Chapter 59 The Jerrica Mines (2/2)
”Creature?” asked Aegin, his eyes narrowing, ”Rassa's different, he's not an exotic animal”.
”Aegin”.
The leader hushed Aegin, but the man just looked at Aegin with a form of a amusement.
”Adorable”.
Aegin clearly took that as an insult.
The man then turned and pointed at the carriage as he addressed the Guards.
”Take it down to the dungeon cells. Secure it where I told you earlier, remove the chains but not the mask. We don't want any accidents”.
The carriage was wheeled forward without delay into the darkness beyond, Rassa turned back as they took him inside, glimpsing Aegin as he watched after the carriage, then the sunlight and all that stood within it was swallowed by the shadows.
Rassa's vision was better in the darkness of the mines, but that didn't mean he was relieved to be able to see. It was quite the opposite in fact. Rassa wished he couldn't see the prisoners, chained and as thin as skeletons. He wished he couldn't see the whips or the desperation on the faces of those who worked tirelessly in the darkness. Their only light source were the dull torches burning with flickering and changing intensity. Rassa wished he couldn't smell it too. The rank, damp corners that were filled with years, perhaps even decades or centuries of hardship and turmoil.
And the screams. They were not so obvious in the first few tunnels, but the deeper they went the more pronounced they became.
And they went deep.
Rassa was sure they walked for hours down the tunnels. At first in the carriage, and then dragging him by his chains as he stumbled occaisionly in his efforts to keep up. Finally, after what was perhaps an eternity, they reached the end of a long, skinny tunnel that opened up to four cells. Three of them were only about a couple of metres wide and long each, but the last was larger, about four or five times as larger.
And Rassa stopped in his tracks as soon as he saw the bars. Judging by the earth around them, they'd been newly built and placed there. That didn't bode well. Not when they were Anthrite.
They'd been expecting Rassa, and they'd built a prison cell specifically for him.
”Move, boy!” snapped one of the guards. He tugged hard enough on Rassa's chains that Rassa stumbled and fell face first onto the ground. It sucked not having his superior strength. The guard would not have been able to move him if he'd had it. Another tug, and Rassa was dragged across the small observation section and into the cell.
He flipped over, trying to stand, but the guards pushed him back down again. Holding him as he tried to throw them off and get out. He did not want to be stuck in here. It was out of the question.
They took his arms, unlocking the cuffs and dropping the Anthrite chains onto the ground outside the cage. As instructed, they left the mask on, then they threw Rassa a few more metres into the cell and retreated to close the gate behind them. Rassa ignored it as the hard rock cut into his skin. Without his power, his skin was cut easily and the healing occured much slower than normal. As blood dripped down from the cuts, Rassa threw himself at the closing gate.
It closed and Rassa stopped just centimetres before hitting it. He glared at the metal, at the guards beyond who laughed at his predicament. He felt the wounds begin to close, slowly but surely, and the clear surprise on the guards faces as they did so. It might have been dark, but it was light enough for them to see the visibly healing wounds they'd inflicted.
Rassa glared until they retreated, then he took a glance at the cell he'd been given.
He hadn't noticed it before, but the rock walls had veins of Anthrite running through them. They'd built his cell in the right spot, that was for sure.
The only furniture in the room, if it could be called that, was a wooden cot with some straw on top of it, and a bucket in the corner, no doubt meant for his excrement.
Rassa turned back to the gate, and to the dark tunnel beyond. When he'd told his father to use Anthrite if he got out of hand, he never thought it would lead to this.