Chapter Salt and Stone
SALT AND STONE
“Salt?” She grabbed a few of the granules from his palm and rolled them between her fingers. “But it’s black.”
“It’s not that kind of salt. This is, as its color indicates, black salt. Some people call it obsidian salt because it comes from the same mines as obsidian stone. But the salt itself isn’t obsidian at all.”
Hazel nodded in understanding. “The way things have been going I probably don’t want the answer to this, but what is black salt used for?”
Slaide sighed. “That’s the problem. It’s extremely versatile. It is good for protection and magical cleansing in small spaces. Some people wear it in its granular form, usually in glass vials. Others imbue it into small trinkets or jewelry.”
“I thought obsidian was used for protection against magic?”
He nodded his head side to side. “It is, and it is far more potent for that purpose than black salt. Obsidian isn’t entirely practical for personal use, though.
Its anti-magic properties are far reaching, which is why it was chosen for the obelisks all those years ago.
It does a better job of amplifying anti-magic spells and warding on a grand scale. ”
“What else is the salt used for, then?” Slaide looked at her, appraising. The unspoken words were written on her face: why was there salt sprinkled at the Border?
“Black salt can temporarily amplify certain spells… and nullify others. It’s as powerful as it is brief. That being said…”
“It could last long enough to get someone through the Border?” she finished for him. But something wasn’t adding up. “Where does this kind of salt come from? I always thought salt was deposited near coastlines by rain and sea air. We aren’t even remotely close to a coastline.”
“No,” Slaide said. “We aren’t.” His face darkened.
Slaide looked out at the Border, and she noticed how his shoulders tensed. He turned back to her with a crease between his eyes, apprehension clear on his face. “Come with me. There’s something you need to see.”
The pair led their mounts quietly back through the Kingswood, hoping to avoid any further surprises. The only sound they made came from the plodding of horse hooves into the dirt path.
After a while, they reached an area where the grassy plain rose slowly into a hillside. Without a word, Slaide brought Phillip to a stop and dismounted, and Hazel took this as her cue to do the same. She crossed the few paces between them, leading Nanna by her reins.
“We’ll leave the horses here. They’ll be too easy to spot from the hilltop,” he said, turning his back on her, black cloak billowing slightly behind him as he started up the hill.
She followed, wishing she’d worn more than her borrowed leathers.
The higher they climbed, especially now that they’d left the protection of the trees, the more blustery the wind grew.
As they approached the crest of the hill, Slaide crouched and signaled for her to do the same. He stared straight ahead as he spoke.
“What you are about to witness is something few know about and even fewer have seen. There’s a reason for that, which you’ll soon understand.
Before we move forward, I need you to understand me.
You must keep your head down. While this is the best vantage point to what I am about to show you, it’s also more exposed than I like.
If you sit up too high, you’ll give us away. ”
Well, that isn’t unsettling at all. “I understand,” she whispered.
He spared a moment to glance at her before crawling forward, and she followed despite the growing warmth of her locket.
They crested the hill, where Hazel found it wasn’t a hill at all.
It had been the rear slope of a cliff. The drop was devastatingly sharp, but that wasn’t what took her breath away.
Below them, in a crater carved deep into the ground, people bustled about.
The rim was dotted with caves with people going in and out.
Wagons and wheelbarrows were overflowing with minerals or ore, she couldn’t tell.
It was a mine system, larger than any she’d ever heard of. Practically its own town.
“Welcome to Blackrock Gulch,” he spat as though the words soured his mouth.
She was dumbfounded. A place of this enormity would have taken years to carve out. Thousands and thousands of hours of work. Countless workers and horses traveling to and from…
“How?” Hazel asked. “How does seemingly no one know about this place? This must be the biggest, best-kept secret in Aeos. But I don’t understand how it could stay hidden in plain sight like this.”
“Until recently, I didn’t know much about its origin.
I just assumed it was a natural cave that the Kings of the past dug deeper over time.
But I now have a book in my possession that has made everything a lot clearer.
Sometime in the years before The Thousand Years War, the angels fell from the heavens.
Based on location descriptions given in the old text, I believe Blackrock used to be the crash site known as Angelfall.
Which may have something to do with why the harvested ore is so powerful; it was imbued with Aetherial energy. ”
Gods… but then that would mean…
An air-splitting snap tore her from her thoughts. Screams followed.
No. She searched for the source of the sound.
Thwack. The sound lashed out again, and Hazel’s gaze landed on it. A man was on his knees in the mud, arms stretched above his head, where he was tied to a post. A whipping post. The color drained from her wind-lashed cheeks as her stomach turned over on itself.
Crack. She watched the knotted leather cord cut through the air.
Watched as it made contact with the already bleeding flesh.
Watched as it tore a new gash through skin and muscle, spraying blood and gore.
Watched as the man vomited before going limp against the post. Watched as the overseer lashed into him again.
Hazel buried her head, desperate to block out the scene. Why had he brought her here? She could still hear the whip as it continued to sound despite covering her ears. Bile rose in her throat.
She brought herself to look at Slaide. Had he known? The answer was etched into his features, guaranteed by the guilt shining in his eyes. Of course he had.
“This isn’t just minework. This is slavery.” She choked on her words, trying to whisper but wanting to scream.
Slaide said nothing.
Anger boiled within her. “Take me there,” she demanded.
“I’m sorry, what?” He nearly choked.
She looked at him with fury burning in her eyes. “I said take me there. Take me down there.” She looked back at the crater. “Take me, or so help me, I will go on my own.”
“That’s madness, Hazel. I know this is upsetting, but we are not going down there.
That’s worse than hand delivering you to the Magistry’s gates.
Because this?” He gestured to the mine below them.
“This is where you go when they’re done with you.
This is where they send people to die. You want to know why the public hunts and executions have stopped almost entirely? You’re looking at it.”
Her eyes welled with tears. She imagined her peaceful life, growing up with Connall, with only the Briar & Rose to worry about. Meanwhile, people from all ages and walks of life were dragged here, to their eventual demise. How could this go on, and no one speak out about it?
He grabbed her hand. “Come on. Let’s go.”
She ignored him, unable to peel her eyes from the horrors below.
“Hazel—”
“You knew about this,” she seethed. “You’ve always known, and you’ve done nothing to stop it.
You may not carry the whip, but you’re just as complicit in this as they are.
And here I was starting to… I thought…” She didn’t finish the sentence.
She didn’t need to. Her insides were igniting.
Her power bubbled within, promising to erupt again if she didn’t control herself.
His face flashed with hurt, with shame, and she was glad for it. Her words had hit their mark, and she was not the least bit sorry. Something about that small victory quelled the bitter, boiling rage.
But then his expression shifted to anger, twin lines furrowing between his brows, his eyes darkening. She wondered which part of what she’d said had crossed a line.
“People do know, Hazel. Trust me when I say they make very calculated moves behind the scenes and are near impossible to track.”
Hazel locked eyes with him, refusing to accept that as an answer.
Slaide accepted the challenge. “Why don’t you do something about it, then?” He nodded toward the crater below. “Light it up. Put an end to the suffering.”
She flinched. They’d tiptoed around this subject until now. He’d called her out. Acknowledged what they both knew.
“I’m not interested in murdering innocents, Slaide.” She turned her back on him and started in the direction they’d come from. “And if you’re so certain I can, then arrest me. Gods know you can’t have a witch wandering around the kingdom.”
He followed her silently.
“Make no mistake,” she whirled on him, stopping him in his tracks, “I will put a stop to this. I don’t know when, and I don’t know how. But when I am finished, no witch or magical being will ever be in chains again.”
Before she turned around, the corners of Slaide’s mouth tipped upward, hinting at a smile.
Not another word was said as they returned to the horses, leaving the horrors of Blackrock Gulch behind.
Once they were out of sight from the gulch, Slaide brought the horses to a stop and dismounted, making his way around to Hazel. He offered her a hand down, but she ignored him and managed on her own.
Slaide stood there, hand still outstretched as she walked past him.
She walked a few paces away and then got down on her hands and knees, her body immediately racking with sobs.
Slaide walked up behind her, and she looked up at him in disgust before averting her gaze.
He knelt beside her and placed his hand gently on her back, though her body flinched at his touch.
Without warning, she whirled on him and clocked him in the nose.
“Gods damn it, Hazel!”
She mounted Phillip and raced for the Kingswood while Slaide tended to his nose. She was going not just to the Border, but through it. She was going to leave all this behind.