Why Your Cities Burn, Part II

...Finally Gobayth came to a devastated mountainside, the trees and soil stripped away, slaves cutting out blocks of great size. They led him to a wooden hut where several gold coins were exchanged, the mine owner said, “Bring him out, fit him for his own set of chains!” He was forced out into the pit, driven forward by several guards, who showered him with stinging blows, several hard enough to leave scars. They brought him up along the pit, to work on the uppermost ledge, a pair of manacles waited, they slapped them hard onto his legs. He saw they were fixed to a chain that was attached to even man, it was to prevent suicides, if one leapt, they all would be damned. They gave Gobayth a pick-axe, pointed to the great wall of rock, said, “Your life is now hacking ore, you go ’till we tell you to stop. And if you dare do otherwise, you’ll hang upside down in the sun, covered in honey so the insects can feast on you until they’re done. Then we’ll drop you down to the pigs, they like some sweetness in their meat.” The guards then laughed, and stomped away, leaving him there with hobbled feet. The other slaves said nothing, no, they seemed to dejected to talk, all he could do was lift the ace and start swinging it at the rock… His arms were aching by nightfall, sorer than he ever had felt, so numb that for hours he’d not think of the cruel hand he was dealt. Their only food was a thin broth, designed to keep the captives weak, hunger still hurt him when finished, he did not have the strength to speak. Come night the manacles were loosed, the guards marched them down to a cage, a massive thing made out of wood, the sleeping place for all the slaves, packed in so tight you could not lie, had to sleep hunched up in a ball, all designed to convince a man that his worth was nothing at all. Half of the workers were naked, their clothing had long rotted off, all of them showed signs on hunger, with much of their bodyweight lost. The sick ones were just left to die, their bodies broken from long work, some had been butchered by the rest, he flesh to dull hunger’s cruel hurt, if anybody left this place Gobayth had no way to tell, but he had never seen a place that more resembled living hell. There was no life in that dark place, just an unending work regime, they’d hack at ore for twelve hours, then collapsed, too tired to dream, with the ever-gnawing hunger, and the unending muscle strain, plus the guards randomly whipped men to remind them of greater pain… CONT.