Outside the grand trading city of Nagathrum is the Black Road. So named because it leads to the Black Mountains, mountains full of ore and onyx and coal. Mountains rich in all the minerals the city could ever want and many it doesn’t. There are many mines set up in the mountains where slaves toil their whole lives without ever seeing the sun. They are brought down into the dim tunnels of rock and dust and made to hack deeper and deeper into the darkness for their masters. These slaves come from many walks of life, some from far off savage lands where primitive warlords sell them to the civilised peoples, some won in wars with neighbouring states and some are simply people of Nagathrum itself forced to trade themselves into slavery to feed their families when times grew tough. Times often grew tough for those not in charge.

This story follows one particular mine and the adventures of one particular miner. The mine is owned by a rich man called Nargon and he has grown fat and wealthy from the labour of his miners. He is a short man who stuffs himself into leather and old wool so the dust and dirt from the mine doesn’t ruin the lavish robes he keeps at home. He surrounds himself with guards at all times. Tall men who tower over him and over most of the miners. They once wore armour but now they wear leather as well, armour grows far too hot and awkward in the depths of the mine.

Nargon dismounts and walks through the entrance to start his day, surrounded by four of his guards. Nargon is fat and greedy but he is not lazy, always arriving early and ready to eke out as much ore and coal as possible. The entrance is in a much finer state than the deeper levels of the mine, it is where Nargon spends most of his time, sitting at his desk organising papers that authorise this or that. He is rather good at organising papers. On the top level of the mine is the kitchen where the cook, an old leathery slave of few words and fewer teeth, slowly chops up the morning meal for the miners. Next to the kitchen is the guardhouse where the night shift wait impatiently to leave and go home to their beds. Beside them is the lockhouse, nothing more than a few barred cells dug into the hard rock, some of them with barely room enough to stand up straight. There are four and only one is occupied. A pile of old and dirty rags slumbers in the corner, reeking of filth and unwashed humanity. Under the pile of rags is a slave called Rogo who is in there for blasphemy against the king of Nagathrum. Nargon is excited for today will be the day he finally is to be rid of Rogo. The kingsmen are coming to perform an inspection and will take him away when they leave for trial. And from how well his mine has been going recently it looks all set to easily pass the inspection.

Nargon strolled down into the lower levels where the miners slept and yelled at them until they woke up and scrambled out of bed, bleary eyed and exhausted from their hard work the day before. He told them of the inspection although they already knew and said that each and every one of them better be on their best behaviour. He came up with many punishments for any who weren’t and the miners were well versed in the truth of these threats.

So they picked up their picks and their lanterns and trudged down deeper and deeper into the mine until they reached the mines of yesterday and continued to hack away at the rock and earth, spitting dust and dirt into the air, blurring the lanterns and choking the mines. They had all been there a long time, they were used to it. Some of the guards of the night shift watched as Nargon had returned to his office.

There were two guards this time, a pair of young men who’d learned to fight and bully others from a young age, it had always been the thing they were best at. They stood wearily on a rock that overlooked the miners and talked. It was hard working the night shift, no one was ever awake while they were and the best times of the day always found them sleeping alone in their homes. One of the guards was named Rainan and his life was starting to get better, he said. He’d met a girl at a tavern a few days ago and hadn’t stopped talking about her to the other guard since. The other guard was called Karson and he was starting to get sick of his friend’s obsession. He watched the slaves and listened to words he’d heard many times before.

The slaves had slowed down in their mining. The clanging of picks and the scraping of rock had quieted. There were still some slaves mining but most of them seemed to be gathering in a huddle behind a rock where they thought the guards couldn’t see them.

“Stay here,” Karson said. He was tired from staying awake all night but he was paid very well to do this job and he didn’t want to mess it up on inspection day. The miners never talked to each other like this, at least not that he’d ever seen. Maybe they talked during the day shift, he wouldn’t know.

He climbed down the rock and walked over to the slaves, hand on his sword. He shouted at them and they scattered. Rushing back to their posts as quickly as possible. Karson leapt forward, catching a young female miner by the arm.

“What’s going on?” he growled down at her. His other hand still on his sword.

She looked up at him, trembling and with soot all over her face. She pointed at another miner, a tall muscular man who’d just picked up a shovel and was hurrying back to his post. Karson recognised him, it was Sairuk, a foreign miner who’d made a lot of trouble for them in the past.

“What about him?” he asked, glaring down at the girl.

“He-he-he- he found...” she stammered.

“What did he find?” he shouted and she cowered before him.

“He found this guardsman,” another miner said as the girl seemed to burst into tears. Karson looked up to see a tall handsome miner standing above him, in one hand he held a huge jagged pick that would punch through leather as easily as flesh and in the other hand he held a huge onyx. It caught the light of the lanterns and even in the dusty mine it seemed to sparkle black.

Rainan, still up on the guardsman’s rock gasped and Karson heard him rush off. He frowned, why had he done that? He looked around and realised. The mob hadn’t dispersed for very long. They were all standing around him holding picks and shovels, looking down at him holding the sobbing girl. He let her go and stood up, drawing his sword. She ran away into the arms of another miner. They had surrounded him and in all his years guarding this mine he’d never actually had to fight anyone. He was very out of practise.

“That is the property of Nargon of Nagathrum, give it to me and go back to your posts.”

“Nargon can have it when he comes and takes it from us himself,” the handsome slave holding the onyx said.

“It’s nothing but a shiny stone to you.”

“It’s worth a fortune and you know it.”

“Not down here it isn’t.”

“Well we’ll just have to take it out of here won’t we.”

Karson almost laughed. “There are so many guards here, you wouldn’t get one hundred metres.”

“We’ll see about that. Surrender now and we won’t kill you. We’ll tie you up for Nargon to find. He’ll find some way to punish you, maybe even as bad as he punishes us, but he won’t kill you and then you can go back to your family.”

“I don’t have a family,” Karson said sadly. Then he lunged. He didn’t know the handsome miner, but he doubted he was as good with that pick as Karson was with a sword. Picks were unwieldy weapons, made for chipping stone. Swords were made for killing and that was what he planned to do with them.

The miner staggered back and the sword swung past him. Then Sairuk’s fist crashed into Karson’s head and he fell sprawling to the rocks. He felt strong arms grab him and though he struggled he could do nothing to prevent them tying his wrists, his ankles, his mouth. They bound him to a rock and left him there. He sat hopeless in the dust and grime.

Rainan rushed up to the upper levels and ran into the guardhouse. It was almost the end of the night shift, the guards were mostly falling asleep. Two of them had been on the same hand of cards for two hours trying to focus enough to play.

But they were still guards, and they were hardly going to let some slave miners attack one of their own. They leapt to their feet and carrying swords and lanterns rushed into the mine. Rainan ran to tell Nargon who had a lot of shouting to do about it all. Then he too rushed off into the mine, yelling at the top of his voice.

Down in the mine the slaves were huddling together talking again but at the sound of the guards they scattered once more.

Sairuk, heavy pick in one hand, lantern in the other, took off away from the guards to the deepest tunnel in the mine. It was an old abandoned tunnel no one had used in years and stories said no one who’d gone down it had ever come back. It was jagged and rocky, the old path they’d mined long since crumbled away. Sairuk staggered down, struggling to keep his balance with the pick and lantern in each hand. Behind him he heard guards following down the tunnel. They hadn’t been down here, they weren’t miners, working every day in the jagged tunnels and rocks down here. He knew he could evade them as long as he wanted. He tripped on a loose rock and crashed into the bones of some long dead miner. He groaned and slowly sat up, blood trickling from his forehead. The guards found him and grabbed him and tore away his clothes, ripping them open with swords and daggers looking for the onyx and shouting at him and each other. They found nothing. They dragged Sairuk back to the main part of the mine.

Other miners ran other ways. Many tried to escape up the tunnel to the entrance. Led by Filmanion, the handsome slave, they leapt out from behind a rock after the guards had passed it and hurtled up the tunnel. Some guards turning to follow them. They ran into Nargon and Rainan coming down and Filmanion took them both by surprise. Knocking Nargon to the ground and crashing into Rainan. Before they picked themselves up the slaves were past them, hurtling toward the entrance. When they reached the top level they scattered in their panic. Most of them hadn’t been up here in a long time and they didn’t know where to go.

Kara, a tall foreign woman, just as strong as most of the male slaves, ran into the kitchen. There she found the cook who was hiding behind a counter, brandishing a cooking knife, terrified of all the commotion. She looked him in the eye and tried to explain the situation so he could point her to the way out. She got as far as “There’s-” before the guards burst in behind her and grabbed her by the arms. Just like Sairuk they tore off her clothes and ripped them apart in search of the onyx. They found nothing and dragged her off to gather with the others.

Meera, a young woman who had gotten into fights with so many miners and guards she had scars all across her body ran into the guardhouse. Just as she’d expected it was full of weapons. Beaming with glee she picked up the biggest sword she could find. It was a lot heavier than she’d expected and far more unwieldy than years of training made it look. She frowned and then guards burst in behind her. She spun to face them but she stood no chance. Three of them easily knocked the sword from her hands and then shoved her to the ground where they searched her for the onyx. They found nothing and took her back to the others.

Arna, the girl who’d been so terrorised by Karson in the mine, ran into the lockhouse. It smelled horrible, it was worse than breathing in all the dust and grime she’d grown to hate so much down in the mine. In the only occupied cell was a heap of rags and clothes from which the smell emanated. She eyed it warily and thought she saw a few flies crawling on him. The guards found her staring at the heap in disgust. She yelped as they grabbed her and searched her for the onyx, bursting into tears as they dragged her naked back to the others.

Filmanion ran into Nargon’s office and saw a keychain hung on a hook. He took it and looked around the room. There were no more doors. He burst from the room, knocking down a guard who’d been about to follow him in and ran toward the next door. As he drew closer he thought he saw light peeking around its edges. Natural light, not the flickering light of the lanterns. Daylight. The door had a big iron lock so he tried the big iron key. Guards ran up behind him and the lock clicked. He spun around and slammed his fist into the guard directly behind him. He fell, slowing the others. Filmanion opened the door and slid out, slamming the door behind him. He locked it from the outside and smiled. He looked up at the sun shining down on him and felt the fresh breeze.

Wegrel was the captain of the guard at the Mines of Nargon. A position he took very seriously. He always arrived for work several minutes early so he could have time to talk with the night shift, learn all about the goings on at the mine and inquire into their personal lives. He liked to know who worked for him, their interests, their friends and families. He thought that was just one of the qualities that made him a good leader. He also believed himself to be an incredibly organised and tidy person and today he was going to make sure the place was in perfect condition for when the kingsmen came for their inspection. He was wearing his best leather jacket, one that hadn’t been covered in dust and dirt yet and hopefully wouldn’t get too dirty before they arrived, and he’d arrived even earlier than usual just so he could have more time to tidy the place up.

That was why he saw Filmanion slamming the door and gazing up happily at the sun. Wegrel didn’t only know all of his guards, he knew all of his slaves too and he’d suspected this one would be trouble when they’d brought him in only a few weeks ago. He cursed and spurred his horse forward. Covering the distance between himself and the miner in seconds. Filmanion glanced up at the sound of hoofbeats but it was too late. Wegrel leapt from the horse and grabbed him, pinning him at swordpoint against the door. He took away the keys and opened the entrance dragging him back inside. There the bedraggled guards grabbed the escapee and tore his clothes from him, cutting them virtually into shreds hunting for the onyx. They found nothing so they dragged him down to gather with the others.

The miners all stood in the middle of the mine, all of them had been gathered. All of them had been searched and most of them were slowly putting on new clothes after their old ones had been shredded. The onyx hadn’t been found. Nargon was furious.

“I want this entire mine searched! I want that onyx found! Put every man you can on it!” he screamed at Wegrel.

“What about the inspection?” Wegrel asked.

“Fuck the inspection! They won’t be here till midday, I want that thing found and I want it found now! It must’ve been hidden in the mine somewhere, they must have tucked it away!”

“What about the slave who escaped? Why would he have tried to escape if he didn’t have it?” Rainan asked.

“But he didn’t have it did he!” Nargon screeched. “We searched him!”

“But what if he hid it somewhere outside?”

“Well search there too! Search everywhere!”

“I don’t think he hid it outside,” Wegrel said. “I saw him-”

“I don’t care Wegrel! Find it now! Put everyone on it! All of the night shift and all of the day shift when they get here! I’ll be in my office.” He stormed off.

Wegrel watched him go then gave some orders. He left some guards to watch the miners in case they tried anything and set the rest to combing the mine for the onyx. He even sent some outside even though he’d seen everything Filmanion had done after opening the door. He hadn’t had any time to hide the onyx.

He went up to see Nargon who was pouring over an outdated map of the mine.

“Nargon?” he asked, walking in.

“What? Did you find it?”

“No.” Nargon scowled and went back to the map.

“Why do we have to find it now? We should be preparing for the inspection, then we can find it afterwards.”

“No no no, don’t you see? Those miners still have it, they must have it somewhere, and they could just give it to the kingsmen. They all hate me, they’d do it just to spite me and they all saw that they aren’t going to escape with it themselves.”

Wegrel frowned. “I don’t think they’d do that.”

“What would you know? Find it! I don’t care how you do it! Torture them if you have to!”

“Torture isn’t generally very reliable, you usually get the information you want rather than-”

“Shut up! Go and look for it, can’t you see I’m working?”

Wegrel shrugged and left the room. They searched throughout the entire mine for most of the morning and found nothing. Even the team combing the bushes and scrub around the entrance had no luck. Eventually midday began to draw nearer and the search was abandoned while the mine was frantically tidied up for the kingsmen to appear. They appeared and as usual looked down on not only the miners but the dirty guards who were even more bedraggled than usual after spending all morning climbing up and down the mine. In their gleaming armour and red cloaks the kingsmen strode among them finding all the flaws and holes and inefficiencies in the mine. Nargon hated them and couldn’t get them gone soon enough. Eagre as he was to get back to finding the onyx and to avoid giving the miners any more contact then necessary with the kingsmen. So they were in and out in about half an hour. Taking the pitiful Rogo with them as they left. Wegrel watched as the mound of rags and filth walked out the door with the guards, that was the first time he’d seen Rogo move in months. He wondered.

No one had searched Rogo. No one had particularly wanted to and no one had honestly expected he’d have the onyx. How could he? He hadn’t been in the mine at the time.

So Rogo left the mine and of course he had the onyx. It had been his plan all along, he’d been the one who’d found it all those months ago. So he’d blasphemed the king’s name and been dragged up to the lockhouse where he’d been searched and they’d found nothing because of course he didn’t have the onyx then. The miners had kept it for months, hiding it in deep tunnels away from the guards, discussing their plan. Filmanion had arrived, and still full of hope and bursting with energy he’d been happy to help. They’d waited until the day Rogo was leaving to give the guards as little time to search as possible. Then they’d drawn them all into the mine and made their run for it. When they’d reached the top level they’d known where the lockhouse was. Years ago the old owner had used to put miners there for a few nights to calm down after fighting each other. Nargon hadn’t done that very often, he tended to give them the worst duties possible until they calmed down. So Meera, who’d been picking fights since she got there, had known where they were and she’d told Arna who’d run right to Rogo and given him the onyx.

Rogo was taken to Nagathrum for trial where he was banished as befits blasphemy. He sold the onyx to an old witch who paid an enormous price for it. He cast off his disgusting rags, shaved his disgusting beard and cleaned himself up, becoming the charming master thief he was beginning to fancy himself as. Then he reentered the country under a false name and returned to the Mines of Nargon. After the pitiful clean up effort after their search and after wasting enormous amounts of time and energy hunting for an onyx that was no longer there the mine was not doing very well. So Nargon was all too happy to sell it to this strange eccentric wealthy foreigner for an exorbitant sum of money. Rogo fired all the guards, and freed all the slaves. Then he fled with them before anyone could discover who he was and have him executed.

Wegrel knew who he was, though. He’d figured it all out as soon as someone had taken the time to explain to him exactly what had happened. Truth be told he was impressed. He would never have been able to come up with such a plan. There had been a few flaws in it though. This Rogo character didn’t seem very organised. Since he didn’t have a job he figured he might as well try and fix that. He watched them all walking out of the mine and off into the distance. He mounted his horse and followed.