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Chapter 2
I woke up in a completely different world. The wind had tired itself out and it was unnervingly quiet. I took a deep breath, tasting the air; it was still chilly. Ice crystals formed in the air in front of my mouth when I exhaled. I twisted and turned every joint and muscle, testing for any unusual pains.
By miracle, I only had frostbite on the tips of my two longest fingers on my left hand. Satisfied I was still alive and working, I raised my eyes just over the brink of the pile and peered into the blinding light of the arriving day. The wind had altered the entire landscape; the dunes had shifted, and a flat sand floor was all that was left of the ones from yesterday. The twin sets of footsteps flanking the tire mark marred the rough beauty of the new day. A weird chucking sound could be heard from somewhere below me, but I was too tired to give half a damn.
I rose into a sitting position, joints creaking like never-oiled hinges on a rusty door. I arched my back, rotating my shoulders to get the blood flowing again and to drive the stiffness away. Every place on my body ached, and quick movements were torture. But living in a world like this helps you develop ways to ignore pain - it's either that, or death. Fun, fun, fun...
I felt the heat slowly returning to my body and tried to stand up, but fell down half-way up.
“Okay, maybe a few more minutes”, I thought out aloud.
My voice echoed awkwardly in the new-found stillness. A frightened bird took to flight and a random lizard scuttled under a rock. I rested my back on the cold rock behind me, taking in the harsh beauty of the desert. There was a calming sense in the way the sand shifted in the wind - a great ocean of sand, ebbing and flowing. Rocks rose from the ocean like peculiarly shaped islands, forming a landscape that would inspire great artists.
I just sat there for some time, praising my good fortune, enjoying the ecstasy of shade. I stirred to a gentle gust of wind, and looked down, seeing that the marks in the sand continued behind me. I picked up my handed-down rifle, marveling once again at the crude beauty of it.
The barrel was a piece of art in itself. Twin lines of silver etched their way to the tip, winding around each other in perfect symmetry. The butt was made of semi-hard rubber that absorbed most of the recoil. The rifle itself was ink-black; with the trigger guard and handle an elegant shade of glazed silver. I had inherited it from my late father; who had inherited it from his father; who inherited it from his father, and so on all the way back to the 14th century - or so my father had claimed it to be. The rifle was most probably re-made a few times, but hey, it's the thought that counts.
I stood up awkwardly, managing to stay up once I leaned on the rifle. I turned around and examined the horizon, the footsteps disappearing in the distance. The hunters had become the hunted. My mouth quirked into a smug grin; my ambush had failed, but this should be more interesting. There's nothing better than a good stalk in the desert for a morning exercise; it really gets the adrenaline flowing. I stood straight, my cape billowing in a sudden gust of wind, and raised my rifle in salute to the sun climbing up to retake it's rightful spot in the sky.
Someone should be taking a picture of this. What a great pose, I thought, and then, Better get going while I can still stand.
I spun on my heel and started my slow descent to the ground.
My feet touched the ground and I immediately went to inspect the feet- and tire marks. Also immediately, I regretted my decision. The sand was still scathingly hot; I hopped around, howling at the scalding heat.
The howl of the mighty wolf, I thought darkly.
I hopped my way to a patch of shade and slumped down in a sullen mood.
God damn it, God damn it all.
I enjoyed my little safe haven for a while still. Well.. a few whiles to be honest.
***
Some time later, I gritted my teeth, inched my toe forward... and sighed. Cool enough to step on. I heaved my ass up and took the first steps gingerly; the day was really getting hot already. I slumped my way to the tracks. The footsteps were deep, indicating that the people who had left them had been carrying a very heavy load. And the tire mark had regular two-foot holes driven into the soft sand.
Yup, that would be my quarry.
I hoisted my rifle onto my shoulder and began my long trek through the now almost knee-high sand.
Stalks were only fun in the very end, when you had already spotted the prey and were closing in for the kill. This I was reminded of after I had taken three steps and tripped over a root, of all things. Most probably the only goddamn root in the whole goddamn desert. I spat at my foul luck; straightened my trousers; brushed the sand off my shoulders, and took the next few steps carefully. I felt for the root again; it seemed to be just waiting to snag onto my foot.
Lowering myself onto my knees, I began digging away at the loose sand with my gloved hands, quickly realizing that it was of no use. I stared at the wretched sand filling the hole I had laboriously dug. Then I shrugged and stood up. I glanced down at the now completely filled hole, which I couldn't even spot anymore. Suddenly, it came to me and I hurriedly looked over my shoulder. The footmarks were gone! And sure enough, I could hear the roar of an engine not far away.
You fucking idiot. The noise coming from beneath you was obviously the 'cycle! How the hell could you miss that?
I quickly turned around, saw the fading footsteps, and broke into a run. My long legs ate the distance in record-breaking time – well, that's what it felt like anyway. So, I might exaggerate sometimes; sue me. The deep sand was really taking it's toll on my stamina: my breath came in sharp drags; the dry air felt like pins and needles in my throat.
I spotted the dune in front of me, or more precisely, the shape on top of it.
“Gee, this should be interesting,” I muttered as I took a flying roll to my left, just in time to evade the incoming burst of laser.
The slugs scorched holes into the sand a few feet away from me. One of the two apprentices, as the recruits were called in the R'Shishna, had built a crude barricade up on top of the dune with a couple of stones and was eagerly pumping rounds into the approximate area around me. I had to get to the foot of the dune; that would provide the most cover. I sighed and quietly thanked God for the poor training the apprentices received.
I ran low in a zig-zag pattern; the slugs singing their deadly song as they rained down upon me. The henchy, as I preferred to call them, then again wasn't a very good singer I'm afraid to say. He kept up an endless litany of swears, the words so foul even I hadn't heard half of them.
A lucky shot singed my sleeve as my feet carried me the last couple of meters to the dune's side.
Safe, for a while at least.
I struggled to even out my breathing, attempting to listen over the sound of my heart escaping my ribcage. The swear words hadn't ended, but there was a panicked note to the words. I crept along the side of the dune, pressing my body against the hard-packed sand, so as to keep all of my body parts out of his sight. As I got nearer to the back of the dune, I started to move with greater stealth, anticipating a hail of fire from above as the henchy figured out my plan. No such hail came my way and, as I peeked upwards, I could see the back of the man peering out over the edge of the barricade where I had disappeared. I shook my head at the mere stupidity that required. How could anyone be that thick?
I slowly stalked up the side of the dune. As I neared the henchy, I quietly drew my trusty knife out of it's sheath. The steel blade of the knife ended in a wickedly curved tip, making it a beautiful yet crude tool; it had served me well in countless brawls.
I drew up behind the unsuspecting man and raised my knife to the level of his neck, but I hesitated. I may be a lot of things, but I'm not a cold-blooded murderer. I couldn't live with myself if I just stuck a blade in the back of this kid.
“Aww, to hell with it...” I muttered and coughed politely as I moved the point of the knife to the small of his back.
The startled henchy jumped up and felt the cold steel poking through his jacket. I heard the sharp intake of breath as he realized his mistake.
“Hands up, and turn this way,” I growled in my most menacing tone.
The henchy whimpered, put his hands up and began to turn - then he jerked violently and collapsed onto my shoulder. I stared in shock as I noticed the red blossom starting to develop on his chest. I heard the wet, sucking sound of a blade leaving flesh, and the corpse spasmed one last time. Gaining control of my motor systems once more, I side-stepped out from underneath it in disgust, only to feel a cold presence on my neck. I risked a look down and the curved blade of a saber drew a fine line of blood.
I looked up, and locked gazes with the most startlingly green feminine eyes I had ever seen.
!
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