Jovan's Gaze. Aaron Ph.D. Dov
older man removed his eye protectors. His eyes were a striking green, wrinkled and kindly. He smiled, though his expression was mostly surprise. His hair was a darker brown, almost black, with gray scattered about his head. He was taller than me, perhaps by half a head, and clean shaven. His smile was perfect and white, something rarely seem outside the royal court. Soldiers often had such good teeth, but only because we were taught to keep healthy. Far too many peasants were not so well educated or clean, and their health suffered.
"Oya?" he said carefully, his voice deep and calm. "Oya Eissa?"
I shook my head. He grimaced, obviously disappointed that I could not understand him. He looked at me, right into my eyes. I could see him thinking. After a moment, he nodded.
"Eerta?" he asked.
Again, I shook my head.
"Hmm," he muttered. That, at least, I understood!
I echoed his perplexed grumbling, nodding my agreement. The man smiled and returned the nod.
A wave of nausea swept over me, and the desperate need for food came back to the forefront. I raised my hand to my mouth, and the soldier on the steps moved his weapon aggressively.
"Anral!" the soldier screamed from behind his mask. The voice, male, was deep and snarling, with a slight echoing quality to it. "Anral, egoe!"
I froze, but the older man held out his hand to steady the solider. He shook his head at him. He mouthed words to the solider, and in a moment, the echo-voiced warrior lowered his weapon and stepped back, rising to a less aggressive posture. The old man turned back to me. He mimicked my aborted movement.
I repeated it, making the motions of putting food in my mouth.
"Food," I said. "Please, I need food. I am very sick. I need help." It was a plea, but they did not understand me. Where was that little girl, who seemed to know the words?
As if to answer my inner-prayer, the girl's voice announced itself. Again, I could not see the girl. Was she hiding from me? Was I that fearful to the eyes, in my current state?
"Food," the girl spoke from thin air. "Grama."
"Grama?" the old man repeated, looking into the air, as if addressing some god. "Food?"
There was an odd chirp from somewhere in the hut. Then, another word from the formless girl echoed in the air. "Help. Srelik."
The old man nodded, and turned back to me. "Food?" he said, repeating my hand motion.
I nodded. He smiled, and nodded enthusiastically. Obviously, he was trying to help. The second soldier, the one who had set aside his weapon and approached first, reached into a pouch sewn into his armor. He took out some small thing, wrapped in what seemed like, oddly enough, shiny metal cloth. He tore it. It was a wrapper, and inside, though looking more like a small brick about the length of two fingers, and about as thick as one, was food. I could smell it. It had a fruity scent to it. My eyes focused on it as though it were the greatest treasure on all of Theris.
The soldier handed it to me. I took it with a nodded thank you, and shedding its metal-cloth wrapping, which was smooth and light, I bit into it. It had an odd texture, and was slightly sticky. It had oats of some sort, and what seemed like berries. I worked away at it. It was tough to chew, but that was mostly my exhaustion. I sighed in relief, and slowly ate the entire morsel. As I ate, the soldiers watched silently. The old man smiled.
When I was finished I handed back the metal-cloth to the solider. He set it aside carelessly, as though it were of no value. He nodded to me curtly. I needed more, and pointing to his pouch, gestured for more. Certainly, I could think of better behavior for a guest in this bizarre place, but I needed food. At the old man's agreement, I was given another morsel of food. It disappeared down my throat quicker than the first.
After a moment, the old man looked to the soldier, and gestured to a chair. He pointed to it, and I nodded. With their help, both of them, each one with a hand under an arm, I was lifted from the floor and set into a wheeled chair. The old man reached down to the base of the chair, where the wheels were, and moved a lever. The wheels no longer turned, and I was able to hold still.
The old man stepped past me, moving deeper into the hut. I was too tired to turn to follow his movements. Perhaps I should have. As I accepted a canteen from the soldier's belt, the old man shuffled about behind me. I could hear him open something, one of the cabinets perhaps, and then close it. I was too busy enjoying the water to bother looking behind me.
I saw it in the reflection from the soldier's eye covers. The old man had something in his hand, like a round dagger's handle, but no blade. In a swift motion I had not expected from an older man, he took hold of my shoulder, and jabbed me in the neck with his tool. I felt something drive into my neck.
The entire world burst into pain and flame. I could not even scream.
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