Grane – Day Three: Human
Day Three – Human
Accompanied by the young Rock, Grane pushed ever westward. The events of the previous day had been tragic, but the materials she had gained because of it may very well end up being the reason she would live longer than a few more nights. Grane again trekked across the endless sands, her quiver renewed with a solid dozen stone-tipped arrows. A few yards behind, Rock drudged forward as quick as his size allowed. A haphazard pack resting upon his back carried extra water and excess cloth. Grane could afford a little less water to herself for now, the boy had value as a pack animal for as long as he could keep up.
Every hour or so the boy would stop, fall to his knees and call out, yelling Grane’s name before uttering unknown complaints that were lost between languages. Grane would quickly walk back to him, snatch the straps of his pack, lift him to his feet and push him forward. She was not the replacement mother he may be wanting and she would be forced to leave him behind if he slowed her down. She knew the boy would find it harsh, but it was the way of the sands. One had to learn the skills to survive or one would not make it very far. These harsh lessons had been the greatest gift she had been given since her own tribe was lost to the blight.
It happened again. The tired child unable to continue again ceased progress. Grane sighed, she had pushed him hard, perhaps he deserved the smallest of rests. She walked back to Rock, his brow furrowing in bitterness at what he knew Grane was about to do. She grabbed at his pack as he groaned, but to his surprise she didn’t pull him up, instead procuring a jar of water from the pack and holding it out towards him.
Rock looked at Grane, then the jar, and then back again as his little head tried to decide if this was a trap. She shook the jar insistently and he finally snatched it out of her hand. He shifted from his knees to his butt before ripping off the cap and happily guzzling down some water. She watched amazed at the amount he was able to consume in a single gulp, a slight smile curling itself into her cheeks. Shaking off her maternal instincts, she snatched the jar from his wasteful mouth and scolded him for drinking too much. Dejected, he simply stared at her as if he had just come to understand the concept of anguish.
She took the slightest sip herself before picking up the cap Rock had carelessly let fall. She sealed the jar and put it back in his pack. Rock glanced at the pack, mischief welling in eyes. His hand raised slightly as he thought about taking the jar back out, knowing full well his companion wouldn’t allow it. His hand slowly crept towards the pack as Grane looked on sternly, as if the slowest motions would somehow be undetectable. He went for it, with a sudden jolt of motion. He was quick, but Grane was quicker. She slapped his hand away. He shouted a single word at her, the sentiment clearly nothing pleasant.
Grane rested on her knees, figuring her legs would appreciate some time off as well. Her companion’s eyes suddenly darted to his side and he grunted a few syllables, pointed and looked at Grane. A small lizard stood a stones throw away, silently watching the commotion in curiosity. The boy had keen eyes, for the thing blended right in to the dust and sand. Grane placed her finger over her lips to signal silence. Rock understood, swiftly using his hands to support his weight as he hopped from sitting to crouching, eyes intently observing what he wished to be his next meal.
Grane arose slowly from her rest, pulling her bow from her back. The lizard proved skittish. Sensing attention upon itself it swiftly scurried away. Rock yelled, jolting up and giving chase.
Again Grane could do nothing but sigh, letting her bow arm drop to her side. The boy was quick but he wasn’t going to catch the thing with such brute methods. Rock raced towards the lizard, mind focused on the taste of fresh meat. She called out his name, but he ignored her. He dove towards his prey, hands grasping as he gracelessly hit the ground. To Grane’s utmost surprise, when he got back to his feet and raised his hands high, a lizard squirmed within them. He had done it.
Rock danced in a circle, happily chanting a song of victory. He hopped from one foot onto the other, spinning whilst tilting to one side with a grin so wide it almost stopped his ability to sing. Grane laughed and hustled towards him. Her laughs turned into a surprised gasp, for the ground opened up and in one quick moment the happy child who had been dancing before her was no longer in sight. She quickened her pace, running towards the space he had just been.
Peering into the hole she found there she saw Rock laying face first in a pile of sand, lizard no longer clenched in his hands. Dust danced in the light, disturbed for possibly the first time since the fall. He had found a remnant of times lost. A barely hidden peak of an old tower resting just under the sands. Rock stirred, struggling to his knees, still very sore from the 10-foot fall.
Grane was relieved he was alright and called his name. He looked up at her, seeming happy he hadn’t been hopelessly and completely eaten by the sands. Before either could take time to conceive his method of rescue, a clacking noise deeper into the dark stole their attention. Rock stared towards the noises, saying something with quizzical inflection. Clacks gave way to chitters and Grane knew what lay further within. These were the tell-tale sounds of the khachin-ardyn
“Rock, throw me the rope!” she called, desperate he would understand. He glanced at her before turning back to the sounds at taking a few steps back. The chitters drew closer and Grane readied her bow. If she was forced to drop below, it was unlikely they could exit the way they came. Who knew if any possible exits even existed?
One beast burst into view, looking to make a meal of Rock. It was fast, but Grane’s arrow managed to find it first. It hit just under one of its eye slits, knocking it to the floor where it flailed in grotesque spasms. Rock yelled in fright as more khachin approached him in the dark. Grane knocked another arrow, but Rock ran up, disappearing from her view. Cursing under her breath, she crouched down, using one hand to push of the ledge. Down into the darkness, she let her bow drop. Two more beasts cornered the boy, Grane drew her blade and pushed into them. A slash to one’s back sent it reeling, the other’s arm drew back to strike Rock, but Grane thrust forward, skewering the thing’s stomach. Rock had shriveled into a shivering ball, horrified at the speckles of blood peppering his skin.
She pulled the boy back to his feet as the final beast regained its paces. Grane thrust down, piercing threw the khachin’s leg whilst still holding Rock with her offhand. The beast let out a piercing hiss, Grane stomped at its knee, snapping the leg bone and bringing it to the ground. She stepped on the hobbled beast’s chest, keeping it on the ground as it thrashed in desperation. She flipped the sword downwards, pulled Rock closer and offered him the sword.
“Kill it.”
He looked aghast, not understanding the words but clearly getting the intent. He blinked, looked at Grane and shook his head twice. Grane shouted the words again, pressing the hilt of the blade against his chest. The boy needed to learn what it was to kill. He needed to know the consequences of living in the sands. He tried to back away, but Grane’s grip didn’t waver. This time she grabbed his hand and placed it on the hilt. Reluctantly he took control of the blade. She let him go and motioned towards the khachin still thrashing under her boot. He stood, blade held forward, silent and still. Heavy breathing was now the only sign of consciousness. His hesitation wouldn’t end, so Grane did what she needed to do.
She stepped off and stepped back. The hobbled beast reared back up, tumbling forward at Rock in awkward ferocity. His eyes exploded in fright, becoming wider than the gaping hole that had eaten him moments ago. As the beast lunged, the boy looked away, screamed and thrust forward. The khachin fell into the blade, its weight carrying it into Rock and knocking him to the ground. Screaming a panicked flurry of words, he rolled the dead beast off and clambered a few paces away, sinking into himself and breaking into tears.
Grane stepped forward and drew the blade out of Rock’s opponent. She then walked over to the boy himself, standing over him as he buried his head and leaking eyes in his arms. She placed her hand upon his head and he looked up at her, sniffling. She gave a smile. He had done good. The boy didn’t know how to react to such a thing, but his whines had stopped, replaced by a bewildered stare. Grane left him to retrieve her bow. Rock stood up, shaking his head before following her to the circle of light that had formed bellow the breach above.
Dust still circled heavily about the area causing Grane to cough in the contaminated air. She looked up at the harsh desert sun peeking through the hole. There was no way they were getting back out with the supplies at hand. She turned away and walked back into the darkness, letting her eyes adjust before searching for something to help. Stairs leading up had become flooded with sand. Grane wondered if they once lead to another floor that had been since washed away by the sands. Whatever the case, nothing more was up. Her hopes of something to aid would have to lay further below.
One segment of wall looked different. It was made of a heavier metal, with a slit in the middle like a double doorway without and knob or handle. Grane pushed her blade into the slit. Pushing her leg against it for leverage she put all her weight into prying it open. Slowly one side slid apart from the other. She stuck her foot into the gap, holding it open as she switched to using her hands to pull apart the doors. When the gap was about man-sized she stopped and to her relief the doors stayed where she had pulled them. She peered inside and found a small and empty shaft. No bottom in sight, the shaft disappeared into the darkness like it was a gateway to the abyss itself.
She called Rock over with a grumble.
“Cloth.” she demanded, using one of the few words she had taught him. Rock reached into his pack and procured a ribbon of scrap cloth. He gave it to Grane as she had ordered. Grane sat down on her knees, squeezing the hilt of her sword between her thighs to hold it in place. She balled the cloth and skewered it onto the blade’s tip. Next she took a small flask from one of her side packs, removed the cap, pushed the blade forward so the tip leaned over the floor and poured a bit of the liquid over the cloth. From another pouch she retrieved a fire starter and a hunk of flint. Striking the flint over the steel a few times brought forth sparks, and soon fire. The cloth began to burn as Rock looked on, scratching his head in wonder.
Grane put her assets back into her side packs, stood up with makeshift torch in hand and peered back into the shaft. More closed double doors could be seen, placed in regular intervals down either end of the shaft. One, a few stories down looked to be opened somewhat. Hopefully what lied beyond those doors could save them. Grane stepped away and carefully pushed her sword tip down into a loop in her belt, careful not to set herself aflame.
“Rope” she called as she pushed the doors closer together, leaving just enough room to squeeze through. Rock obeyed the order, giving her a long strand of cloth-knot rope. She stepped closer to him and began to tie the rope around his waste. Rock looked horrified as the knot tightened around him. Did she mean to throw him down the shaft? She was harsh, but was she that harsh?
Grane took him by the hand and pulled him towards the shaft. Rock grunted in fright, assuming his worries true. Instead she pushed down on his shoulder, forcing him to first sit and then lay against the double doors, his mid-section at the gap. Grane grabbed the rope fastened to him and squeezed through the hole. Rock lay in disturbed silence, wondering what his role in this mad operation could be. Grane tossed the rope down the shaft, grabbed onto it and slowly lowered herself down.
Rock let out a “grah!” as her full weight began to tug against him. He snapped closer against the doors and felt like he might split down the middle. He was a counter-weight. What a disheartening job.
Grane swiftly rappelled down the shaft, hoping to mitigate the strain on her companion. Reaching her target, she rested her feet on the slight lip sticking out of the doorway and pried open the door. With one hand to work and little leverage, it wasn’t easy but she managed to open it enough to slip through, which she did.
The weight gone, Rock’s eyes widened. Did she fall? Is she dead? He hadn’t heard any screams or bangs. He thought to check, but quickly thought the better of it. Instead he stayed in worried silence, fully committing to his job as weight.
Down below, Grane held forth her sword-turned-torch and explored the area. Many wooden chairs and tables filled the space. The chairs were covered in a smooth black hide of some sort, whilst the tables were primarily panes of glass now tinted brown with age. This must have been some sort of meeting area, for even a large tribe could comfortably be sat here. The tales told of the massive population the world once held, and if this one floor of one tower was any indication those tales were quite true.
Grane shivered at the thought. Such a cramped living must have been terrible. Even in the hubris of safety and comfort, she wondered if she wouldn’t still prefer the freedom and spaciousness of the wastes. Realizing she was wasting time, she tapped her head twice with her knuckles and resumed the survey of the floor.
The room had 5 exits, but it wasn’t those that would next catch her attention. Upon the wall was a withered and crumpling painting, framed in chipped wood. Grane couldn’t help but stare at it, enamored by the scene. A landscape covered in a white powder was shown. The sheer clean white blanketed the terrain. Perhaps the old world had the cleanest and purest sand? Strange brown pillars erupted out of the white, thousands of green needles bursting out every which way starting a few feet from the base. In the foreground, two smiling children dressed heavy waved about, riding a large sledge pulled by some sort of hoofed and haired beast Grane had never seen before.
She tilted her head trying to take in the strangeness of the old world. It was a confusing and alien place indeed, but one she would like to have been able to see in person. Again Grane realized her attention had fallen to the wayside. She shook it off and resumed her search for aid. She approached one of the doorways in the room, turned the knob and opened the thing.
A wave of sand cascaded out, knocking Grane of her feet and burying her beneath. She thrashed her way out, gasping for breath as she emerged. The sand had smothered her fire and she now stood in complete darkness. Cursing to herself, she felt her way first to the wall and then to another door. Carefully she opened it, jumping to the side quickly just in case. To her relief there was no rush of sand. She moved in, quickly finding all four walls in the small room beyond. She felt around, her hands meeting many odd tools as well as many jugs. Some empty, some containing liquids she could only guess at. Then her hand hit something large and metal. Feeling about to get a mental picture of what it was she found many rungs between gaps of vacant space. A ladder. It would be hell to get up, and it might just collapse under her weight, but this was just what she needed to find.
Grane inhaled twice and exhaled once and then went to work.
