THE ARTIFACT (Part 7)

Chapter 1

Heat in the area of the back. I opened my eyes releasing a painful cry. The glowing ball greeted me with all its strength, brilliantly shining in the distance. I lay on a stone surface which, with its heat, reminded me that I was awake. I didn’t have to check reality, it was there, pinching me mercilessly.

Somehow, I stood up on my feet, noticing that my clothes were glued to my body. The heat and humidity of the air were unbearable. I felt like I was burning both from the outside and from the inside. My palate glued to my tongue, begging for any kind of liquid.

I was separating the clothes from the skin, feeling pain during every centimeter. This is very bad. I probably have blisters and burns that must be healed. I didn’t dare to look. I don’t need demotivation. Just to survive this hell.

Having scanned the surroundings, I saw only an endless wasteland paved with a stone surface. And the Glowing ball which mercilessly and consistently fried everything before it. Thoughts struck with all their sharpness. This is the fourth level of Sumtra. That I knew. The last thing I remembered was going to sleep in the hut on the first level. Sintia’s diary. She wrote that she doesn’t remember the second and third level. That must be the reason why I don’t remember either. She didn’t lie nor hide anything. I shook my head. Enough thinking. Time for movement. But where?

I wanted to strip all the clothes off myself. Not a smart idea. Bad for the skin. As paradoxical as it sounded I needed more clothes. To protect the skin. Step by step I started on a journey for which I didn’t know how it would end. But I wanted it to end as soon as possible. Before it becomes absolutely unbearable and forces me to give up.

After a few minutes of walking, in the distance, I saw something that looked like a gate. It certainly stood out from the flat stone surface rising proudly. Good, I am progressing.

Having approached I saw the inscription on the gate: Cemetery of the fallen on the path of heat.

Small tombstones. Many of them. The inscriptions on them were illegible. They melted. Once letters now they were only unclear patterns on the tombstones.

A touch on my right shoulder tore a howl from my mouth, painfully separating the palate from the tongue. An old woman, of a sunken face. How did I not see her?

“Sorry if I scared you”- she said in a raspy voice.

“Who are you?”- my voice sounded hoarse.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. It matters neither who I am, nor who you are. You won’t remember either me or my name anyway. It will evaporate quickly. This sun forces forgetfulness. You see these tombstones here. Those are all those who died on this level, wanting to escape from the heat. There is my husband too. There am I too.”

“How do you mean that you are there too.”

“You see this tombstone?”- she showed me with her hand the tombstone next to which we stood. “There am I buried. But you see, my husband continued further. I did not. This place holds me for some reason. It doesn’t let me leave.”- her voice with every word was more and more wistful.

“If you died how then do I see you. I felt your touch. Don’t joke with me, I am not in the mood for laughing.” - I tried to dispel the horror of the realization that in front of me perhaps stands a ghost. If what she talks is true.

“I am telling you, this place doesn’t let me leave. It is so merciless that it makes me physical from time to time.”

“But woman, do you hear yourself? Ghosts do not take physical form. It is impossible.”- my voice thinned out to the maximum, becoming almost a whisper.

“I am not a ghost. I don’t know what I am. The only thing I know is that I am dead. And that here lies my body. You know what is the saddest of all? I came to Sumtra as a young girl, with my husband. We just got married. This was our honeymoon. We wanted some adventure. We were wild and eager for new experiences. We never left from here.”

An indescribable sadness permeated with a cold shudder rushed through my body. I didn’t manage to process all the information when the woman touched me on the shoulder again.

“Oh, here he is, I think he came for me. Finally. Before I go, one advice. Go toward the sun. After some time, you will see an oasis. But it is in constant motion. All of us here tried to catch up with it. But you see for yourself...”- she said before she disappeared. In the blink of an eye. She was no more. She left me in all my horror, suffering and sad feeling because of her evil fate. She didn’t tell me her name. She said that I will forget and that it’s not important. But this encounter I will never forget. That is for sure.

Chapter 2

I wiped the sweat from my forehead with both palms. It poured down my face into my lips, leaving a salty taste. If I don’t find some liquid soon I will have to drink my sweat. The disgust of that thought didn’t make it less inevitable.

I don’t know how long I walked. I was losing liquid with every new step, making walking an exceptional effort. I couldn’t sit down to rest because everywhere around me was glowing stone. From time to time I crouched in order to at least briefly rest my legs.

My gaze was drawn by a bird. Am I hallucinating? Am I losing my mind slowly? With its beak it was tearing off parts of an undefined object from this distance. That was the only animal I saw so far. The only living being, actually.

I don’t know what species of bird. What I could see having approached maximally is that it tears flesh from a body that lies lifelessly. Seeing me it fearfully retreated a few meters upward still circling, as if it is just waiting for me to continue further. Or it wants to attack me too. A potential victim who is still walking. A delicious meal.

A lifeless body of a man in a state of advanced decomposition. No one buried him at the cemetery that remained far behind me. There was no opportunity, possibility. Of living people who would do it. In all that horror I saw that next to him lies a T-shirt in quite good condition. A little dirty which is logical but undamaged. Surely he took it off not being able to endure this hell anymore. It will serve me excellently. I will wrap it around my head, in that way protecting it from the heat.

The smell of sweat was irritating my nostrils. I inhaled air deeply through my mouth. It didn’t help much, considering that the humidity of the air was so high that it seemed to me like with a full breath I barely pull a little air into my lungs.

How much more do I have to trek? Should I just lie down and die here? If I only knew how much more there is to that oasis which the old woman mentioned. Then I could estimate whether I can reach it. Or there is no point in torturing myself. Is it just an illusion, a trick of my mind struck by an unrealistically high temperature? Or is it as real as a ghost can be? Many questions. The mind plays with me.

Angry and desperate, I crouched in the desire to once more rest my legs, with the thought that this is perhaps the last time that I am doing it. I wiped the sweat from my face for the who knows which time, along the way rubbing my painful eyes. Is that...? It is! That is the oasis! The moment of realization gives me additional strength. But I dared not allow euphoria to prevail. Every step had to be carefully designed. The old woman said that the oasis moves and that none of the dead could catch up with it. That doesn’t mean that it’s impossible to catch up with it. Even more so, Cynthia managed to catch up with it. She survived all the way to the last level. It means that it is possible and feasible. I will walk with a normal step until I see that it moves. I will estimate how much I can approach before it starts to run from me. And then I will see how to overcome that obstacle.

Fifty meters. Approximately, by my free estimation. At that distance the oasis moves. My every further step means the movement of the oasis by one step. Having approached at that distance, I could observe it in detail. A space of some twenty meters overgrown in grass with a small pond. That’s how it looked to me from here. Whether it was water or something else I couldn’t see. Even more so, the surface of that pond was murky.

A victorious thought struck me with all its might. But of course, the transitions to the next levels of the mountain are murky and foggy. That is it. I just need to get to there and pass through the haze. But how? By walking I cannot. By running? If the oasis does not move at the same speed as me then the solution is running. If it moves at the same speed as me then I have no idea what to do. It’s worth trying, even now at the end of my strength.

I will count to three. One...Two...

I ran. The oasis was not moving away from me. It was approaching me. Is that another illusion? Now, at the very end of strength, making the last effort I see that, finally, everything comes around for collection. In the end at least the path is eased. After a few seconds my hands were touching the green grass, checking whether it is real. It is real. The pond clouded by haze was also real. Finally, it is the end of this hell. Burned, scorched, full of blisters but happy. Another big step toward further is made. If it is this hard on the fourth level I wonder how it is on those later ones. No. I don’t want to think about that.

I jumped into the haze with the wish that the next level be colder and more pleasant.

-End of Part 7-