Sandborn - Awakening of the Frozen Sand

[It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend.] - William Blake

"I've reached the lowest of states: despair. Araumir, we humans have a defensive program that reboots the system when we reach our lowest point. When in the state of despair, the infoenergetical bodies surrounding the physical one vibrate, deleting all the negative programs in them."

"So, when I reached my lowest, the barrier clouding my mind cleared. However, this neutral state doesn't last long. When a human has a realization in this neutral state after the reboot, they must hold onto it despite everything that happens afterward. Because, usually, the negative programs return the fastest. Anyway, as I am still in a very bad condition, please guard me and let me meditate to ensure the safety of what I've just realized."

Without another word, Araumir stood watch like a tireless statue until a few hours later when Azar opened his eyes.

"Can you give me a hand?" Azar asked. "I'm a little stiff."

"Sure," Araumir replied, immediately moving to help his master up. "How is it? Have you finished?"

"Not entirely. I still want to gain a deeper insight into how I should cope with my situation and move forward, but my body couldn't resist sitting for one more second."

"Then, what now?" Araumir asked. "What should we do next?" He handed the storage ring back to Azar, who proceeded to reactivate its defensive runes and insert his mental imprint in it.

"Now? Now we will take one step at a time until I figure out what I want to do. Let's go back to the Calabi and get our hands on some herbs. This poor body of mine needs vitamins more than air and water," Azar said.

"Alright." Araumir nodded, opening his wings.

"This time, we will enter through the main gate like normal people on a friendly visit," Azar instructed before Araumir lifted him into the air. "Aaah!" Azar screamed, feeling a sharp pain stabbing in his shoulder.

"What happened?" Araumir asked, concerned. He had no idea why his master screamed like a girl all of a sudden.

"I think I just tore my muscle when you lifted me up," Azar said, feeling his hand go numb.

Still flapping his wings, Araumir lowered his head, looking down at Azar, who was below him.

"Forgive me for asking, but have you become so frail that I have to treat you like a baby?" he asked, smiling.

But it wasn't a usual smile; it looked more terrifying than gentle. Azar felt insulted by being referred to as frail.

"You have to be a little more careful with me until I recover this body to a decent condition. But if you so much as dare to pamper me like a child, I'll make sure to punish you accordingly," Azar threatened. "And wipe that creepy smile off your face. It sends shivers down my back."

"Why are you grumpy again, master? You never let me take care of you even though I've expressed my desire on numerous occasions," Araumir said.

"If your fatherly instincts torment you so much and you want to act like a father, then find someone to conceive a child with. I'll never let you take care of me like a father."

"But I don't want to be a father to other beings," Araumir murmured to himself.

He had long desired to swing Azar in his arms, watch him play in the sand, and do other childish things. But what Araumir himself wasn't aware of was that his desire to act like a father with Azar originated from amusement. Deep down, he considered playing the leading role around Azar as an intriguing and amusing experience. Giving himself all the power while robbing Azar of it excited him the most.

Landing just outside the imposing wooden gate of the Calabi settlement, Azar checked his arm in a hurry, not bothering with the fearful guards sounding the alarm for their presence.

"Identify yourselves, or we'll make you target practice!" someone shouted from the rampart.

"How is it?" Araumir asked, totally disregarding the commotion they started among the guards.

"Ready your bows and aim the flux cannons!" the same voice ordered the guards appearing on the rampart.

Listening to the command, the guards drew the strings of their bows, infusing the arrows with their flux and making them gleam colorfully in the darkness of the night. The sharp, black iron arrowheads were all pointed at the two men talking with each other under the flickering lights of the torches surrounding the gate. In the desert no one was a friend, and everyone needed to be worry of everything.

"It hurts when I move it. I guess the muscle is not entirely torn, but definitely not how it should be. Look, I have a little hole here," Azar said, palpating the insertion of his rhomboid muscle.

"Let me see," Araumir said with an aggrieved expression.

"Lose!" the commander ordered, and the arrows took flight, aiming to turn the two men on the ground into porcupines—that is, if their bodies managed to resist the penetrative power of the projectiles and remain in one piece.

"Be careful, it hurts," Azar said as Araumir touched his arm.

From Araumir's back, a distorted, shadowy figure emerged. Without visible traits, it opened wide what looked to be its mouth, and a strong force sucked in all the projectiles. Then, as if nothing had happened, the shadowy figure merged back with Araumir's body, leaving the people on the walls to swallow audibly. This was a combination of techniques triggered in succession, namely Horripilation and Energy Drinker.

"I beg your forgiveness." Araumir dropped to his knees after feeling the injury of his master with his own hand.

"Stand up, it's not a big deal," Azar patted his shoulder. "It will heal if I manage to find the herbs I need."

Suddenly, the gate of the settlement creaked open, and a line of guards emerged, their presence marked by the flickering light of the torches in their hands. The flames cast dancing shadows on their sun-kissed faces, revealing expressions of vigilance and curiosity. The guards wore traditional robes, the deep blues and earthy browns blending with the night, but their eyes gleamed with the alertness of trained sentinels.

The lead guard, a tall man with a weathered face and a turban wrapped tightly around his head, stepped forward but kept a considerable distance from the unexpected visitors. The people on top of the wall readied their attacks again, this time prepared to use the flux cannons, not just their arrows.

"Who are you, and why have you come to the Calabi tribe?" the lead guard asked, successfully maintaining a tough front.

"We are friends with your chief, Surumadur, and have come on important business," Azar answered in a loud voice. He then massaged his shoulder, feeling a very uncomfortable sensation.

Hearing his words, the guards started to have second thoughts, lowering their vigilance.

"Then if you are friends with our chief, why didn't you state your names and purpose from the beginning?" the lead guard asked.

Araumir prepared to take action, not liking the tone in which the man spoke. But Azar raised a hand, motioning him to keep his composure.

"We were discussing something important, forgive us for scaring you," Azar said, not forgetting to sting them with his words a little. "Now, please inform Hamsha and your chief about our presence. Tell them that Azar has come to see them."

"Hamsha is no longer part of our tribe. He betrayed the Calabi," the lead guard said, his tone filled with distaste.

"That's a long-gone thing, my friend. It's in the past. You weren't informed, were you? Go and notify your chief. I bet he is talking to Hamsha right now," Azar said with a smile.

Still a little suspicious of the two of them, the lead guard sent someone to check things while he kept staring bluntly, a hand on the hilt of his sword. Azar occupied his time by scanning the surroundings with his gaze, while Araumir felt inclined to lock in a death stare with the arrogant man.

Why a death stare? Because after a few seconds in their staring contest, the lead guard's face turned as pale as a bleached bone. Strangely, the man remained stony-faced and silent. But precisely because no one else noticed, Azar let Araumir off the leash this time.

"Omarabi Syed," voiced a guard upon returning with words from their chief. Approaching the leading guard, called Omarabi, the man whispered something in his ear.

Having received his orders, Omarabi stepped to the side, motioning for Azar and Araumir to enter the settlement.

"Let them pass!" he ordered, following the two who needed no guidance, as if they had been there before. However, no one seemed to recognize them.

Arriving in front of the chief's house, Azar and Araumir were allowed to enter without a single question asked. The chief's private warriors even pulled aside the curtain for them. However, once they entered the room where Surumadur and Hamsha were seated, the atmosphere changed drastically.

"Why have the two of you returned?" Surumadur asked after ensuring no one could eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Why, are we not welcomed?" Azar asked, making himself comfortable. "I see you didn't sleep tonight. Were you reminiscing about the past? And where is Yusuf? I would have liked to speak with him as well."

"Why are you acting so friendly? You have to know that even if you forced us to abide by your bidding, you are not welcomed here," Surumadur said.

"I am very welcomed, my friend, and even if you don't know it yet, what we have is the beginning of a long and prosperous friendship," Azar explained. "So, where's Yusuf? Is he sleeping? Wake him up; I want him to participate in our discussion."

"Azar Syed, Yusuf Syed and his people left immediately after you did," Hamsha replied. "And forgive me for asking, but I thought we had finished our cooperation."

"Hamsha, my dear friend, why are you treating me with such coldness? Did you really hope to never see me again?" Azar asked with an affected voice. "Honestly, I hoped to never see you as well, but life had other plans for me," he said seriously. "Anyway, I've decided to stay here for one more life, so as much as it scares you now," Azar scrunched his nose, "our cooperation will continue."

"What do you mean by that? You promised to let me go after you leave," Hamsha raised his tone.

"But I'm not leaving anymore. You should be happy; you have someone to learn from." Azar smiled with such an honest, bright face that it made Surumadur almost not recognize him as the one who enslaved them in that terrifying place.

"I'm a little hungry. Surumadur, as the chief of this tribe, is this how you treat me? With no food on the table and nothing to wet my throat with?" Azar shook his head.

"You are not my guest; you are someone I can't escape from," Surumadur said.

"Not much time has passed since we last saw each other, and you have already forgotten your manners," Azar said with a sigh. "I told you, you're not that smart. Send for someone to bring some vegetables and fresh water for me, and meat and wine for Araumir to eat and drink. It's an order!"

It was clear as day that Surumadur was still a beginner because he dared to resist the order, and the soul-deep pain forced him to contort in agony, his body twisting like a pretzel.

"See, Surumadur, you make me look like the bad guy here when I'm not," Azar said. "Araumir, go pat his shoulder, please. I don't want him to feel down."

"A-Araumir Syed, please, don't hurt him," Hamsha voiced from the side.

But Hamsha's worries were unfounded as Araumir gently patted Surumadur on the shoulder and then returned to Azar's side.

"Now, be considerate of your condition and serve us with what we've asked for," Azar told Surumadur. "Ah, and have someone bring your best herbalist to me and a list of all the herbs you have. I want to see if I can concoct the potion I need from them."