Crystal heart

by A pensive Squirrel

Dead end

Noon had snuck up on the kingdom. Some things remained the same. Starving workers grovelled for cheaper food at the market. There was the clangour of vendors as they advertised their goods. Most activity had ceased for now. He wouldn’t punish them for the recess. The breath of dragons still billowed from the mining chimneys. Salem forgot his own stomach for he would be unable to eat anyway, and entered the busy pit.

Some of the workers were caught catching a game of cards or lighting barely sticks off of the smelting fires. Some were having their lunch. It was somewhat wholesome to see the sweat clad workers opening their classic iron lunchboxes. He gave a gentlemanly shove to a grazing stallion as he delved deeper into the complex.

The deeper he descended, the more dragons he passed. They were useful for their fire fore no daylight could reach down this far. In shifts the Wyverns would breathe a controlled stream of fire, not enough to hurt or scare any pony passing by, but enough to let them know where they were going.

The lanterns were for emergencies and were usually unlit.

He explored further and further still till he found the frontline of the operation, where dragon and hulking stallion worked closely and the heat was unbearable.

Salem thought he had entered unnoticed, and for the most part he was right. He didn’t see an outcrop in the cave wall and he stubbed his kingly toe upon it. The knock turned heads for the cave made the slightest noise louder tenfold. His whining made eyes roll however.

“King Sombra my liege. You have denounced your title but you cannot be lurking ‘round here. There have been cave-ins, poisonous gasses, falling ceiling rock, you could be killed.”

The concerned dragon was none other than Ignatius, the very fiery tempered drake that wanted to embargo Salem’s law.

Salem smiled and looked around, holding his grumbling stomach as he did so. The scene prior had been gruesome, and his senses were shot, but the primal need to feed overcame all. The king watched as his subjects continued to toil.

Thick-legged earth ponies combated the sheer granite with their rear hooves. Unicorns transported split rock and ore into the awaiting carts, something that Salem hadn’t seen in the dingy tunnels. The majestic conjurers also chipped away at the wall, pickaxes rebounding and glancing off of the stone.

The mine was established very close to the kingdom limit. Sombra hadn’t thought of the boundaries. Past his kingdom’s outer vestiges was a rolling, uninhabited frozen wasteland. He thought nothing of burrowing beneath such barren leagues. Who would want jurisdiction over nothing?

Apparently, the Empresses had the vast tundra under their thumb, so to speak. A dragon, one much smaller than the spokesperson from the fountain, tore a chunk of chalky wall out and passed it to the waiting unicorns. He brandished his purpose built pickaxe, a truncated log with a head the size of driven plough at one end, and sunk it into the hole he had made. He was thrown backwards and a pulse of pinkish white energy radiated around the room.

The diminutive dragon held his claw as it twitched. He claimed he could not move it. He was in shock and was safely taken from the mine by a couple of Samaritans.

“We can dig no further.”

Salem whispered. Even in the underground amphitheatre his words were not heard.

He rushed through the gravel of mashed rock and broken steel towards the fault in the wall. A unicorn strained to lift the immense axe before Salem reached her and pushed her out of the way. His horn shone bright purple and he unleashed a powerful deluge of magic. It tore through the rock legendarily. It revealed the field but already accusations were being tossed around.

“If you don’t want us down here, then we’ll leave!”

A labour dragon shouted.

“Nobody here has done anything.”

The unicorn unionists retorted.

“One of ours was injured by magic. So, who in here is itching for a barbeque? I am starving and the menu in this place is far too vegetarian. Push us all you like, ponies, we’ll cook you alive.”

“No one in here is trying to hurt you. You’ve gotten this all wrong…”

“Why is that? Because I’m a savage, a simple animal, is that what you’re saying?”

“No. You are only hearing what you want to hear.”

“Clastic was not long ago a fledgling. He’s only moulted his feathers. One of you stuck up horn-heads has paralysed him!”

Salem flared up his horn again and amplified his voice.

“Quiet!”

Silence filled the miasmic hollow.

“Whether or not your friend has been harmed is not the discussion here. This is not the work of one unicorn, or even a conclave of them. This is no setup. This is an extension of the barrier above. We can burrow no further.”

“So it is true…”

Ignatius pondered. He beat his wings four times and landed at the end of the tunnel. He gently poked the psychedelic field and his claw chipped, the base split.

“This is the doing of Celestia. She has crossed us off of the grid, cancelled our existence. What action do you suggest, sir?”

Salem walked back to where the cave narrowed and to where the smell of barely smoke was everywhere. He turned back and addressed the workforce.

“This will end today’s shift. We will start anew in the morning. This has been a setback but we will not be beaten by it. For now, find nourishment in the town, and relax. Try to sleep in the day so the witch can’t enact her awful tricks. Progress has been uncompromised by recent atrocities. You all have pride in what you do. I will see if Clastic is okay.”

The king was on his way to fresh air when a wiry stallion puffed and panted into sight.

“Sire, sire there is unrest. There is rumbling about revolution.”

“Quieten down, Silver, this is not the best time.”

“Umm, as you wish sire. Why are the miners leaving?”

“Never you mind, return to the surface and rest. You have earned it. Oh, and before I forget, how’s that little job of yours going?”

Quicksilver tried to trip his master. Again, the King found censure with the holdup. He glowered unremorsefully at the termite.

“Remove yourself.”

“It’s just, well, you know, keeping mum about the council has been eating away at me. I’ll surely crack. When do we tell the families? We can’t keep…”

“We aren’t speaking of that in front of all these people. I’ll ask again. How many unicorns have you selected? Are they bright witches and warlocks, maybe even wizards? We could do with a caster specialising in pyromancy. Have you seen to this?”

A dashing young unicorn came barrelling out of the woodwork, a charred stem of barely hanging from his lip. He spit it out and prodded the messenger sharply with his horn.

“What’s going on here? You said sommint about families. My ma’s a chancellor in the mages circle thing. She usually comes visiting around lunchtime. What’s keeping h...?”

The colt went pale.

“It was the mages wasn’t it?”

Salem vehemently gestured with his head to the messenger, begging him in pig-Latin to say nothing more. The mouthed words were ignored.

“It’s your mother, she’s…”

Before Silver could say another word, a distraught stallion tackled him as he sped through the cave. He coughed as his unaccustomed lungs drank the polluted air.

“Copper, copper, I’ve been looking everywhere for you! I was visiting her work and, there was so much, just everywhere, it was terrible. Cops, your mom is gone, but you still have your dad. What are you doing in this hole? You’re working with your mother’s killers. These creatures are not to be trusted!”

The father and son clung to each other and wept copiously, their many woes echoing along the lodge paths and rat runs. The two of them left and the dragons said nothing. Salem thanked them for their tolerance before ascending the numerous tunnels, greeting the workers as he did.