A grimy, tattered, and exhausted face stares back at me. Blue eyes are still emphasized by long lashes and peach skin. My shoulder length, black hair drapes around my round face and is disheveled with sand caked in it.
Something’s different though; a newfound determinism is rising inside of me. I’m now ready to undertake my quest. For answers, for justice, for revenge. Strangely though, the idea of retribution is something new to me. And it’s a conception that makes me anxious in my core, but it that primal fear also inspires me.
I holster the bowpistol, standing proud upon the hull of the crashed ship. Fear is pumping in my chest, but it’s making me stronger. Not weaker.
Vyck and Devin have fully equipped themselves in what appears to be mercenary gear. Thin, violet armor covers their chests, shoulders, and arms while they sport short swords. Remus only possesses a satchel and a rucksack while Aida carries several bags of supplies and a few daggers tucker under her belt.. She’s both healer and warrior it seems. Vivían also travels light with a small backpack, an energy bow and a recharging pack. While the limbs and grip of the bow are carbon fiber, the bowstring and arrows are made of pure blue plasma when active. A grip is set within the strings for the wielder’s safety. The energy deactivates and she collapses the bow mechanism.
I’m most surprised by what Tálir starts to put on, however. Similar to Septem, the same ancient and ceremonial suit of armor covers his entire body except his head. Despite its lack of versatility, the suit possesses an almost artistic nature due to the swirling designs etched into the bronze metal. Each piece almost has a winged or fiery design to it. Even the digits of his fingers are covered by talon-like armor. With a leather satchel draping across his shoulder, Tálir doesn’t bother with a weapon and just starts adjusting pieces of the armor.
Is it a coincidence that he has the same armor? Septem did give him a scathing look, but Tálir seems to have never met him. I’m unsure how to feel. Tálir is linked to Septem in some indirect sense, I’m certain of it. My misgiving flares inside my core.
I can’t help but be suspicious of the coincidence that both Tálir and Septem wear similar armor. Then again, Remus and Septem know each other and seem to be enemies. I’m completely baffled by this entire scenario, but I’ll learn what’s going on soon enough.
Aida is the first to break the silence. “What’s our game plan now? I’m sensing a hike is in order no matter which direction we go in.”
Devin and Vyck both give her perturbed looks, something that hints at what they are about to respond with.
“What in fragging Hells makes you think we plan on going anywhere with you guys?” Devin voices with a bit of incredulity, scratching his goatee. “Vyck and I don’t need anyone else slowing us down, and no offense, but you lot aren’t cream of the crop. We’re going our separate way. Back to Vapor Bay.”
“No offense taken,” Tálir mutters with a condescending look.
Exasperated, Aida pipes up in an insulted voice, “And why exactly would we slow you down? Are you in some sort of hurry? Aren't you worried about Outlanders?”
“Why does it matter?” Vyck asks in a perturbed voice. “We’ve known you for just a few hours; I don’t give a boning frag where you all choose to go. All of us are innocent, am I right?”
I withhold my response, despite partially agreeing with Devin and Vyck. Sure, it’s beneficial to travel in a group, but would we all really work together? I’m already blundering over trust, so how could I cooperate with them? I hate the fear and misgiving, yet I can’t shake it.
“Why is it beneficial to travel in a group?” Devin is saying, irritation showing on his face. “It’s slower and less organized. We plan on traveling light and quick, because in case you all forgot, we are in the middle of a fragging desert.”
“Aw c’mon, do you have no inclination for adventure?” Vivían voices lightly, trying to ease the tension. “We can take more supplies if we travel in a group. Plus, this ship has at least a week’s worth of rations stored, and it’ll take all of us to carry them.”
“I like your spirit, Viv. But, this isn’t helping your case,” Vyck responds, giving Vivían a wink. “Our plan involves traveling light. We don’t need a week’s worth of supplies. And this is certainly not an adventure. Are you so desperate for thrills?”
Devin contorts his features in a gesture of irascibility. “I still don’t understand why in all the Hells you people give a damn about us. It’s not like we’re robbing you and leaving you for dead.”
“Survival one-oh-one,” Vivían retorts, cocking an eyebrow and gives a sly smile. “Strength in numbers. We could have an exciting time together.”
Tálir presses a hand to his forehead. “How about we all go our separate ways,” he affirms in a commanding voice. “We are wasting time here, and I’m sure I’m not the only one roasting in this heat. I’d like to go home.”
“I can concur with that, Tálir,” I respond, leaning on one leg and putting a hand on my hip. “Nothing personal, but I don’t necessarily fancy travelling with a group of strangers. Prison strangers. So let’s not waste any more energy arguing with these two buffoons.” I gesture to Devin and Vyck.
Devin looks a bit insulted. Aida and Vivían seem a little surprised, but also disappointed. Like seeing a glimmer of treasure before losing it.
I feel some regret even as the words leave my mouth. But I have to stand firm, to keep them at arm’s length. They’re strangers with their own agendas, and I’m afraid of what I might get caught up in. Plus, the more time we waste, the greater the chance of being spotted by slavers or Outlanders is. I’m ready to go my own way.
But what way is that? Who knows how far away Z’hart City is.
“Listen, m’lady,” Devin retorts in a smug tone. “Let the more experienced people chat here for a bit, and then you can mouth off to whichever one of us gives a shit.”
“Maybe another punch to the face will make you give a shit,” I hiss, standing strait and placing a hand on my bowpistol. Tensions are no longer calm.
A loud laugh escapes him. “If you call that a punch,” Devin chuckles condescendingly. “I bet you won’t last five minutes out here, seeing as you’re a spoiled city girl. How about a first lesson in survival? Don’t pick fights you can’t win.”
“Careful,” Aida says dangerously, hand on her dagger.
“Ey! I’m just trying to teach her some respect!”
“Respect? You’re less respectful than a wharg in mating season!” I nearly shout.
“That makes no boning sense!”
Tálir plants a foot forward and shouts, “Would you all please just—”
His words are cut short by a soft beeping noise that echoes through the air. The sound is something strange to me. It’s repetitive and calming at the same time. Initially, the beeps seem sporadic, but over the course of a few seconds they begin to become repetitive and calculated. More than once the beeps reach a fevered pitch before returning to a normal repetition. The sound doesn’t strike me as an alarm, but something more along the lines of something gaining power.
Electrical and energy equipment is commonplace, but the noise seems to echo of the past. I’m at a loss though. None of us have an active energy source to power anything.
The others are perplexed as well, looking around hastily for the source of the noise. From what I can tell, the beeping is as unfamiliar to them as it is to me.
As I listen more intently, I realize the noise is emanating from Tálir, who immediately adopts a tormented look. He fiddles with his right gauntlet. Lifting up a metal plate, he reveals what looks to be a small console housed within the bracer. While small, the instrument features brightly lit screens of data and a holographic display meter.
It is astonishing to see an advanced computer system wired into a suit of armor, mainly since most technology is only used for royals, economic, or military use. I’m mystified by the consoles, for they appear ancient. Worn, cracked screens and older display systems.
>
I stand close to Tálir. My eyes examine the holographic screens with belied caution. As a red bar starts to gradually fill in the meter, the words above the display merely read: 30% Charge.
“It’s charging,” he says in a low monotone, even as apprehension contorts his features.
We pause in confusion. “What do you mean, it’s ‘charging’?” I ask, tilting my head to get a better look at the computer. “Doesn’t it need a power source in order to charge?”
Tálir jumps back suddenly in alarm, almost like a deer catching the scent of a predator. His eyes widen with trepidation, and his body tenses as he snaps the panel back over the computer.
“Gather as much as you can carry,” Tálir says in an ominous voice, looking towards the sky. “A Roil is coming.”
I know that title all too well, and it signifies one of the greatest and most destructive calamities of our world. Thousands have been subsumed by them. Bodies are left blackened and frozen in whatever terrified pose the victim died in. Roils are the dark storms of unknown origin that plague this world. They strike randomly in Pan’gea and only every month or so.
But as we all stand in terrified silence, I think to myself: How do we outrun a storm?
Chapter 8: Sarina
Roil Surprise
THE BLAZING GOLDEN SUN beats down upon us even as we stand upon the smoking ruin of the convoy, the metal hull sizzling with absorbed heat. If not for our boots and footwear, the metal would sear the flesh on our soles and burn right to the bone. The occasional breeze that wafts by is hot, irritating, and blowing smog and fumes into our faces. The air is hot and dry, and any source of moisture emanates from the crushed husk of the ship in the form of lubricants and oils. Sparse fires along the ship spew even more heat our way as the wind continues passing by.
As horrid as the setting seems, a surprise is coming our way that will make this putrid scenario seem like a vacation spot. While I’m unsure how Tálir was able to determine it, a Roil is evidently on its way towards our current location.
I’m accustomed to hearing of Roils and seeing some footage of the aftermath. But I’ve never seen a storm with my own eyes let alone stood in the path of one. The prospect is ominously foreboding, but a slight tinge of curiosity writhes in me for a split second. My interest is immediately snuffed out by the panicked expressions on my companions’ faces as they all scan the sky for signs of the storm.
Roils are composed of trillions of Nanites and the cloud can be visible even if they are kilometers away. While the Nanites individually are the size of ants, a swarm of them produces a cloud-like storm as they travel with the wind. Old Domain shields and weapons are the only things that can repel them. Since we’re nowhere near a city or village, have no such protection. So Roils can roam free out here.
The Nanites only affect living tissue, so secure buildings or ships can keep inhabitants safe. If the storm is intense enough though, even metal walls can’t stop it. With a ruined ship as our shelter, we would be subsumed in seconds.
But as I continue to scan the skyline, I see no trace of a storm let alone a cloud of any sort.
I turn my gaze back to Tálir, who is still tensed with trepidation.
“I don’t see anything,” I tell him, my face hiding the fear. “How can you know a Roil is coming if it’s nowhere near the vicinity?”
He regards me with an urgent expression. “I’ll explain more once we are out of the charge-zone.”
“The what?” Aida interjects.
“Later!” Tálir shouts as he jumps into action and starts grabbing supply and ration pouches.
Stunned into silence, the rest of us look at one another for a brief moment of confusion before the pandemonium sets in.
Vyck and Devin dive back into the storage compartment in a mad dash for supplies, while Aida and Remus move towards the front of the ship. Vivían and I stand quietly for a moment and regard each other in abject bewilderment.
Sure, the possibility of a Roil is something to be fearful about, but I’m more concerned with Tálir’s intuition. Roils don’t follow patterns and can’t be predicted like the weather forecast, they just hit randomly. So how can he know?
“I know you’ve got some trust issues,” Vivían says suddenly as she walks by me. “But, why turn away some help? It’s not like we’ve got it out for you or anything, Sarina.”
“I don’t mean to be abrasive,” I retort shrewdly. “It’s just hard to make friends under these circumstances. Plus, I’m just looking out for myself. Why is that a problem?”
“Because you deny help from those willing to help you,” Vivían says, glancing over her shoulder. “In a hunt, the pack triumphs over the lone wolf.”
“I don’t need help,” I reply quietly.
Before anyone else can say anything, a more intense beeping emanates from Tálir’s bracer. I see him freeze in disbelief. Frantically, he pulls open the panel and looks at the display as the beeping reaches a heightened repetition. His eyes widen in terror and his head snaps towards the sky. Footsteps smash along the top of the ship.
Looking up, I glimpse Vyck and Devin hurling themselves from the top of the convoy and nearly fly five meters before hitting the ground. The panicked expressions on their faces, the contortion of their frames, and their panting breaths tells their story.
“Run, you dumb shits!” Vyck nearly screams as he and his partner dart off to the south. “Or you’re boned!”
Instantly, I run around the side of the ship to get a look at what they are running from. And what I see makes me wish I’d started running sooner. About four kilometers away, past several sweeping areas of dunes and rocky formations is the storm.
◆◆◆
Similar to an incoming sand storm, a cloud of silvery filaments creeps over the dunes in the distance. Occasional tendrils seep out from the cloud as it tramples over the terrain at an impressive speed. An eerie gust of wind picks up, and a distant howl can be heard as the storm spirals towards us. Over the howl of the wind, a creeping hiss emanates from the distance as I see the Roil consume the terrain in its dark silver mist.
Gradually, I adopt a look of alarm and start to back away as the others hastily start running. Dread grips me, preventing movement. I struggle to fight out of it. In my moment of hesitation, I’m the last to turn south and sprint away from the miasma.
I’m not used to running with equipment. The weight presses me down into the sandy terrain with each step. All of the equipment we acquired is a serious hindrance, but I can’t slow or stop. The straps and gear smack all over the place as I enter an all-out sprint, my boots digging into the sand with each step.
With the others a few meters in front of me and kicking up sand, I’m forced to squint my eyes to remain stable. Sand blurs my vision. I inhale the filaments and cough. I can’t stop! The turbulent winds kick up from the storm, creating swirling clouds of sand.
As the howl of the storm grows more audible, I grow more frantic and desperate in my pace as I quicken my stride. I’ve never been a good long distance runner. Sprinting is my specialty. But the weight keeps me slow. My legs ache, the straps tear into my shoulders, and my breaths are shallow. The hiss grows louder.
I start to sputter in panic. Straining my muscles, I’m able to sprint several meters more before my boot smacks against a protruding rock.
Tumbling forward, my chin is the first to hit the sand as my body follows suite. The breath is driven from my chest, and I inhale a cloud of sand and sputter a cough that sears my lungs. Struggling to reorient myself and spitting out sand, I manage to push myself unto my knees and turn over. I lay dazed in the sand, rooted in place by terror as I see the Roil.
Only a kilometer away from us, the storm consumes the area with the darkness of the cloud. The hiss of the conjured breeze swept up by the storm echoes in my ears as it closes in. The swirling clusters of Nanites form a hand-like shape as they cascade over the landscape and blot out the blistering sunlight.
At the current speed,
the Roil will overtake me in a matter of minutes before subsuming the rest of the party. We have no chance of escape. It’s too fast. The Roil’s hand reaches for me, as terror grips my heart.
Struggling in a panic to get to my feet, the Roil is half a kilometer from me when I feel someone hoist me to my feet.
Turning my head, I see both Vivían and Tálir. They came back for me. And they give me a look that translates into something simple. Run like all the fragging Hells!
Particles of sand and rock are gyrating around us as the storm nips at our heels. We are moments away from being interred by the Roil when I see Aida and the others duck into a scabrous rock edifice.
“There’s an underground shaft!” she manages to yell before entering the cavern. “Hurry!”
We waste not a moment.
Running as fast as my legs could take, Tálir surrenders the lead and allows Vivían and I to reach the outcropping first. I grind to a brief halt next to the three-meter-tall rock that entombs the cavernous shaft. Four meters wide, I can only guess where the shaft leads to. But I can’t stop to think.
Folding my arms, I leap into the hole followed closely by Vivían and Tálir. The tunnel is completely obscured by darkness, leaving me to blindly free fall for a few seconds before the shaft angles into a steep slant. Still in motion, my body slides along the slope, tearing my clothes and abrading my skin. I grunt in pain as I slide along the rock. Minutes pass. Then I’m thrown to the floor made of rock. My breath falters momentarily.
I roll to my back in an attempt to stabilize my breathing. The wheezing subsides. I take several deep breaths and my muscles relax. My head is dazed and a sharp ringing echoes through my ears as my body attempts to recover. Slowly, the dizziness falters and the noise ceases as I inhale deeply.
Through the haze of bodily pain, I hear Tálir and Vivían similarly tumble from the tunnel. Similarly stunned with pain, the two start groaning as they attempted to reorient themselves.
The Maven Knight (The Maven Knight Trilogy Book 1) Page 6
