Genre: Dystopian, Fantasy, Sci-fi short story
Bardur crashed to his knees under the scorching sun of the Nihaya desert. His mind ached at the fleeting thoughts of distant memories. He felt like he’d been journeying for ages, driven by a madness that fueled his body. His head was heavy. Images flashed before his eyes, of blood and carnage. He had to reach the heart of Infernium and revive it, his tribe depended on it. The drought had been the worst, and his people were suffering for it, tearing limbs and sucking on bodies for drops of oil.
Loose patches of synthetic skin flapped to the winds. Bardur had shed most of his outer shell, losing it to the melting heat. His exposed exoskeleton was caking, and his gears churned in agony, spitting the smothering sand. The sound of the struggling metal belts tortured his ears, grinding dry, and his engine roared in hunger and spat suffocating fumes.
He could not fail, not when he had crossed so far, not with everything on the line.
Bardur uncorked the flask dangling from his neck. His decaying nostrils flared, taking the smell before it withered to the wind. The scent of oil awakened his senses for a second, but then his thirst hit hard, digging into his heart as he squirmed. Even empty, the flask weighed a ton on his failing arms. He lifted it to his mouth and waited, his eyelids closed in prayer. His breathing intensified. He opened his eyes and waited, staring at the darkness of the hole. A single droplet of oil trickled down the lid and fell to his tongue. Bardur grunted. His feet dug in the sand, and harnessing all his strength, he pushed to stand up. He dragged his legs one after the other, struggling to keep them from sinking. He coughed, and spat, and his engine clunked. His life was nearing the end.
But then, a distant thumping awakened his will to survive. Holding on to a thread of hope, Bardur shuffled atop a dune, and froze. He was looking at it, standing in all its magnificence, the heart of Infernium. He had made the impossible crossing.
Bardur tumbled down the hill and crawled to the great machine. How was it alive he could not tell, but where the heart pounded into the earth, there was bound to be oil.
Indeed, the smell of oil intensified as Bardur stepped near the beating heart. It had been revived before his arrival, his tribe must have been safe already. He rejoiced at the thought and dropped to the pit and drank his fill, basking his body in the thick black liquid. His gears went quiet, their motion smooth, his engine sang, and his eyes burned with renewed energy. Blessed be whatever revived the heart before him, pumping oil into the underground channels, feeding the rivers that reached his tribe.
Bardur filled his flasks for his journey, and ran back towards his village, excitement filling his heart. But upon his return, there were no cheers, no laughter, and no warm welcome. Only silence, an eerie silence that plunged into his heart like knives. There were shreds of metal scattered along the alleys, remnants of corpses and a life that once was.
Bardur ran to his hut, stumbling upon the scraps of metal. He kicked his door open. The drained skeleton of his mother sat at the center table before him, and it all came back to him in a whirl, the terrors that eluded his mind. She was the last one he bled dry.
The tribe had went for days without oil. Few had the courage to venture into the desert, to awaken the heart of Infernium, but none had returned. The villagers’ lives waned as they struggled. Bardur had went on a frenzy. He killed them all in his rage, even his mother was not spared. When his thirst was quenched and his madness settled, when he saw his mother dead on the floor, he picked her up and sat her at the table in his hut, choking on his sorrow.
The gush of memories were too strong for Bardur to withstand. His guilt suffocated him. The room swirled around him, his head was heavy, his legs failed, and he crashed to the floor in a loud thud, knocking himself out.
Bardur opened his eyes, and scratched at his head. “Good morning mother,” he said, as he stood from the floor and walked to the table. He placed an arm on her shoulder. “You don’t have to worry anymore,” he whispered. “I will save you, I will save you all. I’m going to revive the heart of Infernium, and I will end the drought,” he smiled.