Blood and Dust | A Fantasy Short Story

Harnessing the flames within.

Happy Friday… Or should I say Fantasy Friday?

Today’s story is one I wrote a while back for a short fiction contest submission.

(It didn’t win.)

But hey, that just means you all get to read it here first! I hope you enjoy “Blood and Dust.” And if you do, make sure you subscribe so you don’t miss next week’s story.

Blood and Dust

By J. Louis

Hugh stood in line, massaging the sore muscles in his back with one hand and clutching a sack full of ruby geodes in the other.

Compared to the other miners, he considered himself quite fortunate. Some held sacks full of stones mixed with geode fragments, their contents wrested from the earth with brute force. Others held empty sacks, unable to find any gems at all—which meant they would also hold empty stomachs tonight.

But Hugh knew all the tricks, and an empty sack for him was rare indeed.

He could wedge the pick just right between the geode and the wall face to gently pry them out without risking the gems inside. With treasures as precious as these, rich in Arcane energy, breaking them was not only wasteful, but dangerous; the slightest nick could be enough to unleash their explosive might and bring the whole mine down on them.

And he’d rather not risk that, even if the others were desperate enough to.

Not when Max was depending on him.

“Next,” the foreman said, his voice rough as the gravel underfoot.

One by one, the miners trudged forward, halfheartedly handing their sacks to the foreman–a brute of a man with thick arms and a stare that could hew stone. His cold eyes picked apart the miners, a predatory stare laced with boredom.

“Alright Jenks, let’s see what ya got.”

The man in front of Hugh–a scrawny youth with shadows under his eyes, caked head to foot in filth–inched forward and handed the foreman his sack. Hugh supposed they all looked just as destitute. His wife considered him quite dashing (or so she said), but fair skin and a full head of hair meant little in the darkness of the mines.

“What’s this?”

The foreman picked out a geode, split in half, revealing the shattered gemstone within. It crumbled, and the wind scattered it like embers cast from a fire. The geode, usually alight with the Arcane might held within, grew dark and empty as the coming night.

“It-it was whole, I swear!” Jenks’ voice quivered. “Look at the others. There are unbroken ones in there. I know it!”

The foreman’s face contorted with fury. He tossed the broken geode to the ground and stomped, grinding it into dust beneath his heel.

“P-please, sir.” Jenks fell to his knees. “My little girl… She’s sick. If she doesn’t eat, she’ll–”

“Oh, piss off,” the foreman said. He slugged Jenks in the gut so hard that Hugh felt his own stomach leap into his throat. “You could have blown the mine to pieces. And for what? Some useless fucking stone.”

Jenks retched, sputtering and gasping for air, and nearly collapsed, his eyes wide and full of tears. The foreman hit him again, and again, and the blows sent him face-first to the ground, a trail of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Hugh’s gaze darted back and forth, from one stone-faced miner to the next, their eyes as lifeless as the barren soil beneath them.

No one so much as flinched.

Or made any attempt to help.

“That’s enough!”

Something stirred within Hugh, like a spark in his chest. A spark of what, he didn’t know, but it burned hot like smoldering coals. He leapt between Jenks and the foreman as the brute’s fist came barreling toward him. White-hot molten rage pounded in his veins as he braced for the hit.

But it never came.

“Outta the way, Hugh,” the foreman said, rubbing his knuckles. “Unless you want a beating too.”

“I’ll pass, thanks.” Hugh thrust his own sack of geodes into the foreman’s outstretched hands. “Here. Plenty of geodes in there for the both of us.” Hugh held the foreman’s furious glare, his own russet eyes smoldering with the hate that boiled in his gut.

The foreman weighed the sack with a hand as if he did not believe Hugh’s words, then pulled one out: a flawless, whole, ruby geode, glistening blood-red in the setting sun. The tension in the foreman’s shoulders eased as if satisfied by the offer. He kicked Jenks in the stomach with a sickening crunch, then spat on him.

“Tomorrow, you bring me whole geodes.” He fished around in his pocket, then tossed a handful of loose copper coins at the broken man. “If you can’t do that, don’t bother coming back at all.”

Jenks scrounged up the coins with the last dregs of his strength, then limped off toward town. He looked back and met Hugh’s gaze, his swollen eyes ripe with gratitude, then trudged on. Hugh took a deep breath, then turned around, sweat beading on his forehead.

The foreman pulled out another geode, then another, and another. He inspected a half-dozen or so, each one somehow more perfect than the last. The red gemstones swirled with Arcane power and drank the sun’s fire.

Eventually, the foreman lamented and undid the drawstrings of his leather pouch. He pulled out a stack of scuffed silver coins, their surfaces dulled from decades of exchange. “Don’t know how you do it,” he said, “But come back tomorrow and do it again.”

Hugh snatched the coins out of his hands and counted them. Either the geodes were losing value, or the local lord was growing stingy.

“You know what?” Hugh pocketed the coins. “Don’t count on it.”

Murmurs bubbled up amongst the miners, and the foreman floundered for a response. When it became clear none would come, Hugh flashed him a facetious grin, fueled by as much spite as he could muster. No fire burned within his chest now; only a cold, dark bitterness remained.

With a dismissive glance, Hugh stuffed his hands in his pockets and strolled down the path toward town, the creeping darkness masking his wry smirk. Another job lost, he thought. It’d be fun explaining this to his wife. But he knew she would understand—she didn’t like him working the mines anyway, and he would get to relive putting the foreman in his place, too.

A short ways down the path, Jenks leaned against a tree with his eyes closed, his hands clutching his stomach. His chest rose and fell with labored breathing. As Hugh passed, he smiled and stood up, wincing with pain. Hugh rushed to catch him before he tumbled into the dirt.

“Whoa, there. Easy does it,” Hugh said, his body aching with protest as he pulled the man’s arm up and over his shoulder. They walked side by side, clouds of dust trailing Jenks’ dragging feet. “You okay?”

“I’ve been better,” Jenks said with a laugh, his body convulsing with the pain. “What you did back there. I… Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hugh said. He dug out a handful of silver coins from his pocket and pushed them into Jenks’ hands. “You know, I’ve got a boy back home. He’s not sick or anything—not like your girl. But if it meant saving his life, I’d risk blowing this death pit sky-high to do it, too.”

He fingered the ruby geode in his pocket–a small thing not worth handing over to the mining authority–and felt its warmth seep through the calluses on his fingertips. The ruby’s magic caterpillared its way up through his knuckles and spread to his hands and forearms, overtaking the rest of his body like a heat wave.

Oh yes, Hugh thought. Max will love this.

From the Prompt Vault

Next, it’s your turn!

Write a story inspired by the prompt: drank.

If you use this prompt, restack this post and tag me in it so I can read your work. I love seeing what the fantasy community comes up with week to week.

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Cheers,

Josh