*
“Alza, breakfast is ready!” called Barsch, dragging Alza from her dream. A few minutes later, she joined them at the small campfire Kingston had made, and ate another mediocre and unfulfilling meal. Carçus still lay on the distant horizon, still seeming shadowed despite the strong morning sunlight.
After packing away their things, they left the hilltop, heading eastward. The scenery had not changed, but the mood had improved. Kingston now wore a grin on his leathery face, and his steps were lighter and faster. It seemed like whatever had come over him the day before had vanished, leaving the man Barsch had met in the glade.
It was still difficult to accept that their journey might soon be over, but Barsch knew that it was for the best. Kingston was sick, Alza had no memories, and he was far from home…
“I’m not the right person for all this… adventuring. I’m not as strong as Alza, and I’m not as smart as Kingston. I’m just a kid, playing at being a man. It would have been better for everyone if I had just stayed in my pod, and slept my worries away…”
When they stopped for a quick rest around midday, Kingston came over to where Barsch was sitting and said, “So m’boy, how are you doing? How are your hands?”
Barsch looked up as the hermit approached. With everything that had happened, he had completely forgotten about his injuries. “I’m fine, I guess. They don’t really hurt anymore.” He allowed Kingston to take his hands and unwrap the bandages, and somehow was not surprised when his palms were revealed to be unmarked.
“Remarkable. Simply remarkable.” was all he said, before throwing away the unneeded bandages. Barsch could tell that the old man wanted to say more, but for some reason he held back. Perhaps Kingston simply could not handle any more weirdness after Alza’s actions, or perhaps he was fearful of what he would find.
Kingston then strode over to Alza, displaying an unusual friendliness towards her as he did so. Alza, in return, merely stared at him with a blank look on her face. Before crossing the mountains, Barsch had presumed that she had warmed to them both, albeit slightly, but she was now acting more distant than before. She was an enigma, even without her mysterious powers, and he doubted he would ever fully understand her… although that did not stop him from trying.
“What do you want, old one?” she said, keeping a neutral tone. Her neutrality was only one of the things that felt off about her. Thinking back, Barsch could not remember a single time in which she had changed her expression. He had yet to see her angry, or happy, or sad; her expression and tone was always the same: cold.
“Well, just thought that I should check up on you? You know, see how you were doing? It’s been pretty crazy ever since we found you, so if there’s anything that’s bothering you…”
“I am fine. I am uninjured, and my sensory and mental capabilities are functioning perfectly. There is nothing about me that could possibly merit your concern.” Again, that cool tone, which Barsch thought would better suit a re-mech than a teenage girl.
“As long as you are travelling with us, you are my responsibility. So, if something happens to you, to either of you... What I’m trying to say is, if you have any problems, or questions or difficulties, please don’t hesitate to tell me, okay?”
Barsch was glad that he was merely an observer to Kingston and Alza’s strained communication; as he had no desire to get on either of their bad sides.
Kingston was still clearly trying to get Alza to trust him, and most likely better gauge the level of threat she posed, but Alza did not respond well to his words, even if there was some genuine concern in them. Kingston may have distrusted or even feared Alza, but to him, she was still someone who needed help, and he wanted to supply it, even if she did not ask for it.
“You are misunderstanding something, old one. I am only travelling with you because it suits my needs. The moment that ceases to be true, I will leave both you and the boy, and continue my journey alone.”
Although her tone was still level, the words sounded even colder than normal. It was subtle, but he was beginning to be able to pick up the small variations in her speech that indicated her mood. Given enough time, he might even be able to divulge her real emotions, but that day was still far off.
“I just don’t want to lose-
A sudden and all-too-familiar noise drowned out Kingston’s words. The roaring thunder had come from the east, towards their destination and Kingston’s last chance for salvation. Barsch turned to face the noise, expecting to see roiling thunderclouds and lightning flashes, but only empty sky greeted him. While he was still puzzling out the strange sight, another thunderclap was heard, this time from the west. Again, a clear, azure sky was the only thing in sight. Even the small and wispy clouds from that morning had disappeared, and the air was calmer than Barsch had ever felt.
They were still several miles away from Carçus’ outer limits, and the hills that lay between them and the city would provide no cover from a storm.
“What are the chances? Two storms in two days? How many more obstacles are the gods going to place in our way!? All I want to do is find Kingston’s medicine, is that so much to ask for! ANSWER ME!”
“Your existence is sin. Only death shall grant you redemption.”
The voice hit Barsch like a shockwave, knocking him to the ground with a strangled cry. It had been like nothing he had ever heard. Full of rage and pure, unconstrained hatred for all things on two legs. It was as if somebody had given a storm a voice, or captured the sound of thunder and amplified it a thousand-fold. He wanted to scream in pain as his eardrums came close to bursting, but the sheer shock of the reply had stolen his voice.
How were Alza and Kingston still standing? How had they not bowed before the primal rage the voice had brought? How had they not screamed in agony from the pressure?
“Barsch? Is everything okay?” asked Kingston, in his normal and kind tone of voice.
Sitting up, Barsch was once more shocked by what he saw: Alza and Kingston, still standing and apparently unfazed by the monstrous voice. Was he going mad? Had only he heard the voice, and if so… why? Or, had they heard the voice, and given no reaction? At that moment, Barsch could not decide which of the three was more terrifying…
Thankfully, he was spared from answering Kingston’s question by the timely arrival of another thunder-burst, this time from the north. “Kingston, what’s happening?” he asked, hopefully taking Kingston’s mind off of his strange behaviour.
“I don’t know m’boy, but I have a bad feeling about this. We should move-
Another thunderclap, from the south, completed the set. The sky above them trembled from its force, and the dead air finally came alive with a torturous shriek.
“Now!” Kingston called, ushering them forward. The wind -enraged at its delayed appearance- roared with fury, sending small stones and branches to rain down upon the fleeing trio. Cresting a nondescript hill, Barsch saw that four massive storm clouds had formed where the thunder had struck, and each was now birthing a long, violent funnel that slammed into the ground. From these thin twisters grew dozens of offshoots, and soon, the sky around them was filled with hundreds of tornadoes.
Rain and lightning came next, but they were different somehow: it was as if they were twisted by the wind. The bolts curved on their way to the ground, circling the funnels and lighting them from within as they passed through. The rain, sped up by the screaming vortices, hit the ground faster than should have been possible. As they hit, the water boiled, leaving thousands of thin pillars of steam. If Armageddon existed, then this was what it would look like.
“Look for any oddly shaped hills! Or anything that looks out of place!” Kingston was screaming, as he ran beside Barsch and Alza. “If the gods are merciful, we’ll find a war bunker before the hypercane forms!”
“Wait! None of that made any sense!” Barsch cried out, as he dodged another sudden vent of superheated steam. The larger tornadoes were still far off, but the smaller o
ffshoots were growing dangerously close, and each step was harder than the last. He could already feel the vortices pulling at him, trying to wrench him free from gravity’s safe embrace and pull him into the whirling nightmare behind him.
“During the siege of Carçus, the invaders built dozens of war bunkers so that they could observe the fight. They would have tried to disguise them to match the surrounding landscape, so-
“Oddly shaped hills, got it. But what in the world is a hypercane?” Barsch called out, his voice thundering in resonance with the storm.
Kingston opened his mouth to answer, but something behind him made him turn. He slid to a halt at the top of one of the hills, and grabbed Barsch as he flew past. Turning his charge, he pointed to something in the distance, something beyond belief.
“That, m’boy, is a hypercane…”
Where there had been four massive hurricanes, there now stood one, with all of their size and fury combined and distilled. It stretched across the horizon, darkening the sky by its presence and hiding the sun behind its bulk. Inside it, trapped lightning burned the ground, igniting hundreds of fires which were quickly extinguished by the boiling rain.
“May the gods take pity on us, and take our pain as penance…” Kingston whispered, staring at the hellish scene.
“Alza! Where are you?” Barsch called. He turned away from Kingston, leaving the old man to continue saying his prayers. As was becoming customary, Alza had disappeared after the situation had worsened, staying true to her word. On the mountain, they had faced the storm together, but without her, he could not summon the strength to move.
“I have located a bunker. It is less than two hundred feet away. Follow.” Alza emerged from behind a small hill, her hair flowing freely in the strong wind. As always, her expression showed neither fear nor desperation -unlike Barsch’s easily visible feelings- despite the mega storm bearing down on them.
“On the mountain, outside the medical station, and now this… Are we truly so helpless that we need a teenage girl to save us every time? Isn’t there anything I can do?”
Kingston’s coughing brought Barsch back to reality just in time to see the old hermit fall to his knees. Kneeling by his friend, Barsch could tell that the old man was close to breaking. The physical strain of their journey, in addition to the mental strain of having their hope be crushed again and again, had dealt a major blow to the hermit.
He tried to think back, to that night on the mountain, when he had summoned the strength to move them both to safety, but nothing came. No mysterious voices, no surge of power, no words from his father to guide him. Nothing. He was alone.
No. Not alone.
“Alza! Please, help me!” he cried, holding Kingston, whose coughing was getting worse. If the old man could not save himself, and if he did not have the power to help him, then there was only one other he could count on.
She was still standing there, violet eyes regarding them both impassively. She had not gone to the old man’s side when he fell, but nor had she left them. Maybe there was some hope, maybe she could-
“No.”
Behind them, the hypercane continued to grow, its roar now filling their minds. In any other situation, with anyone else, a person would have agreed without second thought. But this was not anyone, this was Alza, and she stood alone.
“Why!?” Barsch screamed, fighting to be heard above the encroaching storm. White-hot bolts were already firing overhead. The storm’s vanguard had arrived, and still they had not moved.
“Leave him. He is already dying, and will only slow us down. I permitted you to bring him along on the mountain, but this is different. Leave him, or I will leave you both.”
If she had shouted the words, or spoken them in hushed tones, Barsch would have been able to deal with her. But every word was delivered in the same emotionless, monotonous tone, making her sound reasonable or level-headed. For an instant, a single heartbeat, Barsch considered obeying her, and abandoning Kingston. But then the moment passed, and his innate stubbornness resurged.
“No,” he answered, in a tone that mirrored hers, “I will not leave him, and neither will you. He saved us both, and without him, we would still be lying in that glade, probably dead! You owe him your life, and you are honour-bound to repay the favour!”
Time ground to a halt as Alza considered his words. If she still refused, would he die beside Kingston… or leave him and survive…
“Very well. But know this: next time he falls, I will not be there to pick him up.”
Alza quickly moved to Kingston’s other side and with one arm lifted the old man to his feet. At any other time, Barsch would have been dismayed at the strength disparity between them, but at that moment, he was just glad to have her nearby. With Kingston between them, they slowly made their way towards the suspected bunker, while the hypercane bore down on them like a wolf chasing its prey.
Rounding what seemed like the hundredth hill, Barsch saw it. Kingston had been right, they had tried to disguise it, but had failed in the most obvious way. Standing before them, surrounded by dozens of its almost-peers, was the perfect hill. Looking at it closely, Barsch could see that someone had set out to make the ideal, stereotypical hill in all aspects and had succeeded in every way. Every blade of grass sat neatly and angled to the same degree, and the shrubbery and rocks had been placed with expert hands. But that perfection, that manufactured exactness was what made it stand out. Mother Nature was messy and imperfect, and with the real things so close, the fake hill stood out like a lighthouse.
“Okay, we found it, but that doesn’t mean anything if we can’t get inside!”
He laid Kingston down on one side of the perfect hemisphere and started searching for any sign of an entrance. Alza did the same, and soon they had rounded the hill twice with nothing to show for it. The hypercane, in the meantime, had finally closed the distance between them, and its funnel was smashing the earth only a hundred feet away. There was no time. Even if they found an entrance, it would be locked, and bypassing that without Kingston would cost them even more time. He wanted to scream in frustration, but something inside him spoke instead…
“You have let the rules of this world constrain you for far too long! Defy them, and break free from your cage! If you cannot find the entrance, then make one! Use me, and I shall show you your true nature! LET THEM HEAR MY ROAR!!”
The voice from outside the medical station surged through him in a flash, and in that instant, he saw what he needed to do. Reaching back, he felt his fingers encircle the smooth metal of Lanista’s hilt, and he brought it forth in one fluid movement. Alza and Kingston could only stare in silence as his questing fingers found the leather ripcord, and he pulled just as a random lightning bolt struck the blade. The electricity flowed across the black surface, before diving into the engine box, igniting it in a shower of sparks. A split second later, the blade kicked into gear, sending hundreds of tiny barbs roaring across the surface, which was now covered in flames.
To Barsch, the roar of the storm had disappeared, to be replaced by the scream of his burning sword. In that instant, nothing else existed. Not Kingston, with all his pain. Not Alza, with her mysterious past. Not even the hypercane, with its unbelievable fury. Only Lanista was real, and the thrill he felt in his heart was the proof. He wanted to cry out with sheer delight at the sensation coursing through his veins, but a small part of him remained sane, and reminded him of his duty.
Another handful of bolts came streaming past as he whirled the weightless blade overhead, but something stopped them from hitting him. Instead, they crashed into the fake grass of the hill, incinerating it and revealing the true exterior. In the moment before he plunged the burning sword into the metal structure, he was briefly aware of someone nearby laughing maniacally, but he dismissed it.
The chainsword cut into the shell as if it were made of paper, and seconds later, he had carved out a human-sized oblong section, which fell inwards with a neat clank. Throwi
ng the still-aflame blade inside, he grabbed Kingston and dived inwards, aware of Alza following soon after. Outside, the hypercane’s storm-wall was only a few feet away, and there was still a large hole in their saving grace. Motioning to Alza, they quickly repositioned the impromptu door and wedged it into the gaping maw just in time to see the storm-wall reach the hill.
The dome-like structure continued to shake for several minutes as the hypercane passed by overhead, but the ancient walls held, and they were kept safe from its wrath. As soon as he recovered his breath, Barsch went to check on Kingston, who had finally regained his senses. But the old man did not want to talk, and merely sat in the near-darkness. Alza had retreated to the other side of the room, which was only a few yards wide. She had found a light switch during her search, and was now sitting in a small corona of light.
Since neither of them seemed interested in talking, Barsch retreated to his own corner, which was bathed in twilight due to several missing lights. Lanista lay nearby, its flames extinguished at some unknown point. However, when he reached out to it, he caught sight of his face, reflected in a polished piece of metallic wall. On his face, stretching almost from ear to ear, was a wide, almost maniacal grin. At the same time, a memory resurfaced: in it, a lunatic laughed deliriously as he plunged a burning sword into a hillside.
“This is what you are, Barsch La Tergan. This is your true nature given form. Together, we will burn all who oppose you…”
Slowly, Barsch backed away from the gleaming sword, fully aware of how strange he must look. But at that moment, he did not care. He soon found another open spot, one with a good view of the grin-inducing blade, and laid his head back. Closing his eyes, he tried to remember how life had been, before it had been filled with dying hermit’s, mysterious girls, and unnatural storms… “And voices in your head…”
And voices in his head…
Awakening Page 54