Oasis
Moat
I awoke to a dripping rag that was pressed to my forehead, and the murmuring of a voice hovering over me. My eyes opened slowly, squinting against the pounding of my head. Instantly, I feel my stomach lurch.
"Tsk, tsk," The blurry figure said, blotting my forehead with the wet rag. My vision was blotchy and unstable.
When my eyes began to focus, I could see that the person tending to me was actually a woman. Her plump lips were pursed in dismay. Dark, curly hair hung in front of her face in stray locks as she hovered over me, with the rest pulled back into a low bun. Her tan forehead was beaded with sweat.
"Easy now," she said quietly, pressing a hand on my chest as I tried to sit up.
"Wh--" I began, but my tongue was too dry to finish the sentence. Bewilderment began to get the better of my senses, and I twisted away, looking wildly around the room.
I was laying on a cot, covered in old, woven blankets. The room, or what was more likely a shack, had wooden walls, and a window on one of the them. There was no door, just a piece of fabric than hung and swayed in the entrance way. It was dim inside, except for light that came streaming in through the window, and the candles beside the cot.
The woman was kneeling next to me, dipping the rag in a bucket of murky water. She removed her hand from my chest to reach to her left, and brought a wooden bowl to my face.
"Water," she said, bringing it to my lips.
I excitedly opened my mouth, and drunk deeply. When she pulled away the empty container, I whined, unsatisfied.
"Not too quickly," she chided, patting my cheek with a gentle hand. Her arm was thick, but looked soft. She had a sad looking face.
I tried to sit up again, but the pain in my head seized my movement, and I laid still. After a short silence, I managed to find my voice.
"Where.. am I?"
She looked at me sadly, and dropped the rag she had been washing me with into the bucket with a soft plunk.
"Iron Dale," she said slowly, the word was foreign to my tongue. "You were asleep for almost two days. We watched you stumble off the stage and then hit the dust so quickly, I thought you were dead. My Lord didn't retract his payment of you, though."
I stared at her dumbly, the color leaving my face. I could feel my hands begin to shake.
"Payment?" I repeated. The word felt raw as it left my mouth.
She looked at me for a moment, and her expression was unreadable.
"You're lucky," She began, and I felt revolted at the word, "Most buyers would have left you there to die in the dirt. Those stupid brutes who brought you must have been truly neglectful, even if they were not as abusive as most."
I wondered what she meant by that. Surely the abuse of burning my world down to smoking, dark smithereens was something to gawk at. I felt my head swim with visions of the past week. A nauseous feeling began to grip at me coldly.
"Let me see where they lashed you," she said. I silently turned onto my stomach, exposing the welts on my back and legs. They had begun to heal already.
She dabbed the rag over my raised skin slowly, careful of causing pain.
"I'm responsible for you, for your first few weeks," She began, not hesitating with her movements, "I will be the hand here that guides you. You must listen as though your life depends on it. Because it does."
"What am I now?" I choked out.
She rocked back for a moment to look at me, with a hard look.
"Property."
The woman, whose named I learned was Mariel, tended to me dutifully throughout the day. I had spent a week on the edge of consciousness, and now that I was resting and getting food again, I could start to think about what had happened.
It all still felt surreal. In one instant, I was perched on top of my favorite cliff, breathing in the salty smell of water and listening to the sound of it crashing below me. In another instant, I was being forced away from the carcass of my home.
When my thoughts lingered there for too long, I felt my breathing get hitched in my lungs.
I sat up on the cot, and tried to comb my fingers through my hair. It was tangled and damp with sweat. I let out a low sigh, and glanced at the window. I didn't know what it meant to be property. My life was my own, and I expected it to be my own until it was taken away by death. To learn that it could be different was unsettling. I felt like the world I had been living in was a facade.
Mariel interrupted my thoughts, entering the room with a basket in hand. She fished out a roll of bread, and tossed it to me. I gnawed on it greedily, grateful to have something to eat.
"Slow down," she chuckled, shaking her head, "You'll get more."
I blushed and swallowed slowly, glancing away. Mariel sat next to me with the basket in her lap. It was fillled with bread and fruit.
I stared at it, wiping the drool from the corner of my mouth. My eyes watched her as she brought a roll to her mouth.
"How are you feeling?" She said between bites.
I didn't know how to answer. I felt weak, like my body had been squeezed dry. Mariel waited for me to speak, but I just shrugged, looking away.
She shook her head.
"It get's better."
I stared out the window, noting the orange hue of the sky. The sun had already begun it's descent. I wasn't sure how anything could get better, how I would feel anything besides broken for the rest of my life.
"Where is my sister?" I said suddenly, turning to look at Mariel.
"You should forget about her."
Fear swept through me. Hot tears spilled down my cheeks, dripping onto my bare chest. I hung my head. Mariel rested her hand on my shoulder, circling in slow motions. I shook with grief.
"It will do no good to cry," she said, slowly. Her hand squeezed me, before falling back to her lap.
I sniffed, embarrassed.
"What is your name?" Mariel asked, handing me another roll of bread. I had lost my appetite, but took it anyway.
"Tal," I said. "My name is Tal."
"Tal, tomorrow things will start changing. You must'nt fight it." Her eyebrows were raised together, in a worried expression. I tensed in response, not meeting her gaze. The fabric hanging over the doorway swayed into the room with a breeze. It was quiet.
After we finished eating, she rose slowly to her feet. Her thick figure swayed beside the door, and she glanced over her shoulder at me before silently leaving. The sun had set by then, and I gripped the cover of the bed with shaking hands. I had no choice anymore in the change around me. I felt as though I had been docile in the face of chaos. What more was I suppose to accept? The idea that I was to continue placidly accepting what was forced onto me filled me with rage. Even if I died doing it, I would fight. I would fight what I had failed to fight before.
That night, I couldn't sleep. My thoughts ran wildly around in my head, knocking me around. I thought about my family. I could hear the shrieking of the people in my village. I remembered the way my sister found me on the edge of our ruined town, her hands reaching for me through choking sobs.
Those words echoed inside of me. I felt like I was being rattled around by them. I squeezed my eyes shut so hard my head started to hurt. My back was damp with sweat. The room felt like it was closing in on me, and I wanted desperately to run outside.
But where would I go? I didn't know where I was, or where I could run. There was no place for me in this world anymore. I had no one. I didn't even have myself, I felt like a shell of who I was. I didn't know what to do with myself.
I wondered what my sister was doing now, if she was as afraid as I was. Did she have a room with a cot? Or was she huddled outside a tent, waiting to be bought by a stranger who would decide the rest of her life? Did she eat or drink anything since we were separated?
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an owl outside, its loud hooting made me jump. I listened to it for a long time, jealous of its freedom. Drowsiness assailed me then, and I succumbed.
In the morning, Mariel roused me before dawn. She entered the shack with an armful of clothing, and another basket of food. As I nibbled quietly on breakfast, she bustled around, laying down each garment on the floor and then glancing at me. She left suddenly, without a word, and when she came back into the tent she was carrying another basket. She motioned for me to sit up.
"Here," she said, picking a white linen shirt off the ground. It was long enough to go past my knees, "put this on quickly."
I pulled it over my head slowly, and stood up. The fabric hung below my knees. I felt ridiculous.
"Good, it looks good," she said, approaching me with a brush she had pulled out from the other basket. Before I could disagree, she began combing through my hair quickly.
"You have beautiful hair," Mariel noted as she worked, "good length and wavy. A nice look." When she finished brushing through it, she stepped back. Her eyes roamed over my body. I felt bashful under her gaze.
"Green eyes, dark hair, and tan skinned." She said. I looked at her, noting her appearance as well. Her eyes were an almond shape, with dark pupils. Her skin was tanned, and had few blemishes. The only display of age were the small wrinkles in the corners of her eyes, as well as a few gray streaks in her dark hair. I wondered how long she had been here, and if I would be here until the gray in my hair began to show.
"No wonder you sold so fast," she tsked, shaking her head.
"What are we doing?" I asked, unsure of why I was being doted on. I ignored her previous statement, nervousness bubbled in my stomach.
"You're being presented to your Master," she said, wiping my face with a rag I hadn't noticed before. I scrunched my nose up at the idea. I wouldn't accept a master, but I wanted to know more.
"Who is that?"
"An important man. The son of the general. You mustn't misbehave." She warned.
I felt like a child being warned not to act out, and the notion irked me. I would certainly not act like a lamb, while being forced in front of wolves.
"Do they speak that hideous language too?" I asked.
"They speak many languages. Watch your tongue, for they know ours."
I stood silent as she pushed my hair behind my ears. A belt was fastened around my waist, and another cloth draped over my shoulders. I felt too dressed up, constricted in my wardrobe. My nerves began to drown me, and I shook.
"I don't want to go outside," I said meekly, grabbing onto her arm as she fixed my clothing. She paused to look at me, and shook her head.
"It's not your choice anymore, Tal," she reminded me. Her voice was gentle, but carried a stern infliction. I began to feel desperate.
"I'll be with you," she said, coaxing me, "Just listen to what I tell you to do. Don't provoke them."
She grabbed my shoulder sternly, and pushed me forward, outside of the room that I had nestled me from the world. The motion was so fluid that I didn't have the opportunity to protest, and before I knew it, my bare feet stumbled onto the grass outside.