A bead of sweat rolled down Jack's forehead, and he wiped it away, grunting as he raised another shovelful of ore into the mine cart. The air in the tunnel was thick with dust, motes of it swirling in the light from the torches. He sucked in a breath through the bandana tied around his face, then doubled over in a coughing fit as the dust settled around him.

The dwarf nearest him, Arin Stone-something-or-other, pounded him on the back.

Stonearm, that was it. Jack winced. He lived up to the name.

"Easy, lad." The dwarven foreman gestured with an arm the size of a tree trunk. "Water over here."

Two dwarves with buckets hurried over, sloshed water onto the dusty pile of ore at their feet, and got everyone's boots wet in the process.

Arin gestured to Jack's waterskin. "Water for you too."

Jack wiped the sweat off of his forehead with his sleeve and leaned his shovel against the stone wall. He tugged his bandana down to drink. Across from him in the tunnel, Ollie and Ernie did likewise.

Arin gestured to the pile of rubble at their feet. "Fill another cart, and then we'll see if ye can handle picks as well as ye can shovel." He gave a short laugh. The three boys had been shoveling ore for two days straight. Arin clapped Jack on the shoulder and shambled away.

Jack retied his waterskin and his bandana, watching the dwarf go.

Beside him, Ollie spat on the ground. He flexed his hand and grimaced as a blister cracked open. "I hate it here."

Ernie nodded.

Jack didn't say anything. He glanced at the thick stone above his head and then at the powerful dwarves swinging axes around them. He remembered the armed guards at the heavy entrance doors of Mithral Hall.

Ernie followed his gaze. "Three more days, and we'll be out of this prison."

Jack just grunted and turned away. Maybe the others felt like prisoners, but he felt something he couldn't remember feeling in years. He felt safe.


It felt like he'd just closed his eyes when Jack was startled awake by a loud thumping on the small room's door.

"Breakfast!" a gruff voice called. The heavy wooden door swung open and banged against the stone wall. Arin Stonearm leaned in with a torch, and Jack squinted as the dwarf placed the torch in the iron bracket on the wall.

Across from him, Ernie and Ollie were rousing, rubbing their eyes.

"Cook's makin' griddle cakes in honor o' yer last day here," the grizzled foreman proclaimed in a voice much too loud for so early in the morning. "Best get 'em while they're hot."

Ollie shot upright like a catapult. "Last day! All right!"

Ernie sat up more slowly and swung his feet to the floor. He leaned over to bump fists with Ollie. "Twelve hours." He grinned.

Last day. Jack's stomach clenched at the thought. Twelve hours, and he'd be going back to his father's house. He groaned and pulled the blanket over his head.

Arin crossed the room in two clomping steps and shook Jack's shoulder roughly. "None o' that. Up, or I'll be back with a bucket o' water, and don't think I won't."

Jack groaned again but pushed the blanket back and sat up. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. "I'm up, you ornery ore-crusher. Now leave me to lace my boots in peace." He lowered his hands from his bleary eyes.

Across from him, Ernie and Ollie exchanged a wide-eyed look.

Jack blinked at them sleepily before his stomach dropped to his heels. He'd grumbled without thinking, a mistake he'd not made at home in years. The thick-armed dwarf shifted his feet, and Jack tensed for the blow.

A throaty chuckle came instead, deep and amused. "That's the spirit, boy! He clapped Jack on the shoulder. "Up and rarin' to go. Good lad." He chuckled again and strode out the door.

Good lad. No one had said anything like that to him since his mother died when he was eight. Certainly never his father. Jack hoped the others thought his eyes were watering from adjusting to the torchlight. He blinked hard and rubbed both hands over his face. Last day. If only it were not so.


"I'm not going!" Jack blurted it abruptly as the ironwood entrance door swung inward and daylight met his eyes for the first time in nearly a week.

"Are you crazy?" Ollie squinted at him. "Did you knock your head?" Then he gave a slow grin and punched Jack's arm with a snicker. "What a kidder. You almost had me."

Ernie pushed his way outside and dropped to his knees on the ground, head tipped back to the sky. "Fresh air!" he proclaimed, sucking in deep gulps of it.

The handful of dwarves accompanying the three boys exchanged various looks and snorts. "Ye could've gone out for a breath of it any day if ye'd asked," Arin said. "Never crossed me mind to offer."

Ernie just turned and stared at him, jaw agape.

By this time Jack was the only one of the group still inside the entry hall, and he shook his head in mute denial, one arm tight against his stomach. "I'm not going." The words came out barely audible this time, and he turned quickly. The tunnels were like a vast labyrinth, and if he slipped away now, he could hide out somewhere, could scavenge for food from the kitchens at night …

He sprinted down the hall and took corners blindly. The first right. The narrow stairs. The second left. Or tried to take the second left. He slammed into what felt like a brick wall, and suddenly he was on his backside seeing stars. A burly dwarf stared down at him. The dwarf was wearing battle gear for some reason. Maybe on his way to dispatch a few of the giant spiders that were rumored to lurk in the lowest levels of the mine. Something about his helm seemed strange, but then, Jack had just smashed into him head-on. Nothing looked particularly clear at the moment. He blinked. The helm only had one horn. That was it.

"Easy, lad. Something amiss?"

Jack shook his head and scrambled to his feet. Behind him, dwarven boots were clomping down the hall.

"Where'd ya go, lad? We're all set to take ye home." The booming voice of Arin Stonearm echoed off of the walls.

Jack stiffened and glanced around wildly. No way out but the way he'd come.

The dwarf he'd run into raised bushy eyebrows.

Arin rounded the corner, his red beard showing glints of gold in the torchlight. "Ah, there ye be." He put a meaty hand on Jack's shoulder and tipped his head to the dwarf in the one-horned helm. "Me king."

King? Jack's eyes widened. This was King Bruenor Battlehammer? Then maybe there was a chance. He dropped to his knees and pressed his palms flat on his thighs, head bowed. "Please, King Bruenor, I can't go back to my father! Please, let me stay and work for you." Jack didn't look up, but he could feel the weight of the two dwarves' stares.

"Get up, lad. We're not so formal as all that." King Bruenor offered him a calloused hand and pulled him to his feet. "Drizzt told me some things," he said as much to Arin as to Jack.

"D-Drizzt?"

The clan leader nodded. "Do'Urden."

Do'Urden. Zaknafein's dad. Jack eyed the dwarf king warily. He suddenly recalled that King Bruenor was Zak's grandfather, however that worked. What had Zak's father told the dwarf king about the bullying? He gulped.

Bruenor turned to Arin. "Go on and take the others home." He looked at Jack. "I'd have words with this one."

Arin tipped his head to the side, then clapped Jack on the shoulder. "He's a good worker to be sure," the foreman rumbled. "Never did complain like the others." He nodded to Bruenor and headed back down the hall.

The sound of his clomping footsteps growing more distant matched the pounding of Jack's heart.

King Bruenor reached past him and swung the door shut with one hand. The dwarf king gestured to some wooden chairs near the hearth at the far end of the room. "Take a load off, lad. And I don't jist mean off o' yer feet. Here in the clan we speak our mind." Bruenor settled into a sturdy oak chair draped in a bear hide and waited for Jack to sit down. "If ye want to stay here, I'd hear yer reasons from yer own mouth, so talk and don't be shy."