From Iron and Ruin

Cold.

Chapter 29: Cold.

One Half-Blood fainted on the way out of the mine. One of the ones from Miekal's chamber who had followed Kohen and I out of the mine, nearly walking on our heels. Kohen and I carried him between us and there was a slow advanced through the mine.

The paths in Fortitude were well made – boosted by the expert work of both dwarves and Elves. The darkness though, seemed to ebb and move as if malevolence had taken root and began to live anew.

"Damn dwarves," A Legion solder murmured. "I keep forgetting that they got good eyes too."

I saw better in the dark too. Not quite as well as Matthaeus, Gwen or Kohen, but enough to see Mahon marching ahead. "He is silent," I murmured.

Kohen, drenched in Gold-Hand blood, drew his attention to me with a soft noise. "Spikes cutting out. Viciousness to mask a pit of sludge. A wounded animal is a dangerous one."

Uncomfortable, I stewed on the situation. I needed to help – I couldn't just sit back and do nothing, even when the Captain appeared unaffected by everything. I could almost hear Kendon's voice, soft and calm. 'Patience Aviana. You cannot bash your way through everything.'

"I don't have all the pieces," I murmured.

The feeling that rested in my gut was sceptic. A sort of hopelessness that permeated my bones. I didn't know what to do. I had thrown myself into the Legion to make myself forget about Dratlan – try and dull the sharpness of the loss I suffered. If I couldn't help myself, how could I help him?"

"You don't." Kohen said definitively. "And you will cut yourself on those pieces if you are not careful."

He offered me no more advice. We didn't speak again until we were out of Fortitude, stepping into the brilliant light. I was swamped with questions and I threw myself head-first into it, anything to stave off the discomfort that settled in my bones.

A lace-work of scars.

Welcome home.

Asha'da, this could explain so much. But I didn't want this explanation. Not for my own sake, but for Mahon's. A man who was all bluster and control, but he was softness under that.

I threw myself into helping Greydon, hoping that the work would distract me. My concerns could fall under the weight of the work for now – until there was time for privacy. There were prisoners to be helped. My people.

Some fought us as they were brought out into the light. Violent and fearful, they kicked and bit at the Legion and then turned their hands on themselves. They would be brought into the Paladin's care.

"We have the infrastructure," Greydon said quietly. "We've dealt with them before. There are rehabilitation programmes in place to try and get them back to their families in a safe manner."

"And are some unable to go back to their families." I washed my hands of dried blood in a bucket of cold water, scrubbing at my skin. My mind was heavy. Vanya must have been ordering the Gold-Hands to dock their ears. Maybe, maybe not. I wouldn't put it past her anymore.

"Some couldn't break away from the teaching the Gold-Hands broke into them," Greydon responded. His group had encountered the only guards in the mine, all waiting for them. A trap. One that led us straight to Miekal, and yet, I knew the trap wasn't meant for me.

Around us, the camp was beginning to be dismantled.

Greydon continued, casting a critical eye over his men as they worked. "These people had nothing when they got out. No personality. No memories. No hope. At least this time, these people were not subjected to the Gold-Hand's cruelty for as long. And...I believe that many of the children we found in the mine were sold to the Gold-Hands. They will have no family to go back to."