Mining was to be done at the hour of the shadows. The purple color of the sky heralded the silence of the winds as if by some strange design, the winds eased up on their urgings. Silence fell upon the land, miners dashed with their hammers, their pickaxes, anything they could get their hands on. It was the time of mining, time of peace, but when the sky started to turn. It was a time of hiding.
Arash scoffed at the cowardice of his people, but being stuck in the raging winds, and being slapped around by the formless hands of the dust. He saw the sense in the old ways. He stared above, beyond the clouds of dust, searching for the rivers. Behind the veils of dust, they shone with a dim crimson hue. He squinted to make out the sky beyond the rivers, but the wind made it impossible.
"Fucking Hell!" He cursed, as he rubbed out the dust from his eyes. He glanced at the dozen wooden masts, trailing towards the mana deposits; He groaned in exasperation as he peered at his sides.
The Land appeared to be alive, breathing to a strange rhythm. Small dust devils twirled at the horizon, blinking in and out of existence. He saw one of the devils hurtling in his direction, his heart nearly gave out. Fear gripped his heart, his hands moved like lightning, as he fastened himself to the mast. He could feel the winds picking up.
"Please work!" He closed his eyes, arms and legs locked around the wooden pole, face jammed into the wood, breathing with short sharp puffs. Suddenly the devil came, the first thing he noticed was the rush of the sound, then came the dust as it whipped him, scratched his skin and then the silence.
"What's going on?" He raised his head a little. Suddenly the sounds came back, slamming his head into the post. "Ah!!" he groaned in pain and felt a strange wetness on his forehead. "Blood!"
His head throbbed with stinging pain, as he once again held the post like his life depended on it. "What the fucking was I thinking?" He asked himself, as the dust devil wrecked havoc around him.
Arash remained plastered to the pole even after the devil left. The throbbing pain on his forehead, the scratches on his face and arms made him wary of the wind; Afraid even. His face had been cake with a thick layer of dust. He coughed, blowing out a cloud of dust.
Dust stung his eyes, it was hard to see. He vigorously rubbed his eyes, trying his best to rub away the stinging feeling in his eyes. He felt the wind on his body. "It's getting milder" He gauged the distance from the mine.
"I should able to cross it... 5 to 6 meters at most" He unfastened the rope, judged the wind. He held the lasso at hand, ready for any tricks of the wind.
He dashed towards the glowing deposits as his life depended on it. His heart drumming in his head, he used all his body to feel the slightest changes in the wind, just as he was about to reach the shelter the wind picked.
He clenched his jaw and lunged for the shelter, rolling towards his destination. The pickax did a mean number on his back, but he managed to roll towards the shelter. Finally, under the security of the deposits did he relax.
Suddenly, he broke into a fit of wheezing and coughing. He blew out dust that had blocked one of his nostrils and spat our nearly black phlegm.
He heard a strange droning sound. He turned towards the jagged mana deposit. It appeared to be made of glass. It shone with a deep azure light, slowly alternating between darker and lighter hues of blue. It appeared to be delicate as if the slightest touch would shatter it. but Arash had two years of experience to know how hard was to mine it.
"Strange. " He frowned at the strange behavior of the mana stones. He had been mining for nearly two years, but he never saw the stones flicker.
"Where is that sound coming from?" He heard the droning sound again, louder and more pronounced. Gaining momentum with each passing moment.
He could feel his body vibrating to the same rhythm, a sense of relief washed over him as it became hard for him to stay awake. He stared at his surrounding with a dazed look. The deposits around him responded with their own songs, a strange cacophony assaulted his consciousness.
"Ah!!" He howled in pain. Holding his head in his arms, but the sound didn't stop, neither did the pain. It felt as if someone was battering him with a hammer. Slow and steady in his strikes. He covered his ears, but the sound didn't stop.
He convulsed in pain as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Blue veins bulged on his forehead, he thrashed around in pain, finally dropping on his back. All his struggles came to a jarring stop, as the rivers in the sky shone on him. He heard the cry of the souls, heard their calls. it brought him relief from his torture. The droning stopped and so did that horrible pain.
He broke into helpless sobs as he stared at the sky. It felt as if his mind had been shredded to pieces. It took a while for him to get his bearings.
It pained him to form any cohesive thoughts. He took out his engraved rod and felt the wood with his fingers. The sensation of the wood against his fingers brought him little relief, helped him get his bearings, his fingers danced around the engraved rune as he slipped into a trance…