The Chronicles of Kenrick

Chapter One

Swinging the hammer over his head, Kenrick shifted his weight, forcing all his strength to the ball of the hammer. It struck the stone with an echo that trumped any other swing within the quarry. Vibrations ran down the wooden shaft, he cringed, feeling his muscles contract. He released the handle for a quick moment, then quickly retightened his grip and swung the hammer back down to his side.


Kenrick leaned forward, tracing a crack in the stone with the palm of his right hand. He stuck a finger inside the crevice, ran it along its length then drew it out.


“Ha, told you! Three swings and ya couldn’t do it. Guess I’ll be having your breakfast you weakling!”


Kenrick turned to the man who waited down the sloped tunnel. For weeks, the guard had been betting Kenrick his meals on almost any duty or task. Yesterday it was lifting a slab of granite, today it was on severing a stone jut-out with three swings.


“That was only two,”


“But you ain’t strong enough-” Before the guard could finish his rant, Kenrick spun back to the stone with the sledgehammer raised in his right hand.


The impact was even louder than the last, spraying slivers of stone in every direction away from the blow. Kenrick lowered the hammer, glanced at the stone over his shoulder then started to walk up the tunnel to his guard.


“I told you, I told you! Ha!” The guard smiled, his sword resting neatly against his leg.


A slow groaning sound soon reached the guard’s ears. He paused, his smile weakened. Over Kenrick’s shoulder, he watched as the sound grew into a wailing shriek of stone protesting stone, and slowly, the stone slab Kenrick had been ordered to detach, broke into pieces and fell into rubble across the abandoned passage.


“Now, about breakfast?” Kenrick smirked as he passed by the guard, watching him tighten his grip on the sword’s hilt.


He had only lost his breakfast once, the morning before, and he was determined not to lose it again. The water boiled oatmeal and piece of hardened fat were the only sustenance he would be given until night, which would be a piece of dried bread and broth from some sort of sordid animal that had died in the Burnt Plains. His guard was given plenty of provisions, meals hearty enough to control the starving prisoners.


Since being sent to the work-camp of Sadira, Kenrick had lost the majority of his mass and much of his strength. Despite this, he was still regarded as one of the more suitable prisoners for the quarry, often times given a double shift. It was one of the reasons he kept his knowledge of quarries and mines to himself.


As Kenrick passed, his smile broadened. He knew the guard wouldn’t try anything, alone he would last only seconds, with others, maybe minutes. But before he was more than a few feet away, he heard the ringing of metal and a guttural scream from the man behind him. He turned, raising the worn hammer, ready to parry.








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Brock Sansome


Author of The Spheres of Caddock series.


www.brocksansome.com