THE DELIVERER'S DESTINY

Chapter 2, Part 1 - Matthew

Feldspar Mine, Desmond, 10416 P.C.

The echo of metal hitting rock bounced off the stone walls of the dimly lit tunnel, clashing with the sounds of voices and clattering chains. Off in the distance, the crack of a whip preceded the yelp of its victim, both sounds raising the hairs on the back of Matthew Garza's neck. He could practically feel the metal tip of the leather whip digging into his skin, adding another layer of fresh wounds to the crisscross pattern of scars already carved into his back. Shaking away the torturous fantasy — one that had too often been real — Matthew bit his bottom lip until he tasted blood, keeping his head down. Wisps of his greasy brown-black hair dangled about his eyes, and he blew at them to get them out of his sweaty face. No matter how often he had braided back his long hair and tied it with a strip of cloth, it always seemed to slip out and get in his way.

With a grunt, he swung the heavy pickaxe at the pink-coloured mineral deposit in the wall, cracking at it until a small chunk dislodged and fell to the floor. He took a step back, the chain on his ankle clanking on the stone ground as he lowered his pickaxe to lean on it. He brushed the hair out of his eyes as his partner, Abigail Lenox, retrieved the chunk of feldspar from the ground and dropped it into the crate beside them. Since her skinny arms were too weak to wield an axe, she had been assigned to mineral pick up — a task, she assured him often, that was just as tiring. Knowing women, Matthew kept his mouth shut.

"What's wrong?" she asked instantly when he didn't move after she got out of his way. Her voice was pinched, and he bit back a sigh at her worry. She was constantly worried, and he struggled not to get annoyed.

"Just catching my breath, Abby." Straightening up and hefting the pickaxe into his hands once more, he looked down the tunnel. "Don't worry, we're almost done, and we're full enough for quota." He briefly glanced at the crate Abby was leaning on. Yes, it was quite full enough for quota. He turned back to the wall with a dull gaze, knowing he was expected to keep working regardless.

Abby pushed herself up onto the crate, lifting her bare feet and causing her ankle chain to rattle. Both of their chains were connected to the crate, which they would have to push back down the tunnel to be stacked and shipped off. The crate itself was hefty even on four wheels, and being chained to it ensured that they couldn't leave it, therefore making escape impossible.

Matthew set back to attacking the wall, knowing Abby watched him closely. As soon as a chunk broke free, she was off the crate and picking it up; Matthew froze to let her, frowning at how close she had come to hitting her head on his axe. Even several months in, she was a bit too careless — or too trusting. She struggled to pick up the pinkish mineral.

A yell to his left drew his attention. Just feet away, another crate like theirs sat against the wall with two other slaves to tend to it — and they were bickering. A glance into their crate told him why: it was only three-quarters full.

Matthew knew full well what happened when quota wasn't reached. Ages ago, when he had been younger and doing Abby's job, he and his partner Daniel hadn't met quota several times. The reasons were lost to Matthew now, but the punishments were seared in his mind. The first time, Matthew, who couldn't have been much older than thirteen at the time, had gotten five lashes while Daniel, who was over twice Matthew's age, had gotten ten. The second time it was doubled, and the third was doubled from the second. The fourth time, Matthew hadn't been lashed at all. Instead, he had been paired with a new partner.

He hadn't ever seen Daniel again.

Watching the two bickering slaves now, his gut clenched, and he took a deep breath. "Abby," he said shortly as she straightened up, holding the chunk of feldspar in her hands. She looked up at him questioningly, so full of innocence. She had never experienced missed-quota. She had only been brought in a few months ago, and they had been paired almost right off the bat — usually the inexperienced were paired with the experienced, and Matthew was well-experienced. Abby had been so fragile, so soft, so broken up over her parent's deaths. He found himself wanting to protect her despite knowing he couldn't. Over the months she had grown stronger, tougher, but she was still so soft. He guessed that was why she immediately obeyed his nod toward the other two slaves and dumped the chunk of feldspar into their crate. The two didn't even notice.