The following day in the stone quarry was a silent one for Aidden, Gurdor, and all the Nical workers. Although many had not seen the act, Lord Haydn had correctly guessed that everyone had heard of it soon after. Aidden grimaced as he brought his pick down once again on yesterday’s boulder. Pain arced up his arms to his shoulders from his blistered palms. He had to tie the axe to his hands today, as he was unable to successfully keep it tightly gripped on his own. The rope binding him to the handle now began rubbing deep burns into the back of his hands each time the pick came down, causing him to grimace in pain.

Pausing after some time, Aidden absent-mindedly yawned into his shoulder before lifting his ax up once again. He knew slaves had been reproved for showing weariness such as this while working, but the young man couldn’t help himself. It certainly wasn’t because his comrades had kept him awake last night. After the execution, Aidden had bid Dalen and Kildor farewell to walk Tyla home, but neither of them said a word as they marched into the growing darkness towards her hut. Upon reaching her door, she did little more than wave, her face turned away as she stepped inside. Aidden could understand, neither of them were comfortable with what they had witnessed, and he was glad to find an empty room when he came inside his hut a bit later that night.

Still, he couldn’t manage to sleep. The images of what he had seen, and how it made him feel were replaying themselves relentlessly in the back of his mind. Meals and gatherings like the one last night allowed Aidden and his friends to forget the harsh realities of their lives, but last night’s death had been very effective in reminding them who they were… and what they were.

Aidden sighed, pushing the thoughts out of his head as he came down once more upon his rock. A small bit of rubble came off with this stroke, and Gurdor was quick to gather it in his shovel. Aidden caught a glance that looked concerned, but in the next moment the man had turned and was taking his load to the stone wagon. Biting his bottom lip, Aidden swung the pick down again, this time feeling little more than a dull and aching pain up his numbing limbs. He had hoped that today’s work would take his mind off of last night, but things were only worse. Not only could he not clear his mind, but the atmosphere of the quarry was different as well. All around the Nicals, a gloomy, bitter air weighed on their backs. Today, they all felt like slaves. There was no ignoring it.

Aidden’s thoughts were interrupted by the familiar Dondel bell breaking through the warming morning air. Surprised, he snapped his head over to the Chief and saw him motioning to the workers to line up for another march home. Such a journey was never to happen until the end of the working day, and they had just begun. Confused, Aidden untied his hands and let the pick lay where it fell, bumbling towards the line while never letting his sight leave their Dondel Chief. As he found his familiar spot in formation, he spotted another Dondel he hadn’t noticed before, a man who looked something like a messenger from the Fort.

Confused, Aidden looked back to Gurdor for help, but found him picking up the pick-ax and placing it back into the tool cart. Aidden swung his head back to the Chief and Messenger again in time to see the bell being rung again, and those who weren’t in formation now hurriedly did so. It was obvious there was a bit of urgency in the Chief’s orders, and within moments, the formation was trotting back to the fortress, in line but unchained.

The sun had reached it’s full apex by the time Fort Kilgore poked itself above the upper level of the Swamp’s Canopy. Aidden stared at it and let his mind wander, but was brought back to reality when the man in front of him turned sharply to the left… they weren’t going to the tower… they were heading to… the Nical camp? Aidden could only guess what their destination was and why. He watched the back of the man in front of him as the slaves now jogged to keep pace with the head of the line. Another quick turn and a familiar structure came into sight. Aidden’s heart sank. It was the correction mound.

Upon the familiar platform burned the torches upon their pillars, and as they drew closer, Aidden could see the silhouette of a Nical slave chained around one of them. Lord Hayden came suddenly into view, taking little effort to hide what seemed to be a satisfied smile resting upon his face. Upon reaching the mound, the Stone Quarry Slaves took their position facing Hayden and the platform. Aidden was happy to see no fire in the cold pit below. He thought of the man’s head falling into the flames, and the dull expression in his eyes as the Dondel guard had approached him with his ax.

Looking around, Aidden noticed that the other groups were present as well… the blacksmiths, the woodcutters, the masons, seamstresses, maids and more. Lord Hayden was surely indulging himself with a captive audience.

“Nicals!” He stepped forward once again, and Aidden felt Gurdor’s body suddenly tense, most likely at Hayden’s arrogant manner; he looked above those he now addressed. “Last night, I asked for your presence at this very place. I asked this favor so that I might give you a message demanding obedience and warning of reprisal for misbehavior! Despite the limited audience - ” he glared suddenly at the crowd “- I thought I had made my point clear. However, this very next day… one of you was caught stealing from within my own house! And so, the correction must be severe. Being a gentleman, I cannot afford the proper punishment … to a woman… and so…”

Suddenly Aidden stopped to view the chained Nical… it was Tyla! She stood with her back facing the crowd, but there was no mistaking the girl he had grown with since his childhood. He felt Gurdors’ tight grasp around his arm to hold him in place, but Aidden didn’t bother to look towards the man… his eyes locked solely on the Dondel Lord and Nical woman. What was he going to do to her…!

Lord Hayden stepped importantly to a higher platform and looked down to one of the three Dondel guards nearby. “This woman works in my kitchens! She was caught stealing several meals. It is unacceptable behavior!” With that, Hayden nodded to the guard, who unwrapped a whip from the side of his belt. Aidden’s blood burned as Gurdors’ grip tightened further.

In the next moment, the guard unleashed the whip upon Tyla’s back, sending a gasp of despair from the crowd and a piercing shriek from the chained woman. Another; and again. The guard started back a fourth time, and Aidden stopped thinking. In the next moment, he was free of Gurdor’s iron grip, and halfway up the ramp leading to the mound. Through a haze of rage and vengeance, he caught the startled look of Lord Hayden’s face from atop his precipice.

Aidden turned the corner of the ramp and found a Dondel spear suddenly slashing the edge of his midsection. He could briefly see blood spurt from his side, but being beyond pain, turned as he fell forward to the earth and landed a round-house punch to the Dondel’s chin. Shocked and off-guard, the warrior whirled a moment on his back heel, and suddenly fell off the outside of the mound, 10 feet below.

In the next moment, Aidden hit the ground, and looking up saw the boots of Gurdor racing past, picking up the warrior’s dropped spear as he ran towards the next onrushing guard. The Dondel fighter, perhaps overconfident in his attack, completely missed a swerving Gurdor. In the next clean movement after hopping aside, Gurdor sent his own spear through the Dondel’s face. Aidden jumped to his feet, running closer to Gurdor and closing the distance between him and Tyla.

One more warrior - the man with the whip - separated them from her, and as they approached the guard a black hammer came from the crowd and into the man’s hip, sending him into the center pit below. Materializing from the crowd, Dolven and Gardon were suddenly there, both with their blacksmithing tools in hand and ready to strike.

“Kill them!!” Shrieked a fanatic Hayden, and from the opposite side of the mound a large crowd of red-mailed warriors rushed to meet the slaves, weapons raised.

“Come Lad – Let’s free our girl before we need to be rescued ourselves!” Dolven shouted to Gardon, and the two brought their hammers down once, twice onto Tyla’s chain. Aidden searched for a weapon… They needed more time… they weren’t going to make it! No metal in sight… Aidden suddenly felt his foot step on the whip of the last Dondel guard. Grabbing the handle, he twisted it up to the approaching fighters, snapping the tip into the face of the nearest. The mans’ scream of pain filled Aidden’s ears, giving him a sense of exhilaration that can only come to a man fighting for himself for the first time. The remaining Dondels took a pace back, still watching closely the Nical slave with their own Dondel weapon now poised against them. A moment later, Aidden heard Tyla’s chains snap free, and the group was heading away.

“After them you idiots!” Screamed Lord Hayden. “He doesn’t know how to use a whip! Don’t you realize there are 10 of you and 1 of him?!” With that, the guards surged forward, resolute in bringing down their adversary. Aidden hesitated. Hayden was right, he had no idea how he managed that first attack.

“Run!! I’ll hold them off the longest I can!” He screamed. He knew that it wouldn’t be long. With the biggest arc he could muster, he pulled back on the whip and sent it snapping again to the onrushing guards. It wrapped itself solidly around one man’s arm, and Aidden pulled it towards him out of frantic reflex. The man fell forward to the ground, but two more Dondels were jumping over him before he hit the mound. Aidden dropped the whip and turned to run. He saw his friends surging through the stunned crowd, a good 20 yards away from him, but only managed a few steps in their direction before he felt a piercing ache shoot up and down the length of his body. His chest tightened, and he looked to the ground as he began to fall. Everything went black before he touched the earth.

~~~

Gurdor pushed the shocked Nicals to either side of him as he pulled the half-conscious girl behind. He could hear her moan as he jerked her along, so he knew she was conscious, but she offered little in the way of helping him move her along. “Blast you idiots, who’s side are you on!?” He growled as he sent another shocked man sprawling to the left. Suddenly, out of the crowd came a grasping hand that wrapped itself around Gurdor’s collar. Gurdor slapped it free but found its owner to be the face of Kildor.

“This way my friends!” Kildor called, turning quickly away. Gurdor followed the younger Nical through a suddenly open path in the crowd, with Dolven and Gardon on his heels. The Dondel chain mail was ringing louder and louder in their ears as they followed their ally through the crowd of Nicals. Kildor raced a short distance longer before opening a small crevice in a nearby pile of rock. “Inside! No questions!” He hissed, looking quickly up to the path they had taken. Already, it was dissolving in a crowd of purposely confused and forgetful Nicals. The Dondel guards were, for the moment, not to be seen. Gurdor hesitated but then quickly slipped inside the crevice, dragging the weakened Tyla behind him. Now was not the time to begin questioning loyalties, especially among old friends.

The crevice opened into a dark and restricted tunnel, but Gurdor pulled the girl onward without slowing. He could hear the footsteps and labored breathing of his comrades as they entered the crevice as well, and then the tunnel went black as Kildor smoothed shut the entrance. Exhausted and spent, Gurdor mustered his will to keep himself from collapsing at that moment into the cold darkness. Gathering his strength, he began shuffling ahead in the inky darkness among the many echoes for what seemed like forever. Still, the floor was smooth and clear, and he never feared tripping as he heaved along the path. Finally, a point of light pierced the darkness ahead, and Kildor urged them onward.

“That’s the end! We’re almost there… we should be safe soon after we get to the other end! Come now – be strong!”

“Easy for you to say, you dog!” Grunted Gurdor as he now lifted Tyla’s entire weight to the back of his shoulders. At this point, she was completely useless and had probally passed out. Gurdor focused all his thoughts and feelings towards the ever-growing point of light. He felt himself lose touch with his surroundings, fading away from his companion’s echoed breathing and footsteps in the darkness as the point grew larger and larger in front of him. Eventually however, the piercing light became blurred, and his muscles began to burn while his shoulders strained under Tyla’s small but limp frame.

It was just as he thought he must surely collapse that he burst into the light on the other side of the tunnel, and fell into a pool of stagnant murky water. He felt Tyla’s weight fall from his back and into the water beside him as his arms sank to the elbows in the thick mud below. Too weak to pull free, he let himself fall victim to his fatigue and collapsed into the muck-filled water.