Flickering torchlight caused shadows to dance on the mine walls.

Ra-Gadol groaned as four revolting slaves dragged him through the tunnels. His head throbbed, and his stomach threatened to expel its contents at any moment.

At the end of the long tunnel, the rebels shoved Ra-Gadol onto the ground, and his knees scraped on the rocky floor. Wind passed through the alcove, and the blood on Ra-Gadol’s forehead became like ice on his skin. Steel manacles dug into the flesh of his wrists as he struggled against them.

Ra-Gadol took several deep breaths and looked around the room, his blurred vision slowly returning to normal.

Dozens of humanoid figures surrounded him, and one giant stood in the middle of the room. As Ra-Gadol’s vision returned to normal, he saw that most of the figures were humans, clad in whatever bits and pieces of armor they could find from demons they’d slain during the riot. Among the humans were people with blue or snow-white skin, from which cold mist arose and swirled in the air.

Ra-Gadol turned his gaze to the enormous figure in the center of the room. Now that his eyes had acclimated themselves, he saw a statue of a man made from red clay. The statue stood two heads taller than the next tallest man in the room, and his shoulders were so broad he could carry an ox’s yolk with ease. The statue wore a long coat, with quills like those of a porcupine protruding from the back and shoulders. Upon his forehead, inlayed with adonium, was the symbol of Shun, the god of stone and labor.

The statue turned its head to look down at Ra-Gadol, and though its lips did not move, a voice called out from its chest. “I would never have expected Malkira to be so foolish as to send his own son to put us down.”

“I don’t think he was sent,” said one of the rebel slaves behind the demon prince. “As far as I can tell, he came here on his own accord, with a handful of followers.”

The statue knelt in front of Ra-Gadol, his carved eyes meeting the demon prince’s. “Is that so? What did you hope to accomplish today?”

Ra-Gadol sneered at the golem but said nothing.

“What should we do with him, Emet?” asked one of the rebel slaves.

The golem rose to his feet again, his hands clenched into fists. “I’m not sure yet. We could bash his skull in to send Malkira a message. Or he could be a valuable hostage. We could trade his life for our freedom.” Emet looked down at Ra-Gadol, and though his face didn’t change, the demon prince could sense that the golem was smiling. “You’re our savior, young prince. We’ve been trapped down here since we revolted, but you’ve just given us a way out.”

The rebel slaves held the demon prince back as he tried to leap to his feet and attack the golem. All four pushed down on his shoulders, and one kicked behind his knees to force him down again.

“I’ll kill you!” Ra-Gadol shrieked. “I’ll butcher every last one of you!”

Emet turned to the rebels behind him. “You took away his weapons, yes? How did he arm himself?”

A rebel with red skin and horns like a bull held out to the golem Ra-Gadol’s sword, still encased in its leather scabbard.

Emet took the sword, drew it from its sheath, and eyed the lustrous blade. “You came here armed with a longsword? To fight me?” The golem beat his fist against his chest. “Don’t you know I’m made of stone? Did you really think such a weapon would be dangerous to me?”

As Ra-Gadol sneered up at Emet, blood poured down from the corner of his lip. Tremors rocked all four of the rebel slaves holding Ra-Gadol down, and each of them collapsed.

“Shit! Blood magic!” came a cry from the surrounding rebels.

Ra-Gadol leapt at Emet and snatched the sword from his hands.

The rebel slaves moved in to defend their leader, weapons drawn, but Emet raised a hand to halt them. “No! If this foolish boy thinks he can beat me with that, let him prove his idiocy here and now.” The golem raised both of his fists, each a granite club as big as Ra-Gadol’s head.

Rebel slaves stepped back, exchanging snickers and pointing at the demon prince.

Ra-Gadol lunged again and stabbed at the symbol on Emet’s forehead.

Emet raised his fist and blocked the blade. The tip chipped a tiny pebble from his hand.

The golem’s eyes fell to the un-damaged sword and his hands lowered slightly. “That should have snapped your weapon in two. Is your blade enchanted to be unbreakable? Perhaps you’re smarter than I thought.” Emet charged at the demon prince, his fist pulled back to crush him. He roared, “But it won’t save you!”

Ra-Gadol scrambled out of the way as the golem’s knuckles punched a hole in the wall behind him.

Blood streamed from the demon prince’s eye as he gestured to a pick-axe on the ground and flicked his wrist at Emet.

The pick-axe left the floor and embedded itself in the golem’s shoulder.

Emet lifted a rock larger than Ra-Gadol’s chest off the ground, spun, and hurled the stone at the prince.

Blood streamed from the prince’s other eye, and he raised his hand, causing the rock to stop mid-air, then fly back at Emet.

Emet’s fist crashed into the stone in mid-air, and both his hand and the rock exploded into a shower of pebbles.

Where Emet’s fist had once been, there now hung silver strings of adonium with bits of clay clinging.

While dust still filled the air, Ra-Gadol waved his hand at the pick-axe in Emet’s shoulder, which dislodged and then cracked into the golem’s back.

A painful shout echoed from the golem, and his legs gave out from under him. The hulking mass of earth collapsed onto the ground, barely managing to hold himself up on his one remaining hand.

Ra-Gadol rushed in and thrust his sword into the symbol on the golem’s forehead. The blade broke apart the adonium, and Emet crumbled into a pile of rubble.

The demon prince staggered about, dizzy and disoriented, and wiped the blood from his face on his sleeve. He turned to glare at the rest of the rebel slaves, a sinister smirk on his face. “Your savior is dead. Time for you all to surrender!”

Ra-Gadol stood with his sword pointed at each of the rebel slaves, though he felt that at any moment he might fall. His knees shook, and the weapon began to droop as his strength failed to support it. The taste of copper lingered on his tongue and in the back of his throat, and his stomach gurgled as it filled with a warm liquid.

The rebel slaves stared at him with slack jaws and peeled eyes. Ra-Gadol silently prayed to Sygin that the death of their leader had been enough to break their rebellious spirit, for he wasn’t sure he had much else in him.

But his strength wouldn’t hold, and the sword slipped from his grip and clattered on the floor.

“Kill him!” one of the rebel slaves cried out.

“Yes, kill him!” shouted another.

All of them rushed in, their weapons raised and faces full of fury for their fallen hero.

Ra-Gadol coughed and spat up blood as arcs of lightning bounded from his body to strike the rebel slaves as they drew near. But no sooner did the electricity reach its intended targets then everything went black, and the demon prince felt his body and head collide with the ground.