Saving the World - Awakening

The Ruins

"So you're saying I slashed your face open and then after that I poked Pharaoh's eye out? And my eyes were red?" Eliot exclaimed.

"Pretty much. Somehow, your ribs survived, though your ankle isn't any better," Ciara remarked, not remembering any sign of ankle injury when she had fought him the previous day.

Eliot noticed how long and deep the gash in her cheek looked. Germaine had stitched it up, but it still looked to be immensely painful. The bruise on the other side of her face didn't look much better, her bandaged right hand limp at her side. Her unwounded fingers twitched, either in pain or apprehension, Eliot didn't know. He was lucky to get out without much of a scratch. He felt the palm of his hand, where he should have had at least a tiny cut from wielding the shard of glass, but there wasn't a mark.

"I'm gonna go lie down, I just wanted to check up on you."

Eliot shook his head, snapping himself out of his trance.

"Yeah, yeah feel better. We gotta heal up."

Ciara slowly exited the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts, and apparently some feral being inside of him. What had Brachs done to him? Was there any way to control that part of him?

Eliot tried closing his eyes and concentrating, attempting to uncover this strange side, or at least any memory of what had happened. His stomach began to turn, his mind probing further and further into his subconscious. He could find nothing but emptiness there. He knew something was there, but it was as if a door was completely hidden from him, not locked but out of sight. His forehead creased as he tried harder and harder to force the memories to come. But they didn't.

After a few minutes of this, he gave up. Whatever possessed him certainly wasn't in his grasp, and what he did was out of his control. Hopefully he wouldn't hurt Ciara next time, or Germaine for that matter. Hopefully there wasn't a next time.

Outside his room, Eliot heard shouting, his two companions in a heated argument over something he couldn't quite follow from his current spot. He slowly got up, using his bed for support, grabbed a wooden stick next to his bed frame, and ventured into the fray.

"-and we don't need him! This mission is cut and dry as far as we know. Get in, map the area, get out! How can you not see that?"

The veins in Germaine's temples were bulging, his frustration apparent. Ciara looked ready to retort, but saw Eliot and bit back her response.

"What are you doing up?" She asked.

Germaine looked annoyed she had to ask.

"He wants to know our situation, of course! Eliot," Germaine turned to him, "do you think we should look for Director Brachs before a mapping mission to the ruins about a mile from this cabin?"

Eliot stood there for a second, slightly hunched over his cane and astonished at the fast paced discussion that was taking place before him. He didn't know Germaine at all, really, and already he was trusting Eliot with this sensitive information. He was starting to like Germaine.

"We aren't in any shape to do this now, that's for sure," Eliot offered.

"Naturally, and if Director Brachs wants to join us in time he can," Germaine responded. "But we can't waste valuable fuel trying to find him. He can take care of himself.  He always has."

Ciara sniffed, visibly upset at the idea of leaving Brachs.  Eliot didn't understand: where was he?  Germaine noticed his confusion and spoke up.

"Brachs told Ciara he was in this cabin with Samantha and was getting ready to go back to Canadia.  She thinks he's in danger. I think he's fine."

For a second, Eliot felt something in the back of his mind, where he hadn't been able to access only a few minutes earlier, but just as fast as it came it vanished. 

It threw Eliot off for a second, enough for Ciara to butt in.

"We need to find him. Him and Samantha."

Then Eliot remembered his knives.  In a panic, he reached for his bandage, where he had kept Johnta the previous day. With a sinking heart, he remembered how he had dropped it while being restrained by Pharaoh. His legs grew weak, and he suddenly lost the energy or care to hold himself up. No knives, no city, no crowd; who was he without these things?

Germaine looked at Ciara, confused.

"What happened to Samantha?"

Ciara put her hand up, as if to say "I'll tell you later" and crouched down to Eliot.

"I'm sure she's fine, Brachs would take care of her. But we need to make sure that they aren't in danger."

Eliot looked up at the two Maples, knowing what he needed to do to get back where he belonged.

"Let's get our strength up, we've got a lot we need to take care of."

* * *

Twelve days.

It took twelve days for them to heal. Eliot's ankle had fully healed since it was properly bandaged and treated as soon as they had been captured by Czar. Ciara's bruise had healed on her left cheek, but the lengthy gash on her face still had a ways to go. Fortunately it was just a nuisance and not a real risk. Germaine had to do most of the physical work as the two of them recovered for the mission.

Ciara and Germaine had reached a compromise: they would search the ruins for any sign of Brachs or Samantha, along with the surrounding area and the other cabin in the area, but wouldn't waste fuel or go out longer than three days. That way, they could assume that Brachs and Samantha were back in Canadia and could find a way back themselves. Germaine being in charge of the physical work, Eliot and Ciara handled the technical parts.

The area they were in, Ireland, used to be called Greenland before Zenith came along. Zenith forced the Irish out of their lands and thus they populated Greenland, like the Vikings of old. These ruins were from the beginning of that immigration, when the Maples helped the Irish to escape the flood of Zenith. Now, Czar sat in old Ireland, the center of the world.

"These ruins represent a lot in the Maples' history," Ciara began distractedly, scanning the area for any trace of Brachs. "The Irish were the final push for Zenith to replace the Maples. They took a stand back then, and now we are paying the price."

Eliot wasn't listening. Scanning the area more fervently than his companions, he desperately wanted to find the man who took his belongings. His feet were numb from the long walk from the cabin and the freezing snow.

The castle ruins stood before them. The charred walls lay on the ground, stony corpses only a shadow of their previous splendor. A large hole gaped in the base of the castle, leading inside. The wind whistled through it, an eerie song lamenting the past. Something about this place felt wrong.

"Footprints!" Germaine called out, a little ahead of the cave entrance.

As the other two joined him, stranger sounds came from the entrance, ones not made from the wind. It began with a growling. As they crept closer, it began to sound like a scraping sound, vaguely familiar to Eliot.

"We're gonna have to go in there, aren't we?" Eliot asked, his stomach sinking in his gut.

Germaine looked to Ciara. She looked ahead, the gash accenting her grim expression. Guessing what lay before, she understood what had to be done. Her fists clenched as the scraping mingled with a light sobbing sound. They had no other option.