A Hatchling's Steps

To call Zedia, the penal-mine city, a city at all might be overly generous. In truth it is a messy sprawl of shoddy concrete huts carpeting the bottom of a massive crater, built wherever there was space to spare and often atop each other regardless.

At the center of the settlement sits a lake, its waters murky with sediments from the mine. All that thrives there are algae and simple shellfish. The people of Zedia know the water to be unfit for use, though frequently they find themselves with no other choice.

Though right now it is the middle of the night, and the shore sits deserted. The lake’s surface rests at a peaceful shimmer, reflecting the lights of the building sitting at the opposite bank and the full moon above. Nobody is around to notice when a cyan light gleams through the murky waters, brighter and brighter as it seems to ascend to the surface.

Then, with a final, resplendent flash, it is gone. A gas bubble bursts from the waters soon after, making a sizable splash. Nonetheless, the lake quickly returns to resting as if nothing had happened, the ripples from the splash fast dispersing in every direction.

Next, I break the surface, taking in a big gulp of air. With as much strength as I can muster I pull Rosa up after me, letting her cough out a mouthful of water.

“Ack!” I gasp, looking around to orient myself and finding the closest lights. “That way! Phah! H-help me swim, Rosa!”

She only cries in response, disoriented. “Aah, I can’t see! I-it’s in my eyes.”

“Just kick with your feet,” I plead, holding her close. “I’ve got you.”

With every ounce of energy I can muster, I steadily swim us to shore, sputtering, grunting, half-blinded by the mud on my face. Finally our feet touch dirt, letting us support each other the rest of the way until the water only laps the soles of our shoes. We collapse side-by-side on the muddy shore, panting from all the effort.

I look up at the open sky, where stars glimmer around the bright moon that hangs overhead.

“Haah… We made it.”

Rosa finally gets a chance to wipe her eyes clean, letting her look back out across the water. “The others…” she starts, immediately with a small, frightful shrill. “Where are the others?!”

“Relax, Sister,” we hear Gunther’s voice. He’s slowly walking towards us, dripping mud, missing the bandage that once covered his left eye to reveal a compound, dotted scar scattered around a cloudy, blind eye. Luach is at his side, holding onto his shoulder for support.

“And sir Siabahn?!” Rosa asks.

“He uhm…”Gunther freezes, looking past us.

I follow his gaze and spot Siabahn approaching from the opposite side. His grey fur that once so elegantly flared out the sides of his face is now hanging in clumps that cling tightly against his body, revealing just how lean he truly is. His once-pristine, tasteful outfit is also completely sullied by muck, dyed to varying yet equally unpleasant shades of brown. And nobody looks more displeased about it than Siabahn himself.

Despite my better manners, I loudly choke back a snicker.

Siabahn’s easygoing smile is nowhere to be seen. “Say. Nothing.”

I strike my chest a couple of times to dispel the humor. “About what? No idea what you’re talking about.”

Rosa sighs relieved. “Thank goodness, we all made it out.” All but one of the gemstones that once studded her magic gloves have shattered to pieces. The remaining one glimmers faintly, showing visible cracks. “I’m sorry I couldn’t hold the bubble until the end.”

“Nothing to apologize for, Sister,” says Gunther as he scans our surroundings. “You got us through safely, couldn’t have asked for more than that. But we should get away from this shore before someone sees us.”

“Where to?” I ask, picking myself up.

“I see a big building further up. Let’s check it out, might be somewhere we can hide.”

Everyone nods in agreement and we head up in that direction, careful to be silent even as we try to hurry. We sneak through the silent, deserted streets between the crowded shacks where the imprisoned miners sleep, much too exhausted from the day’s labors to be disturbed by our passing.

We all wish we could’ve had a plan for what to do once we escaped the mine, but even the notes they had gathered under the kitchen table had precious little information about the layout of the city or beyond outside Nuren’s fortress. All we know for certain is that the city is surrounded on all sides by sheer cliffs and that what is probably the only land route out of here is a long, narrow road through a canyon, the entrance to which is blocked by the city palisade and under constant watch.

There’s hope that we might scrounge together a plan to break through the watch, climb the cliff, or perhaps even find some other route we could not imagine, but until we figure things out we must keep a low profile.

—

Ugh, I hate the mine.

If I could have things my way, I would have forgotten about it and focused entirely on the fighting pit since the start. The shows are what’s attracted the connections, the patrons, fellow outlaws and bored fat cats with whom I’m slowly building up my very own little empire tucked in the mountains. But the lifeblood of that dream of mine, as with anything, is money, and even I must admit that the fighting pit is still far from raking in as much cash as the Zedian ore does.

It’s just that I just can’t be bothered to deal with the details of it. The miners, the tunnels, every other day someone whining about something going wrong. I leave that hassle to the grunts and my lieutenants. So long as fresh carts of merchandise roll up to the surface every day, I’m a happy man.

But annoyingly, tonight’s issue is a fighter issue, and those I can’t ignore. First I heard that Cethlenn’s team broke out of their cell. The only thing surprising about that was how long it took to happen. Guess after the pressure I put on them last match I should have expected them to try.

Then I heard something that really upset me: that they fled into the deeper tunnels and had just checked themselves out rather than be captured. That I couldn’t accept. From someone else? Sure. But not them. They weren’t that sort of cowards. I had to get down there and see for myself.

So I went down to the deep tunnels for the first time in years, maybe since I last was just another miner imprisoned here? Damn, it’s been a while, yet still feels like yesterday. My stomach churns just thinking about it.

I really hate the mine.

Finally, I reach the correct spot, a flooded tunnel blocked off by water. A trio of grunts are standing around, pretending that they’re working, though they stand straighter when they notice me arrive. The only one actually doing something doesn’t seem to pay me any mind; she remains squatted by the edge of the water, looking for any clues.

“Glina,” I call to her. “What happened here?”

“Oh hey boss,” she replies, not bothering to look at me. “Well I followed their trail up to here, but then it leads,” she points to the water, “right down there. I think they tried to swim out through the lake.”

“That’s the humidity throwing off your scent. Check again.”

“Already did,” she replies. “Checked and rechecked multiple times. If they had tried to mask their scent somehow I would have noticed, but there’s no trail leading back out again.”

“That’s over 200 meters of tunnel, and only if you don’t get lost along the way,” I say, my disbelief growing. “There’s no way they can make that.”

“As is? Probably not.” Glina stands and walks past me to the side of the tunnel. “But then I found this.”

Tucked into a nook of the is an opened crate bearing the insignia of the glassheads, but there’s nothing inside except dried straws. “What was in this box?”

Glina shrugs. “Who knows? Don’t think it was diving equipment though, not enough room for it.”

“Does anyone know what was in the box?” I ask to the three grounds still lollygagging here. They all avert their gaze. “Anyone?”

The trio stay quiet, sweating, steadily running out my patience until one of them finally speaks up. “I-I think I saw a crate marked like that at the ground floor storage.”

“Did you? And what was in it?”

“D-dunno,” he says nervously. “Ask Peyton. He was on storage duty last week.”

“You fucking-!” another of the guards, Peyton I would guess, protests, but the words choke as my gaze fixes on him. “U-uhm, let’s see, a-a box with that symbol? W-was it besides the drill heads or the gunpowder kegs…?”

I don’t have time for this. I grab the stuttering idiot by the neck and slam him against the wall. “Ack-!”

“WHAT WAS IN THAT CRATE?!”

“Hiii! I-I remember, I do! I-it was hypo… hydo…”

The word clicks in my mind. “Hydrokinetic?”

“T-that’s it! Hydro-that thing!”

I can’t believe it. The mage gloves. I heard about a glasshead visiting or something like that ages ago. They left their stuff behind and it’s just been sitting in storage this entire time?

But more importantly, how did they get it? They would’ve had to break out of their cell, fight their way to the ground floor, find the gloves, then drag the whole damn crate all the way here. They couldn’t have done that themselves; someone helped, someone on the inside…

Cethlenn. That conniving bitch.

“B-boss, y-your claws, w-watch the-!” My claws dig into the grunt’s throat and I tear out his windpipe.

He stands for a moment, blood and drowning breaths gushing from his ruined neck, before he drops face-first to die.

“Glina,” I say, “they’re still alive. Search the lake shore, find where they surfaced.”

She nods and leaves right away. I turn to the bodyguard accompanying me. “Find the witch. Hold her prisoner until I can ask her what part she had in this myself.”

My bodyguard looks tense. “…boss, I can’t do that.”

“Forget about her guest status,” I snap back. “This is war. I don’t care what you have to do, but bring her in.”

“That’s not the problem, boss.” Color drains from his face. “She uhm… she left earlier today.”

“WHAT?!”

“I-I mean, there’s still a chance she might be- AAH!” The man screams as I grab him by his collar and toss him against the tunnel wall.

“Idiots! Find them! Catch the fighters! Capture the witch! Or it will be your blood spilt on the arena tomorrow!”

—-

“Haah, it feels nice to have a fresh set of clothes.”

I fix my shirt. It is wool, white, reaches down past my hips, but the sleeves are just the right length. It’s actually quite comfy.

“Not the height of fashion, but it will do.” Siabahn is attempting to brush his still semi-moist fur to something resembling its previous splendor, using a hard rinsing brush as a hair brush and a sheet of lustrous metal as his mirror.

He is wearing the same outfit as me, which isn’t all that different from his usual despite his bitter sentiments. Sure, the shirt is a little rougher and he is missing a vest, but it still seems very much his style to me. I think he is just upset that he had to discard his outfit, same as all of us.

“I think you look pretty good anyway, Siabahn. Younger, actually.”

The cat man glances at me and offers one of his candid, feline smiles. “My, thanks for saying so. You look fairly sharp yourself, Leo.”

“Wouldn’t want to look anything short of our best when we’re marched back to Nuren’s fortress, eh?” Gunther finishes sliding in a pair of durable leather pants and fastens them with suspenders. His left eye is wrapped once more with a clean strap of cloth. “A man may not know the date of his death, but…”

“That’s no excuse not to look sharp for it.” Both men share a conspiratorial smile as they complete the phrase together.

“Though alright, enough fun,” says Gunther as he turns to me. “Leo, you ready?”

I jump to my feet, sporting my own leather pants and a fresh pair of boots as well. “Ready.”

“Cause we don’t have much time to look through the depot. Let’s hurry to find anything useful.”

The building Gunther had seen from shore turned out to be a storage depot filled with row upon row of crates. Only a couple guards were around, probably to spook away any would-be thieves with their presence alone. We caught them passed out drunk in the security shack outside the main entrance, and once we had properly hogtied and stashed them outside of view, we stole their keys to gain entry into the depot proper.

By then I was starting to feel itchy all over, and though the others didn’t mention it, they were starting to scratch themselves too. I felt quite certain that the lake water must have been contaminated with runoff from the mine, so I suggested that we should find a way to at the very least rinse ourselves and discard our damp clothes.

Gunther and Luach thought we should focus on finding our way out of Zedia. The rest of us insisted on cleaning up because we’d get nowhere quick if our health took a dip. Since we were planning to scour the depot for anything useful already, team cleanup won.

We rinsed ourselves of the toxic sludge with drinking water we found stored in barrels and changed into spare miner garments, a white woolen shirt, durable leather pants and work boots for everyone. I couldn’t help but think it’s despicable that the miners of Zedia must wear rags when there’s perfectly good sets of clothes going to waste here. Naturally, the girls and us gents found separate corners of the building to clean up and dress in private.

But now that we’ve fully freshened up, Gunther, Siabahn and I focus on the task of checking as many of the crates in storage as we can, looking for anything else of use to us, weapons, armor, tools, satchels, dried food, whatever we can find.

We start with a few crates simply labeled as ‘tools’, both of which end up being duds lined from side to side with new pickaxes. “I suppose they work as weapons?” I suggest.

Gunther takes out one, testing its heft. “I’ll keep one just in case, but if we could only find guns…”

“Excuse me!” Rosa appears, waving to get our attention. Her clerical robe had been all but ruined by the sludge as well, so now she’s wearing a set of overalls she found who-knows-where over her own miner’s whites. Her wine-colored hair that she usually ties into a braid is hanging free, draping her back and shoulders, still moist from her recent bath.

I feel my face warming up at the sight.

“There is a crate that I believe contains something useful this way,” Rosa explains, “but I need help opening it.”

“Say no more,” Gunther replies. He taps my arm with a crowbar. “Leo, you go. Just hurry up.”

“Huh? S-sure!” I take the crowbar and hop to Rosa’s side.

A couple of aisles over, she shows me a crate that is more specifically labeled “satchels”. It’s a bit ironic that we found these before anything else, but something is something. I crack the crate open in short order and we find it lined with leather bags of different designs and sizes, from backpacks to belt-bound satchels.

“Alright,” I say, encouraged by the useful find. “These will work nicely, long as we find stuff to fill them with, heh.”

Rosa picks up a backpack, handing it to me. “Something like the egg you’re carrying. You should switch it to a dry bag before it gets cold.”

“Eh, you were worried about that? It’s like you read my mind, thank you.” I still the dragon’s egg stashed in the gunner pouch I stole from the armory, even though it’s heavy with moisture and mud. There was just nowhere else where I could stash the hellcloud dragon’s egg, but I knew I had to switch out as soon as I could.

As I fit the egg into a new, dry backpack, I also pull out a rolled up, sullied cloth. I think of putting it in alongside the egg, but with how dirty and damp it is, I hesitate for a moment.

“What is that?” Rosa asks curiously.

“My shirt, the one I was wearing until now.”

“Shouldn’t you throw it away? You yourself said all of our clothes were contaminated.”

“I know, but…” I pause for a moment, gathering my thoughts. “It’s not like I particularly care for this shirt, but it is the one I was wearing when I came to this world.”

“Oh.” She seems to understand immediately.

“Yeah. I know it’s silly, but I used this shirt for work back in my world. When I meant to throw it away, I could only wonder what I’d wear to work tomorrow. Hahaha,” I chuckle at my own sentimentality. “Work tomorrow, as if that was even my life right now.”

Rosa doesn’t laugh. She simply reaches over, setting her hand on my arm as I hold the ruined shirt. I tense at her candid gesture.

“You must miss home quite a lot.”

Do I? I think I haven’t, not really. There have been moments when I’ve missed specific things, such as my favorite comfort foods, the softness of my own bed, even the monotony of my regular job, annoyingly enough. Most of the time, though, I simply did not think of it, just accepting things as they came.

But have I missed home? With everything that’s happened, when could I have afforded to feel truly homesick, to lament how suddenly I lost the life I had taken for granted? When could I have sat down to wonder how or when we’ll be able to go back, maybe mull with growing apprehension over the possibility that it might never happen?

Even so, the fact that I cling so heavily to this sullied, contaminated rag is proof enough that the feeling is there, waiting. There just hasn’t been enough time.

“...I guess I do,” I admit.

“Do you wish to talk about it?” Rosa offers.

I consider it, but we’re still on the clock to find the supplies we need. We’re already wasting time as it is.

So I shake my head sadly. “Now is not the right moment, but thank you, really.”

She offers me a sad smile, but nods.”Right, of course, we should hurry. I’d be happy to carry that shirt for you in a separate bag, if you’d like.”

“Nah, I really can’t use it anymore. I’ll just leave it here-”

As I toss the rolled up shirt aside, there’s a hollow thud, a crack that catches my attention. The backpack I chose shifts slightly, then again with another dull thud. “Wait, is that…?” I quickly take out the egg just in time to see a fracture spread over its surface.

We stand in stunned silence as the small creature within the rugged egg pushes through the cracks. “Let it do it himself,” Rosa insists, though I haven’t said or tried anything yet. I simply let the little one make its best effort until the shell finally splits open.

A newborn lizard, a dragon, plops onto my palms, curling and stretching its glistening body. I thought it would be smaller, but it’s actually about as big as an adult gecko, comfortably spreading itself out across both my hands. Its scales are a vibrant shade of cyan blue, though the ones at its back are tipped yellow. Its head is almost comically oversized and its eyes even more so, looking like bulbous black orbs that nearly pop out of their sockets.

The small creature looks around for a moment, then quickly climbs up my arm, scaring me a bit. It pauses right over the elbow and greets me by sticking out its long, thin tongue.

Rosa coos with delight. “It really is a baby alchemist salamander!” she exclaims, her eyes sparkling.

“A salamander?” I ask, tensing in fear of dropping the baby by accident. “I thought it was a hellcloud dragon.”

“That’s the colloquial name, but true dragons have wings. The correct term is ‘salamander’.”

“Uhm, is it dangerous?”

“Well, this species is known for the many fascinating substances that it produces, many of which can be harmful and even life-threatening. That’s where the ‘alchemist’ portion of the name comes from.”

Gulp

“But this baby still has a long way to go before he starts producing any of that,” Rosa clarifies.

I let out a long breath of relief. “Maybe start with that part first?”

“Don’t worry, Leo. It seems to have imprinted on you. It wouldn’t hurt you.” She tries to touch the little salamander and beams with a joyful smile when it lets her pat its head with her fingers. “So cute~”

“A-as adorable as this moment is, we should hurry with the equipment run. I don’t think it will be long before Gunther-!” I jolt as the small salamander swoops up the rest of my arm to my shoulder and perches on the shackle around my neck, looking around.

“O-okay…” I calm myself. I have to admit, the little guy is pretty cute. “Haah, let’s see if the others have found some food we can give it.”

“Leo, Rosa.” We turn to the voice calling and spot Luach approaching. She is holding as many cans as she can with one arm. Like Rosa, she’s wearing a sturdy overall; they must’ve found whichever box had those at the spot they chose to change.

Unlike Rosa, however, she is not wearing any shirt underneath, opting instead for a simple bandage wrapped over her chest. From what I’ve seen, Luach has always preferred light clothing that shows a good amount of skin. At first I was uncomfortable, not knowing where I should look, but over the days I had grown used to it. Her outfit this time however seems to dash my built up tolerance, once again flushing my face warmly. I quickly avert my gaze.

“H-hey Luach,” I awkwardly greet.

“Hey, look at this!” Rosa pats my shoulder, gesturing to the small creature still perched on my shoulder. “Isn’t he cute?”

Luach notices my new pal and stands there, staring. While I know she’s not looking at me exactly, the steadiness of her gaze nonetheless makes me a little fidgety, not least cause I wouldn’t dare look back at her and risk my own gaze wandering impolitely.

Slowly, almost impercetibly, her mood shifts. Her usual neutral face almost beams with silent glee. “Yes, very cute.”

“Anyway!” I raise my voice a little, trying to dispel the awkward atmosphere before it crushes me. “W-was there something else, Luach?”

“Ah, yes,” she says, snapping out of it. She offers one of the cans she’s carrying to Rosa. “We found weapons and food. You should come over.”

“Got it. Over here we found packs and satchels for everyone. Could you help us carry them back?”

The three of us gather enough packs and bags for everyone before heading back. Luach stays by my side, stealing sneaky glances at the baby salamander.

We find Gunther and Siabahn rummaging through a collection of crates they’ve gathered. They’ve already pulled out swords, spears, guns, a whole damn arsenal big enough for a small army, and that’s with presumably more crates of weapons still in store.

“Ah perfect, bags!” Gunther exclaims as he sees us arrive, though his gaze fixes on me for a moment longer. “Uhm, what’s that on your shoulder?”

“A baby alchemist salamander,” Rosa answers for me, her spirits still clearly soaring. I would be a bit happier about it myself if the timing had been a bit better.

“Huh, well congratulations, you two.”

“Excuse me?” I ask, wondering exactly what he means by mentioning us together in the same breath like that, but he interrupts by throwing a musket for me to catch.

“Check that out. You know what it is?”

What does he mean if I know what it is? It’s a musket, just like… wait.

The firing mechanism is different; instead of having a pincer for holding flint, the hammer is blunt-headed and set to strike a small, conical nipple with a duct leading into the barrel. I recognize it from the museums: a caplock, the system that replaced the use of flint and steel as the lighter with small caps of fulminating chemicals. Easier to replace than flint, less susceptible to moisture than open pans of gunpowder, no need to measure the priming charge yourself. In short, more reliable all around.

But even more importantly than that, I inspect the barrel and find grooves lining the inside. This isn’t a musket at all.

“A rifle!”

“You got it.” Gunther smiles, sharing my excitement.

“Uhm,” Rosa tilts her head confused. “Isn’t it the same as the gun you used in the arena?”

“No way, it’s super different,” I explain. “Muskets like that one have barrels that are completely smooth on the inside. The bullet just bounces around on its way out and doesn’t fly straight. Wildly inaccurate at a distance.”

“But do you see the grooves on this one?” I continue even as Rosa just looks more confused. “They make the bullet spin when it’s fired, helping it fly straight at what you’re aiming for. So much more precise.”

“Phew, you know your stuff,” Gunther comments. “But that’s enough for the ballistics lesson. Bring those satchels over and let’s fill them with cartridges.”

“We have cartridges too?!” No more fumbling with bullets, paper and powder all being separate. I might actually be able to shoot more than a couple times in a fight!

Rosa makes an estranged face. “Why do you look happier about this than the salamander being born?”

“Hey I’m happy about both things,” I say in my defense, handing Gunther the spare bags I’m carrying to pack our bounty of weapons and ammo. “But uhm… this is this and that is that, you know?”

Rosa just sighs. “Haah, boys…”

I do glance at the small creature perched on my shoulder and notice that Luach is still at my side, offering the little one bits of dried meat from a can. The baby swallows them hungrily, curling its tail with delight. “Oh, thanks for that.”

“No problem,” she says before petting the little one’s head with her finger and heading off to pack other bags with canned food.

“I recommend you carry as many of these as you can as well,” Gunther tells me as he taps a box full of pistols. “If the gun only shoots once, then just carry more of them. But be quick, we’re moving out in ten minutes.”

“You figured out a plan?”

“Yeah,” he smiles hopefully. “We might find our way out of Zedia yet.”

“But before that,” adds Siabahn, walking over with a collection of pins, wires and screwdrivers clutched between gloved fingers. “Let me take a look at those shackles.”

—

“No doubt about it, they were here.”

Glina inspects the uneven mud and sand of the lake shore as if it were some sort of precious artifact. I try sniffing the air, but all I can notice is the stench of stale water and shit. “Where did they go?”

“Up the shore this way,” Glina describes, following an invisible trail, “up into the streets and…” She looks over the miners’ shacks and points to the dark silhouette of a building peeking over the roofs. “They might have taken cover there.”

“Let’s go then.” I turn to the squad of men accompanying us. “Tell the other teams to go and surround that building. Anyone know what it is?”

“I believe it’s the storage depot where we keep the spare tools, food, clothes and uhm…” The grunt shifts uncomfortably before continuing. “I think the weapons and ammo too.”

“Haah, great,” I say with an exasperated sigh. It’s such a bother when they think they can fight. If they manage to get a shot out or something, I might need to chop off a few fingers to set a proper example.

We march up the street to the supposed depot. Some people glance out of their shacks to see what is happening, but they know to cower back out of sight when they see me. Right now my focus is on the depot windows, checking for any silhouettes or movement from a prowling gunman, but if they really are there they don’t seem to be paying attention to their surroundings.

Glina hurries ahead and we catch back up to her at the entrance of the depot. “They are here.”

“How’d you know?”

She pushes a barrel aside to reveal a trio of grunts wrapped up, gagged, and piled into a neat bundle just out of sight. Their eyes go wide when they notice me, as they should. “Should I untie them?”

“Nah,” I tell her. “Leave them there and I’ll deal with them later. Move up, cover all entrances.”

My men obey, gripping swords, pistols, rifles, whatever weapon they most prefer and taking positions around the windows and doors. I myself grip my favorite hooks, flexing the handles to pull their chains tight around my forearms. I love the feeling.

I confidently walk up to the main door. “Oh hellooo!” I call out. “Bewitched, are you in there?” I discreetly step into cover behind the doorframe and knock on the door a couple times.

Silence. Most people would have shot the door to pieces by now, but I know they’re not most people. “Really clever of you, making it through the flooded tunnels! I know you used a mage glove, but finding your way down there couldn’t have been easy either! Who led the way?! Was it you, Leo?!”

Again, silence. “I will be honest, if you had accepted my deal I would have still asked you to survive a couple more rounds in the arena! You’re good, but nobody’s ever earned their place in the Wardens after just two fights! Had to keep things fair!”

“But that’s in the past! Now you’ve really shown me you’re well worth making a special exception! I could make you one of my lieutenants! You could keep the Drakki woman and that healer girl I know you’re so fond of for yourself! I’d even let the cat and old one-eyed be under your protection! How’s that sound?!”

No response at all, not even movement. I would have expected at least the slightest reaction by now, makes me think there’s nobody here, but when I look at the control ring on my finger, its magic stone is flashing. That means it’s detecting their control shackles.

I gesture to my men to be ready. “Don’t play so hard to please, Leo! I’m making a pretty good deal here! All you have to do is speak up so I can hear you!” And I know which side you’re on. Frankly, I’d prefer not to activate the shackle yet. Would take the fun out of things.

But there’s no response, no movement, nothing. I get a little uneasy. They’re good.

“Well Leo, I don’t know what is going through that head of yours right now!” I raise my hand. “I just hope you’re not forgetting who has you by the leash!”

I tighten my fist and the control ring glows. I hear a series of telltale zaps inside the building from the shackles activating.

“Go! Capture them!”

The troop rushes into the building, pushing through doors, climbing in through windows, letting out a battle cry. They rush down the aisles of crates, charge into the attached rooms, scan every corner and cranny where they might have huddled.

But there’s nobody inside.

“Clear on this side!” yells the last of my lieutenants, checking in. “Boss, it’s empty. They’re not here.”

I’m standing at the back of the building, looking at the collection of shackles strewn on the floor. Somehow, they picked the locks.

“...Glina,” I call, fuming. “You said they were here.”

Glina is standing by the open back window, sniffing the frame. “...were. They escaped out the back.”

“...you useless bitch. How did you miss that?”

She scowls, but says nothing, looking away, her ears drooping. “Sorry boss, I should’ve checked more thoroughly,” she states with a tense voice. “But I got their trail again, and I know where they’re going.”

I walk up to her. “Speak.”

Glina points out the window. The crater wall should be that way, though in the darkness all that can clearly be seen is the outline where the sky meets the upper edge of the cliff far above us. But I also notice a trail of lamplights marking a path that winds its way up the wall, ending at the foot of a small shack sitting at the very top.

“See that? Up there is the hanging cable we use to send ore down to the river-”

“...where a boat comes in every morning to ship it all away.” I complete for her. She nods. That cableway wasn’t put there for people, but there’s no reason why they couldn’t climb on regardless. Of fucking course.

“Glina, take a small group of men and get up there as quick as you can. Do not let them take that ride. I’ll catch up.”

She nods and turns around to leave. I grip her arm to stop her, making her jolt, and lean closer to see her eye-to-eye. “Fail me again and you’ll feature in the next carnage match.”