My brain whirled, the damp cave spinning as I stared at the woman before me. No way someone so breathtaking, with blue eyes like a clear tide, and long blonde hair framing her stout, muscular, and robust body, belonged in this hellish pit. I must be dreaming, I thought, a flicker of lust sparking in my chest. I had not seen a woman in years, not since my old life on Earth, and even then I had been too broken to care.
She caught my gaze, her expression twisting into a scowl, and flicked my forehead with a force that rivaled the rock Greland smashed me with. I reeled back, collapsing onto the thin canvas mat barely shielding me from the rocky floor, pain blooming sharp and bright.
"Do not get any funny ideas, dwarf," she snapped, her husky voice laced with steel. "Plenty of ways to die down here. Do not let me be one of them."
The flick snapped me back to reality, my cheeks burning. "Sorry, miss," I mumbled, rubbing my forehead, the lust replaced by familiar shame.
She sighed, her annoyance softening as she extended a calloused hand. "Yeah, whatever." I grasped it, and she yanked me up with a strength that spoke of years honing her body, muscles forged in this abyss. My peg leg creaked under the sudden shift, the rotted wood threatening to buckle.
"Listen, dwarf," she said, her tone all business. "Down here there is no time to waste. Group C quotas are brutal, and we are already shorthanded. This work will kill you if you are not sharp."
The mention of quotas stirred a faint hope, the captains promise of freedom echoing. "What is the quota to get out of here?" I asked, my voice rough.
She let out a hearty laugh, wiping a tear from her eye as if I had told the best joke in Nocthys. "Freedom? There is no freedom here, little guy. We are stuck until we die. Get used to it." Her scoff bounced off the cave walls, dripping with bitter truth.
The grimness settled into my bones, a familiar ache as if despair had been my companion all along. "So he lied to us," I said, the words more a bitter realization than a question, my mind flashing to the captains sneering face, his lunar shimmered armor contrasting the darkness of his heart.
Her expression twisted, a maddened glint sparking in her blue eyes as if my words had struck a raw nerve. "Who, Veyr?" she asked, her voice sharp with scorn. "Do not listen to a word that moon bootlicker says. He may be captain to those soldiers, but to us he is the warden of this prison, nothing more." Her words dripped with venom, each syllable echoing the hatred carved into her.
Elara's blue eyes darkened a shadow of something raw, sadness perhaps, flickering within. "I will let you in on a secret. I've been at Fort Tinia for two years, Group C overseer for one. That freedom quota is bullshit. It is just false hope to make us dig faster for their precious moonshards." Her voice cracked on the last word, and she turned away, hiding her face.
Her words hit like a cave in. Power preying on the weak, same story, different world. Earth, Nocthys, did not matter. The drip of water from the cave ceiling filled the silence, each drop a reminder of the endless grind. I understood her in a way I could not voice, trapped, hollowed out, with no way up. But I had nothing to offer her, not when I was still nothing myself.
Elara wiped her face, her stoic mask snapping back into place. "Enough of that. You need to work, but first." She crossed to a rickety table, grabbing a small piece of wood, its bottom balled for stability. "No way we are meeting quota with that broken peg of yours. Here is a new one."
The gift caught me off guard, though it made sense, she did not want dead weight. I took the peg, its surface smoother than my splintered one, and swapped it out, the new fit snug against my nub. A rare, earnest smile broke through my exhaustion. "Thank you."
She gave a slight nod, her expression unreadable. "We usually work solo, but since this is your first day, I will send you to Rylak. Down that passage." She pointed to a narrow tunnel, its walls flickering with torchlight. "Scaley fellow. You can not miss him."
I nodded, turning to leave, then hesitated and glanced back. "Wait, I did not catch your name earlier," I said, a cough escaping as embarrassment warmed my cheeks.
She responded with a firm tone, her voice steady and commanding, "Elara. And you?"
I answered, still adjusting to the weight of my new identity, "Korgar Stonebreak."
Elara's lips twitched, a suppressed laugh dancing in her blue eyes as she tilted her head. "Man, you dwarves really fit the stereotypes, do you not? Especially those names!" Her words carried a playful edge, softening the cave's grim air for a fleeting moment.
I chuckled, a dry sound, then turned and waddled down the passage while waving my hand to Elara if she was still looking. The cave's uneven terrain threatened my balance, each step a gamble with my new peg. Torchlight cast long shadows, the warmth a stark contrast to the dirt crumbling from the ceiling, dusting my shoulders like ash. A faint hum vibrated through the stone, moonshards perhaps, their cosmic energy stirring something in my blind eye.
The clink of a pickaxe against stone grew louder as I approached. A hulking Dravok, Rylak, came into view, his crimson red scales glinting under the torchlight, his fiery eyes narrowing at me.
"Well, look at this," Rylak rumbled, his voice a low growl that vibrated the stone. He straightened, his pickaxe resting casually against his shoulder, scales rippling with each movement. "They send a stump-legged one-eyed dwarf to join Group C. What's next, a Thaloryn with no gills and human feet?"
I bristled, my fists clenching at my sides, the urge to swing bubbling beneath my skin. "Nice to meet you too, scaley," I shot back, my voice thick with sarcasm. "Guess they figured a runt like me could keep up with a walking lizard."
Rylak's fiery eyes blinked in confusion, his scaled brow furrowing. "What in Nocthys is a lizard?" he growled, his voice a low rumble that echoed through the tunnel.
I smirked, placing my hands on my chin as if pondering deeply. "Well, it is like you, but tiny and brainless. So, I suppose there is no difference really." My words dripped with mockery, a desperate jab to mask the unease crawling up my spine.
His lips curled back, revealing jagged teeth that gleamed in the torchlight, and he stepped closer, his towering shadow swallowing my squat frame. The heat radiating from his crimson scales prickled my skin, a searing contrast to the clammy sweat beading on my forehead. "You call me small and claim you can keep up?" he sneered, leaning down until his scorching breath singed my face. "My kind, the Dravok, are hunted for our strength, not weakness. Can your people say the same, dwarf? You lot toil in the lowest pits, scrabbling for scraps while we burn bright." His voice dropped lower, venom lacing every word. "You will be lucky to last a shift, short stuff. This mine devours weaklings, and you are the frailest I have seen in my month here. By the Mother Dravok, I can not wait to meet my quota and reclaim my freedom."
I paused, his last words sinking in. Elara's warning echoed in my mind, her bitter truth about the false quota. Rylak did not know, did he? My blind eye pulsed, a sharp throb that caught a fleeting glint of moonshard ore embedded in the wall, its silver light whispering secrets I could not yet grasp. I forced a grin, burying my unease beneath a mask of defiance. "We will see who is weak, dragon breath. Point me to a pickaxe."
Rylak's eyes flared, a molten glow of contempt, but he jerked his head toward a pile of rusted tools nearby.
It was time to show him what a dwarf could do.