He didn’t know how long he’d been climbing. Five.. maybe six hours? The sun was nearing high noon. The temperature had mercifully fallen, but the air was thinning with every meter. Stopping for a quick breather, he gently lowered his heavy load.

His desperate flight into The Black Mountains had been grueling. He’d climbed over fifteen hundred meters in elevation and hardly reached the halfway point. Ahead and above, their jagged peaks towered toward the sky, mocking him.

Overcome with grief and near hopelessness, he’d found himself asking the question again. It was the same he’d asked so many times before. Why do I continue on? What do I have to live for?

In the desert, there were frightening things. Suahim, Giant Scarabs, and even the dreaded deep dune serpents. Some were said to reach over forty meters in length. Above him though, greater terrors awaited.

The mountains and The Black Forest were home to the most fearsome creatures in Ruin - dragons being chief among them.

Jim’s face was caked in dirt and blood. Clean paths cut their way through the dirt where tears had fallen. The morning had taken a toll on him. His trek had been lonely and exhausting, but at least it distracted him from the crippling sorrow.

Mostly.

Jim leaned against the least uninviting boulder he could find. Sighing, instantly his body reminded him of just how tired he really was. Sweet wonderful sleep. He could sleep standing up at this point, but, “No, not yet,” he muttered to himself.

Reaching into his bailwing bag, he fished out a small leather packet of sun dried cactus fruit slices. Gingerly, he portioned his remaining water. Three days supply. It was a two week walk to Freeport through the mountains. Right now though, all that mattered was today.

After strapping the pack back on, he bent down, grabbed the two poles of his makeshift stretcher and continued on his journey. The broken body of Alia Rychist stirred under a protective blanket.

Jim remembered again what he had to live for.

***

Hours later, with muscles aching and lungs burning, Jim collapsed. “We made it,” he muttered to nobody in particular. The sun was sinking behind the western dune sea. Far below him, small wisps of grey smoke were still rising from burnt out emplacements.

He squinted his eyes against the failing light, but he’d travelled too far now. From high atop the pass, all he could make out was a haze of smoke and sorrow.

Alia stirred. Jim rushed over to the dirty pile of fabric and wing canvas, forgetting his sorrow for a moment. He peeled back the top layer, revealing the bloodied face of his captain. Unable to open her eyes against the setting sun, she tried instead at raising her hand to block the light.

Jim spoke gently, “Please don’t move, captain. You were hurt pretty bad back there.” He was sugarcoating the truth. She was a complete mess. Both legs were badly broken, blood was still seeping from somewhere above her hairline, and he suspected from the swelling around her neck, she was suffering from a broken collar bone. Not to mention the gunshot wound.

“Why can’t I feel my legs?” she asked barely above a whisper.

And, a broken back.

“Please just try to rest. We aren’t safe yet.” Her face twisted, and her brow furrowed. Trying for a moment to argue, she surrendered to unconsciousness. By her loss of blood, he doubted she would last through the night. Again, the question plagued him, why do I continue on?

She was the last of the crew. His last connection to even a few moments of happiness.

And, there was something else about her that occupied his thoughts. He wasn’t ready to admit to himself what it was, but he couldn’t possibly leave her. Not now… not ever.

Picking up the stretcher again, he continued onward.

***

It was evening now. The sound of crickets rode upon gentle winds across the face of their small cave. Orange firelight cast hypnotic patterns along the wall as the sharp crackling of the campfire joined the chorus. It’s inviting heat did little to warm the mood of its creator though.

Jim was spent. Exhausted. Or perhaps, something beyond it.

The captain had still not woken. It was looking more like she never would with each minute. Jim removed his jacket from the stretcher poles, balled it up, and gently placed it under her head. This time, she didn’t stir. There was something unnatural about her stillness. Watching her felt like observing a pocket watch as is ticked its last seconds before running out of spring tension.

Exhausted or not, he couldn’t sleep yet. Her breaths were shortening with each lazy heartbeat. He placed his index finger against her neck. He wasn’t entirely sure if he’d felt a pulse or imagined it. She was alive though. Somehow, he knew that much.

Jim recalled his conversation with Doctor Hanson and the captain. It seemed so long ago now. She spoke of the abilities of each awakened. One such ability stuck out in his mind. Earth awakened could supposedly heal others. But how? Doctor Hanson had mentioned the things that took a lifetime for most awakened to master would come “as instinct” to a prime.

So, I’m a prime? What the hell does that even mean? he thought with rising frustration. He had no idea, he had no training, but he had to try.

Clearing his mind, Jim placed his hands on the broken woman. He wasn’t sure what to do. He willed for her to heal. He stretched his arms out over her. He cried out to the gods, the rocks, anything or anyone that would fix her.

The orchestra of crickets, wind, and fire crescendoed as if nature was laughing at his fanciful efforts. Captain Rychist had turned a sickly shade of grey-white. Her breaths were sharper now. Fighter or not, she was surrendering to oblivion.

He grabbed her slumped shoulders, shouting at her, “How do I heal you? Tell me what to do. TELL ME!” Silence.

Her body was failing, and Jim with all the supposed powers of a prime awakened was powerless to stop it. Tears pathed new lines across his smudged face. “Please, don’t die. Not you too.” He lifted his head and shouted at a heaven he didn’t believe in, “Oh gods, don’t take her!”

The air stilled.

Time stopped.

Again, the rocks spoke to him, this time in a whisper, “Take it from her.”

He didn’t understand, at first. “Take it from her,” the whispering continued. He recognized the quiet voice of the earth around him. Teach me, he called out in his mind.

Suddenly, he knew. He could heal himself, not another. Though injured in his crash, he’d recovered throughout the day. He’d been so focused on making it to safety that he had completely missed the changes that had occurred. His breathing was easy, and the bruises that covered his body had quickly faded throughout the day.

His awakened powers had healed him within a day, but healing was not some act of divine power. It wasn’t a magic myst that took away pain. A price had to be paid. Pain for pain, suffering for suffering.

The only way for him do that would be to take her injuries as his own. All of them. Now it made sense. With all of Doctor Hanson’s poor bedside manner, every time the man healed a patient, he sacrificed a piece of himself to do so.

The realization filled Jim with sadness and wonder. “You may have been a dry, crotchety old man, but I’ll never speak bad of you, doc,” he whispered to the ghost of his lost shipmate.

Pressing her cold hands to his beating heart, Jim did it. He took her pain, her suffering, all of it.

The price would be high.

Aching gave way to throbbing. Throbbing gave way to burning. The burning surrendered to something… beyond pain. The horrid sensation fired every nerve ending. Every piece of him cried out in protest.

His body was wracked with pain beyond pain. The cry that escaped his lips seemed to silence the woods outside their cave. Suffering blinded him as he lost control.

At once, the whispering of the earth stopped. The misery was too much. Mercifully, the darkness took him.

***

“Hey, wake up.”

“I said, Wake up asshole!”

“Huh?” Jim rubbed his crusty eyes and collected himself for a moment. Looking around, he could see the light of the morning sun spilling through the cave opening. “Where am… oh right.” Memories of the day before returned as did those of his lost friends. With them, the sadness returned as well.

His body still ached, but the blinding pain was a memory. He began to probe his tattered clothes for injury beneath, but instead he found new skin and no negative evidence of his awakened “miracle.”

“Remarkable.” Jim said as he continued to search his body.

“Hey! What the hell is this? Where are we, and where’s my damn crew?” The captain had obviously regained her energy and was apparently oblivious to the night before. She was a captain again, barking orders, her usual joviality was replaced with seething anger. For what, Jim was unsure.

He held up his hands. “Whoa whoa, one question at a time, crazy lady. I’m a bit fuzzy but, hey, did you call me an asshole?” He was surprised at his own words. Normally, he’d never speak out like that to someone he hardly knew. He wondered if the awakened healing somehow sapped elements of the healed’s personality and grafted it onto his own.

Questions for later though.

Captain Rychist was livid. “Where’s my crew, and where the hell are we? My men could be dead or dying right now. How is it you and I are here?” Her knuckles whitened over clenching fists. “Answer, quickly.”

This was a side of the captain he hadn’t seen.. until now. He didn’t like it. “Ok, I did say one question at a time, did I not?” Jim knew his tone was sarcastic, but her anger was setting him on edge. Trying to push it aside, he took a breath. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

The captain relaxed only slightly, “I remember the dive was going perfectly. I was about to give the signal, and suddenly, we came under fire from… everywhere. I deployed my wings to maneuver, even fried a bunch of - whoever was after us, but a bullet caught me and knocked me into a spin.”

She paused, recalling the horror of it all. After collecting herself, she finished, “I tried to land myself in one of those damn emplacements and take as many of them with me as possible, but another bullet hit one of my thrust bottles and sent me flying into a canyon.”

Jim nodded. “That’s about right. I saw you get hit. I didn’t see them hit your thrust bottle though. I thought you were dead at first. I ended up landing in the same canyon, except I flew there hoping to escape.”

With disgust, she stopped him. “You tried to escape?”

He could hear the accusation in her voice. “What I mean is, after the ship blew up, I knew it was only-”

“WHAT!? The ship blew up? What the hell are you talking about?” Captain Rychist turned ghost white.

“I’m sorry. I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?! That my ship was destroyed? That’s...that’s impossible. He could have sustained that kind of fire for hours. How in the hell -”

“Listen captain, I was in back of the formation. Sasha and I were hit with a blast wave from the explosion. I saw the ship engulfed in a fireball. There were at least two explosions. The Liberator, my friends, your crew, they were wiped from the sky.”

Powerful grief nearly overwhelmed him, but he added, clearing his throat, “They’re gone. I’m sorry.”

The captain stood speechless for an uncomfortable few moments. Finally, she broke the silence, “There’s only one explanation. Sabotage. A spy.”

Jim hadn’t considered that. In fact, he hadn’t thought much about it. Between survival and dragging the captain up the mountain pass, he didn’t have much time for such luxuries.

He shook his head and added, “But, wouldn’t we have known? I mean, those under the prophetess’ control have a unique shade of grey eyes, or so you said. Who would willingly betray you… us. All those people. Henry, Doctor Hanson, Sasha….All dead.”

Jim tried again to push the sadness to a hidden place in his mind, intent on the here and now.

“Yeah and here I am, alive. The fucking captain of The Liberator, alive and well while her ship went down without her. I -” The captain paused. Somewhere between crying and screaming, she rose slowly.

Her eyes were filled with fire. Jim knew that look. It wasn’t so unlike his contempt for the cannibals that had intended to make him dinner. She was furious and looking for someone, anyone to blame.

Unfortunately for Jim, he was the only one in that particular cave with that particularly pissed off captain having nowhere else in particular to go.

Her tone was ice. “I should have died with my crew but you denied me that small satisfaction. You took me away from the battle and ran. You could have at least tried to save the survivors. You are a… a… coward!” Her accusation cut him deeper than he cared to admit. The limits of his temper were breached.

“Coward?” he shot back. “I’ve faced dangers out in the wastes that would keep you awake in terror for weeks. I’ve lived among desert horrors and creatures of nightmare while you floated through the skies in the lap of luxury playing little miss pirate. Let’s not forget, I just spent the last day dragging your limp ass up a damn mountain. A MOUNTAIN. You’re welcome, by the way.”

He jabbed a finger toward her face. “So, don’t assume to call me a coward. You know nothing about me or what I’ve endured. Quite frankly, you can go straight to hell.”

The kick came like lightning. Leaping over the ashes of the campfire, her heavy mechanic’s boots met his jaw with a solid crack. Jim saw stars as he spun backwards against the cave wall. Sprinting at him, allowing no time for recovery, she swung wide.

He had only a split second to duck under the blow. Her fist met cold hard stone with a painful crunch. Screaming in pain and fury, she pirouetted around, attempting to strike his temple with her right elbow.

Jim was ready this time and caught her arm, returning a left jab of his own. The hit nearly knocked the captain off her feet. She wasn’t done yet though. Rolling around, her left leg met his own. He went down but allowed his momentum to carry him into a roll before leaping up and tackled her to the ground.

They grappled and rolled, both trying to gain an advantage over the other. Rychist had power far beyond what her slender frame ceded, but Jim had instinct. The struggle continued in stalemate until both were exhausted.

Finally, the captain pulled herself on top of him. Using the advantage, she pinned his arms to his sides with powerful (recently healed) legs. He was too drained to offer resistance.

“Why?! You son of a bitch!”

Strike.

“You...stupid strike son strike of strike” Her blows weakened, and she fell on him weeping into his chest. He wasn’t sure what to do. He held her as her anger gave way to remorseful sobbing. Jim began to question himself. Why didn’t I stay behind and fight? What did I have to live for?

His heart ached to see her in pain. He was beginning to see that he cared for this woman more than he could excuse away as simple infatuation. Always the survivor, caring for… loving someone else was against every instinct. The fortified walls around his heart began to crumble.

“Captain… I’m … sorry. I saw you there, dying, and I couldn’t just leave you. You were all I had left. You, Doctor Hanson, Sasha, even Henry. You were the closest thing I’ve had to family in a long time. I saw it all burn away in an instant, but you… you survived. Nobody could have survived that mess, but you somehow did. I couldn’t leave you.”

Jim was surprised at his own candor. What happened to me last night? He wondered.

The captain stood and took a deep breath. She offered her unbroken hand to him and pulled him to his feet. They were both covered in dirt, bruises, and blood. Her fury abated, she looked at him, one of her eyes quickly swelling shut.

She attempted a broken smile. “Call me Alia. I’m not the captain of anything anymore.” Her face was downcast again, “I...I understand why you did what you did, Jim. I just… what do I do now? I have nothing left. I’m a captain without a crew.”

Jim considered his answer carefully. “I don’t mean to sound cliche, but you have me, cap… uhh Alia. And I have a plan.”

“You have a plan?”

“I have a plan. It’s a longshot, but I think some of the crew may have survived. When I crashed, I could hear fighting. I think at least a few made it to the ground. I know how much the Prophetess loves her awakened slaves, so if anyone survived, she would want them captured and converted. If I can save even one, my life will mean something.”

“So you saved my life so we can go back and die in a rescue attempt? I’m all for a healthy bit of revenge, but why make your way all the way up here if we were going to go back in the first place?”

“We aren’t going down the mountain. We’re going to Freeport,” he replied.

Alia raised the eyebrow above her undamaged eye. “Freeport? That’s nearly two weeks away, and the survival rations in a bailwing bag have water for, what? Three days?”

Jim crossed his arms. “Yeah, I considered that, but the truth is, there is no way to cross the wastes and survive without a ship.” Alia stared at him. Finally, Jim continued, “If we cut through the Black Forest, we can shave a week off. Also, there’s bound to be creeks and rivers up this high. It is a forest after all.”

Alia shook her head, “There’s a reason airmen and sailors alike avoid this place. The forest is crawling with sirens, dragons, and who the hell knows what other kinds of deadly creatures?”

Jim nodded, “Yes, well, it’s either that or head down the mountain, turn ourselves in, and live out our lives as brainwashed slaves.”

Alia shuddered, “No. Never again. And, if anyone did survive the explosion, I could never allow them to suffer that fate...” She stared into a distant place, thinking. Finally, Alia nodded, “Very well. First, we get to Freeport, then we get us weapons, supplies, and a ship.”

Glad to be focused on something other than loss, Alia’s mental gears were turning. “Jim, it may take a long time before we gather a new crew and a ship worthy of rescuing them, but if even one survived, we have to try.”

Jim replied, “It may take a very long time.” He could see a tinge of hopelessness return to her and quickly added, “But revenge is rarely quick.”

“No, Jim. It certainly isn’t.”