Edan’s hand almost slipped as he gripped the bricks. They were smoother than they used to be. Likely replaced, though he couldn't be sure in the dim light. It was an odd thing to do. The bricks hadn't been completely broken. The old overseer had never done anything but yell. The new one wanted to replace everything on the upper levels so it looked like the underground. It was like he thought he could fix the place.
Edan’s foot slipped. He squeaked, gripping the bricks in front of him as his feet scrabbled for purchase. His heart raced quickly, the pounding so loud it resounded in his head. He closed his eyes and ignored it, angry at his own nerves. Edan had almost jumped out of his skin moments before when the ink below gurgled up at him. The technical malfunction had made him think the inky mass was a creature hungry for his flesh. He shook the thought away. Looking up, he mapped his next moves in his mind. Only a few metres to the window. A couple more to grab his file. Then he’d finally be old enough to get out by next winter.
He craned his neck to see inside. The small room was filled only with filing cabinets. Thankfully lacking any sign that the overseer had even been in that day. His desk and chair were shoved into the corner, stacked atop each other precariously. The latch broke open with the slightest pressure. He vaulted through the window.
It wasn’t a rare thing for one’s age to suddenly change between one day and the next. When the mandates changed everyone seemed to get a little older. Edan became fourteen when new rules forbid anyone younger from working complex machinery. He preferred the screaming of his long-suffering lift to the invading stink of the garbage piles Colin so often smelled of. He wouldn’t let the rules take his job from him, and he wouldn’t let them take away his freedom either. It wasn’t like the climb was more treacherous than the chimneys. Or any more likely to get you into trouble. The new overseer wasn’t in his office far more than he was.
Even Colin - straight laced as he was - had a different birthday by the time the war ended. Colin had almost fallen straight into the ink on the way down too. Edan knew he went because he despised the growing age difference. Colin had decided long ago that two years was already far too much.
Colin would have to come back if he had a problem with it. They wouldn’t be able to leave the country if every document said Edan was only eighteen.
Edan ran to the nearest cabinet, pulling at the drawer. It didn’t give. He pulled again. The whole thing rattled and the noise made him flinch, even though he knew that he was most definitely alone. Dang it. Locked. He climbed back out the window, thoughts turning.
The old overseer had never locked it. He’d been a fool too stuck in his rules to realise how many of his workers had been disobeying them. He’d never fixed anything. Never changed anything. Edan had been fine with that, and so had everyone else. They hadn’t noticed that he’d been missing for weeks until the new one arrived in his perfect suit and tie, a smile sickly sweet as the mix of perfumes forced into the ink before packaging. And now that man had manage to trap him here. Him and Colin. Because of stupid magic and stupid rules. Edan imagined the man’s smile turning sour as ink stained his perfect white suit.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The way down was easier than the way up, even when he came to the corner and had to be extra careful not to slip. When he reached shore he felt for the ground with his foot, not wanting to lessen his grip to allow himself to see what was below him. But then he got careless. As his confidence grew, he pushed away from the wall. His hand slipped. It was barely a second, but in that second he swore that his life flashed before him all at once. But he knew that he was just was too late. His foot had dipped in. Only briefly, but the tip of his shoe had touched the ink and the boiling liquid had soaked through. He practically fell onto concrete as the searing pain began. Wasn’t a good shoe. Awful material. Designed for standing around. Not designed for a dip in the ink. He cursed his own stupidity. Almost deliriously, he considered designing a new shoe himself. He knew that wasn’t a possibility. No fabric he made came close to being as resistant as he needed. He glared at the black sea before him. His hand had only just healed.
Edan forced himself to his feet. He winced, but managed. He wasn’t telling Colin. Colin hated him going near the ink. Sometimes Edan wondered who exactly was the older one. He leaned against the wall and tugged at his hair. He really was a crap brother.
He looked up at the building. Leaned up just so the back of his head hit against the uneven bricks. It looked harder to climb when you weren’t on it. It wasn’t even really a building. More like a pillar. It held up the roof so that it wouldn’t cave in and fall straight on the product. The two pillars on land had been repurposed, with the first serving as a base for important staff and the second being used to prop up new metal platforms where more crates of raw material could be stored until taken down for processing. Edan was sure he would have felt awed by them if the lake were not there. Its presence seared itself too much in his mind to focus on anything else.
The chimneys were there too of course. Big holes in the ceiling. Some over the metal ground and some over the lake. There were tracks underneath them made of skinny metal poles. A platform slid across them so that they could be reached and cleaned of any detritus. Only the ones over land ever were. The possibility of a malfunction loomed too heavy. No one wanted to fall into the ink. It was why the new overseer was putting up new security everywhere but around the ink. He didn’t need to worry about anyone breaking rules in its vicinity.
Edan jumped as he heard the tell-tale clink of machinery. He hadn’t taken a watch with him. The growing noise told him that working hours were approaching. He could have cursed. Sometimes he forgot that time moved forward even as he was stuck standing frozen with thoughts chasing his mind in circles. He ran across to the stairs. No one used them anymore. They sat in the corner, entirely obscured by boxes. He had to climb over a few to come to the entryway. The stairs spiralled downward into darkness, small lights the only thing to light his path. He grimaced as his foot twinged terribly on cue. As another clink sounded, closer this time, he fled.
