“You’sa keep quiet, ya’hear?” one of the diggers hissed into Kat’s ear. “No talkin’.” She could only nod slowly, surrounded by a group of their captors. Those small, beady eyes gazed out at her underneath a mane of matted hair, their large, spade-like fingers brushing against her skin as they bound her wrists with lengths of rope. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see them doing the same to Norus and Willem. While they had walked here unrestrained, they could not enter the mountain without being leashed like an animal.

They were standing in front of the Twisting Spires, facing one of the numerous mountains that the diggers worked. Tunnels were bored into the side of the stone until it looked almost reminiscent of a beehive, the diggers like ants as they poured over the side of the rock face. With their strong muscles and thick nails, they were easily able to clamber over the stone. Even on occasion when they fell, they would merely stagger back up and wipe off whatever blood made it way through their thick hair before continuing where they had left off. Truly, whatever magic had twisted their bodies had been effective.

At ground level, there was a single massive tunnel that went apparently through the entire length of the mountain. Large enough to fit five carriages side to side with ease and tall enough for five men, a constant stream of diggers poured in and out of it as she watched. Most of them were merely passing through the tunnel, some carrying burlap sacks likely filled with whatever loot they had been taking from the nearby towns. What was it that man had said—water and grain? What could they hope to be doing with that? The diggers were not known to farm—they were too simple-minded for that. It was unlikely that they even knew what farming was, for they rarely left the cold, damp confines of their tunnels. They merely traded whatever they mined for food from the Heartlands—at least, that was what she had read. Clearly, she noted to herself, things have changed now since then.

As their group walked forward, the diggers carefully restraining the motions of their prisoners with their rope, Kat noticed more of the strange men clinging to the walls of the tunnel. With metal picks, they labored away at the stone, ever widening the tunnel. Others scurried along the bottom, hurriedly collecting the chips and scattered rock that fell from above to be brushed off or carried away in buckets. Some were drinking from carved buckets that lay scattered throughout the floor seemingly at random, that held water which dripped from the ceiling. There were a few that sat on the side, gnawing on what looked like shards of stone at first, but upon closer inspection appeared to be scraps of meat covered in greying mold. The putrid smell was enough to upset her stomach even at this distance, and she found herself suddenly respecting the hardiness of their bodies even more.

Kat was about to ask something to her captors, but a sudden movement out of the corner of her eyes stopped her. Fear and panic filled her stomach instinctively, a plummeting sensation as she realized that whatever it was had moved at an inhuman speed. It could not have possibly been one of the diggers; this thing had flickered nearly five paces in the span of one. There was a sudden scream as one of the diggers on the wall seemed to fall, clutching at his arm. Or rather, she quickly realized, what was left of his arm. The limb was now a bloody stump, severed and spraying blood onto the stone.

The other diggers seemed to ignore their wounded brother, scurrying around him and continuing their mindless work. Another digger swiftly scrambled up the wall to where the injured one had used to be, holding the bloodstained pick and resuming his work. From the top of the wall, she heard a sound like the crunching of bone, and when she looked up she saw something hanging from the stone, the digger’s arm in its mouth. Yet before she could truly make out what the thing was, one of her captors struck her on the head and forced her gaze down.

“No lookin’.” he hissed softly, tightening the rope to pull her arms back. “They don’ like it when ya look.”

Blood and bones, she thought, peeking out of the corner of her eye to see the former dripping from the ceiling freely where the thing feasted. The maimed digger was on his feet once more, washing his wound with water from one of the buckets. He wouldn’t—she thought before he began to work once more along the bottom of the walls, gathering bits of fallen stone, even as his severed stump was still dripping a trail behind him.

“Why is he still working?” she whispered nervously to her captor as they shuffled forward. The crowd of ever-moving diggers moved out of their way without so much as a glance, but she could feel the sharp gaze of the thing hanging from the walls on her back even without looking.

“He wans’ta live. Took’is arm ‘cause he work too slow. If ‘e don’ work, take more uv ‘im.” one of the diggers responded, yet it was not the fearful tone that she had been expecting. He spoke calmly and tiredly, like a man resigned to his fate. And as she looked around, Kat saw that none of the others were even shocked by this; this was commonplace to them. They were slaves, prey consigned to labor in these damp tunnels.

“But—” she began before the rope binding her legs together was tugged sharply and she stumbled, falling forward. Her arms went out instinctively to soften her fall, only for them to be restrained by rope as well. Instead, she could only turn her head slightly before she struck the ground, her jaw cracking with a sharp spike of pain.

“No talkin’. I told ya.” grunted the digger behind her, his eyes glinting with an almost perverse pleasure at her pain. Or perhaps, some part of her realized, it aws just the pleasure of asserting dominance over another. The pleasure of a creature so long abused below another, to finally exercise that same role on something weaker than it. And here, she thought dimly as her vision swam, nothing is weaker than a soft human.

“Git up.” one of them commanded, kicking her legs and pulling on the rope, half hauling her back to her feet. The coarse rope dug into her wrists, drawing blood where it abraded her skin, but she managed to rise once more. Her jaw felt locked, the joint swollen, and when she tried to open it she found that it could not open farther than halfway. Before she could contemplate any further, however, a swift kick to her back sent her stumbling forward, and she only barely managed to catch her balance before resuming those shuffling steps.

“Dis damn king’a theirs,” she heard one of the workers nearby complaining as he gnawed on his mold-meat, “comin’ in an’ makin’ us haffa work like dis. I an’t ever swung’a pick that much inna week b’fore, an’ now its in a day.” He grumbled noisily as he broke the meat with yellowed teeth, and Kat winced as she realized that not only was the meat moldy, but it was also frozen.

“Ya shaddup b’fore dey hear ya.” his compatriot reprimanded, punching him in the chest so hard that he fell over. “Dey gons eat’ya like dey did ta Korga, if ou’sa keeps talkin’.”Before Kat could hear them saying anything held, a hairy hand clapped on her shoulder.

“If ya don’ keep movin’ those feets, I’ll toss ya to one of tha’ overseers.” one of the diggers hissed lowly, his beady eyes glinting wetly, and Kat hurriedly shuffled forward. What were they saying? She tried to remember, but it was hard to decipher what they were muttering through their thick tongue. A king, she decided. He had definitely said something about a king.

So it seemed that there truly was some king in the Outlands, and he had apparently taken control of the diggers in the mountains. Whether through fear or some other arrangement, they were mining the walls for him and raiding nearby towns for grain under his command. This king was most likely the one that had called for Willem to come as well, she realized. If that was the case, then perhaps there was some chance that they might live through this encounter—it seemed unlikely that he would personally summon them just to devour them in his court.

Yet before she could continue that thought, she found that they were nearing the end of the tunnel. Light shining in from the outside revealed a green sky, crackling with the same wild energy that tingled in the air after magic. Only this energy felt different, more capricious. It darted around her and over her with a frenetic frenzy, jumping from limb to limb and causing her pulse to accelerate just by being in its presence. It felt feral, primal, unrestrained and uncontrolled where magic normally felt calm and constrained. This energy was wild, and it was everywhere.

At the mouth of the tunnel, she saw a massive figure sitting on the ground, his gaze sweeping over all the other scrabbling diggers as he chewed on bones. Bones of what, Kat did not wish to know, but they were inordinately thick and remarkably resembled a femur. Her mind remembering the thing that had taken an arm from one of the diggers, she had a sneaking suspicion on the origin of the corpses.

This beast was a massive affair, three hands taller than her despite sitting on the ground. Its arms were perhaps twice as long as they ought to be, even for a creature of its size. They were abnormally thick with muscle as well, the limbs practically like two trees ending in numerous clawed fingers. Its shoulders were accordingly massive, broader than two men with a neckless head in the middle. Its legs were inordinately short, ending in three stubby toes each tipped with a curved claw. A short tail twitched on the ground behind it, almost like an afterthought compared to the rest of the monstrosity. The entire creature was covered in a calloused hide, dark blue scutes looking almost like pebbles on its skin.

Its face was squat and flat, with a nose resembling one of a pig’s if it did not protrude outwards. Its mouth was far too wide, stretching nearby across the entirety of its skull as a gaping smile filled with rows and rows of thin, needle-like teeth. But most remarkable were its eyes, each one large as a fist and a baleful yellow. They sat in unmoving its its skull, the round pupils massive and well suited to the darkness of the tunnel. As their group approached, the head tilted ever slightly, both of those massive eyes fixating on her.

“Dey’ve wanted to see the king. Said king wans’ta see ‘im.” one of the diggers spoke quickly, shoving Willem forward and holding fast to the rope. There was a brief silence as the creature stared at the boy, nobody daring to breathe. Those massive eyes blinked slowly, even that ordinary motion terrifying as they waited for an answer.

“King.” it growled finally, rising to its legs. Standing, the thing hulked over her at twice her height, its arms dangling to the ground. Any thought of escape were swiftly dashed as the beast came over, its casual stride twice her own and deceptively fast for something of its size. Thrusting its face forward until he was not even inches from Willem’s own, it leered.

“You meet king?” it remarked, smiling to bare the rows of thin teeth, each one sharp as a dagger. Slowly, it opened its jaw further, moving closer as if to swallow Willem. Kat found her chest hurting, unable to breathe as she watched. Norus seemed tense, veins bulging in his neck as if he was about to burst free of his restraints.

Wordlessly, Willem raised his hand. Tongues of flame shot out of his fingertips, greedily latching onto the creature. It recoiled swiftly, swatting at its body and stamping out the flames. The smell of burnt flesh and the crackling of magic filled the air as it stared at Willem, those yellow eyes unblinking. Finally, it nodded.

“Come.”