Introducing the bad guys...
~
The room above the caves was a strange one, even in the underworld of the mines. It was formed of a small cavern, leading back into the earth, and furnished with shining silks and hangings, lying over ornate tables and elaborately carved wooden chairs. Many tunnels fed into the cave, each guarded by a rat or ferret dressed in black and gold. In the cave wall burned a fire, masked by a sheet of blue crystal, sending a surreal ghostly glow into the cave, and a pane of the same bluish crystal formed a window between the cave and the mine below.
Marek Fynara, Prince of the Imperial Underworld and son of the Blackened Flame, paced impatiently back and forth across the cave, a rat hurrying eagerly behind him. His lustrous black fur flowed smoothly back from his creamy throat and his long claws tapped insistently on the rocky floor.
The vixen reclining in one of the chairs raised a paw to her head.
'Please, brother, must you march so?'
He tapped his nails purposefully and his sister winced delicately. With a grim smile, he turned to the crystal pane and stared out at the workers.
'Look at them,' he murmured. 'Like ants beneath our feet.
His rat servant laughed shrilly.
'Ants beneath our feet. Very good, my lord.'
The vixen heaved herself from the chair, stalking towards Marek.
'Leave us, Asrek.'
The rat bowed hesitantly, then hurried away, trying to hide his relief. The princess moved alongside her brother, sharing his view. She was a striking creature, soft grey fur cut with copper highlights running up to golden ears and quiet black eyes, which narrowed as she stared at the slaves.
'They are pitiable.'
'That, Mian, is the difference between us,' answered Marek wearily. 'They are despicable, the lowest of the low. And yet still you find it in your weak heart to pity them.'
Mian shrugged and turned away.
'You know I wish we didn't have them in the first place,' she said calmly. 'When I inherit the mines, I'll free them all, if only to see the looks on their faces.'
'You have no vision, sister.'
He moved to the corner of the room, pretending to pour himself a glass of greengage cordial. Stealing a glance at her from the corner of his eye, he felt a surge of loathing. Look at you, he screamed inwardly, just look at you! You are grey and weak, you pity slaves! I am ebony, strong as midnight! I am the true master of the blackened flame!
Aloud, he said simply, 'If only males could inherit.'
Mian perched on a chair, stretching lithely. A young ferret maid brought her a plate of oatmeal biscuits, and languidly she ate one, and then another, before waving the girl away.
'We have had this argument. When Mother dies, I will inherit. You men have no staying power. Only in the hands of the vixen is this kingdom safe.
A thin voice interrupted the brewing argument. It came down one of the many passages, and every rat guard jumped to attention.
'Mian?' said the voice weakly. 'Mian, where are you?'
With a heartfelt sigh, Mian stood, brushing crumbs from a silky dress.
'I had better go and see what she wants.'
She made for the door, then suddenly turned back.
'But remember, Marek, you may be stronger, but I am superior to you. One step out of line, and I will leave you high and dry.'
Marek bowed his head in supposed agreement, and Mian nodded.
'Don't forget.'
Then she was gone, walking down the passage into the darkness, her brush swinging gently in her wake.
Marek stood for a moment, heart pounding. Then, in a frenzy of anger, he picked up on of the delicate hangings and ripped it in pieces, throwing it after his sister. Kicking one of the tables, he threw himself into the chair, whispering to himself.
'High and dry, my sister? We shall see...'
~
The room above the caves was a strange one, even in the underworld of the mines. It was formed of a small cavern, leading back into the earth, and furnished with shining silks and hangings, lying over ornate tables and elaborately carved wooden chairs. Many tunnels fed into the cave, each guarded by a rat or ferret dressed in black and gold. In the cave wall burned a fire, masked by a sheet of blue crystal, sending a surreal ghostly glow into the cave, and a pane of the same bluish crystal formed a window between the cave and the mine below.
Marek Fynara, Prince of the Imperial Underworld and son of the Blackened Flame, paced impatiently back and forth across the cave, a rat hurrying eagerly behind him. His lustrous black fur flowed smoothly back from his creamy throat and his long claws tapped insistently on the rocky floor.
The vixen reclining in one of the chairs raised a paw to her head.
'Please, brother, must you march so?'
He tapped his nails purposefully and his sister winced delicately. With a grim smile, he turned to the crystal pane and stared out at the workers.
'Look at them,' he murmured. 'Like ants beneath our feet.
His rat servant laughed shrilly.
'Ants beneath our feet. Very good, my lord.'
The vixen heaved herself from the chair, stalking towards Marek.
'Leave us, Asrek.'
The rat bowed hesitantly, then hurried away, trying to hide his relief. The princess moved alongside her brother, sharing his view. She was a striking creature, soft grey fur cut with copper highlights running up to golden ears and quiet black eyes, which narrowed as she stared at the slaves.
'They are pitiable.'
'That, Mian, is the difference between us,' answered Marek wearily. 'They are despicable, the lowest of the low. And yet still you find it in your weak heart to pity them.'
Mian shrugged and turned away.
'You know I wish we didn't have them in the first place,' she said calmly. 'When I inherit the mines, I'll free them all, if only to see the looks on their faces.'
'You have no vision, sister.'
He moved to the corner of the room, pretending to pour himself a glass of greengage cordial. Stealing a glance at her from the corner of his eye, he felt a surge of loathing. Look at you, he screamed inwardly, just look at you! You are grey and weak, you pity slaves! I am ebony, strong as midnight! I am the true master of the blackened flame!
Aloud, he said simply, 'If only males could inherit.'
Mian perched on a chair, stretching lithely. A young ferret maid brought her a plate of oatmeal biscuits, and languidly she ate one, and then another, before waving the girl away.
'We have had this argument. When Mother dies, I will inherit. You men have no staying power. Only in the hands of the vixen is this kingdom safe.
A thin voice interrupted the brewing argument. It came down one of the many passages, and every rat guard jumped to attention.
'Mian?' said the voice weakly. 'Mian, where are you?'
With a heartfelt sigh, Mian stood, brushing crumbs from a silky dress.
'I had better go and see what she wants.'
She made for the door, then suddenly turned back.
'But remember, Marek, you may be stronger, but I am superior to you. One step out of line, and I will leave you high and dry.'
Marek bowed his head in supposed agreement, and Mian nodded.
'Don't forget.'
Then she was gone, walking down the passage into the darkness, her brush swinging gently in her wake.
Marek stood for a moment, heart pounding. Then, in a frenzy of anger, he picked up on of the delicate hangings and ripped it in pieces, throwing it after his sister. Kicking one of the tables, he threw himself into the chair, whispering to himself.
'High and dry, my sister? We shall see...'
