King of The Mine: Woestynn

By E.M McConnell

In the harsh desert of the planet Woestynn, many prisoners took refuge in the Mine, finding shelter, water and relative safety there. As a community sprung up, they called it the Hive. The King is dying and Two waits for his moment to become King in his stead, ready to rule in the Mine. But there is another Two waiting who knows the stakes of losing is high. And he will stop at nothing to take what he wants, in order to survive. 

 

This is a dark dystopian science fiction story and so has themes that might upset readers. These include violence, use of hallucinogenic moss that grows in the mine, and cannibalism. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: E.M.McConnell
• Release date: Nov 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9798224496532

E.M McConnell

Eryn was born and raised in Oxford, UK but nowadays lives in South Germany with their young family. They have a great dream to travel and visit all the great mountains and lakes of the world. They are a qualified History and English teacher, working freelance with international students.  They write both poetry books and fantasy stories. They have a particular passion for mythology and dragons!  They have been writing poetry since they were 16, including Middle-Earth fan poetry that has appeared in the Tolkien Society’s publication, the Amon Hen. They have also appeared in the Music Anthology from the Sweety Cat Press.  In addition to writing poetry they study with the Order of Bards, Ovates and Druids to be a druid, and are working on two fantasy series. One of  which appears to involve steampunk, sky pirates, astral travel and lots of dragons, and the other has a more dystopian bent.  If you want to see more of their writing you can find them on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/ErynMcConnell.Writer/  Instagram www.instagram.com/erynmcconnellwriter  And Twitter too https://www.twitter.com/mcconnelleryn 

Book preview

King of the Mine

E. M. McConnell

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E. M. McConnell

Copyright © 2023 by E.M. McConnell

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical or electronic, including photocopying or recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, or transmitted by email, without permission in writing by the author. Reviewers may quote brief passages in reviews.

Editing by Kellen Seagrim

Cover Design by David Collins, Cover Creator UK

This book is dedicated to all of those who have survived in any which way they can.

This story is of a dark nature and may not be suitable for all audiences. For a list of triggers please see the back page.

Other Works by The Author

The Dust Collector

The Guard of Woestynn

The Sunset Sovereign

72 Hours

Of Swans and Stars

Love Lost and Found

PTSD is a 4 Letter Word

Death By Sugar

Masquerade Me

Contents

1.Dawn

2.Lessons

3.Noon

4.Choosing

5.Becoming

6.Feast

7.Sacrifice

8.Nightfall

9.Blood

10.King

11.Next Release

About the Author

12.Trigger Warnings

Dawn

The atmosphere was electric. Worker worms gathered moss, stuffing it into the narrow cracks in the walls, where it emitted a sickly green light. Later, there would be fire, great flames bursting from torches, that would dwarf the green light and set the great rooms ablaze with a warm, orange hue. The light of feasting. The light of joy. The light of the Hive.

Two basked in the moment, relishing it. By nightfall the ceremony would be complete, and he would be King. His eyes fell on the dais, the centre of the action later. A warm feeling suffused his body as he imagined it, the moment of transformation. Perfect.

Someone cleared his throat behind him, awkwardly. Two turned, seeing Five bow deferentially. He's asking you for you, Sir.

Two didn't have to ask who was asking for him. There was only one who could command him now. The only one above him. The King of the Mines. The King who was preparing to die today.

Lessons

Two found the King in his rooms, huddled in his chair, wrapped in a blanket. His room was perhaps not fit for a King in another lifetime, but it was the best there was in this dark Mine. It was high up, with better air, and he had some comforts. Not that it helped him now. His dark hair looked thinner, and he was tired, eyes sunken into a wan face. As Two walked closer, bowing reverentially, he could hear the ragged rasp in the King's lungs.

The King's hand reached out, thin, withered. Two took it, kneeling down, squeezing his hand with care.

I am here, King.

The King smiled faintly, his eyes moving towards Two. You have always been loyal to me, Two, and I honour it. I remember when I saved you from the Pit, when I gave you the choice of joining my court. Your eyes were on fire, you did not hesitate. And ever since you have served me. I am content.

Two kept his eyes on the King, not letting his face change. He did not want to return to that memory, of hanging in the dark, the sweat, the fear. He had climbed and scrambled and bled to get to his position. And now there was the one last challenge.

And have you chosen, King?

The King's face changed, expression sharpening. In his sunken eyes there was a flash of emotion, malice, perhaps. Not yet, Two. I have not yet decided which of you Seconds will be the next reincarnation of me. There are final lessons to take, today, and then I will choose.

The ground was rough under his knees and Two shifted, carefully. The King's eyes fluttered closed, tongue flicking out, snake-like, to lick his thin lips.

There are always lessons, you see, Two. You must understand the ritual, the process, and what it truly means to be King.

The King's breath sighed out, rattling as it exited his body. His hand spasmed. Two wondered if he would even survive until the Ritual of Becoming, later. But he did not speak his concern. The stakes were too high. Expressing doubt could tip the scales to his rival, the other Two. And he knew that the other Two would not hesitate to dispatch him after the Ceremony, just as he would with the other Two, if he were made King. Rivals were to be eliminated.

Two, the King gasped, eyes still closed. Tell me about the responsibilities of the King.

Two squeezed the King's hand gently, getting up from the hard floor. The room was big, rectangular, with walls the same dark stone as the roughly hewn granite outside. There was some light carried down from vents and shafts in the roof of the structure, casting shards of sun down into the dark. There was not much to identify the room as that of the King, with no gold or