“Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.” — Desmond Tutu Riven slowly opened his eyes.
The familiar sounds of the slave quarters greeted him.
Several men were already awake, coughing and groaning as they prepared for another day of the mines.
He sat up and rubbed his heavy eyes.
Another day in the mines.
He sighed before getting to his feet.
His body was still sore from the previous day’s work, particularly his arms and shoulders.
Although he had grown somewhat used to the exhausting routine, that didn’t make it any easier on his fragile body.
At least he had managed to learn a few things about the camp.
The walls were too tall to climb, the gates were constantly guarded, and the guards thoroughly inspected carts leaving the compound.
Unfortunately, none of that brought him any closer to escaping.
He needed more information.
Preferably, information that he couldn’t obtain simply by watching the guards.
Riven glanced around the room.
Most of the slaves were busy preparing for work.
Some were eating the last pieces of bread from the previous evening, while others were struggling to get out of their beds.
His eyes eventually settled on an older man sitting against the far wall.
The man was considerably older than the other slaves.
His hair was mostly gray, and his face was covered in wrinkles.
One of his arms appeared to be permanently injured, as he kept it close to his body.
Riven had seen him several times before.
He was usually quiet and rarely spoke to anyone.
Perhaps he had simply been here for too long.
Riven considered approaching him.
‘He might know something useful.’ Of course, there was always the possibility that the man would report him to the guards.
Still, Riven couldn’t afford to spend all his time keeping to himself.
He needed to start talking to people.
He wanted to learn what the knew.
Before he could make up his mind, a familiar voice interrupted him.
“GET UP!
EVERYONE OUT!” Riven immediately turned toward the doorway.
The guard stood there with his usual metal bucket, glaring at the workers.
“Unless you want to spend the morning getting beaten, I suggest you move!” The slaves quickly began filing outside.
Riven followed them, taking one last glance at the old man.
He would have to wait until later.
The morning passed much like every other day.
Riven spent hours in the mines, hammering away at the rock and filling his sack with ore.
The tunnels were narrow, damp, and poorly lit.
Dust filled the air, making it difficult to breathe.
His small body was useful for reaching the tighter passages, but that didn’t make the work any less exhausting.
Occasionally, he heard the guards shouting at other slaves.
Sometimes, he heard the sound of someone being beaten.
He tried not to pay too much attention.
There was little he could do to help them, and attracting the guards’ attention would only make his own situation worse.
By midday, the workers were finally given a short break.
Riven sat down near the tunnel wall and pulled a small piece of bread from his pocket.
It was stale and hard, but he ate it anyway.
As he chewed, he noticed someone sitting a short distance away.
It was the old man from the slave quarters.
Riven hesitated before moving closer.
“Is this seat taken?” The old man looked up at him.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then he shrugged.
“Not unless you can see someone I don’t” Riven sat down.
He took another bite of bread while trying to think of something to say.
The old man glanced at him.
“You’re the little one, aren’t you?” Riven looked over confused.
“Little one?” “The kid who started working here recently.” “Oh.
Yeah.” The old man nodded.
“Thought so.
Haven’t seen you around before.” Riven swallowed his bread.
“I’ve only been here for a little while.” “How long?” “Maybe two weeks.” The old man gave a quiet laugh.
“Two weeks, huh?
Still new, then.” Riven wasn’t sure how to respond.
The man leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.
“Give it time.
You’ll get used to it.” Riven looked down at his hands.
He certainly hoped he wouldn’t be here long enough to get used to anything.
After a moment, he decided to ask a question.
“How long have you been here?” The old man opened one eye.
“Me?” Riven nodded.
“Long enough.” “How long is that?” The man scratched his beard.
“Seven years.
Maybe eight.” Riven stared at him.
“That long?” “Longer than I’d like.” The old man gave another quiet laugh, though there wasn’t much humor in it.
Riven couldn’t imagine spending that many years in this place.
He had already begun thinking about escaping after only a week.
Seven years seemed unbearable.
“Have you ever tried to leave?” Riven asked.
The old man’s expression changed slightly.
He looked at Riven for a few seconds before answering.
“Why would you ask that?” Riven hesitated.
“I was just wondering.” The man continued watching him.
Then he sighed.
“People have tried.” Riven leaned forward slightly.
“What happened?” “What do you think?” The old man shook his head.
“Most didn’t make it past the walls.
A few managed to get outside, but the guards caught them before they got very far.” Riven frowned.
“How?” “Does it matter?” “Well…” The old man interrupted him.
“Listen, kid.
You’re new here, so I’ll give you some advice.
Don’t go asking too many questions about escaping.” Riven lowered his head.
“Sorry.” “I’m not telling you to give up.
I’m telling you to be careful.” The old man looked toward the entrance of the tunnel.
“Some of the guards don’t take kindly to slaves who start getting ideas.” “And some slaves will report you the second they hear that hoping for anything that can make their life easier.” Riven nodded.
He understood that much already.
Still, the conversation had given him something useful.
Other slaves had attempted to escape before.
Unfortunately, none of them had succeeded.
He decided not to press the subject any further.
Instead, he changed the topic.
“Do you know much about the camp?” The old man raised an eyebrow.
“Depends on what you want to know.” “Just…
how things work around here.” The man chuckled.
“That’s a pretty broad question.” Riven shrugged.
“I don’t know much about this place.” “Well, that’s obvious.” Riven gave him an awkward smile.
The old man seemed to find that amusing.
“You’re not much of a talker, are you?” “Not really.” “Good.
Keep it that way around the guards.” Riven nodded.
For the next few minutes, the old man explained some of the camp’s routines.
He told Riven about the different groups of workers, the overseers, and the way supplies were distributed.
Most of it was information Riven had already figured out.
However, one particular detail caught his attention.
“Sometimes, they make us unload shipments,” the old man explained.
“Food, tools, equipment.
Whatever the camp needs.” Riven looked at him.
“Where do they put everything?” “In the storage hall, mostly.” “The storage hall?” The old man nodded.
“Big building near the courtyard.
You probably haven’t been inside it yet.” Riven shook his head.
“No.” “Well, you might get assigned there eventually.
They occasionally need extra hands when a shipment arrives.” Riven considered that.
A storage hall.
He hadn’t paid much attention to the building during his previous observations.
He knew it existed, of course, but he hadn’t considered what might be inside.
“What kind of things do they keep there?” he asked.
“All sorts of things.
Food, tools, fuel, spare equipment.
Sometimes other supplies.” “Other supplies?” The old man shrugged.
“Whatever they need to keep around.” Riven nodded slowly.
He decided not to ask any more questions.
He didn’t want to make the man suspicious, especially after the warning he’d just received.
Still, the information was worth remembering.
The storage hall might be useful to know about later.
A loud voice suddenly echoed through the tunnel.
“BREAK’S OVER!
GET BACK TO WORK!” Riven immediately stood up.
The other slaves began returning to their assigned positions.
The old man slowly pushed himself to his feet, wincing slightly as he moved his injured arm.
Riven glanced at him.
“Does your arm hurt?” The man looked down at it.
“Most days.” “What happened?” “An accident.” Riven wasn’t entirely convinced.
However, he decided not to ask.
The old man picked up his mining tool and started walking toward his section of the tunnel.
Before he left, he glanced back at Riven.
“One more thing, kid.” Riven looked up.
“Yeah?” “Don’t go getting yourself killed trying to escape.” Riven remained silent.
The old man shook his head.
“You’re still young.
You’ve got plenty of time.” Riven watched him walk away.
‘Plenty of time?’ He almost laughed.
He had no intention of spending years in this place.
But he also knew that rushing into something would probably get him killed.
The rest of the afternoon passed slowly.
Riven continued mining, occasionally glancing toward the old man.
The man worked at a steady pace, taking care not to strain his injured arm.
He didn’t seem particularly interested in talking anymore.
Riven respected that.
He had already learned more from their brief conversation than he had expected.
The camp occasionally received shipments.
The supplies were kept in a storage hall near the courtyard.
And some slaves were assigned to help unload them.
It wasn’t much, but it gave him something to think about.
Perhaps he would eventually get assigned to work there.
If that happened, he could learn more about the building.
Maybe he could steal some suplies.
For now, however, he needed to focus on surviving.
He continued hammering at the rock until the guards finally ordered everyone to stop.
By the time Riven returned to the slave quarters, his entire body was aching.
He collected his usual bowl of watery soup and sat down in his corner.
The food was terrible, as always.
Still, he ate every last drop.
After finishing his meal, he leaned against the wall and thought about the day’s events.
The old man had been surprisingly helpful.
He hadn’t given Riven any easy answers, but he had confirmed something important.
Escaping from the camp wouldn’t be simple.
Other slaves had tried before, and most had failed.
Riven knew he couldn’t afford to make the same mistakes.
He needed to learn more about the camp before attempting anything.
His conversation with the old man had also given him a new place to investigate.
The storage hall.
He didn’t know what he might find there, but it was worth remembering.
If he ever got the opportunity to work inside, he could learn more about the building and the supplies kept there.
Perhaps it would even prove useful for his escape.
Of course, that was still a long way off.
He would have to wait for an opportunity to present itself.
Riven glanced around the quarters.
The other slaves were already settling down for the night.
Some were talking quietly, while others were lying on their mattresses with their eyes closed.
The old man was sitting against the far wall.
Riven considered approaching him again, but decided against it.
He had already asked enough questions for one day.
He’d wait for tomorrow instead.
Instead, he lay down on his mattress and pulled the thin blanket over himself.
His body was exhausted, but his mind was still busy.
He thought about the storage hall, the shipments, and the guards who watched over the camp.
There were still far too many things he didn’t know.
But at least he was beginning to understand how the place worked.
And that was progress.
Riven closed his eyes.
Tomorrow would probably be another day of mining.
But perhaps, if he was lucky, he would eventually get the chance to see the storage hall for himself.
For now, that was enough.
to ease his mind.
He slowly drifted off to sleep.