The Burning Shadow Read Free

heavy spears and vicious bronze knives. Despite the heat, black cloaks flew behind them like wings, and their faces were gray with ash.
    Hylas swayed. He’d seen warriors like them before.
    In their midst rode a Chieftain in a chariot drawn by two black horses. As it thundered up the track toward the stronghold, Hylas caught a glimpse of hooded eyes and a bristly black beard. Something about that face was terrifyingly familiar.
    â€œHead
down
!” breathed Zan, elbowing him in the ribs.
    In horror, Hylas stared from the Chieftain to the tattoo on his forearm. “It’s not a mountain,” he whispered. “It’s a crow.”
    â€œCourse it’s a crow!” hissed Zan. “That’s Kreon son of Koronos—he
is
a Crow!”
    Hylas felt as if he was falling from a great height.
    He was a slave in the mines of the Crows.
    If they found out he was here, they would kill him in a heartbeat.

3
    T he Sun wasn’t yet up when Hylas jolted awake, but already the others were preparing to head off. They hadn’t bothered to wake him. They didn’t care if he got a beating.
    Hastily, he cut strips from his tunic and bound his head and knees, then tied another band around his hips and tucked the shard of obsidian in a fold at his waist.
    Beetle told him to take another rag too. “Down the pit, pee on it and tie it across your nose and mouth. Keeps out the dust.”
    â€œThanks,” said Hylas.
    â€œThe pit” turned out to be two shafts dug into the hill. One was an arm-span wide, with a log laid across and a rope slung over that; Hylas guessed it was some kind of pulley. The other was narrower; before it, lines of men waited to climb down. Many were covered in greenish scars, and missing fingers and toes. All had bloodshot eyes and faces stony with defeat.
    â€œWho are they?” Hylas asked Beetle.
    â€œHammermen,” muttered the Egyptian boy. “Stay outa their way.”
    As they stood in line, Hylas saw warriors guarding the mines. Kreon’s stronghold glared down at him. He told himself the Crows thought he was dead: drowned last summer in the Sea. It didn’t help.
    Noticing that there were more slaves than overseers and guards, he asked Zan why they didn’t rebel.
    The older boy rolled his eyes. “Pit’s got nine levels, see? You try to escape, you’re sent down the deepest.”
    â€œSo?”
    Zan didn’t reply. He was tossing pinches of dust over his shoulder and spitting three times.
    â€œIt keeps the snatchers away,” whispered Bat, clutching his squashed mouse. Spit was tugging at his bony collarbones and sweating with fear. Beetle was muttering a charm in Egyptian.
    Hylas asked Bat if his mouse was an amulet, and the younger boy nodded. “Tunnel mice are clever, they always get out before a cave-in. Zan’s got a amulet too, a hammerman’s finger.”
    â€œShut up, Bat!” said Zan.
    Ahead of them, a hammerman had noticed Hylas. It was the man with the broken nose. “You’re Lykonian,” he said in an undertone.
    Hylas’ belly turned over.
    â€œDon’t deny it, I can tell from your speech. I hear the Crows had trouble there last spring. They were killing Outsiders, but didn’t get them all.”
    â€œYou heard wrong,” muttered Hylas, avoiding the pit spiders’ curious glances.
    â€œI don’t think so,” whispered the man. “I’m from Messenia, they were hunted there too, but some got away. Why are the Crows after Outsiders?”
    Messenia
. That was where Issi had gone. “The ones who got away,” breathed Hylas. “Was there a girl about ten summers old?”
    An overseer shouted at the man to move, and he shot Hylas an unreadable look and disappeared down the shaft.
    â€œWhat’s an Outsider?” Zan said sourly.
    â€œSomeone born outside a village,” said Hylas.
    â€œThat make you special?” he