At that moment, the ogre caught up. Greg ducked and rolled as the creature swung its fist again. The gate shook under the impact. Scrambling across the floor on all fours, Greg spared a terrified glance at the brute's face. It bore a hideous purple burn, which had puffed up its flesh and closed one eye. The remaining eye glared at him in pure fury.
His attacker stepped forward. Greg skittered back, trying to work out if he could dodge past it. At that moment, the sounds of furious escaped slaves began to fill the air. The ogre looked up at the noise, nostrils flaring, then back at Greg. For a moment it hovered, undecided. After what felt like a lifetime it snorted with anger and stalked off in the direction of the cells.
Greg breathed a sigh of relief and hurried back to the gate. The first sounds of combat began to echo up the passageway behind him as he opened the gate and ran.
The air grew colder the higher he ran. Oil lamps burned at intervals, pushing back the dark, but Greg sensed the darkness growing thicker, even palpable beyond the glow of light. He slowed, exhaustion making his head swim. The sounds of battle receded, but he didn't doubt the outcome would be in favor of the slaves.
Got to find what's up ahead. Need a few moments to breathe is all. Thank God, the air on this world seems thicker than Earth's, otherwise I'd be flat out by now...
The solid rock of the tunnel wall met his head seconds later. He woke with a start, knees buckling, head swimming, to find he'd nodded off. "I'd be flat out? Famous last words!" He groaned and stumbled into motion again. "Oh, God..."
Seconds later the floor seemed to level out beneath his feet. Greg felt a definite breeze blowing. It proved a mixed blessing. His head cleared, but he began to shiver violently as the warmth generated by moving dissipated in the wind chill. He staggered, his feet feeling like raw meat. Then he found himself outside under the stars.
He stared up at the twinkling points of lights grim-faced against their multitude. The Milky Way hung like a gossamer veil on the night sky, but none of the familiar planets and constellations could be seen. In fact, the stars seemed sparse indeed compared to the night sky of Earth. I guess I'm not in Kansas anymore...
Greg staggered a few steps more until the slope crested a rise and began to trend downhill. Peering back, he saw behind him a rocky crag, with the mine shaft piercing its vitals. It looked as if it stood at the end of a chain of similar craggy hills that curved away to his right. Ahead the slope spread out and descended in a gentle gradient to a well-lit compound with an honest-to-goodness rail yard, and beyond that a desert, blue under the faint starlight.
The railroad ran off to left and right, the silver gleam of the rails marking its course until it disappeared over both horizons. The rails seemed farther apart than the ones he was used to on Earth. He thought back over the hazy period of time to when he'd first arrived in this dreadful place and reckoned the train he'd been aboard with the other slaves had come from the right-hand horizon. Somewhere back there lay the huge city where he'd first come to this world.
The rails from the tunnel ran down to a coal dump where mine carts stood nose-to-tail. More slaves worked there by the light of burning braziers under the supervision of at least a half-dozen ogres. To one side a fenced enclosure contained the rudimentary huts of the quarters allocated to those slaves who worked the heaps. A locomotive the size of an ocean liner stood in a siding not far from the dumps, a yellow glow emanating from the windows of the crew compartment high above the track. A train of coal cars stretched away for three miles behind the huge machine.
Greg gazed with longing at the fires, his skin crawling with cold. The ogres looked alert. They carried whips, crossbows and huge halberds, the blades gleaming gold and silver in the light of fires and stars. "Not an option," he muttered. His odds of a successful escape had dropped.
The staccato slap of many feet on rock began to echo up the tunnel behind him. He looked back, thinking to warn his fellows of the danger that waited ahead of them. A shout of alarm from one of the ogre guards told him it was too late. The creature had to have superb hearing — but Greg saw the shadows cast by the escaping slaves playing on the roof of the tunnel, as visible as a cinema screen. With a sick feeling, he realized he also had to be silhouetted against the lit mouth of the tunnel. He stood and stared as a number of the guards began to walk up the slope toward him, weapons leveled. The sounds of his fellow captives’ escape grew louder yet. He was caught between the hammer and the anvil.
"Ah, shoot."
Chapter 3
Oculus Nightingale cruised through the perpetual darkness. Zared sat on his bunk in what was laughably called his cabin. Located on the starboard side of the gondola, it comprised a small booth with the fold-up bunk, a foot-wide strip of floor space, and an electric light. A curtain stretched across the opening onto the short corridor gave a semblance of privacy. It swayed whenever people walked by outside.
A small window penetrated the outer hull above the bunk. Zared had been warned against showing any light while the shutter was open when passing through the skies of Dark Side. He didn't need the steward's advice. After one horrified glance at the ground passing so far below, he'd decided he didn't want to see it again until he stood on it. It gave him little comfort to
