The Willbreaker (Book 1) (22 page)

              Brandon looked at Florian as he walked by.

              "Get in there and earn your keep, boy!" Florian said, smacking Brandon on the flat of his arm with the paddle.

              It made sense to Brandon. He wondered what the slave drivers got out of working for the Bauth'Dok. At first, he thought the slave drivers got a chance to get out of the mines by commanding the new captives and forcing them to work. He thought they oversaw the miners to be free from mining themselves. As time passed, Brandon saw that every slave driver, all thirty of them, had the same white hair. None of the miners had white hair. It did not matter how badly the radiation changed a person, their hair color stayed the same. The white hair had to be a side effect of the will-bending process.

              After the men had gone into the cave, Brandon tapped Galadin on the shoulder.

              "Galadin! What color is my hair?" he asked, pulling off his skullcap.

              "What? Your hair?" He looked confused.

              "Yes, my hair, what color is it? Is it white? Like Florian's?"

              "It's hard to see in here, but I think it's the same color it has always been," Galadin replied. "Why?"

              "Never mind, I was just thinking."

              He wondered if his hair had stayed its color because he stopped the Bauth'Dok from bending his will. The slave drivers did not get anything out of doing what they did. They did it because, by way of magic, they believed they were right. That is why the slave drivers traveled the city without supervision. Brandon shook his head in frustration. He had been here for months, and only now had he figured out how things worked.

              As the men approached the spot where the roof had previously caved in, the ground shook as if an earthquake started. Small bits of black rock fell to the ground, followed by a shower of dust that coated the men within the mine. Brandon and the others braced themselves up against the wall.

              Florian burst out laughing. "An earthquake, oh no!" he mocked. Another wave of tremors struck.

              "We have to get out of here!" Brandon screamed as large bits of rock and debris fell from the roof of the mine. The men sprinted back towards the mine entrance. Loud crashes rang from the cave as the roof once again collapsed. The entire central station shook from the force, and the wave of air that blew out of the mine burst out hard enough to extinguished three of the braziers in the central station. Dust and dirt filled the air. Brandon could hear the men coughing and choking. The tremors calmed.

              As the dust cleared, Florian casually relit the braziers. He moved in front of the mine with his fists on his hips.

              "Looks like you need to clear this out again," he said, laughing.

              Brandon counted the heads of the men: seven, including himself. Everyone made it. Galadin looked in bad shape; dirt covered his face and blood ran from his head down onto his forehead. Brandon moved over to help him up.

              "Come on, old' friend. Get up," Brandon said, lifting him up.

              Galadin let out a breath of air. "I am done, Brandon. I cannot do this anymore. Let me die."

              "I am tired of you! You are always sick! You are weak, and are of no use to me anymore," Florian screamed at Galadin.

As Brandon began to speak, Florian grabbed Brandon's shoulder from behind and jerked him away from Galadin. As Brandon's body rotated away, out of balance, the blade of Florian's paddle came smashing down into Galadin's face. The snap of breaking bone echoed in the hall, and blood splashed out from Galadin's face. Galadin's sagging body fell to the floor in a pile. The air in his lungs exited his mouth in a gargle.

              Brandon's head whipped around. "Noooooo!" he screamed as he dashed over to him, lifting Galadin's head in his hand. Tears ran from Brandon's eyes. Blood gushed from Galadin's eye and nose. Galadin Bloodbark, Lieutenant General of the Legion of Archers, under Lord Cedric Reinhold, and Brandon's friend, had been killed.

              Galadin's lifeless body hung in Brandon's arms. Brandon had trouble thinking this moment had actually come. A minute before, Galadin lived, but now because of Florian, Brandon's good friend was dead. Brandon realized Florian felt he did the right thing. He understood that in Florian's eyes, Brandon and the other miners were evil and wished  him and his masters harm. It was not his fault, but at this point, Brandon did not care. Rage built within him until it exploded. Fury overtook his every thought. Brandon did not care about Florian's views. Galadin Bloodbark had been murdered, and Brandon would make them pay for his blood.

              Brandon's head flooded in a rush of heat. He could feel his cheeks flush and his lips burned with the pain that he bottled up since his capture. All of the pain, all of the times he wondered why he had been chosen for this, and all of the feelings of helplessness, now added to the fuel that burned within him. He did not feel a 'cool rush.' He only felt hatred: hatred for the creatures that kidnapped innocent people to do their dirty work, hatred for the slave drivers who made the lives of the miners hell if they did not do as commanded, and hatred for the time taken away from him. Brandon did not think he could hate someone, but he did. He hated the Bauth'Dok. He hated the slave drivers, but most of all, he hated Florian.

              Brandon rose to his feet; his head angled downward, facing away from Florian and the rest of Galadin's men.

              Florian spoke in a harsh voice, but an apparent layer of fear hid in the background of it.

              "What, huh? What are you going to do? Nothing! You are not going to do a damn thing!"

              Brandon turned and walked towards Florian; rage burned like magma behind his eyes. Florian had broad shoulders and thick muscles. He had his thick, wooden paddle held tight in his right hand. Brandon moved quickly, but not as quick as Florian. With the whip of his arm, Florian struck Brandon across the side of his head, hitting him hard enough to break the paddle in half. Brandon screamed as he plunged to a knee, blood streaming from the side of his head. The rest of the men watched in awe at what unfolded before them. Florian's confidence now showed as he puffed up his chest.

              "That is what I thought! You are weak, just like the elf!" he hollered at the crumpled man before him.

              Brandon shot upwards and grabbed Florian by the neck, slamming him against the wall. Choking, Florian grabbed Brandon's wrist as he fought for air; Florian's feet dangled six inches off the ground. Brandon looked horrifying. Blood covered the left side of his face; in his eye, his hair, and in his snarling teeth. Florian's eyes revealed fear.

              As Florian choked, the gaping wound above Brandon's ear closed. If the blood had not soaked into his hair and onto his face, there would have been no trace of a wound at all. Florian struggled for breath, at the same time moving his head as far away from Brandon's as he could manage. Florian still choked, and gasped for air.

              "You could never understand how much desire I have to kill you, Florian. You will never know how much I despise you," Brandon growled, pushing his forehead into Florian's face. Florian coughed and struggled against Brandon.

              Brandon felt different; the fire inside that consumed him replaced all thoughts of ethics and reason. He did not think outside that moment.

              "The way you laugh at us. The joy you get out of hurting us. I abhor
everything
about you. You murdered one of the greatest friends I have ever known. He was a good man. Nevertheless, I am not going to kill you, even though there is nothing more I would like better. That would not be fair of me. Galadin was my friend, but to these men," Brandon said, motioning to the five other men behind him, "Galadin was like a brother. It would only seem fit that they decide your punishment."

              Florian's eyes widened as he looked past Brandon to the waiting party, who slapped their mining picks against their palms, mocking the way Florian used to smack his paddle. Thoughts raced through Florian's head of the times he hurt them; the times he beat them, starved them, and how many times he nearly killed them. He left no one out; Florian drew much blood out of those men. They hated him, too. Florian could see the revenge being played out on their faces. Brandon wanted to finish him, but Florian would not be the end. He had another murderer to deal with.

              Brandon ripped off Florian's necklace with his free hand, and slammed him into the ground. He turned his back and walked towards the exit shaft, never looking back. He heard Florian in the background shouting, "No, please! No, stop!" Brandon heard a mining pick tear through bone and hit rock. Florian screamed out as one of the men buried his pick into Florian's belly, pinning him to the ground. Florian would pay for murdering his friend; Brandon had no doubt.

              Brandon walked towards the central station, where the other miners waited after the earthquake. Brandon counted the heads of four slave drivers, intermingled between fifty miners. As he approached, he drew the attention of the lot. One of the slave drivers, who Brandon knew as Waylon, first noticed Brandon's sole approach.

              "Hey!" Waylon yelled at Brandon, catching the attention of the remaining three slave drivers. "What are you doing alone? Where is Florian?" Waylon moved from the crowd towards Brandon. His face showed anger and confusion.

              "Florian is dead, and I will be a slave . . . no longer," Brandon said.

              Waylon moved his head to the side, peering behind Brandon. His brows scrunched together as he looked. "Florian? Florian! Where are you?" Waylon's eyes moved back to Brandon.

              "Well then, it seems we have a problem here, boy," he said, smacking his paddle in his hand as Florian used to do. As he spoke, the other slave drivers moved in behind him. The other miners watched with unresponsive looks; most of them ill from trexalite poisoning. "There are four of us, and only one of you. You will pay dearly for your defiance." Brandon could hear the footsteps of Galadin's men approaching behind him.

              Michael spoke from behind Brandon. "There are four of you, and five of us. We are with you Brandon, all the way."

              Waylon glanced back to see the expression of his fellow slave drivers. After a quick word, one of the slave drivers hurried out of the central station, up towards the town; no doubt to bring support.

              "We are leaving, Waylon, whether you like it or not." On Brandon's first step towards the exit shaft, Waylon and the other slave drivers moved, standing between them and the exit.

              "Not as long as I have anything to say about it, boy." The slave drivers gripped their paddles firm, and wrenched their free hands into tight fists. Brandon moved towards them, ready and willing for a fight.

              As they got within range, Waylon rushed Brandon, swinging his paddle in a wide arc as he yelled out in the excitement of the fight. Brandon threw up his arm, painfully blocking the paddle from hitting him in the face. Brandon's left hook hit Waylon in the jaw as Ivan, Geoff, Michael, and Lance split and mauled the other two men on both sides of Brandon and Waylon. Waylon's eyes rolled up in his skull as his head whipped back from the impact of Brandon's knuckles against his chin, spit and teeth flinging out to the side as he fell backward. Waylon met hard with the ground, unconscious.

              The fight caused excitement amongst the other miners. They ran up to watch, screaming their cheers at the men in the rumble. Ivan and Geoff had one of the slave drivers on his stomach, pulling his arms behind him as he yelled out in pain. Lance and Michael had beaten the other slave driver to unconsciousness. Lance turned to look at Brandon. A smile of satisfaction lit up his face.

              "Everyone, please! Listen up," Brandon said, waving his arms in the air to grab the attention of those around him. As the men quieted, Brandon continued. "This is not a victory. Any moment now, the two Bauth'Dok guards will be coming down here to stop us. If you do not want any part of this, stand over by the wall, and when they come, put your arms up in the air to show them you want no part of this, because they
will
come. Anyone involved will be putting his life on the line. Some of you are sick, I can see it. Some of you are too old to fight. Stand over by the wall. I do not encourage anyone to stand behind me."

              "They are coming!" someone yelled from the back.

              Brandon yelled, "Get over to the wall if you do not want to get hurt! Hurry!" Brandon glanced over to Galadin's men.

              "We are with you, Brandon. All the way."

              "Are you sure? There is no turning back now," Brandon replied.

              Michael nodded and shook his fist once at Brandon, letting him know they backed him. The four miners who thought of staying with Brandon and his friends changed their minds as the two Bauth'Dok guards entered the central station. They carried their massive black hammers over their shoulders. The other miners had backed up to the wall. The creatures scanned the area with their dark-red, eyeless faces, snarling and hissing as their heads turned towards Brandon.

              Brandon grabbed a mining pick off the ground. "Let's go, boys."

              The five men walked towards the creatures, who now gripped their hammers in both hands. All five men bounded forward, picks swinging, engaging in the war. The Bauth'Dok moved lightning fast, rolling their hammers through the air with graceful ease. Ivan's pick swung over his head, his two powerful arms working to bring the metal shank down into the head of one of the Bauth'Dok. In a single fluid motion, the black hammer of his prey came upward into Ivan's stomach, busting through his ribcage and ripping his body open. The force of the hammer kept in full swing, never slowing, as it sprayed his guts into the ceiling. Ivan's mutilated body flew thirty-feet through the air, back towards Florian's body.

              In the same instant, Geoff lifted his pick to block the other creature's hammer, which swung from the side. A thousand splinters of wood exploded from the handle of the pick as the hammer smashed into Geoff's body, breaking every bone and throwing him into the solid rock face of the central station. In the distraction, Brandon sunk his pick deep into the chest of the first creature. Its head twisted mechanically to look at him. Reaching a hand out, it wrapped its fingers around Brandon's face and tossed him off to the side like a child's doll. Brandon slammed into the ground, knocking the wind out of him.

              Brandon looked back at the fight. As if it were merely a nuisance, the creature pulled the pick out from its chest and tossed it to the ground. Ivan, Geoff, and Michael lay on the ground, bloody and showing no signs of life. Lance struggled in the grips of a Bauth'Dok; it held him off the ground around the neck, with one hand, choking the life from him.

              "Hey! Let him go!" Brandon yelled, as he struggled to get back to his feet. The other Bauth'Dok turned and advanced towards him. Brandon held his stomach with one hand while he picked up the pick with the other. He thought the fall into the rock broke one of his ribs. He pulled himself to his feet and as the creature neared, Brandon gathered his might and swung his pick into the Bauth'Dok's body. Before it could hit, the creature hit Brandon underneath the chin with the back of its hand. Brandon once again slammed into the hard rock floor. He could not take much more of this. His nerves and his senses were in complete disarray. He opened his eyes to see the other Bauth'Dok discard Lance's body off to the side, now moving to join its partner.

              The abuse Brandon took disoriented him; his body ached, and all his energy had been sapped from the hits he took. Blood ran from his nose. He relaxed his body; he felt the life leaving him. As his guard fell, Brandon became aware of the heat that built up after Galadin's murder. His rage sat untouched behind his conscious thoughts, and as he eased his body and mind it moved into his reach. Hatred and loathing, fear and sadness, all flooded his mind in a current of emotion. The feelings overwhelmed him: destruction, death, torture, and murder. Brandon's body became a tool, a tool for something he had no control over. His mind emptied, and all went black.

              "Hey, are you okay?" Brandon could feel someone shaking his shoulder.

              "Buddy, are you all right? Wake up," the man said, shaking his shoulder once more. Brandon's eyes shot open as he sat up. A fellow miner crouched over him.

              "You okay?" the miner asked. Taking in his surroundings, Brandon saw the two Bauth'Dok guards, both on the floor and not moving. Some of the other miners inspected Galadin's men, but after doing so, they stood and shook their heads. Everyone he knew had been killed.

              Brandon closed his eyes, feeling sorry for what happened. He did not want anyone to die, especially his friends. There would be more death, but it would be by Brandon's hand.

              "Thank you . . . for saving me," Brandon said. "If you hadn't attacked those creatures, I would have been killed. I was at the end of my rope. I had nothing left." The miner looked into Brandon's eyes, confused.

              "We didn't touch those things," he said. "They were tearing through here and just went down suddenly. You took a beating, maybe you just need to get your bearings."