*
Like a rose unfurling to the new-day sun, Alza awoke to the world. She lay there, breathing deeply, as the last remnants of the dream faded away. Raising a slender hand to her brow, she found several beads of sweat. Around her, the land steamed as the rising sun touched the frosted sands. A sudden jolt of pain made her glance down to her arm, where she found a large gash running from elbow to wrist. It was not deep, but it had dyed the sand red where it had lain.
Sitting up, she surveyed her surroundings with a mixture of apathy and detachment. Sand stretched to the every horizon, unbroken save for a few outcroppings of black rock. Surrounding her was what looked like the remains of the plane, now reduced to a few charred hunks of metal and glass. The wreckage formed a semi-circle around her, the sand furrowed from the impact. In some places the heat had been great enough to crystallise the sand, leading to several out of place mirrors to catch the morning light.
Anyone else would have suffered serious injury in such a crash, if they had been lucky enough to survive, but Alza stood apart. Glancing down once more, she saw that the gash had already disappeared. All that remained of the injury was the crimson sands and a slight feeling of weakness.
Rolling onto her side, Alza felt something pressing into her stomach. Looking down, she found twelve vials of bluish-black liquid -miraculously unbroken- lying plainly on the sand.
After standing, Alza began searching through the wreckage, looking for anything that might come in handy. Alone in a seemingly endless wasteland, she needed every bit of help she could find. Unfortunately, she only found one thing of value: Kingston’s medicine bag. Placing the vials inside, she pondered how they had been thrown free without shattering.
Seeing how she had not found any bodies, Alza decided against throwing the bag away, reasoning that the old man might still need it. This was not an act of compassion, however, as she merely did not want his sickness to delay her any longer. Nevertheless, she slung the bag over her shoulder and started walking, aiming for the nearest high point.
At the top of the dune, Alza was finally able to reflect on how deeply in trouble she was. At least a day had passed since she had left Carçus, a day spent lying under the boiling sun and freezing night air. Her mouth was dangerously dry, and dehydration was a very real threat. Her power could sustain her and heal her injuries, but it could not put food in her stomach, or bring water to her lips.
From the dune she was able to see further into the distance, where a single irregularity jutted out in stark contrast to the plains of gold. A dot of green lay on the horizon: an oasis full of life giving water, or a mirage created by her subconscious; either way, there was no other way forward.
As she walked, she felt the dry heat soak into her skin, robbing her of what little moisture she had managed to retain. The sand soon gave way to cracked earth, which was easier to walk on, but no less habitable. Here and there a few tufts of plants had managed to take root, scrawny thorn-covered weeds as desperate for moisture as she was.
More than once she came across a snake basking on a flat rock, her appearance causing great consternation for a creature that had probably never seen a human before. This was a place of hard-won life, where water was king and the losers outnumbered the winners.
An hour after waking, Alza came across a patch of slightly damp earth, hidden from the sun by a small rock spire. Water rested below, of that she was sure, but she had neither the strength nor the time to dig for it. However, there was another way: she could use the power which dwelt within her. A power which had allowed a slender girl to defeat a combat re-mech, a power she did not fully understand. It was dangerous and unpredictable, and it almost never did what she wanted, but it was her only option.
Kneeling, Alza tried to focus on the power dwelling within her, willing it to the surface. If she could somehow draw the water out of the earth, she would stave off death for another few hours. But the power did not come easily, and she felt it resist her efforts to drag it out. Whatever it was, it did not cower meekly at her demands. As she pulled at it, she felt it pulling back, sapping her of what little energy she had left.
Stubbornness made her keep trying, while desperation gave her strength. She mentally forced the power to obey her, directing it into the damp earth, seeking out the buried treasure held within. She could sense the aquifer deep beneath the surface, filled to bursting with thirst quenching water. Grabbing hold of her power, she drove it into the ground, imagining her hands phasing through the rock and cupping the liquid life.
The moment she made contact her chest tightened painfully, and when she tried to draw up the wellspring, her vision faltered. Her earlier act of healing, coupled with her exhaustion, was stretching her body to its limits. A soft plip sound made her open her eyes and look down. A small droplet of red now sat on the cracked earth, a visual reminder that she had pushed herself too far. Raising a finger to her face, she wiped away yet more blood, which streaked down her ivory face in place of tears.
A few inches away from the crimson spot lay her paltry reward: a tiny rivulet of muddy water, barely more than a mouthful. For the amount of effort and energy she had expended, such a small amount was no recompense. She had made a mistake, and in a place where every action counted, she had potentially sealed her own fate.
After drinking what little there was, Alza moved on, silently cursing herself for her foolishness. With most of her energy gone, her pace slowed to a crawl, and the distant green speck on the horizon seemed even further away. The monotonous landscape did not help, its unchanging plainness singing a soft serenade to her heavy eyelids. A single misstep, a chance stumble, and she would fall to the uncaring earth, never to rise again.
Awakening Page 72