The City Of Sand And Glass

Nothing is accomplished without sacrifice. Chp 2

Veerstaf struck the rock once more. His pick seemed so much heavier than it did three lamps ago. One lamp past where his shift end; he continued on. His pride, his honor would be sealed this day. On the two hundred sixty-sixth anniversary of The Great Architect Day he would be the miner to reach the Chaldean. Thought the world, many ha above would never know, his name would be carved here in the surrounding sand stone as a testament to his family's commitment. Veerstaf's great-great grandfather was one of the first children apprenticed to the Great Architects tutelage. It was on that day his family became miners. Now in the fifth generation of tunnel builders they could finally secure a legacy to be proud of.

He swung again, but this strike brought a surprise. With the flying chunks of rock there came a small stream of sand through a small oval opening. Veerstaf smiled at his fortune. He thought it might take another half a lamp to reach pure sand. All the signs showed plainly in the rust colored stone of the tunnel. Though this was not the only tunnel in progress, in-fact it was one of five, but it was the longest. Known only as the highway, Veerstaf and the other builders worked harder and longer than all the others. It was their dream to see what Veerstaf now gazed upon. As the stream of sand trickled to a stop Veerstaf raised his pick once more. He wanted to open a true hole before he called for any other witnesses. The pick struck just above the initial fissure, but the point stuck. A new stream of sand began to fall.

Frustrated and more than tired Veerstaf shook his head in disgust at the handle of his pick. He spit on his hands, reached forward, and planted his foot on the stone for leverage as he pulled. Neither pick nor stone gave in for all his effort. Oh well, I still made it. Let someone else take up the work from here.

"Sejamostaf! Sejamostaf!" He called back down the tunnel.
"What?" Came the groggy reply.
"Seja, I have done it. I reached the sand."
"Are you sure, because if not I want to go back to sleep." Sejamostaf stumbled forward with one hand trailing on the tunnel wall for support in his sleep-induced stupor.
"No Seja, no more sleep for now. I have reached the sand. It is here my name will be carved so all the walk this tunnel will know and remember." Veerstaf leaned back against the wall to rest as Sejamostaf inspected the stone where the worn pick still hung. As he dung with his fingers his expression changed, slowly at first and then to out-right elation.
"Veerstaf, you've done it! You've really done it!" He reached over and gripped Veerstaf's shoulder as he continued to pick at the stone. "What should I do?"
"Go and tell the other at base camp. I need a break so I am just going to sit for a while." Veerstaf smiled at his work partner. He knew they would both receive the bonus from the council of elders for the work, and he was happy to share.
Sejamostaf looked Veerstaf in the eye and said. "Yes you should rest Veer. This is truly a great day and you have brought us all one step closer to Ras Shamra. I will be back soon with the others."

They exchanged a knowing and heart felt look before Sejamostaf released his friend’s shoulder and headed back down the tunnel. For a while Veerstaf thought he might just sit with his back on the wall until the other builders arrived, but the sight of his pick hanging tugged at his sense of duty and pride. It would not due to have the others see his tool lodged in the stone. It spoke of things left undone and a builder always did his job. So with a sigh and a grunt Veerstaf pushed himself to his feet. And though is muscles complained he once again grasped the handle. This time he gave the pick an experimental twist. It moved just a little, but it gave Veerstaf a glimmer of fortitude. He began to shift the pick; first to one side then to the other. Slowly to the pick began to work itself loose. Back and forth, back and forth he pushed and pulled while the progress was slow Veerstaf could see he was gaining ground. Then with the slight rasp of metal against stone the pick slid free, and Veerstaf smiled.

More sand poured out onto the tunnel floor and Veerstaf's sandaled feet. While he watched a tiny crack appeared in the stone just above the hole where his pick was just a moment ago. More sand fell. Slowly the crack began to stretch upward and then a little to the right. Veerstaf just watched while leaning on his pick for support, but his contented expression changed as he saw the crack branch from one to two and then to three veins. An ominous rumbling began to sound. At first it was hard to pinpoint its location. Deep in the earth almost any sound carried itself for leagues through the stone, but Veerstaf knew. It was the sound all miners fear. In just a few moments the wall upon, which he gazed spider-webbed with tiny cracks. Cracks that individually meant nothing but when put together they formed the word danger in a language that only a tunnel builder could read. Veerstaf turned to run just a moment to late. The stonewall, where his dreams came to fruition, gave way. Sharp fragments of stone bit into the exposed flesh of his arms, legs and back while the sands of Nipparian future swallowed Veerstaf whole.

News spread quickly even deep within the tunnels. Sejamostaf was true to his word. He ran all the way back to base camp. From there more messengers were sent to key individuals in the Nippar's mountain home. While celebrations of Great Architects Day were already well underway, word began to spread. And when the council of elders stepped into the great cave it was full of every Nipparian who could make it in time, while others still streamed in through the tunnels. A cheer went up, after the elders confirmed the rumors, which was so loud that the stories say it shook the whole mountain. This Great Architect Day became a celebration greater than any in the history of the dream that was Ras Shamra.

Deep, deep down in the tunnel known only as the highway Sejamostaf shed tears. Not of joy like so many of his people, but of sorrow. He cradled the body of his friend as he wept, the hero of his people, Veerstaf. Veerstaf The Miner, as he would later be known, gave his life to his people and to the dream of Ras Shamra.