Lake - NaNo 4

ii

He looked out upon the lake and thought of water. There was now only the memory of water, and it was not his, but he could see it etched in every crack in the hard flat ground. The wind was warm upon his face and he closed his eyes, tilting his face towards the sun. It's warmth spread though his and re-energised him, dispelling the sleep that still inhabited his bones, now cast back until there was nothing but strength. Whatever strength that he could muster. He was wasting. They were all wasting, but slowly. This was not survival, this was a slow death. Even so, that was preferrable to submission. He reopened his eyes, the sudden brightness of the near midday sun causing him to squint once more until he accustomed to it. He had been up late, taking the evening watch into the middle of the morning, always the hardest one, causing him to feel sluggish and out of sorts during the day. There was no point in these watches, he knew that. They all knew that, but still they did it. Perhaps it was the need for something to do. Perhaps it stilled the panic and hopelessness that would slowly build if they were all just left to chew on dried winterplant all through the transitions. There was no way the Loom would send out for them here, not during the summerphase. As usual then, his watch had brought nothing to his attention and did no good for his temperament. He would presumably end up shouting at Fi again, and he hated it when his temper got the better of him, but nerves were frayed.

The landscape was unchanged. As it had been over the indeterminable amount of time that the settlement had been there. He supposed he should have been tired of the view – the same view no matter where he cast his eyes – but it was not unpossessed of a certain beauty. The flats bore towards the horizon until they met the base of a mountain range that encircled the old lake bed on every side. Some of the peaks surely scraped the heavens themselves, the tips if the canines doused in snow, giving them the appearance that they had rendered the clouds apart. He couldn't quite remember what lay beyond those peaks now, and was sure that he should be able to, but that was a lifetime ago, when ten times their current number had fled

civilisation

where ever it was they had dwelled before the Descent. That was when there had been hope, something that had evaporated along with all the drinkable water prior to the Descent. They should not have been able to survive, and indeed, most did not. It was only the ones whom evolution had seen fit to bless, the result of what their race had endured before on a place far from where they suffered currently. He wasn't sure of the details, merely thanked the gods (if there were still any that remained) that he was one of the blessed. He supposed it was not without irony that that which had driven them from their home all those generations ago should be linked with what they now endured. Perhaps they were just not meant to survive. Yet he had to believe otherwise.

Or did he?

He sighed and opened his pouch, pulling out some dried winterplant and chewing on it slowly. He was struck then how curious it was that the strange herb that grew in the cool transitions between the cracks on the flats should be so utterly tasteless. Another blessing, for if it had any taste at all then perhaps some should take a dislike to it, or others would perhaps grow bored of the dark matter. As it was, eating it was like chewing silicate, and was therefore tolerable consistently.

A blessing. The one thing there was to eat and the best thing that could be said about it was that it was tasteless.

He closed his eyes once more and tilted his head towards the sky. He should just sleep here, he felt such a strong pull to just lie on the flats and let himself sleep, for that power that had coursed through his veins was already dissipating. He was too weak, they all were. What if he had seen something last night? What if he saw something now? Even a lone figure of the Loom gliding over the arid surface would be enough to strike fear into him with such force as to render him mute and frozen. Even a lone figure would be enough to destroy them all, should it survive the journey. He knew of course that it would not, but still, there was an if. Could they run? If he opened his eyes now and saw that familiar silhouette approach silently. That abhorrent ticking noise slowly reaching him over the vast silence. Of course they couldn't. There was nowhere to go.

There was nowhere to go.

“Doh, are you actually sleeping standing up?” A voice said into his ear, startling him and causing him to suddenly lurch forward, losing his footing and sprawling on the hard dry surface of the flat. Dust billowed around him and he stood, turning and coughing furiously.

“Mey...” Doh spluttered, looking upon the older woman who had managed to somehow sneak up on him.

“I hope that this is not a reenactment of how you keep watch,” the woman – Mey – said, corners of her mouth turned upwards in a half smile, half sneer. “Else perhaps we would all be ash by now yes? Shovelled and spread.”

“What the hell are you playing at?” Doh retorted angrily. He should have known better, and he would pay for the insolence later he was sure. He was embarrassed, he should have been more alert. They all had to be alert. He prided himself on his youth and his power compared to the elders, yet here one had managed to shock him onto the salt. He was glad that they were far from camp. he dusted him self off, rubbing furiously at his skins, although they would never be clean, nothing ever was. He stood defiantly and glared at her.

Mey was surely was one of the oldest amongst them, and should not have been able to survive as long as she had. She must be second only to Mir, and he looked older than the mountains that bled the sky. Doh wondered now as he looked at her what she would have looked like in her youth. Despite the eyes that had grown narrow and the lips that had thinned (and seemed to be in perpetual mockery) her face was aesthetically very pleasing, features well aligned and proportioned. Her eyes were blue and piercing, sharp and very alive. She was a little taller than he, and possessed a grace and elegance that told him she must have been someone of importance or wealth back before the Descent. Certainly, she commanded attention whenever she spoke and they all listened, even Doh. No one would dare question her, a mistake he had just made.

She appraised him as he appraised her, he could feel her gaze. He knew that she was far less impressed with him than he of her, and knew also that she had not much to look upon. He knew of his shortcomings, his lack of height and athleticism despite his leanness. Yet he knew that mentally he more than made up for that fact, and prided himself on his perception and intelligence, which was more the reason that her sneaking up on him had angered him. It was well known in Remains that he was the most alert, a fact alluded to by him being consistently given the most mentally exhausting watch. They knew that nothing would escape him. Nothing would surprise him.

Except her.

Of course it had to be her. Even as he matched eyes with her however his mind worked furiously and pointed to one question only.

“Why are you here?” He asked her.

“Try again.” Mey responded coolly, eyes flicking from side to side as she read him.

“Apologies, please,” Doh said, remembering his place now he had calmed a little. “I ask what it is you need of me.”

“Better.” Mey replied, her expression hardening. “Although I should be asking you the same question.”

“I just needed to...” he began, Mey silencing him with and off-hand wave.

“He wishes to see you.” She said.

“Now?”

“Do not push me.”

“Why?” Doh asked, not needing to know of whom she spoke. There was only one who would ask for him. The structure of the township of Remains was simple. There was Mey, and there was Mir. There always had been and – so long as they seemed to defy mortality – there always would be.

“He will tell you, go.” She said, turning her back and walking back to the township leaving Doh standing once more alone. She would be expecting him to wait until she was there before him. It was protocol, unspoken and unwritten, but both elders travelled alone. Surely there was no need for such stuffy procedure. They were on the cusp of extinction yet staid and pompous ceremony remained. Perhaps it was such things that had doomed them all in the first place.

He waited until she was a scratch of dark just below the horizon and he made to follow.

What would Mir want with someone like him?