Jovan's Gaze. Aaron Ph.D. Dov
west, yet I could walk upon them. The sand in the air was like the water-mist, yet it did not soak me down. There was a sort of serene, severe beauty to this place. I wondered if, in our distant past, anyone had ever attempted to make a home here. I shook my head. That would be foolish. What water or food was there, but what was carried?
I lay there for hours, watching the moon slowly creep across the night sky. The stars were beautiful, so clear and bright. They twinkled. I watched a shooting star, and then a second. Then two of them seemed to streak across the sky together, side by side, until at the last moment, they parted ways. One seemed to pull away from its mate, and seek a more easterly route from its northbound fellow. I had never seen a shooting star do that, but perhaps the desert heat and the lack of food had simply made it seem so. Of course, until the magic plagues and the exodus, I had never seen a shooting star at all. Even the stars were dying, thanks to our foolishness.
I pulled my pack from my back, and taking out my still-full water bladder, washed down a small gulp of water. It felt good, and though warm, the feeling swept down from my throat. I re-capped the bladder and lay back against the dune. I closed my eyes.
And so I slept.
When next I awoke, the sun was just beginning to set in the west. I could still see the mountains, and the sunlight danced upon their peaks. It reminded me of a castle's ramparts, ablaze, though at the same time it all seemed so very peaceful. I had slept through the night and most of the day, but to wake up to the sight of those mountains was worth it. I might never have looked back, had I not lost my footing and chosen to rest. It was a small comfort.
My skin thought otherwise. It was parched, dry, and peeling. I felt as though I wore a stinging, burning mask. My throat was likewise scorched. I reached for the water bladder, but it was not there. I felt a strong surge of panic race through me. I looked about me, and saw my pack. It was half buried. I reached my right hand down into the sand, and there, thankfully, was the bladder. Even the desert sands would try to take my life.
Yet, was that not what I wanted? For some reason I could not discern, I heard something within me cry 'No!' No, I did not want death. I had nothing to live for, and yet my instincts demanded that I push onward. I did not know why. What possible life was there for me? I could not return to the west, and to the east was only death.
It was then that I realized that my dreams had been different during the night now past. Though I could not recall their details, I knew one thing for sure. The eyes of the statue had not haunted me. I took that as a sign, encouraging if not entirely positive. Something had changed. Something.
I stood up, and replacing the water bladder in my pack, turned to the east. I put on the pack, and with a nod, started to walk up the dune. I took a step, and another, each step a confirmation that I had chosen life over death. Each step took me upward, until I stood atop the dune which had thrown me from its crest the night before. I reached its top, gazed outward to the dunes before me, and looked toward my future.
It was then I saw them. Lights. They were off my left shoulder, far to the north. The swirling sands, cast about by the slight wind that always seemed to find me, hid their origin. Still, it was unmistakable. Lights. Three of them, arrayed side by side. I was reminded of the torches atop a tower, or the ramparts of a castle. They did not flicker as torches did, but at this distance, I might not see that anyway. They seemed to pulse on and off. I nodded. Patrols, soldiers pacing out their routes, passing in perfect timing in front of the torches. That was likely what I was looking at.
There was something out here after all. I had found life, though I knew not what. Surely our people, in a mere fifteen years, had not crafted walls and ramparts. From where would they find building materials? I could not imagine that even the mages could conjure brick from sand. Still, there was the evidence; three lights. No doubt as I approached, the details would reveal themselves.
I made my way northward, and yet I felt a terrible unease begin to grow inside of me. I felt watched, the way a soldier on patrol knows the enemy's scouts are nearby. I felt eyes upon me, watching, listening, waiting. After perhaps ten minutes of walking, I heard a terrible metal groan. I stopped. I reached for my sword, but of course it was not there. I was unarmed. I held myself silent, and unmoving.
The groan came again, metal against metal. Then there was a rumbling, and the ground began to shake. The sands shifted, and I started to slowly slide down the dune as the sand was rattled loose. I steadied myself. I did not know of anything which could cause such a rumbling, save perhaps a great army. The groaning? Was that some great war-machine, like the siege towers I saw used to assault Krona's great eastern fortress?
The rumbling did not go away, nor did it increase. Still, it was there. I started to back away. Suddenly, the prospect of seeing the lights and their owners up close did not seem so appealing. I started eastward at a good pace. I did not run, lest whatever lay off in the distance decide to pursue. I did not want to provoke it, whatever 'it' was.
I walked briskly, not stopping my journey all the night long. The lights always seemed the same distance away, yet the groaning did eventually stop. I started to wonder if I was being stalked by some massive beast, with three glowing eyes to watch me from a distance. Did it blink from the sand, as it kept its eyes upon me?
By the time the sun lifted out from below the underside of Theris, the wind had whipped itself up into a terrible storm. I could barely see beyond my hand. I removed my shirt and wrapped it about my head, lest my eyes and throat be smothered by the swirling, harsh, burning sands. The wind howled in my ears, roaring its displeasure. Still, I pushed on.
Every so often I looked off my left shoulder, northward. The beast was still there. The ground still rumbled, and once in a while the beast let out a groan. I would increase my pace, or turn slightly to the south, yet it was always there. I was indeed being stalked, and I could do nothing about it. So I plodded eastward, hoping that eventually the beast would give up and turn away.
During the daylight, when the winds seemed most angry, I began taking shelter against the sides of the dunes. I draped my jacket over me, and waited for the night. The winds would roar and the sands would grind against me, such that I feared I would awake from fitful sleep to find my skin burned away, my body left raw. Yet every evening I awoke to find myself more or less intact. The sun would be gone, the moon overhead, and the beast in the distance. Always, the beast was there. Always, it watched me with its three blinking eyes.
I walked through the nights, careful to ration my water and food. After four days of this, with the beast still stalking me, I squeezed out the last drop from the water bladder. A day later, the food ran out.
The dunes to the east still seemed endless.
The beast was still there, in the distance. Its three pulsing eyes watched me, blinking.
As the sun set, I once again began to walk. The beast was still there, and so were the winds and the sand. Still, I walked eastward. Without water, I had no more than four days left to me. I could not waste it sitting idle. If I was to live, to defy the sands and the wind and the beast in the distance, I would have to walk.
I walked. I was careful to avoid climbing atop steep dunes, and when the wind picked up, I took shelter. These things would sap my strength, a resource which was now waning, and very limited. I slept as much as possible, and kept my shirt over my mouth to conserve moisture. Still, it was a battle I would not win.
Two days after my water was finally consumed, I felt not a bit closer to finding life in this sandy wasteland. I crested a dune, tapping my slight reserves of strength. I needed to see into the distance, even if the struggle upward would tire me all the more.
From the top of the dune, I looked about me. I saw that the beast was still off in the distance, watching me with its three blinking eyes. It seemed further away, as if it were backing off. To the south, there was not but dunes. To the east, I could see little, save the clouds of dust whipped up by the wind. Yet there was something there. I breathed in. I tasted salt on the wind. Salt.
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