Chapter 35: In the Depths
"Friendship, of itself a holy tie, is made more sacred by adversity."
-Charles Caleb Colton
The sounds of metal on rock, the steady tink tink of constant work, filled the tunnels. Grunts and heavy breathing joined in, producing a strange harmony in the dim depths of the earth. Yet, no singing accompanied it. There was neither the time nor the energy for it; the guards and overseers didn’t take kindly to it either.
The miners moved in time, not from choice but necessity. They were all chained together. Minotaur at the front of each chain forged the course of the tunnel under careful observation. Behind them Unicorns and Griffins worked the walls widening the tunnels and tracking veins of metal and gem so long as they lasted. Earth Ponies and Bison pulled carts filled with either the waste stone, ore, or gems along tracks laid by Pegasi.
A lucky few Pegasi or Griffins were placed at the entry to the mines. Their wings unbound, they were used to circulate air up and down the shafts. It wouldn’t do to let the slaves die needlessly after all. If a slave should collapse on the job, the overseers would come and whip it until it either died or returned to work. A slave that can’t work a full shift is useless, don’t you know?
If the slave didn’t stand, their corpse was unchained and carried away. The body was never seen again, but Flam noticed the griffins got more meat in their ration those days. He tried not to think about it too much. There were bigger concerns for him anyway.
He barely remembered being taken out of Sirius’ palace. The trip to where he was now passed in a blur of darkness. He spent the entire time shaking from fear of what awaited him at the end. When he finally reached the slave camp, he felt something like relief, and was ashamed by it.
The camp started at the depot, at least Flam thought so. The depot led to the pens, the guard barracks, the mines, and the local warren growing around the mines. The entryway to the barracks was the same quality of stone working as transportation tunnels and depots Flam was now familiar with. The others seemed like afterthoughts carved into the stone as needed.
The slave pens were laid out as tiers of large cells descending down from the entryway behind a short switchback filled tunnel. Each cell was filled with the miners on the same chain. A small area was cleared out at the lowest level and filled with poorly crafted stone tables and benches that had been worn smooth over time. Against one wall was a serving line and several large pots in which the daily rations were cooked. A doorway behind the line led to the kitchen where the food was stored and prepared by the guard rather than the slaves.
Flam was brought with several other slaves down into the pens. Guards ensured peace as the new slaves were added to the existing groups. The group Flam was added to was one of the groups that drove new tunnels. A dangerous job as the poor, or perhaps lucky, pony he was replacing found out during a cave in that killed the front of the twenty person line.
Flam was the new number two, directly behind a Minotaur female with graying coat and whip scars crisscrossing her back.
“Call me Ma,” She said resting a hand on Flam shoulder as the guard left. “That’s what everyone called me on my old gang.”
“Sure thing,” Flam said looking around cautiously. The new number three chained in just after him was a charcoal gray Pegasus mare with a silver mane and no cutie mark.
“My name is Silver Lining, and would you please stop staring,” she said timidly, curling her tail over her flanks. Flam shook his head and diverted his eye elsewhere realizing that close to half the Ponies in the pen were lacking cutie marks.
“Sorry, it’s just…” Flam trailed off, not sure how to justify himself.
Silver Lining sighed, letting her tail fall away. “I was born down here. My parents were slaves, as were my father’s. It is bad luck to get a cutie mark for those like me. It would mean your special talent was something in this dark sun forgotten world,” she said, self-consciously staring at her blank flank.
That was Flam’s first day, at least as he could define them in the mines. The next day he was fed then sent to work. His inhibitor was removed to allow him to move the rubble Ma created into the carts at the end of the tracks. At first he was overjoyed only to quickly discover his magic was far weaker than before.
Asking around to other slaves that evening he learned the gruel they were fed was laced with a weak drug that weakened their magic. Abstaining from food might allow it to wear off, but it would take more than three days, and no pony could go that long without eating down here.
As Flam struggled to move the rubble with his reduced magic, Silver worked behind him adding fresh tracks to the line so carts could stay close to the front of the tunnel. The rough iron beams were passed to her from further down the line were others worked to widen the tunnel and dig out the worthwhile materials. A constant shower of rock rained down on them as Ma dug.
So Flam worked, with the steady tink of the picks, the rustle of chains, and the grunts of straining slaves the only sounds. He did his best to think of a way to break free, but nothing presented itself. He thought of ways to resist, but realized that would only punish those around him after a griffin on their chain had refused to work. Instead of whipping the griffin they stuffed it with food while the rest of them were beaten.
That evening the griffin had been beaten by the slaves still able to stand until he vomited everything he had eaten. The next day the griffin wasn’t given a ration, nor the next. On the third day he received a quarter ration, then slightly more until he was back at full seven days after his act of resistance, far weaker than before.
Flam realized by the end of his second week that he would need to bide his time and wait for the opportune moment. Flam did the only thing he could do in the dark. He began to train. He struggled and worked to lift larger loads with his magic, the carry them as individual bits instead of a large blob. Any way he could stress himself he would. At first his body suffered, but his work did not go unnoticed.
As he waited for his ration at the end of the third week, one of the overseers spoke to the cook.
“Double rations for the ‘airy pony. 'e work ‘ard, better than rest,” The dog said. Flam really was much better than the rest. If this kept up, they might have a slight increase in production for once. Very important given the situation just a few leagues away.
The increase in food was welcome by Flam, and noticed by other slaves as well. That night Ma confronted him, cornering him in the pen, her powerful arms closing off any means of escape.
“What are you doing! Are you a collaborator?” Ma asked her filed stumps of horns leveled at him instinctually.
“What?! You think I’m trying to appease them?” Flam asked after a moment spent processing her accusations.
“Then why are you working so hard?”
“Why are you getting extra rations?”
“And why should we believe anything you say?” A series of different slaves called out taking positions around Ma.
“I am not going to die here; not at the paw of those mutts. But I’m not a great warrior, a master strategist, or an unmatched mage. I am a con artist and an inventor,” Flam said wilting under the angry glares.
“Keep talking,” Ma said through clenched teeth, but let her arms fall from the wall. Flam spared a quick glance over her shoulder to ensure no Diamond Dogs were near their cell.
“I am trying to get stronger. Strong enough I can use my magic freely despite the drugs they give unicorns to hamper us. I want them to think me beaten so they will not look to closely at what I do. I will be free. My brother and our friends will find a way to free us,” Flam said with conviction, meeting the eyes of his accusers.
“There is no freedom from here. No rescue will be mounted to save you. No heroes that will break our chains. Give up that dream and do a what you can to hamper the dogs while helping the rest of us,” Ma said, a tired sigh leaving her lips.
“You can give up on hope, but I havn't. Not yet,” Flam said. The others shook their heads and gave him up as a fool. No one escapes. That fact was as hard as the iron that held them.
The next day they went to work again and Flam discovered that the double rations wasn’t entirely a kindness. His magic was nearly as weak as it had been when he started. Not only was he getting more food, he was getting more of the drug.
“What matter pony. Think double rations means less work? You need punishment instead of great gift?” The overseer said when he saw Flam struggling that day.
Flam pushed himself hard that day, straining at his limits. Somehow, he avoided drawing any more attention to himself. Come dinner, he received double rations again. As he sat down, the other end of the chain took their seat at the worn table across from him. Flam saw their angry glares and thought quickly.
He spared a quick glance around the room. The guard were focused elsewhere, either on the serving line or their own navels. Quickly and discreetly as he could, Flam shared part of his food around to those closest to him. Silver Lining received the biggest share, but everyone closest to him got a bit.
“I’ll explain in the cell. Act like it didn’t happen,” Flam whispered as their glares softened with confusion. Thankful for extra food, but uncertain why he was sharing so freely, the slaves ate cautiously then with gusto as their hunger spurred them on.
In the cell later than evening, the slaves once again horseshoed up around Flam. This time they were curious and confused rather than angry. A few kept watch, their eyes outside the slave pen, but their ears trained inward.
“Start talking Flam. Explain yourself and why you gave away your extra ration,” Ma said, the others muttering their agreement.
“Double rations means double the drug I spoke of yesterday. I won’t survive that, so I gave it away, mostly to those that don’t rely as heavily on magic. I will be free, but getting in trouble will only make that harder.”
“Freedom is impossible. The dogs control the ground, the Harpies control the skies and even the ruins refuse entry to those that would seek shelter in them. What makes you so sure you’ll break your chains,” Ma asked disdainfully, far too many friends having wasted their lives resisting their fate.
“No,” Flam said, staring back at her. “I can’t forsake the sun I’ve spent my life under. I can’t forsake my friends on the surface. Most of all, I can’t forsake my brother who I know is search for a way to save me even now.”
An argument broke out between the slaves. Many sided with Ma, the hopes of freedom having long passed from their minds. Others, newer or more idealistic sided with Flam. All the slaves, including those that were supposed to keep watch were dragged in. They grew louder until the guards arrived, throwing the doors to the cell open and leveling their spears.
“All right who’s causing trouble?” The beta in charge of the guards asked. The slaves quickly offered Flam up.
“Oh, it’s this pony fool is it. Well we ‘ave ways of dealing with pony fools,” the beta said, his tail wagging happily. A bit of saliva dripped from his snout as he grinned sadistically. The guards removed Flam from the line and dragged him away. As the cell slammed shut, the beta sent one ahead.
“Tell Mittens to have them get Butch ready for this one.” The Diamond Dog panted happily then scampered ahead. It was always a good show when Butch got to have his fun.
Flam was half dragged half carried to a deep amphitheater in the Diamond Dog warren near the mines. He had only a moment to shake his head before a claw grasped his tail and began to pull him backwards. Flam felt a weight lean on his back and hot, wet breath on his neck.
In the stands Dogs howled a cheered. They chant a phrase over and over, but Flam couldn’t make it out. A moment later he heard a wet smack next to his ear.
“Butch play with pony,” A dull voice said in his ear before a new pain shot through Flam. In that single moment his naiveté died. He tried to collapse onto the ground, to curl up into a ball, but the dim beast in the pit held him tight and took control. Tear streamed down his cheeks as the Diamond Dogs gleefully watched their show.
* * * * * * * * *
Hours later, the guards dumped Flam back in the pen. They took only a moment to chain him in since there were no chances of him trying to run anytime soon. The older slaves just shook their heads and went back to bed, the newer ones looked closely at him. Flams’ fur was a mess, sticky patches here and there.
The next morning, they took note as Flam walked unsteadily, his legs collapsing under him and his gait strange. They saw that he kept his tail pull down under himself. At breakfast, those near him in line watched him receive the same ration as everyone else. Flam movements were slow and mechanical, like a body on autopilot. In the mines, he worked at the bare minimum, even after overseers came and beat him again and again. Wherever the source of his previous energy and drive was, it was long gone now.
Ma took these happenings for proof that freedom was impossible, as did many of the other slaves. Even those that had believed in liberation found their hope dying. Silver Lining felt sick watching Flam disappear before her eyes. The body working next to her was nothing like the pony that had spoken so strongly the evening before.
When they were led back to the cell Flam backed himself into a corner. His blank eyes tracking all. He poked anyone that got too close with his horn, but still said nothing. Finally, despite fighting to stay awake, he collapsed from exhaustion and slept silently the whole night.
For several day this trend repeated. Flam woke, ate, worked, was beaten for not working hard enough, ate, backing himself into a corner, kept others away, and passed out to sleep silently.
Even those that had been opposed to what he said worried about him. Those who had served in that place the longest knew what had happened, some having suffered it themselves. They had seen other die from getting Butched. Some could handle it, others couldn’t. It mattered not to them. If he was getting beaten, then the overseers and guards weren’t looking at them. Still it did no good for someone to die on them.
Silver Lining watched helplessly. The vibrant pony that had been placed on the line next to her became a lifeless shell. He had given her hope. For the first time in her life she hadn’t feared the next day. Then it had all been dashed moments later.
Since she was still next to him in line, she had been stretching as far away from him and his horn as possible. Unwilling to let things lie, one day she instead sat facing Flam. He lowered his horn and made as if to stab at her, but Silver sat just out of his reach. She sat there unmoving, a gentle smile on her face.
Flam quickly gave up trying to scare her off. After waiting a bit, Silver scooted closer. Flam stiffened, but did not try to drive her off. She started speaking softly to him. Kind words and empty promises. Anything to reach out to him.
Time wore on as Silver steadily moved closer. It took several days, but on the same day as Drake’s coronation, Silver leaned up against Flam, her wing gently draped over him as they both drifted off to sleep in the darkness of the depths of the earth once again.