The Watch
(A short excerpt from "House of Danu")
I could see quite far - my gaze reached the dried river bed and its meanders, with no technological or jiva improvement. I winced and shook my hands. My fingers had gone numb after unconsciously digging into the hard stone of the protective wall, turning my chuckles white; I had hoped to spot a lonely figure on a windbike.
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The desert fanned out, devoid of movement, framed by the sharp, angular lines of the distant mountain range. I stared at the horizon, straining with disappointment as if, by my willpower, I’d make my husband reappear. Trepidation slithered along my spine. By habit, I offered a quick prayer to the One for the safe delivery of the ore.
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No new aggressors have appeared since. Our people were out of danger, at least for now.
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Alone for the moment, I monitored the parameter from my vantage point, reassuring myself we were protected behind those high walls, electronic fences, protective devices and laser cannons. Yet, the nagging sensation of hardness in my gut stayed put. Something wasn’t right, and I was powerless to tell what it was. The silence struck me as ominous. Did Death roam around, searching for new souls to reap?
The wind grew chilly.
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Somewhere down below, one man coughed and shouted garbled words, and another replied. Then, an engine burst to life, and then died off. They were testing the cannons, I reckoned. They still had issues with the cooling system. I exhaled.
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Dry gusts of desert breeze ruffled my hair and swiped some particles under my goggles, irritating my eyes and making my thoughts drift away. Water welled on my lashes. Sand penetrated everywhere - reddish and insistent. It crunched between my teeth every time I closed my mouth, nagging and disagreeable, and I tasted it on my tongue - salty and earthy. Notwithstanding lord Danu’s warnings to take care of myself more, I was careless - slapping minimal protection on my body despite the worsening situation. I bet he’d irritated if he found out I still hadn’t donned the chainmail between my layers. I’d become blind without protective eyewear - the coarse fragments scratching at my retinas after prolonged exposure. At least the used, rough-spun work clothes blocked the majority, but in exchange chafed my skin at the most sensitive places.
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It was my choice to toil here, I reminded myself. I wouldn’t leave Bronwyn imprison me in the stronghold and weaken me to a brainless, obedient female only thinking about feasts and gossip.
A sigh escaped my chapped lips, and I licked them, moistening the cracks. I shook my head and marched down, ducking under the low arch of the hidden entryway, disguised as a decorative battlement. By luck, the laboratory stood quiet and empty, smelling of disinfectants. The still air brushed my skin - fresh and humid. I rinsed my eyes and wiped the extra moisture clinging to my lashes with the first piece of clean fabric my hands touched. The water helped me - my face was papery dry, like my insides. My trembling, impatient fingers tore at a corner of a hydrating ration and I drank the rose liquid with big, eager gulps.
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