be here.
Chaos ensued.
All of a sudden, the two guards were encircled by a whole bunch of other
guards, some running off, others joining. It seemed as though this didn’t
exactly happen on the Farms—ever.
Ayda swallowed. This was bad.
If she ever hoped to get Erinol out of this situation, she was probably
going to have to disappear.
She was about to see whether she could escape through a gate towards the
back, unnoticed, when a familiar shape came rushing into the square.
Palua was being escorted by a guard, a bag in hand.
They had arrived through a gate, so clearly she didn’t live within the
walls.
She indicated for the unconscious guard to be lowered to the ground and
started examining him.
She was lifting his eyelids, checking his pulse and the side of his head
where Ayda’s knife handle had struck him.
After a while, she seemed to determine that he was going to recover on
his own and eyed the mouthy guard.
The woman had quite the number of talents.
He batted her arms away. The only things Ayda’s attack would leave
behind were bruises and a hurt ego. Palua seemed to have arrived at the
same conclusion because she simply shrugged her shoulders, then turned to
leave.
 No one paid her any attention.
Ayda followed her with her eyes, heading towards the same gate she had
arrived through.
She moved as fast and as silently as she possibly could for the gate behind
her, then turned to run around the wall, ears straining for any footsteps,
keeping to the shadows and using the buildings for cover.
The clamour from the square wasn’t heard outside the walls.
She caught sight of Palua. The woman was moving around, unhurried,
although Ayda could tell that she was tense, her shoulders slightly pulled
up, her head held a little too rigid.
They turned a corner, then another.
Now was as good a time as any—she still needed to get back to the house
before it got light.
Ayda stopped to pick up a rock and skittered it across the ground.
Palua froze, then turned slowly, hand going to her belt.
Her eyes widened when she spotted Ayda and then glanced around
quickly.
She indicated for an alcove before moving into the shadows.
"Please tell me that’s not your work," Palua sounded exasperated like Jiri
used to when she had frustrated Mother a little too much or he had found
out that she’d been asking silly questions again—questions she was better
off not asking.
A smile at the memory tugged at the corner of her lips.
This wasn’t a laughing matter.
"They were looking for Erinol—know anything about that?"
Palua only looked at Ayda, waiting for her to continue.
 She sighed, rolling her eyes. "They came into the house, so I hid. Zelenol
arrived at the wrong time. When he wouldn’t say where Erinol was, they
escorted him to the Chief. I intervened. I sent him and his wife away for a
few days to visit their children. That’s why I’m here. To tell you not to pick
up Erinol’s new load of rocks tomorrow. If you do, they will know that you
have something to do with this too—and to warn you to be careful, not to
make a wrong move and not to visit either Erinol or Zelenol. Their houses
will likely be watched until this is resolved—whatever this is."
Palua regarded her a little longer. "Why did they want to talk to Erinol?"
Ayda swore under her breath.
Palua had no idea what this was about either.
"I don’t know. I was hoping that you might possibly have information."
After a long pause, Palua spoke, her tone careful and her demeanour
guarded. "They aren’t from here."
Ayda’s head snapped up. "What do you mean?"
"The two guards you knocked out cold." Palua gave her a look.
"What was I supposed to do? Let them take Zelenol to this Chief? He
looked terrified at the prospect."
Palua let the topic drop.
"They showed up this morning. By their grumblings, they weren’t happy
to have to stay this long and, well, now they need to stay until the morning.
This has never happened. We have never had anyone stay overnight. This
must be impor—" She froze, peeking into the street. Someone passed but
too far away to be able to spot them.
They remained silent for a while, then Palua carried on in a whisper, "I
heard snippets—the wagon that surprised us at the Rim a few weeks ago is
connected to this too. Whatever it is, I have a feeling you have something to
do with it."
"But if it has something to do with the wagon, then it has nothing to do
with the rocks I processed. That happened after and it’s my only
explanation so far."
"I don’t know. But I need to go in case they come looking for me again.
I’ll keep my ears open. Maybe they drop some information."
Ayda nodded. "Thank you."
Palua looked at her as though she wanted to say something, but just like
last time, she slipped into the shadows without another word.
When she had lost sight of Palua, she headed in the opposite direction.
Something occurred to her. Maybe it was about the rocks after all.
She had completed a full cycle of the process with Erinol watching her
every move. He had been there but he hadn’t lifted a single finger. The
wagon came a week afterwards. Then again, a week after she had
completed the process while Erinol was visiting his mother.
A cold shudder ran down her back.
She doubled her pace.
She needed to warn Erinol.
She snuck back into the house after making sure that there were no guards
inside.
Maybe, just maybe, Erinol had made it back while she was in town.
She headed upstairs and opened his bedroom door slowly.
Nothing.
The bed was empty.
Right.
 Obviously, she couldn’t stay at the house. Those guards would be back,
probably with some reinforcements.
What was going on?
Those were not Watchers from the Mines. She knew every last one of
them and, besides, they had been way too well-dressed for the Mines.
So, the only other option was that they were from the Rim.
For the second time within the span of less than an hour, a cold shudder
ran down her back.
If the Rim was involved, then there was no denying it. This whole ordeal
could only be in relation to the rocks.
She needed a few things. She would camp out in the forest and wait for
Erinol to return.
After putting on some outer layers and packing a bag with enough food
for a few days, a proper blanket and a book, together with some parchment
and a quill, she was out the door once more.
She found a hollow behind a boulder not too far away from the house,
properly hidden from prying eyes and with an easy escape route deeper into
the forest.
She had no idea what they were supposed to do.
What had happened? She needed to somehow find out. To see whether
there was anything that could be done to salvage the situation. They could
still spin the entire engagement story and somehow explain this away, but
she needed Erinol for that. She couldn’t do anything without his presence. If
she showed up and couldn’t explain where he was, it would only lead to
unwanted questions.
So, she huddled into her blanket and waited.
 They only came the next morning—she didn't know why they had waited
so long. There were five of them, banging on the front doors. She had
watched from a safe distance, not daring to get closer to hear what they
were saying to one another.
Two of them headed for the barn. One went to the back of the house and
the remaining two entered the front.
They were inside for a long time, probably looking into every little corner,
making sure that no one was home.
When they couldn’t find anyone, they took to the forest and started
combing through it.
She was able to avoid them easily, the place too vast and them too few,
but they didn’t give up until nightfall and were back first thing the next
morning.
She didn’t know whether they had started questioning others in town or
whether they were doing the same thing to Zelenol’s house.
She kept watch from the tree line, worried that Erinol might show up at
the wrong time.
For two days and nights, she didn’t move from her post.
When she woke in the morning of the third, smoke could be seen coming
from the house.
She swore under her breath. She had fallen asleep and missed Erinol
returning home.
She sprinted for the house, disregarding the danger she was putting
herself into.
If she could see the smoke, others could too.
She was through the back door in moments, not a single item out of place.
They had been careful.
 She entered the sitting area cautiously and found Erinol in a seat in front
of the hearth, tea cup in hand.
"Erinol," she said quietly.
He jumped nevertheless and spun towards her exiting the kitchen.
"Tula! By the volcano. Don’t give me such a fright. How—"
She cut him off. "Erinol, they know!" She was rushing to the hearth and
started putting out the fire.
He froze and took her in properly.
Her tight face, her rushed movements, her crinkled, slept-in clothes. He
had always been good at seeing things. "Who knows what?"
"Later." She grabbed the discarded pack he had just brought back and
ushered him out of the back door in the direction of the forest.
"Wait." He turned towards the barn.
"We don’t have time for this, Erinol," she chided him.
"I can’t leave my notes. They might find them." He was already through
the barn door.
She swore under her breath and ran after him. This could wait until
nightfall! If they had wanted to find something, they would have by now.
She thanked the volcano once more that she hadn’t decided to keep one of
the volcanic rocks after all. They would have crucified them for it.
She entered the barn.
"They’ve already been through here," she said to his back. "Whatever you
don’t want them to find… they’ve already found."
He ignored her.
He was combing through a stack of papers, then moved onto the next
when he didn’t find what he was looking for.
They had been here too long.
 "Erinol—"
He cut her off. "Just one moment!" he hissed.
She swallowed her protests, tapping her foot impatiently.
He moved to a third, then a fourth pile.
She heard a twig break outside and spun around, moving to a better
position instinctively, now having her back towards a wall, the barn door as
an exit point, her body hidden in the shadows.
"Erinol, we need to go, now!" she hissed through clenched teeth.
He spun towards her angrily. "By the volcano, just give me one—" His
words died in his throat as the first Watcher moved through the door, a
second and third not far behind.
He went deathly pale.
"Over here!" the shout came from the first man who had entered.
The three of them started fanning into the barn, with another two entering
just a few moments later.
The talker from the night with Zelenol was the last to enter—a nasty
bruise covering his right eye and disappearing into his hairline. The second
one from that night wasn’t there.
The two stopped at the door, blocking the exit, although she would still be
able to make it past them if she used surprise.
It was Erinol that was going to be the problem. The boards she had
loosened the night of the winter solstice were only a few steps to his right,
but she doubted that he was remembering that right now and shouting it
across the space would not only give away her position, but he was also
unlikely to comprehend what she was instructing him to do.
Think.
 "You are a hard man to find, Erinol. Where exactly have you been?" The
first guard asked.
Erinol didn’t say anything, Ayda was unsure whether he had registered
that the guard was talking to him to begin with. They carried on circling
him, closing in.
These guards were different, somehow.
If she was going to do something, it would have to be now.
"Where is your little friend?" the guard carried on talking. "She made
herself into quite the nuisance the other night."
They were hunting, she realised.
They weren’t here to collect… they were here to kill.
She shouldn’t have stood up against them.
She shouldn’t have beaten them unconscious.
A cold shower ran down her spine.
Erinol seemed to realise the same thing because he started to go into a
shocked panic. "Please," he mumbled, almost incoherent.
She cringed at the sound.
Her heart stuttered.
He had wanted this. Had looked for it through the Cause, but he had no
idea what he was inviting in. He had no idea what to do or how to extricate
himself from this situation.
His entire frame started shaking.
"Please, what?" a sneer entered the guard’s voice.
Now!
She had to do something now!
But there was no way of getting him out. No exit open to him that she
could make him reach quickly enough.
 They kept closing in.
She should leave him behind, just like she should have killed those two
guards the other night.
She snapped out her knife, took a deep breath and stepped out of the
shadows.
"I hear you’ve been asking after me." She made her voice sound haughty
—arrogant. People often confused arrogance with confidence. "I’m afraid
I’m not interested." Her eyes made a show of roving over the guard’s body,
who had been the one talking, clearly the leader of the group. She dismissed
him with great bravado, daring to turn her back on the three guards standing
between her and Erinol. Her ears straining for any movement behind her.
"But you!" She feigned needing some space between the guard sporting
the lovely bruise, taking a few steps back, in the direction of the other three.
"You can’t seem to take no for an answer. Why didn’t you bring your friend
instead?" She pouted. "He was cute."
"This is her?" The leader burst out laughing. "This is who handed you
your ass?"
"Yes, Chief," the guard growled, not liking the reminder very much.
So, this was the Chief they had been talking about. Zelenol had been
afraid of this man and Erinol didn’t seem to fare much better if you took the
colour of his face as any indication.
She turned back towards the three standing in her way and drawled,
taking a casual step towards them.
So close.
"Yes, well. You’ve been slacking a little on your training, Chief."
He sneered at her. "Don’t run your mouth, girl."
They were all facing her, Erinol forgotten in the back.
 She was running out of time.
"Chief, would you get a message to that one’s friend for me?" She threw a
dismissive hand over her shoulder towards the bruised one. "Could you tell
him that I would love to take him to the winter solstice? He really was so
dreamy…" She practically drooled the last words at him.
She dared to glance at Erinol, hoping that the mention of the solstice
kicked him into action. The loose wooden slats were right next to him!
Nothing.
He was staring at her with round eyes.
By the volcano, was he even listening to what she was saying?
Apparently not. This was so completely different to anything he knew
about her that he didn’t know what to do with it.
I’m playing a part to buy you time, take it!
She tried to portray the message through her eyes, but he wasn’t picking
up on any of it.
"It really wouldn’t be difficult to sneak out of here and I’d show him a
good time, I can promise you that." She winked at the Chief. "You mind?"
She took another step towards him, towards Erinol, who still hadn’t moved.
She should have killed the guard at the door.
But the Chief had sent them out that night and knew whose house they
had gone to. Whether she had done something different that night or not,
they would have ended up in this exact situation.
Worse – they would have labelled Erinol a murderer.
"You talk too much." The Chief’s expression soured.
Her time was up.
He lunged.
 She’d been ready since she had pulled her knife.
She crouched in time and used his momentum against him, side-stepping
in order to get closer to Erinol, putting herself between him and the guards,
cutting the Chief across the arm while he rushed past her.
He snarled, twisting, and reached for his stick.
Oh, he was going to enjoy killing her.
The guard with the bruise sneered at her with glee, knowing full well
what she had just seen on the Chief’s face.
The guard to her right raised his stick and she turned, using her shoulder
to take the blow, then pulling her elbow back sharply to hit the centre of his
sternum. He gasped, bending over. The handle of her knife collided with his
temple and he went down the same way the guard from three nights ago had
done.
The one to her left had stepped up behind her, though, and was using his
stick to close off her windpipe, the Chief coming up in front of her,
punching her in the stomach, hard. He didn’t like that she had just made a
fool of him.
The stick kept her from hunching over, a wheeze coming out of her.
She needed out.
The Chief was pulling back for another punch, but before he could throw
it, she stomped on the guard’s foot behind her, hard enough to break, and he
let go of his stick enough for her to drop to her knees and slide behind him
through his legs. Sometimes, her size was to her advantage.
The punch the Chief was throwing her way only managed to brush her
nose, but it was enough for pain to shoot up into her forehead.
By the volcano, that had almost been nasty.
 She sliced her knife across the calves of the guard now in front of her and
rolled to the side, just in time for him to have enough space to collide with
the ground, losing control over his legs.
Erinol was now behind her, but she had no time to focus on him before
the Chief was on her with a roar, his stick forgotten on the ground
somewhere, a knife of his own in his hand.
She rolled once more and found her feet, eyes on the knife.
He came at her with stabbing sweeps, his weight thrown into them.
She was quick, but not quick enough for his onslaught. She was side-
stepping some, using her own knife to deflect others. One caught her across
the arm, the next across the abdomen.
She couldn’t withstand this for long. She had nothing on his weight or his
skill and she was starting to tire.
Out. She needed out.
But Erinol…
She side-stepped him, twisting in time to catch his knife and allowing
herself half a split second to glance at Erinol.
He was watching the spectacle with round eyes, mouth having popped
open.
Great.
No help there then, she was going to have to finish this alone.
Just… how?
She side-stepped again and caught his knee with her knife, gaining herself
a distracted growl and aimed to kick at the same knee.
He was too fast and used the movement to throw her off balance, swept
her other foot out from underneath her and she went crashing to the ground,
losing hold of her knife.
 Not good.
She tried to roll, but he kicked her side before she could move.
By the volcano, that hurt.
She wheezed and curled up instinctively, making herself a smaller target.
She wasn’t small enough to avoid his next kick though, which went
straight to her head.
She saw stars.
She was going to throw up.
She felt him stomp down on her arm, hard.
Something snapped.
Someone screamed—it was her.
Everything went black for a second.
The Chief towered over her.
"Not so arrogant now, are we?"
This was it.
She was shocked to realise how easily she accepted it.
At least it wouldn’t hurt this much if she was dead.
Jiri would be there… how bad could it be?
Besides, this was a fitting end for her. It was never going to go any other
way.
She tried to focus through the nausea, locked eyes with Erinol.
He had gone pale again.
He was going to die, too.
He didn’t deserve that. It was her fault they were in this situation, after
all. This had to be about the rocks. No other explanation fit and the whole
thing had been her idea.
She tried to get up.
 Her body didn’t respond.
Erinol would be killed.
My fault, my fault, my fault.
Her heart started pounding in her chest.
Just like Jiri dying had been her fault because she couldn’t help, Yanni’s
whipping had been her fault because she refused to listen to him, her ma
and grandpa being murdered had been her fault because she had insisted
that they help the Peep.
Everyone seemed to die because of her.
Her heartbeat was in her ears, drowning everything out.
Her breath came way too fast.
The Chief knelt on her chest, the knife point touching her neck.
Erinol’s eyes went wider—she didn’t realise they could—a single word
forming on his lips. "No—"
She didn't hear anything above the beat in her ears.
He was going to die.
The knife pierced her skin.
No, no, no.
This was her fault.
Yet another friend dead because of her.
Always because of her.
She barely felt the cut.
Only felt the roiling within.
Not another one!
She couldn't get down enough air.
Yanni’s face appeared—he would die too.
As a message. An example.
The agony overwhelmed her—
"NO!" the scream tore through her.
The world exploded.

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Epilogue

E
rinol

The air was thick, he couldn’t get a proper breath down through his lungs,
particles lining his throat.
He was on his back, a blanket on top of him, suffocating him slowly.
Someone, turn that ringing sound off!
It was driving him insane.
He started to cough, though he couldn’t hear the sound—the ringing was
too loud.
He was going to convulse, the blanket was pushing down on his mouth,
his nose, his face.
He pushed against it, trying to sit, to turn, to get to his knees…
Something was banging against his head.
"Stop that!" he shouted, no sound escaping his lips. They were silencing
him! Who would dare to do this to him? Did they even know who he was?
 He was still coughing, his arms flailing around him, the blanket falling
away, light starting to come through holes in the layers.
The pounding wouldn’t stop.
The ringing only got more and more persistent.
"Switch it off, damn you!" The sound of his voice wouldn’t come.
He was crawling, or rather pulling himself forward with his arms.
What, in the name of the volcano, was happening?
His anger rose with every breath that he was being denied, his breathing
shallow.
The blanket fell away.
It was no blanket at all.
He was in the barn.
Straw everywhere… in the air, on top of every surface that could be seen,
heaped up against the walls. He had been buried underneath it.
The only place it wasn’t was in a perfect circle around her.
Tula was lying on the ground, her arm bent at an unnatural angle, curled
in on her side, the thinnest little red line tracing across her throat, a deep
gash on the side of her head.
Is she dead?
He stared at her, black dots blurring his vision, his throat burning, the
ringing maddeningly persistent.
His head!
Erinol reached back, expecting his hand to come away bloody, but there
was nothing. Only the slightest bump forming.
Her chest rose.
She was still breathing.
 He tried to get to his feet, lost his balance and crashed back to the ground,
a groan escaping him, only, he couldn’t hear it! Someone had taken his
hearing and replaced it with this dreadful ringing!
He coughed, using his fist to pound his own chest, trying to dislodge the
particles. The awful thickness.
He blinked his eyes, furiously trying to erase the dark spots.
There was movement to his right.
He spun towards it and landed on the ground, face-first.
He coughed.
The Chief!
A furious scowl on his face. He looked drunk. A long gash on his arm, a
black bruise spreading on the side of his face, fast.
The Chief stomped towards her.
Saw him.
Another movement at the door.
Another.
What? It all came flashing back.
Tula bursting into his house, demanding him to follow her.
The barn… the Chief and his cronies.
Tula turning into a completely different person. The one she actually was,
not the one she had been pretending to be this entire time. The savage
coming out, taunting, saying the stupidest things. What had she been
saying? Then she pulled out a knife and they started to fight.
In his barn!
She had been merciless. A monster.
He was right to drug her!
He should never have let her stay.
 He should have taken the first opportunity to get the guards.
By the volcano, she was from the Mines! What had he been thinking?
There were other ways to get what he needed.
She was a liar. A stinking liar. A murdering liar!
She had told him that the explosives could not be transported. And he had
been a fool to believe her.
The savage deceived him from the very beginning.
Had anything she’d said been true?
But where had she gotten the materials from? She hadn’t carried anything
when she arrived. Or was that the reason she’d been so damn persistent
about going to the Rim?
Did she have a stockpile there?
Damn Palua all the way into the boiling liquids below their feet. She had
played along! Had known about this.
Maybe going to the Rim was a lie too. They had gone back to the place
Tula had buried the materials. Buried them before approaching the Farms.
That was the reason she had been so disgustingly muddy the day she
arrived.
And her and Palua planned something. That was why neither of them had
said anything about their time at the Rim. They never even went!
Hatred for the heap on the ground filled his every cell.
He saw red.
Started shaking uncontrollably.
Oh, she was breathing. But not for long!
He would throttle her!
He would get the information out of her if it was the last thing he did!
 With a ferocious roar that didn’t reach his ears, he got to his feet and
stumbled forward, claws out.
The savage was going to pay!
He coughed, doubled over.
If only the pounding in his head would finally stop!
He stumbled another few steps towards her.
A wall hit him.
He crashed to the unforgiving ground, darkness claiming him for a
second.
A heavy weight kept him pinned to the floor.
Limbs were entangled with his own.
Not a wall. A body. Someone had slammed into him!
The audacity.
He shouted at the top of his lungs, but not enough air would come back.
He squirmed.
Nothing happened.
He put all his fury into pushing up—
Something connected with his head.

He awoke to an earth-shattering headache.

He sat up, groaned, the sound hoarse in his ears.
His ears!
The ringing had stopped, thank the volcano.
But his elation was short-lived.
 He was sitting on a hard bench, a pitiful light reaching in from… behind
bars!
It couldn’t be—they had put him in the lock-up! Him! Were they insane?
If people heard about this…
His anger took a hold of him.
His legs were unsteady below him, but he made it to the door, pounding
on it loudly.
"Hey! Let me out of here! You have no right!"
Silence greeted him.
Was anyone even there? Was anyone guarding him at all? He tried the
door.
It was locked.
"HEY!" He was screaming at the top of his lungs, which felt raw.
He slumped against the door, his hands shaking.
Why was he here?
He slid to the ground, his energy leaving him all of a sudden.
What exactly happened?
He had been a fool.
That’s what happened.
Be rational.
Erinol stewed in his frustration.
He needed to get his story straight. And in order to get his story straight,
he needed to figure out what happened.
Erinol had been gone a day longer than planned.
The entire time frame was plenty of opportunity for Tula to get up to no
good without Palua.
 He would question the woman at a later stage, she wouldn’t dare lie to
him. But right now, he would have to assume that Tula had worked alone.
Clearly, she acquired the explosive materials, but he needed to go back
further.
Why had the Chief been there?
What had scared her into hiding in the woods outside the house?
There were only two options—one, something had gone wrong with the
chemical process and they had come to investigate. Two, she had gone to
dig up the explosives and they caught her.
Since he was able to argue the chemical process better and it would
ensure no questions were to be asked about the Cause, he would go with
that version of the story.
The Chief had come to his house to investigate the process that had
clearly been done incorrectly and she needed to hide in the woods to keep
from being discovered.
They had probably gone through all his belongings, even though
everything was in place that morning.
He praised himself for always being so careful around things concerning
the Cause.
And he had finally managed to get rid of the last incriminating thing a few
months ago. At least Tula had been good enough for that.
He waited for weeks for the winter solstice to come around. It would have
been too suspicious to give her anything outside the holiday.
She hadn’t suspected a thing.
Let her talk her way out of that one.
The one question now was, how long had they been trying to talk to
Erinol? Would he be able to explain the day of his absence? Or was it
more? There was no rule that kept him from visiting someone in a
neighbouring town as long as he fulfilled his quota. The closest one was a
day’s journey away. It would explain a minimum of three days. He could
have departed right after dropping off his quota.
Yes, the story was coming together in his head. He just needed to draw on
her savage nature and he would be fine.
It didn’t even matter what Tula told them. He had a standing in town. In
all of Farm society, he was important. She was a savage. She was a slave
from the Mines. She was nothing.
To think that she had so easily believed that he was interested in marrying
her!
He scoffed out loud.
Ridiculous.
As if he would ever lower his standards like that. She didn’t even know
how to behave properly.
She was illiterate!
The gifts he had bestowed on her…
The time he’d invested!
And for nothing.
His anger rose anew.
His mother had been completely useless. She had no information
whatsoever. A case of utter denial. And he’d walked three weeks to hear
exactly that—nothing.
Tula wasn’t going to be nothing too. He refused. He needed to get out of
this hole.
He had his story. It would be easy to convince the guards of his
innocence, even that butcher, the Chief.
 The Chief had experienced first-hand just how dangerous she was.
But whatever they did to her, Erinol needed to talk to Tula first.
Get her to tell him where the remainder of the explosives were.
Otherwise, he would have wasted an entire year.
Unacceptable.
Footsteps echoed towards his cell.
They had made him wait half the day!
He sat ramrod straight on his bench. He would not lower himself to his
surroundings.
"You’re finally awake, I see."
The Chief and one of his cronies came towards him, torch in hand.
"If someone had bothered checking, you’d know that I have been awake
for hours now. What’s the meaning of this?" He gestured around himself,
indicating the lock-up.
"Hmm. I’d be careful of my tone, Erinol. You aren’t finding yourself in
the most favourable situation right now." The Chief looked amused.
"You could let me out of this filthy cell." He made a face at the word for
emphasis, "And give me a chance to explain myself."
"Or, you could explain yourself right where you are." His amusement
didn’t leave his face.
"Well, if you insist, Chief." Erinol decided for respect. It could only help
his situation. "About a year ago, a savage showed up in my barn."
"A year! She has been with you for an entire year!" The Chief’s smug
expression slid from his face. He knew then that she wasn’t from this town.
Not surprising, really. The place was small, but Erinol hadn’t realised that
the Chief was so invested in his population.
"Yes, sir."
 "And why, by the volcano, have you failed to report her?"
He was not impressed.
Careful, now.
"She threatened my sister, sir. I don’t know how she found out. But she
somehow knew that I have family in town and threatened her life if I was to
expose her existence. When she first arrived, she was covered in blood from
head to toe. It made for a pretty convincing picture, sir. You experienced her
yourself, first hand."
The Chief nodded his head slowly.
She had gotten the better of him too and it was to Erinol’s advantage that
he knew about it.
"I am listening."
"I needed your help but did not know how to inform you without putting
my sister in harm’s way. So, after long consideration, I decided to gain your
attention through the chemical process. She was too uneducated to know
that I had done something different. Then I told her that if I didn’t check in
on my friend, he would become suspicious. I was worried she would notice
something and use my sister as leverage."
"That would explain your absence these last few days."
"Yes, sir."
Days. More than one, then.
"And when you came back, she confronted you because we had been
asking questions."
"You guessed it, sir."
"Where is she from? She is not from this town."
"The savage? The Mines, of course, sir."
A shocked silence greeted him.
 "The Mines!" the second guard croaked.
Erinol had all but forgotten him.
The Chief needed another minute, so Erinol remained silent. Let him paint
his own picture.
"There have been no reports of an escaped slave from the Mines."
She’d really done it, the clever witch. They hadn’t even noticed her
missing.
"She gloated about it often, sir. The way she had burned down her own
home to make it appear like she died in a fire."
"The Inner Circle fires!" the Chief exclaimed. "It was her!"
Anger clouded his expression.
Oh, he was painting a picture alright.
Erinol had won.
He dared not to show his elation.
"That explains a lot," the Chief growled.
Time to sugar coat it.
"Thank you, Chief. Thank you for saving my life!"
The idiot puffed out his chest.
Such a fool.
"Chief, let me talk to her. I need to know what she planned to accomplish
by threatening me."
The Chief reached for the lock, opening the door.
"I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Erinol."
What!
Erinol had to fight hard to keep the fury off his face and out of his tone.
"Why is that, Chief?"
"The Administration is here to pick her up."
 The Administration!
Why?
But of course.
They had never had an escaped Miner before.
She hadn’t exaggerated after all. They would make an example out of her.
Ensure no one else dared to escape again.
Served her right.
The filthy liar.
They are here, but they haven’t picked her up yet.
"Just one word, Chief. I would like to be able to close this topic for
myself. It has been a frightening, traumatic year," he pressed carefully.
"I would if I could, Erinol. But she hasn’t woken up and we cannot keep
the Administration waiting."
He swore under his breath.
"Of course not, sir."
Damn the Administration and their superiority complex!
An entire year, wasted!
Maybe she had left traces of the explosive somewhere in the house.
He would have to cling onto that last, final hope.
"Call on us whenever you need, Erinol. I am glad to see you safe."
"Thank you, Chief. Thank you so much."
He would have to talk to Palua. He hoped she hadn’t betrayed him, but
maybe she had acted on Tula’s behalf after all.
His mind went to her slumped form, breathing on the ground.
Erinol had to begrudgingly admit that the savage was clever, indeed.
And Palua was an outcast. Granted, she had done it to herself, but it made
her the ideal candidate to be influenced.
 Maybe he was wrong about it all… but maybe Palua knew something.
One way or another, if Tula was stupid enough to get herself killed, he
was going to have to take things into his own hands.
Even if that meant their last resort.
Even if it meant blowing up the Mines.

The end of Book 1: The Strayed

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Thank you

D
ear reader,
Thank you so much for you being here—I cannot express my
gratitude enough!
This book wouldn’t exist without you and exploring this world has been
an actual dream turned reality.
If you want to know how the story continues, meet us in Book 2 of the
Golden Eyed series:
The Natural

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If you have any questions or you just want to say hi, come find me on my
Instagram page: @meikewoermann

See you soon!

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Acknowledgements

T
his world is brighter thanks to authors who are capable of putting
their inner worlds on paper. Thank you for being the inspiration that
created this book.
There have been many people that have been part of this process over the
years, but some in particular have made a big difference in the Craters
world.
I want to thank my sister Caro, for her pure encouragement in this project.
From reading the very first draft of this book, to creating the principal idea
of this cover and the remaining ones to come. For always being available to
run through my countless ideas and taking the time to seriously consider
each and every one of them.
Thank you to Cei, my fellow creative, who not only cheered me on in this
journey, but who was honest with every little piece of feedback and who
took the time to not only read one, but two of my drafts with enormous
enthusiasm. Thank you for making me believe that this was a world worth
exploring.
 To Andrea, for your detailed feedback. Without the time you took to read
and note down all your pieces of advice, this book wouldn’t have come
together as seamlessly as it did in the end.
To my dad Ingo, for believing in my abilities, even when you don’t yet
see them completely yourself. Thank you for your faith and help every step
of the way.
To my mother Joanna, who has been proud of this three-year project, even
though she hasn’t read a single page, due to the language barrier. Thank you
for your input wherever it was possible and the consistent ideas where I
didn’t have them. You might be more excited about the book than I am.
To my sister Kim, for running through my book descriptions time and
time again, until it was finally the right one.
Thank you to my editor Laura, you were a major part of this book. I don’t
think people are aware of the amount of work that you put in and the way
you ensure the world keeps its form.
To the artists Shameen and Muhammad. The work you created was
everything I imagined and more! I am excited to work with you on my next
book.
Thank you to my husband Gordon, for your excitement, purely because
this project is something I am passionate about. Thank you for your
encouragement, simply because you know it is important to me. Thank you
for holding space for me.
And lastly to you, my dear readers. For your time. Your attention. Your
enthusiasm. Your deep dive into this world. I hope you fall in love with the
characters the same way I have and that the words have had the ability to
create the world in your mind's eye too. I cannot wait to share the remainder
of this series with you, where new characters come to life and the world
holds every possibility imaginable!

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