Chapter 117: Rondo of Blood

Chapter 17 - Rondo of Blood

A cruel dream. One of a parched throat, fierce desire, and a dying woman with cracked lips. Jack crawled over to her. He gripped her bony shoulders and brought his open jaw to that thin neck just as her scream filled his ears.

“MAAA!!!!” Jack cried, eyes snapping awake. For once, the sweet scent of blood felt nauseating. He covered his eyes, the light of the luminite wall threatening to blind him. One of the mine guards stood before him, forearms plated with iron but no breastplate to go with. Instead, he wore a leather top over a shirt. He held a cup of blood in his hand.

Despite the nausea, Jack's instincts made his legs move of their own accord. How long since he'd last fed? One day? Two? A whole cycle? He no longer had any track of time. He'd been kept underground, chained near a bright wall of luminite for as long as he could remember. Each day was spent swinging, laughing and sleeping. It felt so long ago that he'd been locked within Karine's prison. He stood up almost instantly and tried grabbing at the cup. The guard stood just outside the length of the chains. Jack couldn't reach him. He stretched forward grasping at air like a child trying to reach a cookie jar, his chains rattling against the ground. He bore his fangs, a maniacal grin set on his face.

“Sit, and this is yours,” the guard said.

Jack paused. Something thick within his chest felt like bursting out. He sat, obeying just as a dog, holding his breath to avoid smelling blood. It was making the human part of him sick. His Vampire half caused him to fidget with his hands in impatience. The cup was placed before him and he snatched it instantly, spilling a few drops over the edge. No! he screamed internally. All thoughts of opposition and sickness left him as his lips touched the red. Bliss embraced his tongue, filling him with euphoria and strength.

And then it was gone. It wasn't enough to grant him the strength to break out. But it was enough to calm him and force him back to mining to earn another cup.

Jack blinked, squinting at a pile of glowing rocks next to him. His mined pile. Every two-hundred pounds earned him a cup of blood. He wondered where his captors were getting their supply. “This isn’t two-hundred pounds,” he mused, surprised at how clear his own voice sounded to him.

The guard kicked him in the gut. Jack fell to his knees, smiling. Feigning a cheerful attitude in the face of abuse had become second nature. He almost started believing it made him happy. “Yes, it in't,” the guard said. He grabbed Jack's long and dirty blonde hair and turned his head towards the luminite wall, forcing Jack to shield his eyes. “But I'm in charge of you. And you keeling over in't doing anyone favors. Flames but if we could have workers just like you. You've managed to live for four years and only ever consume a sip of blood every few days. Convenient, efficient, and cheap. Well, get to it, fanged freak. It won't Flaming mine itself!” The guard let go and stepped away.

“Four years…” Jack muttered, crinkling his nose at the smell of alcohol.

“Ah, that's right. You can't tell day from night here. Yeah, color yourself lucky kid. Most workers barely make it past their first year. The Professor in't too happy about that. Studies all manner of things that one, including long term affects luminite light might have on the eyes. All Ash dust if you ask me, that stuff. This here's a mine. In a mine, you mine. And you sell what you mine. In't nothing special to study. Everyone gets paid. Everyone goes home happy.”

Home… What did that look like again?

The guard scratched his neck. “Bah, what am I doing talking to an animal. Flames but this job is boring. Can't even catch some sleep with how bright these walls are. Well? Get mining already!” he finished, delivering another kick to the gut.

Jack barely flinched. The kick had been weak and painless this time. He grasped the handle to the pickaxe and lumbered over to the bright wall of luminite. It was a blend of white, orange and pale blue all mixed in together. Miners mined large chunks and gem cutters then shaped them before they were sold. Jack pondered on his watcher's words while swinging, each strike causing a sharp crackling sound to echo through the chamber. He'd heard of this Professor before. Someone that came down to the mines every once in a while to gather piles of luminite to study. What's there to study? Just bright rocks.

Jack continued to swing, hands, arms and shoulders aching not soon after. Imagination took control. He saw himself swinging, crushing skulls, tearing flesh. The tip of the pickaxe made hole after hole into Karine's skull until she went to her knees, her eyes rolled back and head like an unholy fountain. He cackled at the thought. A new wave of strength filled him, causing him to swing and laugh with renewed vigor. His strength was enhanced. Night had fallen. But even then, that hardly lasted. Gathering fatigue slowed him again until he could continue no longer. The pickaxe clattered to the ground beside him. A dampness covered his skin which hugged his bones so very tight. His chest rose and fell quickly. Imagination melted and nausea replaced it.

Jack felt Karine's hand run through his hair. Saw her fierce stance and protective back as she kicked away a monstrous bear. Saw her pale blue eyes as she smiled at him, holding out her cupped hands for him to drink from.

And then he saw that sickening image of her head gushing red.

He fell on his rear, laughing as tears rolled down his cheek. He buried his head in his arms, looking through his ragged shirt which sparkled in places with luminite dust. The outlines of his ribs were clear. So much like how his mother had looked just before her murder.

Jack gathered what he had mined and stacked them on top of his already existing pile. His eyes hurt being near this much light for so long. Unlike other miners, he didn't get to go to a cell to sleep. He was chained before the bright wall and had somehow lived four years in a single spot. A bucket was left by the wall for his relief, and once every few days or so, someone would leave a small basin of water for him to wash with.

He sat down next to the iron post binding his chains, leaning his back against it. The guard at the far wall sat on a chair, drifting in and out of sleep. Jack flexed his bony fingers. He could tell night from day. At night, his strength was enhanced. But still, he'd never bothered to once try. It didn't matter. He was stuck slaving away and forever would be. He furiously rubbed his aching eyes, smearing tears into his grimy palms. And then Jack lay down, curled into a ball. “Hush now hush now, please don't cry…” He sang until his own honey voice put him to sleep.

***

Jack awoke again, screaming. The same nightmare came to him every time he closed his eyes. He slowly stood up and went about his day, swinging until he could no more, occasionally cackling at his own misery, occasionally singing to hear something other than iron striking stone.

Nine days more days passed in this repetitive manner. Every cycle, a mine inspector would arrive along with a team of collectors that ferried the mined stones away in large wheelbarrows. They came again as was to be expected. Jack sat cross legged next to his pile, the chain around his ankle extended to its full length. Just one misstep. One person coming in too close. It was the small hope Jack had clung on to for so long. That slim chance that might allow him to escape. He once again looked into his shirt and at his frail form. Would any amount of blood even be enough to break out of such a highly guarded mine?

Plainly dressed men hefted blocks of luminite into wheelbarrows. None of them stepped too close to Jack. There was another man with the group. Someone Jack hadn't seen before. He was tall and thin. His lightly tanned skin seemed almost fair with the light emanating from the walls. He was dressed in long robes, a sky blue shawl hanging over one shoulder. He had his arms folded behind his back and was squinting at the pile of luminite. He then turned to Jack and squinted at him. Jack stared back, realizing that the man wasn't squinting at all but had thin eyes.

The man called over to the guard. “How many people are responsible for this?” he asked, pointing to the pile of stones.

“Professor Crae! I wasn't expecting you. Just one person is responsible for all of that.”

“ONE?” the thin man shrieked. “This is the work of at least six or seven people. Unless you've managed to drag a beast of a man here.”

“No it was just a child. A—”

“A child!? Did I hear you correctly, Isaka? No, Isaka is the illiterate sounding one. What's your name? No, forget that. It isn't important. These stones are in good condition. They will be useful for my research. I'll take them for myself. Now, answer me truthfully, or this will cost your job. I thought this child was chained here for disobedience. But instead, you mean to tell me he's been mining here for a whole cycle? Or have you simply not had this pile collected in a long time? You understand that delaying collection is prohibited, don't you? Are there any other's working in league with you? Name them and I'll lighten your punishment.”

“No professor, I swear this is just one cycle's worth. This child mined all that within nine days. He—”

“You expect me to believe that?” Crae walked behind the pile and leaned forward, examining Jack. He stood just outside of range. His gaze went to the shackles and chains attached around Jack's feet. “This frail urchin mined all of that in just nine days? Why is he chained here? He could go blind staying near so much light without proper eye coverings. And who brought a child to begin with? They die too quickly.”

“He is one of the fanged. A Vampire. The chains are necessary.”

Jack shuffled, ignoring the conversation. A bit more. Just a bit closer. He eyed the sword at the guard's waist. How many mouthfuls of blood would he be able to swallow before that weapon bore down on him?

“—A Vampire?” Crae was saying. “Where on Illusterra did you manage to find a child of those night creatures? And didn't those Astral Union folks use an Artifact to erect a barrier around the Kal'Kar Mountains?”

“Er, he was brought in four years ago, Professor, sir. Around the time the barrier was erected. As you can see, he is of great use in these mines.”

“Four? Four!? He's been here all this time and I didn’t hear of it?” Crae cried, eyes wide. He turned back towards Jack. “Yes. Great use. I have these large stones thanks to him. But that isn’t of import here. Let me get this straight. A Vampire child was found and brought to this mine instead of the Ephemeral Stronghold. A Vampire?? Unshackle this boy at once. I don't care how many guards are required. I'll write a letter of introduction myself. The boy goes to Carthadria to meet the Emperor. You had such a magnificent weapon sitting before you and you thought to have it slave away in a Flaming mine? For four years no less? The poor child. This could be the turning point between us and Xenaria,” Crae said, walking back and forth. He shook a fist in the air. “It might just be the catalyst that allows Tarmia to unify the world! I can't believe you lot. This is the problem with being intelligent. Everyone else seems so insufferably stupid! Why are you still standing here? Go call more soldiers down here this instant!”

“Er, yes, Professor,” the guardsman said hurriedly. He gave a short bow of respect before running off.

The Professor turned back to Jack. “ Just a little closer. There are no more guards. Is that what you're thinking?” Crae asked, lips forming into a smile as thin as he himself. “Unfortunately, I am intelligent. But fret not, child of night. You will no longer live the life of a slave. The Emperor is kind to those with power. I've seen the power of Vampires first hand. The creature that was your king, Drayca Malkieri. I've seen the carnage he once inflicted in a fit of rage. It's no wonder the Union decided to kill him.” Crae turned and walked a few steps, hands behind his back. “With a vampire, the tides of war may truly turn in our favor. Well, I suppose you wouldn't be needed if that damned Idris Khan wasn't so moody and unreasonable. I still don't understand why the Emperor favors him so much after he showed such insolence. No matter. What are you called boy?”

Jack stared mute. An end to his life as a slave. An end to the misery of being shackled in one place. Of swinging a pickaxe and having the sounds ring in his ear. Of consuming nothing but blood. Of nightmares of killing his own —No! Those probably wouldn't stop.

But I didn't kill her. Karine did…

Jack gathered a handful of dirt into one hand. It was a mix of black and glowing luminite bits. He would be free, yet still be bound. He didn't want to be bound.

“Surely you have a tongue. Your kind can speak. I know that much,” Crae said, scowling.

“My dagger,” Jack murmured. He needed it back. It was his. Given to him by his mother. “Where is my dagger?”

Crae's scowl deepened. “A dagger? Four years in one place and the first thing you ask for is a weapon? Amusing. A shame. Really. I'd study you if I could. But the needs of the Empire come first and foremost. A dagger you say. Is it special? Like an Artifact of some sort?”

Jack glared. “It's mine!” he cried.

“Yes, I deduced that when you explicitly asked 'where's my dagger'. Could it be…? Describe this dagger to me.”

Jack continued glaring. Why would he describe anything? Why did he owe anything? They were the ones that had it. They were… they had control over him. He was still at their mercy. But if he had his dagger, mercy would be his to give or withhold. A wicked smile touched his lips. “Short. Twisted blade. Silver hilt.”

“Hold off on the smile, boy. I may not be thinking of the same weapon you are. But the officer in charge has had this fancy weapon at his waist for some time now. Flames. A mere officer dares to keep an Artifact instead of having it sent to Carthadria? Boy, what's your name?”

Jack's grin grew wider. Laughter echoed within every corner of his mind. Imagination ran wild. Fleeing animals. Screaming songs. Hidden within shadows, dancing all night long.

Laughing.

A rondo of blood.

“Jackrin,” he said softly. “My name is Jackrin.”

Crae nodded. “Hold your head high, Jackrin. And puff out your chest. From this day forth you are a soldier of Tarmia. A sword for the Emperor. I'll make sure of it.”