Part 0: Memories
Chapter One: Digs (Part One)
Don't think. Just run.
The sun beat down on a vacant stretch of land. Flat. Sparse vegetation. Whatever life thrived here had long since moved on. Emerging from the flatlands, an imposing mountain range. And carved into the face of that mountain, a tunnel, not intended to reach the other side, but to traverse the depths below. The mouth of the man-made cave was wide and tall, granting passage not only to the denizens of the planet, but their wide assortment of tools. Resting mechanical excavators sat outside the mouth of the dig site as the indentured workforce toiled in the darkness below.
From the mouth emerged a figure. A child. Body in full motion, sprinting from the cave toward some intended location. Body and mind focused solely on one goal. Movement. Tucked beneath his arms, some round object wrapped in cloth. Arm waving, feet kicking up dust with each hasty step, the boy had his eyes set upon a lone building in the distance. As he continued to run, there was no one else behind him, but as he neared his target more and more people began to manifest.
Sprouting from the land of desolation, a lone monument to wealth and splendor rose and spread itself out for all to see. At its feet, a steady arrangement of armed guards surrounded it. Seeing the approaching boy, they raised their heads, but not their weapons. They were expecting him. Two men guarded the entrance to the palatial estate, each holding their hands out to halt the child. The boy was hunched over, panting, but kept the wrapped item raised, fully aware of its value. The two guardsmen shared a look before focusing on the package.
One of the guards reached out to take the item, but the boy quickly rescinded it, keeping it tucked close to his chest. The child would only part with it once it was in the hands of its intended recipient. The enforcers shared another look before hesitantly granting the boy entrance to the manor. The child walked with two armed escorts deeper into the halls of the luxurious palace. Utterly well kept, sculptures and artwork lined the walls on either side of the passing group. With each branch, each door, each new chamber, a guard was stationed, ever alert to any threats that might pass their way.
The boy kept his head down, knowing the honor of being granted access to the lord's home, but also knowing the danger of overstaying his welcome. Reaching his intended destination, the boy marveled at the robust chamber he now stood at the precipice of. Rounded walls. High ceiling. A cruel joke of a facsimile to the caves in his mind. Standing within, eager, was Olto Yerrig. Human. Businessman. Slave Master.
The man's chamber took a stern departure from the wanton halls before it, for it was a room of purpose. In the place of artwork were charts and maps. Geological surveys, market reports. A series of databanks and terminals were situated awkwardly against the rounded walls. Yerrig immediately took note of the boy entering his premises, and beckoned him with a flurried wave of his hand. The boy rushed forward, basking in the shadow of his master's presence, the top of his head barely making it above the figure's waist. The child dutifully presented his master the item he had so dearly held onto before. Yerrig unwrapped the object and his eyes lit up. Held ever so loftily in the child's hands was a chunk of rock, embedded within were tiny golden crystals that shimmered in the room's light.
Yerrig took the mineral from the boy, who took a step back, kept his arms by his side and his head bowed. "What is your name, boy?"
"L-Lorrik," the child answered, keeping his eyes upon the floor.
"Right… Velash's child. The Runner."
"Yes, sir."
Yerrig held the chunk of mineral between himself and the ceiling, turning it over and over within his hand, admiring it with absolute pride. "Run along, boy. You and your family don't have to work for the next three days."
"Thank you. Thank you, sir," Lorrik offered alongside the repeated bows of his head. Yerrig shooed the boy away and he was escorted from the estate, leaving the man alone with his prize.
There were movements throughout the mining operation as the hours passed. Yerrig began moving and allocating his resources, checking and double checking the preparatory facets of the operation's next stage. The mine was shut down for the day, and its workers left the caves only to see Yerrig's men lining the entrance in greater force than usual. Each worker was stopped before they could return to the tenements, checked for any unsanctioned holdings. Yerrig would not abide by any of his possessions stealing any of his other possessions.
The day turned to night. Lorrik and his parents returning to their housing, a single room meant for two, packed in alongside hundreds more just like it. Table. Two chairs. Bunk bed. Simple. Sparse. Cheap.
The two Human adults, two ordinary plain folk, sat at the table, eating their allotted rations for the evening. Lorrik meanwhile had taken his place atop a layer of blankets placed upon the floor beneath his parents' bed. Dark. Secluded. His sanctuary. He slowly munched on his rations, face lit by a compact generator hooked up to an electronic candle. The boy's full interest lied not with his food, but in the book he was pouring over by candlelight. Contraband, but the kid knew how to keep it hidden.
"It seems Yerrig finally found was he was looking for," the father whispered.
"You know what this means…" the mother whispered back, trying to hide her growing concern.
"Yeah… yeah, I know."
"If he knows there's something valuable down there, he's going to push us even harder."
"I know."
"Lorrik's birthday is coming up soon. He'll be old enough to work in the mines."
"I know. But no one else needs to. He still looks young. Maybe… maybe Yerrig will let him stay a runner," the father reasoned. The mother took a hold of her husband's hand. The two locked eyes, sharing a look that confirmed that both of them knew their son would be working alongside them soon. "We have a few days of rest. We shouldn't waste them."
"But we can't just pretend like everything's going to be okay."
"I know that. But we need to be strong. For his sake. Together, we can make it through. We can survive." The two shared a loving look before casting a sideward glance to their son, mind still locked in the pages of his book.
Lorrik knew better than to intrude on his parents conversations. As cramped as the domicile was, there were no secrets within, as much as they may have wanted to believe there were. Lorrik heard every word spoken by his mother and father. That night and each night before it. He knew what awaited him. He knew that it was he who would have to be strong. He didn't desire to be a burden. He wanted to be able to lend his strength to his family.
The child held his prized book firmly within his hands. The thing was a peculiar piece. A bound volume, information printed upon thin durasheets, rather than stored within some datapad. Vulnerable to moisture, Lorrik took every precaution in handling it, lest its contents be ruined. Turning the page, he read on with fascination.
In bold letters, the top of the page read, 'Chapter Three: Naga Sadow'.