Chapter 12 - Silver Hair

  The other workers had already gone back to their tents.

  “Don’t make me repeat myself,” the guard said, glaring at Elrin. Suspicion crept into his eyes. “Show me your mark.”

  “But I told you,” answered Elrin, his voice steady. “I’m a Mucker.”

  The guard’s gauntleted hand settled on the hilt of his sword.

  Tova’s eyes widened, pupils shrinking to pinpoints—

  “What’s the matter Kurt?” came a familiar voice from behind the boys.

  “C-Commandant Erhart!” The guard suddenly tensed.

  Both Tova and Elrin turned.

  The mustached guard stood a few paces back, hands clasped behind his back, posture relaxed.

  At the sight of him, Elrin’s chest tightened. The memory of the mace came back in flashes—weight, breath, impact.

  Don’t let him slip away this time.

  “I was just inquiring to see the boy’s mark, it’s completely hidden,” muttered Kurt quickly.

  Erhart hummed and stepped closer, boots scraping stone. His gaze passed over Tova first, indifferent. Then it landed on Elrin. Something shifted beneath his eyes. Recognition at first.

  Then…delight.

  “Don’t bother,” Erhart said lightly. “He works the mines. He’s mine.”

  Kurt blinked, confused.

  Erhart’s eyes snapped back to him. “Is there a problem?”

  “N-no sir.” Kurt stepped away at once, retreating down the tunnel without another word.

  Erhart’s eyes slowly found Elrin’s, letting his smirk widen, unrestrained now. “You look quite well today,” he said. “Strong boy.”

  The words pushed Elrin backward. It was as though he was relieving the nightmare of the mace viciously coming down on his back.

  Hit.

  Hit.

  Hit.

  Elrin’s vision darkened at the edges. His fingers tingled, then burned. He looked down. Black veins webbed across his hands, writhing beneath the skin like serpents.

  “We’ll get along nicely,” Erhart went on. “Me and you.” He laid a hand on Elrin’s shoulder and tapped it once. Almost fond.

  Then he turned to leave.

  Kneel forever, as Eadward knelt. Or rise, a voice—not his—growled from within Elrin’s chest. The words vibrating his bones.

  And something tore loose inside him.

  His nails lengthened, blackening as they sharpened into claws. Heat flooded his arms. He lunged for Erhart’s nape.

  Tova caught his wrist.

  “Now’s not the time,” Tova whispered urgently. “You’re no match for them.”

  Elrin snarled and tried to wrench free—

  Something caught his balance at the knee—and his world flipped.

  Stone slammed into his back. The air burst from his lungs. He lay down, staring at the cavern ceiling, not even sure how Tova had done it.

  Erhart turned at the sound.

  “What’s this?” he asked mildly.

  “He’s exhausted, sir,” Tova said calmly. “I’ll take him back to his tent.”

  Erhart studied Elrin for a long moment. The boy glared up at him, chest heaving, claws already retracting.

  Slowly, Erhart smiled.

  “See that you do.”

  He turned and walked away, boots unhurried.

  Tova stood up, his gaze fixed on Elrin. “Only beasts let their instincts flow freely.”

  “I had him!” hissed Elrin, his eyes still black at the edges. “I didn’t need your help.”

  Tova lingered for a heartbeat, studying him. Then turned and walked away without another word.

  Elrin remained seated on the cold stone floor for a few long moments. The quiet pressed in around him. The smell of wet mildew clung to everything—thick and cold.

  He was alone.

  He stared at his hands, at the veins that had returned to normal beneath too-pale skin, but he could still feel it—that wrath coiled inside him, sleeping now. The weight of what he’d done slowly creeped into his consciousness.

  I almost…lost it.

  His heart hammered violently against his ribs.

  It didn’t feel like losing control, it felt…just right.

  That was the part that frightened him.

  He pushed himself to his feet. His muscles still ached, still trembled with spent effort. As he walked toward his tent, he tried not to think about how close he’d come. There had been no pressure. No moment where he’d thought I shouldn’t do this and failed anyway. The thought had simply…fit. As if it had always been his. He slowed, heart thudding.

  I can’t let that happen again.

  Elrin imagined it happening a second time. And wondered whether he’d even recognize the moment it stopped being his choice.

  Meow.

  Elrin flinched.

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  “Wha—”

  Lancelot stood in the corner, half-hidden by shadow, a dead rat hanging from his mouth.

  “Come here,” Elrin said, pulse spiking. “Come now before they see you.”

  The cat didn’t move.

  Elrin reached him in two quick steps, yanked the rat free, and shoved it aside. He scooped Lancelot up under his tunic and hurried back, every footstep loud in his ears. For a heartbeat, he imagined a guard’s voice behind him—Stop.

  But none came.

  He slipped into the tent and dropped the cat onto the straw.

  “That’s it,” Elrin muttered, wagging a finger with shaking irritation. “Next time you go out, I’ll report you myself. I mean it.”

  Lancelot rose on his hind legs and pressed his head against the finger, purring.

  Elrin exhaled slowly and let himself sink onto the mattress.

  The voice had known Eadward.

  Elrin swallowed. He wondered whether Mardukai had truly spoken to him at all, and if he had—

  The boy forced the thought away.

  Sleep would come. It always did. And when he woke, his body would be whole again. That should have comforted him. Instead, he lay there staring into the darkness, wondering how much of himself still remained inside him.

  Elrin stood on white stone, cracked and slick with blood.

  Knights lay scattered across the ground, armor split, cloaks dark and heavy. Some he recognized, some he didn’t.

  Eadward knelt among them. He looked up at Elrin, mouth moving—

  Elrin didn’t hear him.

  Above the bodies, something drifted. A blue flame, faint and wavering. He slowly reached for it. The flame pulsed to his touch. Without thinking, he pulled it to his mouth and swallowed it.

  A cold sensation washed down his throat. The ache in his chest eased, the hollow space inside him filled. He reached for another.

  “Elrin.”

  Someone called his name.

  “Elrin!”

  The boy woke with his jaw clenched and his throat tight.

  “Wake up, lad,” Dravan said from the tent entrance. “I ain’t mucking for you.”

  Elrin nodded, stunned and scrambled to his feet.

  He flexed his fingers. Rolled his shoulders. Bent his knees.

  Gone.

  The pain that should have been there simply wasn’t. But something else lingered…hunger. He had felt it ever since he woke in the dungeon that day. But it didn’t seem to ease even after a full meal. It was a quiet pull in his chest, as if something had been taken and not replaced.

  Elrin pushed the thought aside and stepped out, following Dravan toward their crevice. Dust motes swirled in the dim torchlight. The air pressed close, thick with sweat. He picked up the shovel.

  For a moment, it felt wrong in his hands. Familiar, but not the same. He dug the blade into the stone and lifted.

  He frowned.

  The motion flowed smoother. His legs didn’t lag. His grip didn’t slip.

  It’s lighter…again.

  He remembered Helligsol. The days of pain after training. The way his body had rebuilt itself stronger every time, muscle knitting back denser than before. This felt like that.

  Only much faster.

  Around them, the steady percussion of metal on stone echoed off the walls.

  “When are you leaving?” Elrin asked Dravan.

  The man’s pick stopped mid swing. He turned slowly, glare sharp enough to cut. “If you ever mention that again in the open,” he said quietly, “you’ll be shoveling your body parts.”

  Elrin swallowed, throat dry with dust, but didn’t look away. “I want to come with you.”

  Dravan didn’t answer right away, he turned back to the wall and raised his pick. The stone cracked.

  “Can’t,” he said. Another strike and rock burst loose. “You’ll slow me down.”

  Elrin frowned. “I can keep up.”

  Dravan didn’t stop swinging. “No,” he said flatly. “You can’t.”

  The pick rose and fell again, precise and brutal. “I have to move fast. I can’t stop. I can’t double back.”

  Elrin stepped closer. “You wouldn’t have to—”

  “I can’t take care of two people,” Dravan cut in.

  Elrin froze. “Two people?”

  Dravan’s swing faltered for half a breath. Then the pick came down harder than before. “You’re young, inexperienced.” He didn’t look at Elrin as he spoke. “You almost died at the hands of a few guards—you’re no warrior, lad.”

  Another strike. The wall gave way in chunks.

  Silence stretched between them.

  After a moment, Dravan spoke again, as if the thought had only just occurred to him. “That boy you spend time with,” he said. “Moves well for his age.”

  Elrin blinked. “Tova? Yeah. Why?”

  The pick stopped. Just for an instant.

  “Tova…huh?” Dravan muttered to himself.

  Then it moved again. The rhythm resumed—steady, brutal, final.

  And the conversation was over.

  The remainder of the day passed quicker than Elrin expected. By the time the bell rang twice—its deep tone reverberating through the tunnels—he had done it. He managed to achieve his quota.

  His muscles however, were torn again, every movement screaming in protest. But he walked with the others this time, feet steady on the uneven ground. He didn’t crawl. He didn’t collapse. And he knew, with a quiet certainty, that tomorrow it would be easier still.

  The dining hall was already full.

  Elrin spotted Tova seated at the same bench, eating slowly. Vegetable stew and sour bread. Dravan stood farther off, again, eating while watching the workers intently.

  Tova tore a piece of bread and dipped it into his bowl. “That one you work with,” he said without looking up. “The big one. He won’t be here long.”

  Elrin glanced toward Dravan and found him staring back at them. “That obvious?”

  Tova shrugged. “He’s searching.”

  Elrin snorted softly. “He says he’s only here temporarily.” He grabbed a spoonful and ate it. “I think he has a reason,” Elrin said. “One serious enough to risk being here at all.”

  Tova hummed, noncommittal.

  “I asked him to help me escape,” Elrin added.

  That made Tova look up.

  “You want to escape?” he asked.

  Elrin blinked. “Of course. Everyone does.”

  “Not everyone,” Tova said calmly, returning to his food.

  Elrin frowned. “Have you seen them? They’re miserable.”

  “They’d be worse outside,” Tova replied.

  Elrin stared. “How can you say that?”

  “Out there,” Tova said, gesturing vaguely upward, “they remember what they lost. In here, they only remember what they still have.”

  “They have families,” Elrin said. “People who care about them.”

  Tova didn’t answer.

  “Don’t you?” Elrin pressed. “Have someone waiting for you?”

  Tova continued eating.

  After a moment, Elrin looked away. “I do,” he said quietly. “A childhood friend. And I intend to find out whether he’s alive.”

  Tova paused, spoon hovering for just a heartbeat.

  The last bell of the day rang.

  Men rose from the benches. The noise thinned into movement.

  Elrin glanced toward the corner where Dravan usually stood.

  He wasn’t there.

  They filed out with the others. The tunnel swallowed the warmth of the hall.

  Just beyond the threshold, Dravan leaned against the stone wall, arms crossed.

  “Elrin,” he called. “That the friend you told me about?”

  Elrin slowed. Something in Dravan’s eyes made his skin prickle. “Yes,” he said after a beat. “Tova. This is Dravan.”

  Tova inclined his head once. He didn’t meet Dravan’s gaze.

  Dravan stepped forward and blocked the path. “Strange thing,” he said, smiling. “In the old days, men greeted each other properly.”

  Tova shifted to the side, intent on passing.

  Dravan moved with him and waited until the workers vanished around the bend.

  “Dravan—what’s going on?” asked Elrin.

  The man licked his thumb then brushed Tova’s hair and soot smeared away.

  A silver strand gleamed in the torchlight.

  Tova moved—

  Stone cracked beneath his foot. A spear flashed into his hands, its haft vibrating with force. The red ribbon tied beneath the blade snapped taut as it drove forward—

  —and stopped.

  Dravan’s fingers pinched the spearhead. The sharp point hovered a finger’s width from his throat.

  For a heartbeat, no one breathed.

  Dravan’s smile widened. His eyes were alight.

  “There you are,” he said softly.