The Anmorian Legends: Wrath of the Exiled

Chapter 2: A Light in the Dark

Rezaaran stepped through the broken doors into the bright, winter sun. Although it did not warm him, it banished the darkness of his nightmares and for the moment, that sufficed. He squinted as he adjusted to the light and drew his tattered rags tighter to fend off the bitter cold. He walked the familiar path without thinking where he was going, knowing his feet would get him there as he readied his mind for another day in the depths of Mar-Karatheer.

Mar-Karatheer was a desolate rock. However, beneath its surface lay a wealth of ore and precious metals. Of particular interest was the abundance of a unique form of Glanice, the superior fuel used throughout the galaxy. Despite this common knowledge, large-scale mining was not permissible under a ruling by the Galactic House of Governance. The five‑hundred‑and‑second Minerals and Energy Convention ruled that Mar-Karatheer was not conducive to a healthy working environment because of the sub-surface radioactivity levels. Furthermore, the Glanitian ore existed as a volatile and toxic isomer. Universally available technology could distil the ore, but the health hazards to the miners made the issue non-negotiable. However, when the Obsidian Dominion wrested control from the Galactic House of Governance, they favoured expansion over preservation. The slave trade provided them with an endless supply of expendable workers to mine any manner of ore that would drive their war machine onwards.

The Dominion was an affliction upon the galaxy. Spurred by their greed and ambition, their spread was relentless. Without exception, the Dominion would either subjugate or annihilate any opposition. Their leader was the mysterious Lord Silvermire. Although never seen, his name evoked fear in all that had heard tales of his dark nature. However, to invoke the presence of this terror, a civilisation would have to show tremendous resilience to the invading forces. The Harbingers led the assault on every planet and because Lord Silvermire had personally trained each of them, they knew better than to summon him frivolously.

The spoils of the Dominion's conquests included all planets and civilians they encountered. They preferred children rather than adults to work in the mines. Children were easier to control and able to deliver a better mileage.

Rezaaran arrived on Mar-Karatheer two years after the invasion of Zenor. Although the past ninety-two years had been unkind to him, he had endured the slavery and the dangers of the mines. Being a Zenorian, he outlived the other slaves. For the typical Zenorian, a lifespan of at least three hundred and fifty years was expected. In addition to his slow aging, Rezaaran also displayed an accelerated regenerative capacity. This had caught the attention of the slave master who found Rezaaran to be the perfect target for his drunken beatings. His rapid healing allowed him to recover completely from the beatings and never experience radiation sickness from being in the mines. However, to the young Zenorian, this healing was fate's way of shackling him to this hell. Death would have been a fortuitous reprieve, but it was not an option available to Rezaaran.

Friends were a luxury that Rezaaran often wished for but had difficulty attaining. The first shipment of slaves that arrived was easy enough to befriend. Their fear of the uncertain created a bond among them. However, as he outlived the coffles that drained through Mar-Karatheer, the rumours began to arise. What people could not understand, they began to fear, and contempt was not far behind. Some slaves remained friendly to Rezaaran, but Jet Bal Sara was the only one who really left a lasting impression. Since Jet had left, Rezaaran did not place much importance on friendship. He chose to bury his mind deep in his work, hoping to pass his days until he glimpsed an opportunity. He knew that if he could gain so much as a sliver of a chance, he would seize it as swiftly as Jet had.

Rezaaran held his pick in his heavily wrapped hands as he walked down the tunnel to his cavern. His eyes carefully scanned the rocky walls, seeking the luminous blue glint of the Glanitian isomer. A glimmer on an outcrop caught his attention, and he allowed himself a smile; he would have a half-decent share of rations tonight. The slavers offered food as an incentive to the miners. The food was never good, mostly it was stale, but the miners that brought in Glanitian ore generally ate the best. Of course, this led to the stronger slaves bullying the weak to gain their share of the spoils of the day. Rezaaran always avoided them by working in the more dangerous caverns. He had just prised the large chunk of ore free when he heard the worst of the bullies call out to him.