Page 16 of ColdIron
Once I learned what Coldiron could do, I sought them out and brought them here, warding the entrance to our escape tunnel. The metal was volatile. Gathering a pool together was like creating a small quantum bomb if you weren’t careful. But in my hands, in my presence, the sentient metal stayed steady and calm.
That’s what Rogue meant by “We’re safest with Max.”
I stepped through the threshold, Coldiron casting a shimmering sheen over me. I reached for Rogue, and hegripped my fingers tightly as I pulled him through. He gasped on the other side, immediately darting to the edge of the drift—room enough for five to stand here—and bent over, heaving. That was the side effect of passing through this much Coldiron, even with me as an anchor. A trespasser would be maimed or worse. Limited amounts didn’t affect miners this way, especially without me actively working with it. The other miners knew this was restricted and stayed away.
“Easy,” I murmured, then pulled Desta through, then Kaid.
They went through the same motion, bodies rejecting the exposure.
I gave them a moment. When they stood straight again, we faced our path ahead. Three more miles of crawling through the escape tunnel.
My friends didn’t look daunted. We were miners. Tight spaces were what we did.
“I’ll go first,” Rogue volunteered.
“No. Me first.” I met his eyes. “I lead. You follow, as agreed.”
He nodded without argument.
I got down on my hands and knees and crawled forward into the narrow space. It was a tight fit for me; my friends would have an easier time behind me.
If I’d come alone, I could’ve moved faster. But I kept pace so they wouldn’t fall behind. We inched forward as one unit, our travel bags—patched-together rug scraps—strapped to our backs. Each of us held a witchlight powered by Stormglass in front of our faces, illuminating the path. Our breaths came louder than thesound of our hands and knees shoving through the hard dirt.
Crimson Ridge was the biggest supplier of Stormglass in all four kingdoms. The elemental metal fueled magical electricity—the main source of arcane batteries ever since the world went to shit and technology flatlined.
“Max! The ceiling’s coming down!” Rogue’s voice echoed from over a dozen paces behind me.
Desta was right behind me. We’d put her in the middle for protection, with Rogue bringing up the rear.
Sheets of dirt and small rocks fell from above. The tunnel groaned.
Shit.
I shoved my hands up, pressing my palms flat against the rough ceiling. I called to the Coldiron buried in the rock, and they streamed toward me through the earth like water finding its level. I spoke without words, asking them to reinforce the weak points.
The metal responded immediately, spreading through the rock in a web of strength. I felt other materials too—iron ore, copper veins, traces of silver. I coaxed them all to work together, to form a lattice of support where there’d only been crumbling stone.
Good job!Coldiron chimed happily.
Steady,I reminded them.Keep holding.
The trembling stopped. Dust settled.
“It’s fine.” I lowered my hands carefully. “We got this. We trained for it.”
We got this,Coldiron echoed proudly.We trained!
“Remember when the entire eastern shaft almostexploded last year?” Desta said. “Max held it up long enough for everyone to evacuate. Saved forty-three miners that day.”
“The overseers gave you extra rations for two days.” Rogue’s voice floated from the back. “You shared them with us.”
“Couldn’t eat it all myself,” I lied, and my friends chuckled. They knew.
“And remember the gas pocket in the lower tunnels?” Kaid piped up from behind Desta. “Max sensed it before we even got close. Saved us all from poisoning.”
They were building each other up, feeding confidence for what lay ahead.
“Rogue,” I said, “why don’t you sing us a song?”
