“Lock up your libraries if you like; but there is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind.” — Virginia Woolf Riven had spent the last few days thinking about what the old man had told him.
Magic was an interesting subject, but it wasn’t something he could make use of while he was still trapped in the camp.
Even if he had a powerful core, it wouldn’t help him escape if he couldn’t use it.
For now, he was focused on finding a way out.
He had already learned that climbing the walls was practically impossible.
The main gate was constantly guarded, and the guards inspected the carts that left the camp.
There had to be another way.
Riven was still thinking about this when a guard entered the slave quarters one morning.
“You!
And you!
Get up!” The guard pointed at several slaves, including Riven.
“You’re coming with me.
We’ve got a shipment to unload.” Riven stood up and followed the others outside.
He had been expecting another day of mining, but the opportunity to do something different wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
He remembered what the old man had told him about the storage hall and wondered if he would finally get a chance to see inside.
The group was led across the courtyard toward a large wooden building.
Riven immediately recognized it.
The storage hall.
It stood near the center of the camp, surrounded by several smaller buildings.
Unlike the stone structures used for the guards’ quarters, the storage hall was made almost entirely of wood.
Its walls were thick, but the entire building looked old and worn.
A large double door stood at the front, with a smaller entrance on the side.
Two guards were stationed nearby.
“Get moving!” one of them shouted.
A cart had arrived outside the building, loaded with several large crates and sacks.
The slaves were ordered to unload everything and carry it inside.
Riven joined the others.
The first few crates were filled with food.
He carried one inside and placed it where a guard pointed.
The storage hall was larger than he had expected.
Shelves lined the walls, and wooden crates were stacked in several rows.
There were sacks of grain, dried meat, beans, and other food supplies.
Some were piled directly on the floor, while others were stored on shelves to keep them away from the damp ground.
There was enough food to feed the entire camp for quite some time.
mostly dried goods but also some fresh fruit and vegetables, not that he’d ever get any.
Riven continued carrying crates, taking the opportunity to look around whenever he could.
Beyond the food, there were several sections filled with tools.
Pickaxes, hammers, shovels, and spare handles were arranged in large wooden containers.
There were also coils of rope, nails, chains, and various pieces of equipment used in the mines.
Further inside, he noticed stacks of lumber and bundles of metal.
Some of the materials were probably used to repair the buildings, while others were likely meant to reinforce the mines.
There were also barrels of water and several containers filled with other supplies.
Then he noticed something else.
Near the back of the storage hall stood a row of large barrels.
A few smaller containers had been placed beside them.
Riven watched as one of the older slaves carried a container toward the back.
“What are those?” he quietly asked.
The slave glanced at him before answering.
“Fuel.
Mostly oil for the lanterns.
There’s some other stuff mixed in, too.” Riven nodded and continued working.
He had seen lanterns throughout the camp.
They were used in the mines and hung outside the buildings at night.
Without them, the slaves wouldn’t be able to see in the deep mines.
He looked at the barrels again.
Oil.
The word lingered in his mind.
After unloading the last of the crates, the slaves were ordered to organize the supplies.
Riven spent the next hour carrying sacks and stacking smaller containers.
It gave him plenty of time to look around.
The storage hall was almost always busy whenever a shipment arrived.
Slaves carried supplies in and out while guards watched over them.
Some of the guards remained outside, while others occasionally were stationed throughout the building.
Riven also noticed that the storage hall was positioned close to several important areas of the camp.
The courtyard was just outside.
The slave quarters were a short walk away, and the main path leading toward the gate passed nearby.
It was practically in the middle of everything.
He glanced up at the wooden ceiling.
The building was old, and much of it was made from dry timber.
Even the large support beams were wooden.
It was sturdy enough to hold the supplies, but it wasn’t reinforced like most other buildings.
Riven’s eyes slowly returned to the barrels of oil.
An idea began to form in his mind.
What if he started a fire?
A fire in the storage hall would certainly attract attention.
The guards would have to deal with it, and the slaves might be ordered to help move supplies or carry water.
No one would notice if a slave slipped out.
It could create the kind of confusion he needed.
He looked toward the entrance.
If the guards were distracted, perhaps he could slip away while everyone was focused on the fire.
But there were problems.
The storage hall was surrounded by guards, and starting a fire wouldn’t magically make the walls disappear.
Even if he managed to get away from the building, he would still have to reach the edge of the camp and find a way past the gate.
He also couldn’t be certain that the guards would abandon their posts.
Still, it was the first idea he had come up with that seemed even remotely possible.
Riven continued working, keeping his thoughts to himself.
He didn’t want to draw attention to the barrels.
If he suddenly became too interested in them, someone might start asking questions.
For the rest of the morning, he focused on his work while quietly observing the building.
He paid attention to where the supplies were kept, which guards entered the storage hall, and how often they changed positions.
He also noticed that the workers were usually allowed to move around the building as long as they continued doing their jobs.
It wasn’t much, but it was something.
Eventually, the shipment was completely unloaded.
“That’s enough!
Get outside!” Riven followed the other slaves out of the storage hall.
The guards closed the large doors behind them, and the group was marched back toward the courtyard.
He glanced over his shoulder one last time.
The wooden building stood quietly in the middle of the camp, looking no different from when he had first entered it.
Yet Riven couldn’t stop thinking about it.
For the first time since arriving at the camp, he had found something that might actually help him escape.
It was dangerous, and he still had no idea how he would get past the guards.
But at least he had a starting point.
The rest of the day passed slowly.
Riven was given more chores around the courtyard before finally being allowed to return to the slave quarters.
He sat down in his usual spot and leaned against the wall.
The other slaves were busy eating or talking among themselves, but Riven barely paid attention.
He was planning his next move.
The oil.
The wooden walls.
The guards.
The courtyard.
If he could start a fire at the right time, he might be able to create enough confusion to escape.
But he couldn’t rush it.
He needed to learn more about the camp.
He needed to understand how the guards reacted to emergencies and whether there was any way to reach the gate without being caught.
And most importantly, he needed to make sure he wasn’t putting himself in a situation where he would simply be captured again.
Riven closed his eyes.
He had spent enough time being helpless.
If he wanted to survive in this world, he needed to take risks.
But he wasn’t going to throw his life away on a poorly thought out plan.
For now, he would keep watching.
Sooner or later, an opportunity would come.