Dark Blessings - YA
Chapter 1
Heat pierced Saori’s heavy gloves, yet she clung to the metal gangway with gritted teeth, conscious of the simmering pits below. Conditions in the factory were already barely tolerable, but she’d seen folk boiled alive down there, skin peeling and splitting like cooked sausages. The stench of their stewed flesh persisted for turn after turn, long after their bones melted clean away.
‘Kick your boots up, tòfa. The stone’s near turning, for sure.’ Akio’s crooked nose loomed out of the gloom. He patted her back, uncaring of her sweat-soaked, leather shirt, and tapped the cannister at his hip. ‘You need a swig?’
‘Nah, I’m grand,’ she lied, resisting the urge to lick her cracked lips. The meagre, allotted amount of water disappeared quickly, no matter how hard she tried to pace her thirst. Akio stood a good few inches taller, yet her brother always offered his flask. ‘Let’s beat it.’
Together, they shuffled down the narrow sheet of metal, trying not to gag on the fumes. The thought of falling was one Saori had never found peace with. The gas surges would corrode your innards, the drills slice you clean in two, and there was always the possibility of being crushed under a mountain of dirt, but boiling was a gruesome way to tread the path of the Dead Sun. It wasn’t quick, either.
Old Gid used the double-entry vent system to let them through the bridge door, two nameless, faceless regulators waiting on the other side.
‘Vials.’
‘Here.’ She slipped off her belt, handing it to the first reg.
‘Only eight?’
‘Two leaks today. Barely escaped the second,’ she muttered, eyeing the Halos strapped to their heads. The masks wouldn’t stop you shrivelling like a keekenberry if you fell into the boiling water, but they’d stop your lungs collapsing if a leak occurred. Unfortunately for dregs like her and Akio, it was cheaper to replace the workforce.
‘Used to be every third gaze there’d be a leak. It’s getting worse,’ said Old Gid, a bit of bite in his feathery voice.
The regs stared, impassive. Pit-runners never lasted long and their faces all looked the same to the overseers.
‘We are the unclean. The sinful. Let our devotion in this life allow Marzal to smile upon us in the next.’ Tearing off her gloves, Saori rushed the required words; the mantra of the Margins, learnt long before she knew their meaning. A curt nod from the regs and then they were free. End of shift.
Trotting up a long set of stairs, the trio merged with the crowd outside, Old Gid panting like he had rot in his lungs. Most of the faces were familiar, and etched well before their time, all blinking as they emerged into the dim Light of the factory forecourt. They barely noticed Saori joining their sluggish movement. It was a volatile environment to spend almost three turns, even if you were lucky enough to man a heavy turbine and stay safe behind metal and glass. All rights to a peaceful life were sold along with the barrels delivered straight to the Cusp and Core. They saw none of its power on the Margins, save the odd canon for the regs; they were just the tools of its making.
They boarded the shuttle to Ettel with little time to spare, squeezing into one of the ten-person compartments. There was no idle conversation, just a silent solidarity that wrapped itself about Saori like a scratchy, woollen blanket. She grabbed a leather strap hanging down from the roof and braced her feet. Then the doors slid shut and the villagers were plunged into a heavy, suffocating darkness.
The keepers would have the regs beat her bloody were she to admit it, but the gloom was something Saori found oddly comforting. A consistent tickling to the back of her neck confirmed Akio’s presence and his free hand steadied her as the antiquated vehicle rumbled on. Ray-merchants rolling up every second blink didn’t ride shuttles like this; they arrived in vast, armoured trucks with wheels that reached past her hip. She’d touched one once, felt the dusty rubber under her fingers, smelt the black dirt it spouted every few paces. Crude, but thrilling, as she imagined the places it had been. The merchants paid no heed to the dregs, but they’d loiter in the retirement rooms, playing Random Fours and Grit, for turn upon turn.
The distance between Ettel and the factory was short, even an ancient shuttle like theirs covering the ground swiftly, yet there was an air of anticipation amongst the villagers. As often as she journeyed, Saori’s breath always caught at every rattle, every scraping bolt, every rough thump of the wind. For it wasn’t just the dregs who scratched out an existence on the Margins. In the Dark, you’d find monsters, and they liked to hunt.