Section 10: Annan's Happy Holiday

Aunt Susan was kind, forgiving, and generous of heart.

The next morning, she still took Martin with her to the market in Pinglin Town.

Unlike before, when Annan and Martin had only hurried to sell their firewood, occasionally wandered the streets, and never gone near the shops or food stalls, today was different.

Aunt Susan led the two of them, still without breakfast, into the fragrant market.

The sweetness of baking bread and the scent of meat on the grill drifted through the morning mist. The steaks reminded Annan of the Minotaur... By now, the miners should have gone underground.

"Annan? Annan?" Aunt Susan called gently, drawing him out of his thoughts. "What would you like to eat?"

"Anything... Anything..."

Old Zoren leaned on his pickaxe as he mingled with the miners. Lame in one leg, old, and muttering to himself, he looked like a down-and-out vagrant.

Going into the mine alone was dangerous. At least he wouldn't have to pay anyone wages, though, and everything he found in the gold mine would be his. More importantly, he had picked up one piece of ore before. Why couldn't he find another?

Convinced luck was on his side, old Zoren ducked into a branching tunnel. He never noticed the figure watching him from nearby, dragging rusty shackles behind her.

Clank—clank—

Tasia dragged her chains along, ignoring the miners' hostile stares as she silently followed the group deeper into the gold mine.

Deep inside the tunnel, Tasia swung her pickaxe. Sparks flew, and a broad sheet of rock broke away from the wall.

"Hey, cow freak. Move."

At the voice behind her, Tasia stopped. Rather than argue, she walked past the two miners and headed back.

"Damn Orc slave... Pah."

They were cruder than Orcs, more cowardly than Goblins, and greedier than Dragons.

Tasia walked away from the gossiping miners. The horns she had once been so ashamed of that she wanted to cut them off no longer bothered her.

She thought of the boy called Annan. He had never looked at her with disgust like other humans did, or hidden contempt in his eyes. Though the pity and sympathy he sometimes showed made her uncomfortable too.

The two miners who had driven the Minotaur away sorted through the rubble and kept digging. They weren't slaves; if they found ore, they would be rewarded.

Stone chips flew. The clang of pickaxes echoed deep in the tunnel.

Before long, one miner stopped, puzzled.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

His companion lowered his pickaxe in confusion. Then both of them heard a clamor of footsteps behind them.

The two miners stared into the darkness beyond the oil lamp's glow. A hideous, scale-covered head emerged. Then a second. A third...

"D-don't be scared! The foreman said Kobolds only attack enemies they outnumber by a lot!"

The miner spoke to his companion in a trembling voice, but did nothing. The two Kobolds facing them barely reached their waists. Then barking erupted deeper in the tunnel, and more and more Kobolds appeared out of the dark.

The two miners' fear had cost them their last chance.

"No—"

The Kobolds raised their crooked short spears and stabbed at the screaming miners—

Annan looked up at the bashful Martin, then down at the wooden skewer Martin had stuck into the potato strips, now wet with his saliva. Annan had no choice but to let him have them.

Aunt Susan was still paying and hadn't noticed what was happening behind her. By the time she turned around, Martin had eaten the potato strips and disposed of the evidence.

"Were they good?" Aunt Susan's smiling eyes had nearly vanished.

"They smelled pretty good," Annan said.

"Damn it, did some idiot take a shit in here again?"

A miner suddenly sniffed the air and cursed as he waved away the murky, foul-smelling air. "Ugh... I'm going somewhere else before I throw up..."

Dragging his pickaxe, the miner headed deeper in. No one paid him any mind; the others kept swinging their pickaxes in silence. Before long, a commotion rose from the depths, followed by a piercing scream.

The miner who had left moments ago came running back, howling. A pickaxe protruded from his chest, and two barking Kobolds clung to its handle behind him. His steps slowed until he fell still.

Thud—

The miners screamed, dropped their pickaxes, and fled. None of them thought to fight back. Kobolds were pouring out like a flood.

The anthill-like tunnels had scattered the miners into groups of three or five at most. When the ragged Kobolds, no bigger than children, came charging out with wild barks, the miners could only flee in panic. Kobolds caught up or cut them off, surrounding them as countless spears and pickaxes struck their defenseless bodies—

The cook deftly sliced the grilled meat into strips, scooped them up with a spatula, and packed them into a brown paper bag.

Aunt Susan swatted away Martin's outstretched hand and gently placed the bag in Annan's hands.

"Eat plenty, little Annan. You're still growing."

Annan took the bag, then snatched his hands away as the heat burned through its bottom.

"Hiss... That's hot!"

A spark landed on a miner's hand, and he shook it off. As the clang of pickaxes around him faded, the rising commotion left him bewildered. He saw miners running toward him in terror and instinctively fled with them.

The panicked crowd kicked over a basket. Ore streaked with gold spilled out, glinting darkly beneath the oil lamps.

Kobolds were small and weak, bullies who only turned their weapons on those weaker than themselves. But the miners, gripped by fear and intent only on escape, certainly counted as weaker.

As he fled, old Zoren saw a pursuing Kobold leap at a miner and bite him between the legs—

Runny, scalding egg yolk spilled from the corner of Martin's mouth, making his face contort.

Annan waited patiently for his to cool before taking a bite. The thick orange yolk flowed out, filling his mouth with rich flavor.

"Annan, there's a magic act over there!"

Martin tugged Annan toward the thickest crowd in the market.

"Stop pushing! Stop pushing!"

The miners jammed together in the tunnel, tumbling over one another.

Tasia held on to old Zoren, standing like a boulder in a river. A foreman spotted her and shouted, "Slave! You should be protecting me, not that old man!"

"Even I, a Minotaur, would save him, and all you want to do is abandon one of your own?" Tasia said.

Suddenly, a shrill cry burst from the crowd.

"Kobold Warlock!!!"

Light flared without warning, filling the tunnel. Then a fireball exploded among the crowd—

A wave of heat swept over the crowd, drawing gasps and cries.

Annan ducked away quickly. Martin wasn't so lucky; the light-brown hair over his forehead curled from the heat.

The startled townspeople tossed copper coins to the circus performer, who held a torch and sprayed liquor into the flame.

Annan had enjoyed a wonderful holiday in another world.

On the way back, he heard the townspeople talking. Something had happened at the Haunted Gold Mine.