Daring Do and the Shroud of the First King

The next day, Dust was awoken by a cold splash of water. Writhing around in her makeshift room, she peeled open her sleep-clogged eyes to see one of the other worker ponies shuffling away with a now-empty bucket. She was unsure whether to be angry at him or be thankful that he had woken her rather than one of the slave drivers, and as such she simply shook off the water and prepared to work. She stripped off her battered coat and shoes before heading out, keeping only her sweat-stained shirt and torn pants on. Clambering out of the narrow opening of her cavern space, she looked around. Down the tunnel she spied a crate full of pickaxes and other tools and, remembering the order she had been given by the slave driver the night before, she trotted slowly over and picked one up in her muzzle.

‘I guess I may as well get to work… While I find a way outta here.’ Dust muttered under her breath, making her way back up the tunnel and out into the mine area. She followed a group of other workers up one of the narrow stone walkways, where they all stopped and began picking away at the wall. Pulling her own axe back, Dust smacked it forth into the rock. She pulled it out again, and then forward. Back. Forward. Back. She didn't seem to be getting very far, but the slave drivers seemed happy with her contribution to the workforce. ‘Psst… Hey, you!’ Dust hissed to the worker beside her. The worker, an emaciated and pale mare, turned her head lazily to the size as she continued to hack into the stone. ‘How long have you been working here? How do we get out?’ The mare simply shook her head.

‘No escape… No escape. So many years, always working. Work and sleep. This is life.’ She mumbled in a toneless voice, collapsing forward to continue mining. Dust remained hopeful. Somehow, she would find somepony in this mine who wasn't brain-deadened by the working conditions and endless hours of toil and torture.

Hours passed, or so it seemed. Boiling heat and stinking fumes assaulted Dust for the entire time, her hair and clothes becoming matted with sweat. She continued to dig into the rock slowly, swinging her pick back and forth with unsteady rhythm. At one point she had ducked out of sight behind a pile of barrels and crates to take a break from the work, tearing a strip from her shirt to first use as a rag to mop away the sweat, then wrap around her head as a bandanna before getting back to work. But the relief she felt was short lived, as a slave driver had marched past as she was clambering out from her hiding place, and as she feared, he had punished her by kicking her to the ground and whipping her viciously. Three deep, blood-flecked marks now lined her back as she continued to dig into the solid rock unendingly. Two more executions were performed that day; one of a stallion unknown to her who was tossed into the volcanic vents… And the mare she had worked alongside. She was hanged from a section of scaffolding further up the mine, dangling from a noose now for all to see. The moment that she had been thrown down and resigned to die, Dust had pledged to herself to escape before a similar fate befell her. She would escape, and she would save these tortured, work-maddened slaves or die trying.

The next day was much the same, and the day after that. Dust’s sense of hope began to falter a little as she explored further into the mines, hoping to find some unused tunnel or hidden passage which led outside or dropped down into the sea caves which the undead king in the Citadel above had spoken of. If she could find her way into those sea caves, surely she could follow the flow of the ocean’s tides and quickly escape outside, to the cliffs surrounding the island and to the coast to get back to Leaf and their camp. If only she could find a way out, they could make their way off this island and come back armed with better equipment and backup. But the only things close to escape routes that Dust had found were the entrance she had been brought through, and a small crevice down one of the lesser-used tunnels of the mine. She might be able to find an escape route through that crevice if she could widen it to allow her to fit through, but the chances of being able to widen it, escape inside unnoticed and find a way through the endless caves beneath the island were so slim that she gave up hope on the plan. Dust had almost lost all hope when something unexpected occurred. While mining one day (or night, she couldn't tell), a new set of prisoners was brought down to work. Among them was a familiar face, though it was now bruised and sported a nasty whip-mark across the cheek. Leaf was shoved down into the central mining pit, tumbling down the shallow rock pit and coming to a stop in a breathless, battered heap. Dust immediately rushed to his side, helping him to his hooves. He was weary, having been beaten by the Seabound beforehand and then sentenced to work in the mine. He looked up at Dust, and a weak smile crossed his face. Dust smiled for the first time in days; she was no longer alone.

‘Dust, they… They…’ He winced, motioning up to his head. Where his horn had once been there was only a cracked stump, barely wrapped with bandages made up of rags.

‘Oh Celestia…’ Dust wheezed. The volcanic heat and days of work had dried her throat, and her voice was now raspy. ‘Come here, let’s get you to bed… You need to rest.’ She ordered, and dragged the limping unicorn over to her tiny room set into the cave. She slid him in through the aperture in the rock, climbing in after him to set him down gently on her straw bed. Dust was about to turn and leave when she felt his hoof reach out to her weakly, nudging her. His voice drifted upward from his slumped form.

‘Thank you… Thank you so much.’ He managed. She merely turned back and, leaning close, kissed him gently on the cheek before returning to work, with a warm glow in her heart.