The Song Under the Mountain

-1-

Everyone knew the old stories. Wise elders and patient mothers told them often across a hearth or a table when there were those willing to listen, or not. Rone had been a distracted child, too preoccupied with finding his own adventures to pay attention to tales of others doing a much better job. His grandmother, though, insisted he learn and recite the tale behind the Scale Mines. 

No one seemed certain whether it was the dragons or the elves who began the First War. Some stories painted elaborate tales of vicious beasts that plagued the skies, burning forests to the ground with a single breath and leveling great cities on a whim. Those stories also told of the Delerin, the noble protectors who rushed to the humans' aid when their need was greatest. When the war was over, only great serpentine skeletons remained to dot the landscape, buried and forgotten by time.

The story Rone knew told a different side. Many nights of his youth were spent shivering beneath the blankets beside his brother, wondering if the power-hungry elves would renew their centuries-old lust for power and control and come for him in the night. Their grandmother wove a far greater tale, describing how one by one the great dragons were hunted for their magic, dying by the thousands until the few who remained were forced into hiding deep underground. This was the story Rone preffered, though he was not sure why. He could picture clearly the massive dragon so old he had forgotten his own name soaring over the ocean in flight from his would-be captors. Rone imagined the spray of the sea and the roar of thunder as the great dragon flew into the eye of a storm and then plunged beneath the waves in a final attempt to flee. He could feel the rushing push and pull of the waves as the Sea pulled rocks over the beast to protect him, concealing him until only a mountain marked the place of his descent. Rone wondered how large the creature must be for its scales to have provided so many emeralds over the years once men had created their mines.

With Agren gone East and their grandmother long since passed, Rone supposed that the story of the Scale Mines was all he had left of his family. His curiosity of the mines had kept him from the life of a fisherman like his father before him, and he hadn't shared his older brother's keen intellect or natural skill in the healing arts. He had grown into a man in the twisting tunnels that wove beneath the mountainous island just offshore to Shoalton, his hometown. 

The morning was as clear and calm as any other, with the sun casting a fainly yellow hue over the water as it began to rise above the mountains behind him. Rone sat on the edge of a jutting boulder that rested over the ocean, biting into the pear that would serve as his breakfast. As the light grew more and more men ascended the path behind him that led under the mountain, mumbling their good mornings as they prepared to start their day. Feron, the aged overseer of the mines, huffed loudly to announce his arrival as he stood in place just behind the young man. Rone sat straight to throw the core of the pear toward the waves that crashed against the rocks below before pushing up to stand beside the older man. 

"Should be a nice day."

The overseer gave a grunt as though the idea of nice days was somehow scorn-worthy. "We won't see a lick of it. I want you in the newer tunnels today the lads are forming in the southern branches. Check the stability and mark any places that need reinforcements."

Rone nodded and started into the mine, knowing that once orders had been given there was no further need for conversation. He shrugged off the rough manners as he navigated the maze of tunnels, a lantern held high in one hand and a pick resting on his other shoulder. As he got deeper into the mine, the idea of company became a distant luxury. Rone focused on keeping his breaths long and calm as he found the end of the first branch. 

He took his time inspecting the tunnels, tapping the walls and ceilings carefully with his pick to check for loose earth and leaving a stack of small white stones anywhere he thought a support beam was needed. The work was slow and at times tedious, but by midday he had almost finished and found himself eager to complete his task in time to join the others for a meal and some human interaction. A swift tap from his pick easily dislodged the broken stones at the end of the final tunnel, and he stooped to arrange a few stones and paint them white with a brush and paint pot that he carried on his belt.

At first he thought the low rumble was his stomach reminding him of the time, but when he stood to stretch he realized that it had grown louder. Rone fell backwards as the tunnel collapsed all around him. The mountain groaned and shook until at last it was over. Choking on dust, Rone sat up and breathed a quick sigh of relief. A few scrapes and bruises, but no broken bones. Things could have been much worse. He fumbled in the dark and found his lantern, also miraculously intact, and used a flint and steel from his pocket to relight it. 

"Can anyone hear me?!" He coughed again, realizing his question was most likely in vain. The other miners would have felt the cave-in at once, but he was deep in the mines and it would take some time for them to explore the deeper reaches and find that he was missing. Rone got up and tested the give of some of the rocks that blocked his escape, but as they shifted more quickly took their place. He cursed under his breath and turned around to look at where the rock had been hewn yesterday for the new tunnel. This would be his only way out. With any luck he could divert the tunnel to connect with another passage. With even greater luck he could manage this before he ran out of air. 

To his surprise, a hollow sound reverberated from the stone as he struck it with his pick. Frowning, Rone adjusted his stance and put more weight into the next strike, and the next. Gray stone chipped away bit by bit until a hole had been opened into a dark chamber beyond. With the lantern in one hand and the pick held defensively in the other, Rone stepped through to the other side. 

A brilliant flash of emerald stole his breath away.