Uncharted

[Caira Ayryn]

Part Ten: Resurrection

Trapped like a corpse, she waited another five minutes before beginning to strategize how to maneuver her fist to the plank in front of her, with enough room to apply at least some force. Slowly the pounding began, the pounding on her very own coffin. But the pressure of the force overhead was great, ten feet of sand had filled the crevasse, after all. It would have been easier if she had enough room to twist her body and pound downward, but this was as treacherous as it could get, and if she moved her weight that much, she had reason to think that spears would come up from the baseboard. (Caira detected the metal fragments of the contraption and didn’t want to risk bleeding out into a slow death, even if she attempted to use the hover board she lay on as a buffer.)

Thud, thud, thud. The noises of her own fist against the magic reinforced wood. It was evident it was not just bewitched with Merik's own 'magic' but had hired a mage who mastered in black magic to do some dirty work.

The sound of her own pounding was maddening as it began to match the racing beat of her heart, (or the sound of someone knocking on her chamber door...) She could feel the trickle of blood smear on the roof of the casket, and the bruising only became worse after she began to reinforce her efforts with an impact punch.

Still, with every punch, the vibrations reverberating seemed to show a hint of progress as the nails outlined to have moved about a sixteenth of an inch (basic Senses). Great, just a thousand more and I’ll be free. she thought sarcastically, and had now began to alternate her fists rapidly yet at a pace that might conserve energy.

It became more stuffy, and though the heat from the sun did not puncture as low as ten feet below, she could feel a sticky warmth encase the sand above that told her the sun had come out, and it was probably high noon.

She allowed herself a short break and felt how raw her knuckles had become, yet, though her feet could probably do more, it would take actual space for a swing of a kick to do any real damage. Her balled fists didn’t want to move from their tense position, yet with some wincing Caira forced them to press against the roof, with the added pressure of her feet. As she did this, she hoped to slide the plank off of the nails some, and it worked, so she continued as it applied a good amount of force for a smaller amount of effort.

Her breaths drew in and released with sighs at the end of every single one, I won’t die trapped she tried to keep her mind determined but there wasn’t enough hope to avail for his transgressions that seemed secure.

Caira was sure her bone was being scraped away as the wood grazed the bone, she would sooner crack the wood in half (and be smothered alive by the sand) than the nails simultaneously unscrew themselves. Still her pounding knuckles continued against the sand, another impact punch almost shattered the wood, but made great progress on the nails. The end was in sight, or so she hoped.

With a heavy breath, she repeated the impact punch, and immediately the casket’s lid imploded, her left hand reached for her hover board as sand filled the coffin that she would have slumbered in if not for her speedy reaction.

Now her figure idled in sand, having caught a half breath and squeezed her nose shut with her right hand, she could sense the hover board’s switch, her savior, as she inched toward it, still suspended.

Her fingertips traced the sleek body of the board before hitting the button that would grant her air. The silver board immediately caught her by surprise and with an “oof!” as the remaining air was forced from her lungs, the board burst with air that propelled her to the surface.

Her eyes winced at dusk’s irritating light, making her flinch due to her now adjusting eyes and she had never been happier to have been slammed in the chest by her hover board.

She caught her breath and the mounds of sand slipped from off of her back.