Extra 18: The Dread
Chray’s body, mind and heart begged for rest.
His stomach was twisting in knots, his throat dry as charcoal, his muscles emulating the fires of Okrash. And that was without even mentioning the relentless, relentless pain in his head.
But despite everything telling him to stop, he couldn''t, if he stopped for even a hour his death was all but certain. He had awoken from his exhausted sleep sometime around midnight, the ruin of the ancient complex at his back, shielding him from the sun. He had been woken by a chameleon going on a straight migration toward the Rekrekshreh, the graveyard of water. Since then he had been walking, moving ever forward for one reason and one alone, there was a light breeze at his back.
All the people of Ketkershra had been told by the oracle that toward the year’s end, as the moons prepare to go dark once more, that the largest and most brutal sandstorm of a hundred years time would be carried on the winds of the Careriag mountains. He had, for the most part, forgotten, safe as he would be in the citadel’s walls and certain that the storm would be later still.
But now he felt a slowly building breeze on his back, a breeze in the still desert, a breeze in a place where not even the ocean brought the slightest movement of the air. If he didnt reach shelter by the time that storm hit, he would be shredded to ribbons by a thousand shards of black glass. And herein lied the true issue, for all that his blessing benefited him and his enhancements ensured his superiority, he had very little capability to find shelter in the infinite desert, where there was no semblance of guidance to be found.
Usually, Chray would travel the roads at night as well as day, allowing him to make far greater time than any opponent, then track them down once he was close. If nothing else, he could track himself back home if he got lost.
But here, where he didnt know where he was, with no guidance and little ability to use his blessing, he was screwed. Chray made it a point to never wish for sight, believing that Orsha’s curse to him was equally to his blessing, but as he was trudging blindly across the dunes he wished for nothing but eyes to see.
For him, there was only one point of hope, one heading he could trust. Whenever there was a disaster on the horizon, every chameleon in the desert would trudge the long journey to their ancestral home in a line as straight as an arrow. How they managed to always know where it was was the topic of much argument, but Chray didnt care about that, they were always right and that was exactly what he needed.
When he was woken from his slumber by the chameleon, he realised what was happening and crawled over to where he heard the creature pass. Using nothing but his senses, he followed its tracks until he was certain that he had a clear heading then set out past it; he would need to go quickly to reach the boneyard before the sandstorm hit.
There was still one issue with that plan however, his stomach was making sure that such a feat of speed was nothing more than a dream.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
His escape from the ruin had taken a lot out of him, all the running and effort had taken him to his limit and even star silver couldn''t stop the consequences of that kind of adrenaline rush. Even with magic, something could not come from nothing. He needed food and he had no way of finding it.
There was only two food options for him in the sands, the lizards and the cactus. Usually the lizards only buried themselves half a meter below the surface, but even then one needed a shovel such that they did not shred their hands on the sharp sand deeper down. Who knew how deep they would go now that a storm was coming.
In contrast the cactus were everywhere and easily available, the fruits so vibrant they practically begged to be picked, or so Chray remembered. Only issue was that Chray was blinder than any bat out in the open night, he had no way of finding them.
His stomach growled fiercely, if he needed to find a cactus, he would have to get creative. His first idea was to track the path of one of the many sparrows of the desert, hoping to find where it may have lighted on one of the cacti’s fruits. But without the adrenaline of a ruin collapsing on his head he could not bring himself to even elicit a spark of power from his blessing.
Without his blessing his options were limited, but he eventually came up with an idea. It was a simple plan, right now he was limited to his sense of touch as he walked forward, hoping to run into a cactus. So what he had to do was expand his senses.
Kneeling down, Chray picked up a handful of sand, feeling it crackle in his hand as the loose bonds that held it together fell apart. Then he threw the sand out as far as he could in a circle around him, listening intently. Though blind, Chray’s andromio enhanced senses were far greater than any regular human, his hearing most of all. If the sand he threw hit anything but sand, he would hear it and know he had finally found a source of food.
He found nothing on his first attempt, and even less on his second, third and fourth, but just as the warrior was ready to give up he struck his prize. As the sand escaped his fingers, the Orshraka heard something other than the crunch and clink of glassy sand from somewhere on his right. It was subtle, so he walked a few steps in that direction and tried again, finding exactly what he had hoped for.
He sprinted over to the plant and found it in possession of two fruits, which he promptly tore from their perches and ate, skin and all. The cactus fruits of Reshraka were well known for deceiving many travelers with their exterior, which, when eaten, was so bitter it could make even the most hardened stomachs crawl. But that didn''t matter to Chray, to him, the fruit tasted like the sweetest nectar, so much so that he licked the juice off of his hands.
From there he went on a spree of hunting the stationary cacti using his technique, each fruit restoring energy to his body and robbing his tongue of any sensation but pain. By the time he had eaten eleven of the fruit, and stripped five cacti bare, he was ready to keep moving, still exhausted beyond all belief, but far enough from death to survive.
But his escapade had wasted precious time, if he wanted to reach the boneyard in time, groping in the dark as he was, he would have to run. He spent a single moment readying himself for the marathon to end all marathons, then he kicked off of the black sand.
Like a fireball, the man with a mask of stone followed his heading with speed to match a horse. With every step, he felt the wind behind him was growing stronger and stronger, he could practically see in his mind''s eye the dark wall of death that was encroaching with every moment.
When he was a child and still had sight, he had witnessed only a single sandstorm. He was in his home, with his mother and father and remembered looking out the window and seeing the little park where he used to play not ten meters from his home. The swing was gently rocking in the wind, irrespective of the embodied hell that had blotted out the sky above the walls.
When he looked up, he saw only darkness, a black blacker than anything he had ever seen, a black so absolute that the night that had reigned only moments before looked like the brightest day. The little lamp which was lighting up the park went out in the wind, and the whole world outside his window disappeared. Despite it all, he had felt so safe at the time, so cozy, safe inside the walls, inside his house, inside his parents arms.
Before he caused it all to go so, so wrong.
Despite his exhausted state, with every step Chray took he only got faster, spurred on by the dread of what was coming. Every moment he could swear the wind felt stronger, he could swear the grains of sand beneath his feet were moments from dooming him to death by a thousand cuts. The dread only grew stronger, and in tandem, Chray’s efforts.
He had to get to the graveyard in time, it was his only hope.