Brassworks

A Feast for Those Below

"Three siblings went into the caves when Harbinger trumpeted the coming of the King. They buried themselves in stone and dirt and waited for the world to end. But days below, without the sun, drove them to decide their fate: Should they return to the world above? How long should they wait? One brother, Jericho, chose to leave, and climbed to the ground floor. His skin melted and his mind went, and he was a man no more. The second brother, Gabriel, climbed out into the plain. While he survived, his life is short and always filled with pain. The final sibling, Miriam, descended deeper down. There she survives, the Gobbler Queen, who's hunger knows no bounds. Beware all travelers above, and heed the shadow's woe, lest you should tarry and become a feast for those below."

Journal of The Mad Prophet, Ezek Granch

JAMES hid behind a pillar of rock, steadying his breath. His hands were sticky with blood and sweat and dirt. He kept gagging. It wasn't from the stench, although that was potent. He just couldn't get used to the blood.

They'd killed two more guards seconds after exiting the lift. James took one, tackling him to the ground with a hand over his mouth. He'd drawn the blade over the guard's throat and waited or him to quiet down before they moved on. The next few times, James sent the other raiders to do the wetwork. His hands shook too bad.

Prisoners noticed them immediately, but only a few paid more than a moment's attention. These were broken men, James could see. Too many beatings, too long without sunlight. They couldn't imagine a world where they weren't in the Pit. It took all five raiders pulling and yelling to even get two others to join.

One thing James had forgotten was the dark. He had been in the Pit during its early years, back when the mine shafts only ran a few hundred yards in each direction. Now, with the squat caverns running so far away, there weren't enough lanterns to go around. The black had overtaken the prison, swallowing everything inside.

There were fewer guards inside than James had imagined. With such a sprawling complex, there should have been dozens of officers patrolling the grounds. Counting the ten or so on the surface, that left a lot of unsupervised space below. Where the hell is everyone?

Worse still, the dark played tricks on his mind. More than once, James caught himself staring at a section of wall only to imagine something was staring back. Shapes moved about, flitting just out of sight. Strange noises echoed through the various chambers. Scratching.

"James!" One of the raiders called out from ahead. It took a few minutes of fumbling in the dark before James found him. They had a guard pressed up against the wall with a knife against his throat.

"What are you doing?" James hissed. "Kill him already and let's move."

"He said he had information on the warden."

James bit his tongue. Damn it, we can't sit here debating. What would Queen do? "What does he know?"

The raider pushed the blade closer until it drew a bead of blood. "Talk."

"He's at the Forge," the guard said. "Took a bunch of the corrections officers and a few prisoners as well."

"How do we get there," James asked. "This place is a maze."

"You have to take the trolley. But there's at least four men there. All armed."

Shit. James took the knife from the other raider and pressed it against the guard's cheek. He bared his teeth, but suddenly the fight just went out. He deflated, swallowing down a gag. "Get out of here. Get on the lift and leave. If I see your face again, you're dead."