Chapter 1
The sun streamed down on the long sandy plain at the entrance of the largest diamond mine in all of the Diamond Sector. The brown sand-stone was so hot under foot that the heat radiated through the soles of one’s shoes. Even trees struggled to grow, only ever growing to resemble skeletal shrubs. And the only shade offered within a reasonable distance was from the red cliff-face or the crude guard tower where men and women in fancy clothes hid, watching over their mules at work.
Not even the minimal breeze offered any comfort to those who had the misfortune of being on the sandy site in the swelter.
A constant stream of men and women entered and exited the twelve-foot hole carved into the rock. Those who entered were clean and tidy. Those leaving were black with soot and dirt.
A few men and women stood in the red shade of the cliff, smoking a cigarette or having a well-deserved feed, spending what time they could out of the fourteen levels of dark, loud caverns 3,000 feet below.
I was one of those on my hour break. Taking a drag on the blunt between my lips, I watched my colleagues walking towards the job none of us had the choice but to take.
Life wasn’t simple for the likes of the Majority.
We had all grown up with far out folklore of how our ancestors, a selfish and arrogant people, had it so easy; how they played on a device called a PlayStation and how they had no self-respect, respect for others or respect at all. How they used the ‘internet’ for a thing called Facebook and how they ‘tweeted’, which, I think, was similar to the noise birds make.
But the world was different now and believe me when I say that we wouldn’t be here if we had the choice.
Our ancestors had decided our fate when they went to war against Corrupt Power.
It was the lower factions of the Dracibis, pretty descendants of the ancient Governments, who got the jobs of status, doctors, for example, or mine owners. The menial tasks were left for the rest of us in the Majority, forced to work in the mines or as basic labourers as punishment for something none of us were alive to witness. All because the Dracibis wanted to reminded us not to test their power again.
Most men and women down here had families to support, wives and children to feed, clothe and house. Some couples had gone as far as to take opposing shifts so that Mama was at home in the morning to send the children to school and Papa would be home to greet the children when they came home. Others, like myself, worked illegally in the Black Market at night to save what little cash we could. We even had teenagers working down here because there wasn’t enough money to support the family.
That’s how I started in the hell hole.
Because our mighty leaders did not see us fit for support. To them, we were nothing but pack-mules to do their dirty work as they sat at their marble tables, under their diamond chandelier, (which I had personally helped to dug up, might I add) sipping their expensive wine and eating their 5 course meals.
Above my head, a siren rang out, signaling the end of the hour. I threw my hands over my ears, letting loose a string of profanities that would make the men around here blush as the noise hit my sensitive eardrums.
One of the crew turned and pulled the universe symbol for the general ‘fuck you’ up at the large tinted window twenty feet above our heads. I would bet my left foot, they saw that image all the time and probably laughed.
It was the seventh bell I had heard today.
But then again, working down in the mines, the days all rolled into one and it was hard to remember how long you had been there and how long you had left.
Making my way to the metal cage that marginally passed for an elevator, I reminded myself that I only had five bells left.
Or was that six?
I could hardly remember.
The elevator operator called for level four and I pushed my way forward to enter the cage.
“Hey there, sexy.”
I flipped my verbal admirer off as we were lowered into the ground, counting back the bells I had heard. The only thing I had found to keep myself sane.
The cage past by level after level of rock, the mercury rising as we plummeted deeper into the earth.
There were definitely five bells left.
Finally, with the tell-tale thud and crunch of chain that whispered ‘Welcome to Hell’, the grate slid open.
I slipped out quickly and automatically headed off the direction of my usual post.
The chink of metal on rock rang out around the cavern, the soundtrack of a day in the mines, as miners hammered away in the hopes that they catch a glimpse of the bullion we were digging for.
The people down here didn’t wear a lot of the clothing. Jeans and a singlet mostly, because the regulation safety gear that the bosses had stipulated that was to be uniform was just too hot. We all watched as the newbies followed the regulations to the letter, leading them to drop like flies in their first few weeks. But they soon learnt that the bosses didn’t really care if the gear had been worn.
All they cared about was the diamond at the end.
I reached my post where my work partner, Stuie, stood, waiting for me to return. He saw me and sighed heavily.
“Thank god, you returned.”
I smiled at the little joke.
“Don’t I always?” I replied.
He laughed and scratched the back of his head.
“You know one day you won’t. Don’t deny it; you’re the one with the balls to piss on the Dracibis from a great height and the skill-set to get away with it.”
I shrugged and wrote in the register, which had never been used for its actual purpose.
Stuie looked at me cautiously and sighed again, this time the noise dripped with concern.
I felt my hackle rise as I slowly looked at him again.
“It’s that time again, Sin,” he started.
I didn’t want to hear it.
“Don’t say it, Stuie.”
“But, Sintra, you know you’re the only one to be-.”
I threw my hand over his mouth to stop him.
“I know, but they might have found another, Stuward.”
He tried to interrupt me.
“Stop. I don’t want to hear it.”
I felt bile begin to rise in my oesophagus at the very thought of what he was trying to talk about.
“Sintra, you know I worry...”
“You don’t have to.” I plastered on a fake smile as I said it. “I won’t be picked.”
“Sintra...”
“Stuward.” I mocked, thumping my hand on to my hips to in an attempt to end the conversation.
By the way his eyes shifted and his features harder, I could tell he wasn’t impressed. Thankfully, he let the subject drop.
“Well, now that you’re back, I’m going to do my rounds.”
And with that, he turned and headed down the fork to my left.
I sighed and leaned on the desk in front of me, running my hands over my face and through my hair.
I knew I shouldn’t have cut him off like that; it had been unfair and he was worried. After all, he had been the only one to see me after my meltdown last year. But I was tearing myself up as it was without Stuie adding to my stress.
Stuie and I, we were different.
And the Dracibis hated our kind above all others.
People like us were lower than low.
We were truly animals, an entirely different species to our human counterparts.
In another age, we would have been gods. But the Dracibis had painted the picture for the humans that we were to be feared and we were given the shittiest jobs with the shittiest pay.
All we wanted to do was find our ‘mate’ and live in peace. But instead, we spent our childhoods growing up too quickly and spending our teenage years fucking for money, trying to find someone compatible to marry before we were called up. If we didn’t find our mates, then at least we had a few extra dollars to our names.
They didn’t have safety systems down in the mines; we were the safety system. Because we were Raiders. Animal-human hybrids unfit to breathe the same air as the higher class. not only we did have to live with the isolation and ridicule from the Dracibis but their Lords forced us to fight to the death within our species, once a year, for their own entertainment.
The Cloude Wars.
The rules stated that only one team can survive, but not everyone in the winning team would survive.
Seven teams.
Six in a team, one from each Continent.
Only one person in that team would have to survive to win.
We would have to kill six teams to win. That was at least 36 people that had to die for the ‘game’ would finish. The pack members could have been as young as 12 to be called up. But that wasn’t the worst of it.
If you survived your first War, you were expected to compete in the next War and the next and the next, until you died, had a kid or you age out. And very few aged out. If you aged out with your life, you were lucky; if you made it twenty-seven without seeing the inside of the Arena, you were a coward.
Needless to say, Raider’s were screwed either way.
This year would be my 18th year that I could have been forced to compete. And at the ripe age of 30, I was very quickly being seen as coward. However, I also knew this year my luck of avoiding the great Cloude Wars was over.
I had been called up last year in fact, but I was saved by a volunteer, and I had lived with the fact I would be forced to compete this year for the last twelve months. Since I had watched my twin brother torn apart on the big screen in the square by the Leopards.
I shouldn’t have lied to Stuie, but it wasn’t a complete lie. There was a 50/50 chance that my sister would be called up instead. But Stuie knew that I wouldn’t let that happen. I was protective of my little sister. Just as my brothers had been protective of me.
Our people were used to burying our family too young; for 6 years in a row, I watched as one by one, my brothers took my place in the Tiger pack. And for 6 years in a row, I watched as they put my brothers, one by one, in the ground.
Stuie, a Hawk Raider, understood all too well the suffering our kind were feeling today; he had been labelled a coward for ageing out without see the inside of the arena. The guilt and sickening heartache as they watched year after year their family and friends receive their call-up. Stuie was one of the lucky one who was actually liked by the bosses, who had put him on the ‘Keep’ register, but he had seen it as the highest form of punishment.
The customary letters of ‘congratulations’ would have arrived today before the Presentation Ceremony tomorrow where the Champions from the Sectors would be presented to the World. After which, they would be tested into 6 categories before being piled into a plane bound for Dracibia City or ‘The True Sector’ for the Withdrawals.
I hissed.
The Withdrawals was a showy event lasted 2 weeks before the Wars began, where the Champions were shown off to the people of Dracibis and Vancoon, so they could decide who to sponsor.
I laughed at the image of my mother sitting at the dining table, holding the cursed envelope in her hands, crying as she had before, knowing she would have to send her child off to die again.
That would not have happened in this world or the next.
In fact, I was sure that my mother had spent the last 6 years, trying to sell me to the Dracibis, only to watch her precious boys volunteer to take my place. It wouldn’t have been the first time she had sold me like I was cattle.
I watched the Hawk flying through the tunnels 100 feet below the earth surface and grimaced. This would be the last time I witnessed this normality.
