*
“I can’t see anything... wait... where am I? I remember something about a sandstorm, and then Kingston tackled me... and then what? Ugh, I can barely breath like this! Okay, remain calm. Think... think... got it. If I can just reach down and...”
Moments later, a long sliver of roaring metal broke through the mound of sand. Upon closer inspection, it was revealed to be an oddly shaped sword. The buzzing saw-teeth struggled to cut through the dense sand, but bit by bit, Barsch carved a way to the surface. After another minute of thrashing, he freed himself, and spent several moments gulping down huge lung-fills of air.
Standing up, he surveyed his surroundings, noting that the distant mountains appeared to be closer than before. Once he had regained his breath, he began calling out, “Kingston! Alza! Maloch!” in a frenzied voice. Sinking to his knees, he started to dig into the sand. He dug until his brow was drenched in sweat, fighting to hold back the ominous thoughts that were filling his mind.
After a moment of rest, his frantic digging resumed. After several minutes, his fingers were bleeding, as numbness spread up his arms. Still, he dug onwards, unable to accept defeat. His father had often called him stubborn when he was younger, and at the moment he was glad that he had such a trait. At last, his body could take it no longer, and he collapsed. He lay there, panting and struggling to breath, in a hole of his own making.
The clouds overhead parted for a brief moment, allowing a ray of sunshine to bather the area in warmth. Barsch raised his head, searching for something that had glinted at the bottom of the hole only moments before. With newfound strength, he dug deeper. At first he thought it a gnarled root, with five small shoots rising from a thin trunk. After wiping away the sand, he saw that it was a withered hand, with a gold band encircling the ring finger.
In a moment of clear thinking, Barsch placed to finger’s on the old man’s wrist, feeling for a pulse. It was there, if only barely. Wasting no more time, he began to dig, willing himself into ignoring the mounting pain. The sand beside him began to pile up, as more of Kingston’s unconscious body was uncovered. At last, the old man was free, and Barsch pulled him up with a mighty tug. He lay there panting and groaning, while cursing his luck. After a while, he sat up and crawled over to the sand-covered hermit. Lowering his head to the old man’s chest, he could vaguely make out the slow rise and fall that told him that he was still breathing.
With every breath, colour returned to Kingston’s pale complexion. He began to involuntarily cough and splutter, as his lungs fought for air. Slowly, he opened his eyes, blinking in the harsh morning light. As if celebrating the old man’s recovery, the clouds parted, letting in even more sunlight. Kingston raised his hand and placed it across his face, shielding his eyes from the intensified light. With a great amount of groaning and stretching, Kingston got to his feet.
He stood there with a perplexed expression, wondering why he was not still encased in a tomb of sand. Looking down, he noticed the large hole beside him, as well as Barsch’s bloodied fingers. The boy had fallen asleep only moments before Kingston’s resurrection. Taking off his overcoat, Kingston laid it upon his sleeping saviour.
“You really do too much for other people m’boy. You should learn to care for yourself before thinking of sacrificing yourself for dying old men.”
After taking in his new surroundings, Kingston began his search for Alza and Maloch. However, he had nowhere near Barsch’s endurance or luck, and his search yielded no results. He thought back to his last memories, just before the sand had entombed him. He remembered Alza, as well as her strange bubble of air, but he could not recall what had happened to her after it had broken. He briefly thought of giving up, and telling Barsch that they were gone, but the thought of Barsch’s horrified reaction convinced him to carry on searching.
On a hunch, Kingston called out, “Maloch! I order you to surface and report in!” When nothing happened, Kingston turned back to Barsch, wondering how to break the news as gently as possible. However, a sudden noise stopped him dead in his tracks. A little way away, a small mound of sand was swelling and rising. For a moment, Kingston tensed up and unfolded the solar staff, intent on protecting his defenceless charge. He relaxed when he saw a familiar metal hand break through the mound. It continued to rise into the air, and was soon followed by the rest of Maloch.
Miraculously, he held Alza in his other hand. She was not moving, which worried Kingston somewhat, but at least she had been found. The re-mech dislodged the last particles of sand from his chassis, before standing up and walking over to Kingston. Laying Alza gently on the sand between them, he said, “Maloch reporting in, master.”
“Very good, I’m glad to see that you are alright, Maloch. How is she?”
“Thank you, Kingston. I too am glad for my continued existence. As for the girl, she seems to have collapsed due to exhaustion. I was able to shield her from the majority of the sandstorm, but she seems to still have suffered significant damage. How is Barsch?”
“He’s fine, just having a little rest at the moment. Tell me, what in the hell happened back there? That storm came out of nowhere… I was once told that all re-mech were equipped with weather-prediction software, did you sense anything?”
Maloch appeared to shy back, as if he had been insulted, but replied nonetheless, “I do not know, though it is strange.”
“How so?”
“Well, the storm appears to have originated from all directions at once, which is statistically impossible. Additionally, there was no build up or pressure change in the surrounding atmosphere, which suggests that the storm appeared out of thin air, another impossibility. Finally, I detected an abnormal amount of kinetic energy in the sand, which resulted in velocities ten times the norm, and which would not have been possible without human interference.”
“Human interference? Maybe... maybe...” It was clear that any answers they could come up with would only be speculative, so he abandoned his questioning. They had survived yet again...
“Given the amount of things that have threatened us thus far, we’ve been quite lucky. Perhaps someone up there likes us.” Kingston took a moment to think about this, before concluding, “However, to encounter so many obstacles in such a short time… maybe ‘like’ is the wrong word.”
Maloch, who had not been privy to Kingston’s private thoughts, asked, “What is our next course of action?”
“We don’t know where we are or how to get back home. All we have is a direction… and a madman lying at the end of the road. For now we’ll continue to head west, towards the mountains. Hopefully somewhere along the way a better alternative will be found.” Looking at the two sleeping youths at this feet he added, “Can you carry Alza and Barsch for me?”
“Of course. Calculating distance to desert boundary limit... calculating… calculating… distance calculated. Time to complete journey... three hours walking at a medium pace. Shall we set off?”
“Yeah, let’s not tempt fate by waiting around here any longer.”
Awakening Page 108