Chapter 20 - The Escape

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Aryl couldn't swing his pick any longer. It took all of his strength to raise it and let it fall. How many days had he worked in the pit? The dark days blended together into one long nightmare. He yearned to see the unfiltered light of the sun once more. He was beginning to think that the sun no longer existed. The bright grayness which seeped through the fog during the daytime was a poor excuse for sunshine and he was sick of the cold darkness. He would have given anything to be warm again.

It seemed as if he had always been there among the other slave miners. His life before that had been a dream. Sometimes, especially in the dark holding cell, he questioned whether it was all real and he tried to wake up. Jaegor was there with him, which had been a great comfort. The other miners all behaved as caged animals, even the one who had turned out to be Grandal, another scout from the Fortress of Light.

Grandal had explained that they were in Kroskallan, or at least, they were digging to uncover it. Aryl knew it was called the City of Skulls and the source of infinite myths concerning dark forces, or appropriately, just plain bad luck. Aryl had thought it was more a part of folklore rather than an actual place, though obviously no one had bothered to tell the beastmen that. He had no idea why anyone would want to unearth the forgotten city. Grandal had said it involved the mysterious shadow men, but didn't know how or why. Of course, Aryl also wondered how the city came to be under so much solid rock. There were no answers; only toil.

After supplying his information, Grandal had tried to steal Jaegor's boots that night and had paid for it with an ear. Aryl still had his throwing dagger in his boot, but he wouldn't use it on a fellow scout, regardless what the man had become. Jaegor, however, would bite a chunk out of anybody, especially if they touched his boots. The next day, in line for their daily soup, Jaegor had thrown the piece of ear into Grandal's bowl, earning both of them a good beating from the beastman standing guard.

Those events had occurred two or three days earlier. Aryl wasn't sure. The sound of metal tools striking rock had become his world. There were hundreds of slaves and hundreds of tools banging the rock. At night, most of the laborers were beastmen since they could see better. Often, the banging rose to a continuous hum. He didn't know how long he could hold onto his sanity. It was possible he had already lost it and just wasn't aware.

Jaegor wasn't bound by that struggle and, aside from being hungry and tired, was otherwise seemingly unperturbed by their situation. He constantly mumbled under his breath, though. When Aryl was close enough to overhear, it was usually comments relating to when they would escape and which guards he was going to kill on the way. Aryl didn't share his companion's belief that they would escape, but deep down he held a glimmer of hope. That hope was as feeble and shrouded as the sunlight.

One morning, as the gloom blossomed to a dim gray, a hunched beastman grabbed Aryl and put him with three other men, pulling a heavy cart laden with stones and dirt. It was a rickety wooden cart with a heavy beam attached to the front with two short crossbeams, which were used to push the cart forward. It was strenuous heaving the cart up the slope and once they reached the edge of the dark fog, a team of beastmen took charge of the load. There were only three beastmen standing guard, who hardly paid attention to who came or went, spending most of their time growling and shoving one another. But he could see the desolate terrain beyond the edge of the dark fog, looming obsidian spires and whirling dust clouds. A few teams of men pulled carts out of the fog, but apparently only when no beastmen teams were available and they still had at least one guard. That would be their chance. Aryl hardly noticed the heavy cart for the remainder of the day. His plan of escape continuously played through his mind. That night, he explained it all to Jaegor.

The following morning, they drank their soup and instead of grabbing a pick, Aryl pulled Jaegor along the wall until they reached the carts. It was risky, but the beastmen didn't seem to care who pulled the carts, and it worked. Pulling carts was strenuous and no one else volunteered. The guards pushed two other filthy men to join them shortly thereafter. They pulled several heavy loads of rock up the steep slope, handing their cart to a team of beastmen, and returning with one of the empty carts at the top of the slope. On their fifth load, there were no teams available and one of the guards accompanied them out into the burning sunlight.

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