CHAPTER 28: In the Heart of the Pit - Part 1

  Sweat drenched Eiran's body as he swung his pickaxe. The tunnel where he mined Lorith was narrow and hot, worsened by the foul smell of tallow candles. His right foot jerked when Zeke, whose leg was chained to his, moved too far.

  “Damn, what kind of prison is this? Why are we mining Lorith instead?” He grumbled amidst the monotonous clink of his pickaxe.

  Zeke, panting, shouldered his pickaxe. He was in his mid-twenties but already had many white streaks in his black hair. His frame was lean and not tall.

  “Not all prisoners are forced to work like us. They call people like us 'errand boys,' nobodies with a specific use that the Empire might need, so we end up in Grest.”

  Grest was a gigantic spherical structure, entirely buried under sand. The prison was divided into ten levels, with the topmost at least five hundred feet below the surface.

  “We are on the fifth sublevel. Deeper floors house 'the regals,' important people not subjected to forced labor like us.”

  “Damn!” Eiran slammed his pickaxe until his hands tingled.

  “Just keep working if you want to eat. We've only met half our quota.”

  Lifting the pickaxe above his head, Eiran's shoulders and neck ached, but he had no choice but to swing and swing again. He drew breath through teeth as the blisters on his hands burst.

  Every day, their lives revolved around mining Lorith. They woke up and mined. They took short breaks and went back to mining. Even in their dreams, they continued to mine. Their lives were that simple, though simplicity did not mean ease.

  The bell's toll signaled lunchtime. He and Zeke dropped their pickaxes, left the tunnel, and headed for the central room. Consistent with the overall shape, each level was circular. Some portions of this level were devoted to cell complexes, some to mining areas, and the central room was where the guards watched and where the food line was.

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  Eiran and Zeke emptied their Lorith into a scale and received food in proportion to its weight.

  Consistent mining was key to survival under this system. If they failed to mine an adequate quota and missed a meal even once, they would find it increasingly difficult to meet the quota in the next session. This cycle would repeat until they starved to death.

  On the other hand, they could get extra food at first by mining excessively. But this risked long-term endurance. An injury, for example, could prevent them from working, leading to death.

  Therefore, consistency was key. Or at least that was according to Zeke. His strategy was to earn enough for soup and bread, and that is what they got, day after day.

  After eating, they had a chance to relieve themselves before resuming mining. There was no water to waste here, so the latrine was just a large sandbox. They urinated and defecated there, using the sand to clean themselves. About fifty prisoners on this floor did all this in pairs and together.

  The supper bell also marked the end of the day's work. They returned to the sandbox and were then herded back to their cells, where they would receive their meal.

  His cell was far better than a typical dungeon. Grest's air circulation was regulated by Artifica instruments, keeping it from being oppressive, though somewhat hot. Glowing blocks in the ceiling emitted a yellowish light like in Ira Vith.

  The time from returning to the cell until lights out was their only free time. They could talk with their cellmates, or they could kill each other, as happened a few days ago. Eiran chose the former.

  “Zeke, what's the job of a poison expert like?”

  “My teacher was the expert poisoner. He cataloged, studied, and created antidotes. He also a food taster for the nobility. Terzionite bastards killed him because he refused to poison the city well. Think about it, Eri, the city well! After that, they forced me to replace him. I refused, and here I am.”

  “Can't you escape from here with your skills? Poison them all or something.”

  “If I could, I wouldn't be here.”

  “Damn it. I can't stay here forever!” Eiran threw his pewter plate, clanging against the cell door. “Maybe with a bit of Mana, I could disrupt their air purification instruments. Force an evacuation and then….”

  “It's useless to think about Prana or Mana.” Zeke lifted his restraining bracelet to remind him.

  Each prisoner wore one of these bracelets on their wrists. Made of ordinary metal, what enabled them to dampen the use of Prana and Mana was the Manabane on the inside.

  Manabane, a mineral like Lorith but red in color, had unique properties of conducting Prana but dispersing Mana. When Manabane was etched with specific patterns on the inside of the restraining bracelet, these properties created a unique effect.

  First, the effect of conducting Prana caused a disruption in the body's Prana flow, preventing its use. Moreover, the effect of dispersing Mana rendered the wearer unable to extend their Mana. With this bracelet, even the strongest Decima would become a regular.