When Aarvo came to, everything around him was bathed in a reddish light. He blinked, trying to clear his eyes, but the low, murky light persisted, clinging insistently to the rocks and sand. His eyes… Did something happen to his eyes? Dizzy, he tried to get up, but something held him back by his foot. He fell back, trying not to vomit and faint. He blinked again and stared stupidly at the sky for a few moments without seeing anything, then noticed that Eera had placed herself in front of the sun and blocked its entire disk apart from the crown, which burned red against the darkness of space.
A red darksun, he thought blurrily. It was the darksun that stained everything red, not his eyes. His eyes were fine. With a smile of relief he relaxed and sank into oblivion.
When he came to again, the darksun had already disappeared. How long had it been? He shielded his eyes against the sharp light and looked around, trying to regain his bearings, to remember where he was. Why was everything so muddled?
He didn't feel like getting up, so looked around resting on his back until he was sure he was on the steep slope of a big mountain. How did he get there?
Tromm Kor…
The word crept into his mind and with it the memory of what had happened: he was jumping… he tumbled down the mountain… too far… beyond the edge… and then… Oh, oh! His right leg… his right leg hurt badly… his leg…
With a tremendous effort, he sat up and looked at his feet: his right leg was gone. He leaned back in the grip of exhausting nausea and fainted.
He woke up with a chilling awareness running through his blurred mind: he was in trouble, in trouble up to his neck, and if he didn't hurry, he was going to bite the dust. He was weak, very weak, and felt no pressure in his core or in his arms. He felt empty, dry, as if he were burning from the inside, as if the magma in his veins were drying out, solidifying in a mass that would clog his core until it made it stop. Water! He needed water to put out the fire!
Half blind, he sat up and followed the outline of the lump of matter below his knee. So much clotted lava… All that magma had come out of him.
Through the fog oppressing his mind, he guided his sharp hands against the hardened substance, until he felt his knee come off with a snap.
For a few moments, he stared at the stump, stunned, unable to remember what he should do, then rolled on his side and grabbed the first piece of edible rock at hand. He took a bite, and immediately his mouth was invaded by a bitter, pungent taste that made his lips curl. A flash of energy expanded throughout his body. He felt a throb of relief run through his core, but a moment later the dry heat running through his veins became an out of control scorching blaze, a fire that wanted to incinerate his insides. He moaned in pain, and dropped on his back gritting his teeth, trying not to faint, trying with all his might to withstand the black fog that was descending around him….
When he opened his eyes again, he found himself face down in the sand, in total darkness. Again, he thought, again he hadn't realized he had blacked out, and now he didn't know where he was or how he had gotten there. Because it was a different place than before, right? It was cold now, it wasn't like before—before, in the reddish light it had been cold, but now it felt like a layer of his skin had turned to ice, and that icy needles were trying to make their way into his flesh. But where was he?
He rolled on his back, and the blanket of stars in the night of space unfolded before his eyes. It was night, yes, he nodded to himself, and he was on flat ground. He turned his head and perceived the dark mass of Tromm Kor towering at his side. He tried to remember how he had gotten there. The impression of a groping descent through sand and stones resurfaced in his mind, but he remembered nothing else.
Another thought—something important—drew nearer to the mouth of his consciousness. Aarvo waited for it to take shape, but the thought instead slipped away into oblivion. He tried to snatch it back, to pull it out of his mind by force, but it slipped even deeper into the exhausted chaos inside him.
He let go and somehow pulled himself into a seating position. He better hurry and find some water quickly before the fire that burned inside him incinerated him from within. He tried to stand up, then stopped at once. What fire? He didn't feel himself burning anymore—on the contrary, he felt cold. How come? In the confusion of his mind, he tried to examine himself inside, but the answer came from outside: it was night, and it was the cold of night that had seeped into him, extinguishing the fire.
He better take advantage of it and head immediately north, towards one of the craters of eternal darkness. With an enormous effort, he stood up and hopped away on his good leg. After only a hundred steps, however, he collapsed to the ground, exhausted. Walking on one leg was impossible. He tried to crawl forward on all fours, but came to a halt soon afterwards, frustrated by the slowness of his advance. He needed something else, but he couldn't think of anything. His mind was a tangle that he couldn't unravel. He had to do something for his leg, he thought obstinately, and an idea, a recollection, finally surfaced in his muddled mind.
He clung to this thought with all his strength and began to look for a rock that would suit him. He spotted a boulder nearby and hopped up to its foot. He tested the stone with his sharp fingers, tried to clear his mind as best he could, then carved the outline of a long bar into the rock, pulled it out of the stone, and reduced it to the thickness of his arm.
Worn-out, he sat down for a while and tried to regain his energies. When he managed to think straight again, he placed the tip of the bar against his stump and with his sharp fingers drew its circumference on the crust below his knee. He put down the bar, gathered all his strength, then drove his fingers into the wound, following the rough circle he had drawn.
At first, he only felt a stinging tickle in his knee, then dull pain. He bit his lips and pushed his fingers deeper until a stream of boiling magma began to flow out of the wound.
His head started spinning violently, but Aarvo gritted his teeth, fighting back the dizziness that threatened to swallow him, grabbed the stone bar and shoved it into the open wound.
Blazing pain went through him like an earthquake, shaking him into oblivion. He couldn't faint… If he fainted, he'd die… If he fainted, he'd never be able to fix his leg… If…
Aarvo blinked and came to. Did he black out again? He looked down and saw his hand still squeezing the bar. He kept it where it was and, after a while, felt the agony of pain subsiding. He continued pressing until it looked like his magmatic blood had hardened completely, then let go. Consumed by pain and nervous strain, he slipped to the ground and crashed out.
When he woke up, he immediately began to doubt what he had done. He felt worse, much worse than before. Reopening the wound and losing more magma had not been a good idea. Moreover, dawn was starting to shed light on the contours of the mountains around, heading at full speed toward him. He had wasted all night and now day was going to fall on him with all its heat.
Overwhelmed by hoarse panic, he stood up. He needed to leave as soon as possible! He needed to get out of there if he wanted to stay alive! He leaned on the crutch and tried to take a few steps. It worked! He could walk!
An insane exhilaration took the place of panic. He was saved, he was saved! Now, he'd reach the North Circle in a few moonhours, no more! Before the sun came up, he'd eat some ice and feel better!
In the grip of delirium, he set out without realizing the sun was already stretching over the mountains at his side. After only a hundred steps, the blade of daylight reached him and set him mercilessly ablaze.
Aarvo felt a wave of heat rising inside him and swallowing his mind in a fiery agony. Everything ceased to make sense. Reality and hallucinations both became mirages before his eyes. Pain and hope, past and present, slipped away like distant comets, sinking into the endless darkness that gaped inside him. Only agony and the path were real, inseparable, and only when they’d come to an end, he'd come to his end too.
****
Have you ever been so sick you didn't understand anymore where you were?
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