The sound of the pick chipping at the wall echoed off the walls and down the tunnel. Malec paused to wipe the sweat from his brow. Summer is not even here and it is already sweltering. This summer will be rough.

He causally reached into the shadows cast by the flickering lantern and retrieved his canteen. He worked to pace himself and resisted the urge to drain it all at once. It took more a long time to find this seam, he could not afford to give up too soon. He replaced the stopper into the vessel’s neck and placed it back on the small ledge.

He stepped back to better see the face he was working. His shadow danced across the jagged rock and his breath caught. A hairline crack in the face showed not the red iron ore he was seeking, but shimmered like polished steel. Silver?!

He lifted the lantern and brought it closer to the shining ore. No matter which way he moved the light, he could not shake the thought. Silver ore does not look that way, it is never THIS pure.

Despite his doubts he could not say what else it could be. He rubbed at the rock with his sweat stained sleeve, but the tiny thread of shimmering metal remained. Placing the handpick in his teeth he scratched at the metal with the tip of his knife. The sharp steel shaved off a hair of material and he stared at it.

Nearly twenty years in mines and he had never encountered a seam of silver. As a miner, his path was pulling him to the metal as it did the iron ore he usually mined. But the material in his hand did not match any description of silver ore he had ever heard. He stared a the material but could not describe the tiny sliver in his hand any other way. His instincts and path warred with the impossibility of what he held in his hand.

Not much else I can do, he thought to himself taking out a scrap of cloth from his back pocket and wrapping the sliver in it. I will bring some up when I go. If it is not silver, no harm done. I have nearly a bucket full of iron ore now. But if it is silver, I will get more from a handful then I will from that entire bucket even with the lord’s bonus.

He bent over and picked up a couple chunks of iron ore from the floor and added them to the bucket. Certain he had most of it, he placed the cloth under the tiny seam of silver and chipped slowly with his hand pick. He cautiously examined each flake adding every bit with the smallest bit of silver to the small pile in his hand. After what must have been an hour he stepped back to confirm what he had found.

Again the lantern light lit the rock face and silver metal gleamed in the faint light. The seam was much larger than he dared to hope. A hairline seam of silver would be enough to send men racing back to the mines despite the rumors of disappearances, but this would have minors racing for across the kingdom. He looked at the strip of silver wider than his own thumb. Rumors or not, the entire camp will come racing down here when word gets out.

He continued to chip at the edges of the chunk of ore spurred on by how much easier the rock seemed to give with each blow. His path guided his hand and he could see that he would have a hand long chunk of the ore within the hour. Despite the heat, he continued to chip away with determination. His hand pick rose and fell with the precision only someone of his path could achieve. Then his pick slipped.

Hours of working in the stiffing heat of the stuffy mine, caused his focus to waver and his hand to slip on the soaked handle. The head of his pick bit deeply into the silver itself rather than working the rock around it to loosen it. He swore loudly, his voice echoing down the empty tunnels. The ringing echo caused him to repeat the obscenity, this time as a whisper rather than a shout.

With a deep breath he wiped at his face with the sleeve of his shirt, and reached for his canteen. Instead his hand fell on the rough stone of the rock. Pulling his hand back from the ledge he picked up the lantern and looked into the shadows. The small ledge he sat the canteen on was more properly a natural hole leading deeper in to the rock. He worried the canteen had fallen into the hole when he noticed it sitting on the floor in front of face.

He let out the breath he was holding and bent to pick up the canteen. He replaced the lantern on its ledge and drank deeply from the canteen. This time he emptied the vessel. His recent mistake made it clear he was tired and needed to go back. Replacing the cork in the neck, he placed it in the bucket.

Just one last thing to do, he thought looking a the hand pick still stuck in the silver. Taking the handle in both hands he gently began to work the head. He would have preferred to take the ore out as one piece, but his recent mistake meant that was simply not going to happen. Instead he would settle for grabbing the two damaged pieces and bringing them out.

He gently worked the head until he felt the ore giving and pulled. The top of the ore came free leaving his pick attached to one end of a thick cord of silver still attached to the rock on the other end. He stared at the rope of silver his tool was stuck in. What in the name of the goddesses is that?

It looks like a silver rope, he could not describe what he was looking at in any way other way. It did not seem any more possible for how clearly he could identify what it was. Why would someone make a rope out of silver? Why would it be down in a mine? In the rock itself?

Deciding that this was all beyond him he pulled on the handle of his pick and sawed at the rope with his knife. The priests and the lord can decide what to do with all this.

The piece came free and he dropped it into the bucket with his other things. Grabbing the rag holding chips of the silver material, he lifted the lantern, and grabbed the bucket with his free hand.

Something caught the corner of his eye as he lifted the bucket and he looked back over his shoulder. The removed piece of silver rope had left a small crack in the wall and he saw something glow red in the lamp light. He blinked to clear his eyes. What is that?

The red glow shifted to reveal more red spheres. Eyes, Malec’s blood ran cold, and he shivered in spite of the heat. Turning away from the rock face, he ran.

Behind him he heard something hard hit the rock like a sledgehammer blow, and he could hear small rocks falling to the tunnel floor. A monster. The storied are real, his mind raced as he did his best to put as much distance between himself and the monster behind him. But monsters do not care about ore unless… unless it is magicked.

He glanced down at the rope of silver stuck on the end of his pick. In the same instant he realized he was still carrying the bucket, like a fool. In a quick motion, he let go of the handle and snatched the pick from the contents of the bucket. The action barely caused him to miss a step ad the bucket clattered to the floor behind him. The ore in the bucket spilled behind him as he adjusted his grip on the only weapon he had. He was not sure what it good it would be in the face of the monster, but it was something.

Suddenly the sound of rocks falling to the floor echoed through the tunnel. The main shaft was not far from where he was, but not nearly close enough. The sound of something scraping behind him made him glance back. A dozen paces behind him a shadowy from was gaining on him. He would never make it at this rate. The alternative was to fight using the pick, which seemed a more foolish notion with each second. His heart was pounding in his chest.

But what else can I do, hit it with my …his eyes went wide at the thought and committed himself to it. The tunnel narrowed where he stood and provided his best chance, so he turned and threw the lantern to the floor.

The glass jar broke spilling oil across the floor which caught instantly creating a wall of light and heat. On the other side of the flame he could see the creature rear back its legs flailing as it retreated from the flames spread across the narrow stretch of tunnel.

He smiled as he saw the creature flail and retreat from the flames. Before he could turn to make good his escape, something struck him from behind, and he was knocked to the floor. The next instant he felt something stab into him. He tried to scream, but only a whimper came out as a burning sensation raced through his body and the world went dark.