Mark ran his fingertips over the stubble on his cheeks. While he usually kept his face meticulously shaven, he wasn’t fundamentally opposed to the look. If kept in form, it could look quite good. In a slightly roguish kind of way.
The problem was, he didn’t feel at all roguish at that moment. And the outline of his beard wasn't sufficiently in form at all.
Sitting in the wooden boat he watched Atissa and Iristos work the oars. When they had departed from the beach, he had wanted to take one. But everybody thought that was inappropriate and that the teenage girl should do it instead. Atissa apparently agreed with that. She was working the piece of wood without complaining.
Mark let his gaze trail over the water. The shore was moving by at a steady pace. After passing Logger’s Lake without being spotted they had crossed a network of waterways and smaller lakes, steadily getting closer to the mountains.
During the council, the men had explained that the lakes would end in a river that connected the valley to the outside world. They were supposed to reach the valley’s last lake by morning.
Mark couldn’t wait to get out of there. Wherever here is, he thought. Once again reminded that he clearly wasn’t on earth. Or at least not in the present day.
He pushed this line of thought to the side once more. Speculating without sufficient information was a waste of time. He didn’t allow his brain to go through the list of options modern entertainment had filled it with. Instead, he focused on the here and now.
Observe and adopt, he reminded himself. What was good advice when starting a project with a new customer organization, held also true for life. As a general rule, it was never good to be categorized as an outsider. Humans were social animals. Cut off, one died in the wilderness. Here that might be literal, he thought, watching the endless trees pass by. Unless you bring the right skillset.
He glanced over at Atissa.
He couldn’t help but be impressed by the girl. Considering the last twenty-four hours, most women, or rather most people, he knew would have fallen apart. Resilience. Maybe these people just naturally had more of it. There wasn’t much comfort in a bronze tool world.
Mark’s eyes dropped to the axe they had taken from the warriors. Atissa had split the former owner's head with it. The second man she had killed in that fight. Still, so far, she seemed fine. I can only hope not to be around should she eventually crack, he thought.
He felt mostly fine, despite only getting a couple of hours of sleep at the refugee camp. It hadn’t been particularly restorative, but he’d thrived on very little sleep before during busy periods at work. And he knew he would be ok once he got out of this barbarian warzone and somehow back to work. Life was about staying busy.
“Cliff Lake is behind the next curve, master,” Iristos said. Mark turned to look ahead. A first glow over the mountains to the east announced the coming morning. Apparently, they had made good time.
“The camp is on the other side,” the young man said. “The people there probably don’t even know about the attack on Logger’s Home yet.” The thought seemed to just have occurred to him and he looked unsure what to do with it.
Iristos reminded Mark of some of the construction workers he had met during his years working as an engineer. Before Anne…before I switched careers, he thought.
Iristos was clearly not the smartest guy around. But he was strong and competent in his handling of the boat. Tall and broad in the shoulders he was a mirror image of Ipras. Working the oars with Atissa the two were an unsymmetrical picture. It had taken them a couple of minutes to find their rhythm as Iristos’ strokes were much more powerful.
“We will take another break there,” Mark said. It was not a question. They had discussed it in the council.
“Yes, we better rest up,” Iristos said, looking unsure at Atissa. “The river…will be harder.”
If she noticed, she decided to ignore it, stoically working her oar. Mark had to smile. It came with a pang of sadness. He remembered a girl in a gymnast uniform with the same attitude. For some reason, he didn’t push the memory aside this time.
Their boat turned the corner and with the first light of morning, they rowed out on a lake half the size of Logger’s Lake.
“There it is,” Iristos said.
Looking in the indicated direction, Mark spotted a group of four or five houses on the opposite shore.
“How many people live here?” he asked.
“Not many,” Iristos said. “We gather here when we collect the wood from the different camps and prepare the Drive.”
The loggers called the annual transport on the river the Drive. They compared it to driving cattle and joked that cattle were probably better behaved than the long tree trunks on the mountain river.
Somebody must have spotted them. When they reached the wooden pier a small group of people had come together to greet them. There were two women, two boys that looked a bit younger than Atissa, and a couple of smaller children.
When Iristos climbed on the pier and tied up the boat, the older of the two women stepped forward to meet them.
“Greetings, Iristos. What brings you here this time of year?” she asked in a resolute tone. She wore a headscarf like most of the women and older girls Mark had met so far. Based on her face and her uncovered arms he guessed she was in her thirties. But he couldn’t be sure given how these people lived.
“Greetings, Dennia. I am to bring them to Riadnos,” Iristos said, pointing at Mark and Atissa.
“With Tepras’ boat?” the woman, Dennia, asked. “How will he get it back?”
“I…the council decided it,” Ipras said.
Great, Mark thought, climbing on the pier, one of those. Straightening himself he accepted his hiking stick from Atissa.
“Maybe you can introduce us, Iristos,” he said.
Apparently just noticing him now, Dennia’s eyes widened slightly when she spotted the stick.
“Ah..yes. This is master Mark,” Iristos said, unsure about the unfamiliar task. “And this is Dennia….ah.”
Whatever Dennia might have thought when she had noticed Mark, her irritation with Iristos’ fumbled introduction broke the spell. She waved him to be quiet and stepped forward to bow her head to Mark.
“Master Mark, I greet you welcome. I am Dennia, wife of Jennos. I’m afraid my husband is on the Drive and cannot welcome you in person.”
“Thank you. I hope we won’t inconvenience you too much. We would like to take a break before we go down the river.”
Mark had become more accustomed to playing the magi role. He wasn’t very comfortable with it as he didn’t know, yet, what exactly a magi was. Not being able to fulfill people’s expectations could get him into trouble. On the other hand, being seen as a weird stranger might do that even quicker. For now, he just went with it.
“Please, come.” Dennia gestured for them to follow. “My family has already begun their chores, but we will prepare you a meal.” She quickly walked over to the small crowd and gave out instructions. Reluctantly, they dispersed.
“I assume strangers are an uncommon sight around here?” Mark asked Dennia, while they walked.
“Very. It is quite lively here when the men come for the Drive once a year. But they return over the pass”, Dennia pointing towards the mountains,” so we mostly only get to meet people when we go to Logger’s Home for feast days. Did you come through the western pass, master Mark?”
Mark hesitated before answering. “I came from far away and don’t know these mountains at all. Without these two as my guides, I would get lost in the woods immediately.”
Dennia nodded politely and indicated for them to take place around the table in front of the biggest house. Luckily for Mark, she didn’t even question his evasive answer. She wasn’t the first. Him being ambiguous seemed to confirm something to these people, rather than make them suspicious.
Whatever these magi were, so far, he seemed to fulfill the role.
“I am afraid, we don’t have much bread left, but there is cheese and meat,” Dennia said, with a quick look to Atissa that Mark could not read. “My boys are good hunters.”
Mark took a seat on the wooden bank, grateful to be able to use the house as a backrest. Despite his dedication to daily workouts, his body wasn’t used to sleeping on the ground and sitting on stones.
“Please, master,” Dennia said, gesturing towards the seat at the head of the table. Mark glanced over to Atissa and Iristos, who looked at him expectantly. They hadn’t taken their seats yet.
This must be a seat of honor thing, Mark thought, reluctantly giving up the house wall.
Having taken the seat at the head of the table his companions took their seats as well. The expectant looks were still there.
It took Mark a second before it dawned on him. You expect me to tell these people that their neighborhood is being invaded and on fire, he thought. Great.
Being a shootable messenger of bad news was a typical job you hired a consultant for. Mark generally left such projects to his colleagues with business degrees, preferring what he considered productive work.
He sighed. “Dennia, we bring some urgent and bad news. The village, Logger’s Home, was attacked and conquered. The inhabitants had to flee. Your leaders sent us to inform your people in Riadnos.” He nodded to Atissa, trusting her easily over Iristos to string sentences together.
Dennia looked from him to his companions. The frown on her forehead betrayed her doubt.
“It is true,” Atissa said while Iristos nodded. “An Assanaten troop attacked Logger’s Home yesterday. Ipras and the others think they must have come over the eastern pass.”
Dennia paled. “The boys…they said they saw smoke in the distance…,” she said quietly as the news sank in.
To Mark’s surprise, she caught herself almost immediately.
“What do the elders want us to do?” she asked.
Resilient, he thought once more.
Atissa gave him a questioning look and received an encouraging nod. “We…the elders asked master Mark to meet our men in Riadnos. We’re supposed to ask the anax for help.”
“What about everybody else?” Dennia asked, her eyes wandering to her family members that were going about their tasks close by.
“They’ve sent out messengers to warn the other camps,” Mark said. “The elders will lead everybody to the entrance of the eastern pass. They want to wait as long as they can and then cross over the mountains. We’re to ask Tepras to meet them halfway with supplies and clothing.”
Dennia nodded. “They lost the boats when the village was taken.”
“Yes,” Iristos said quickly.
Dennia ignored him.
“We do have a boat here, but it’s not big enough for all of us,” she said, before pausing a moment. “The girl will bring you food. I must tell the others about what’s happened while you eat.”
Back to being the resolute host she turned around to leave. After two steps she stopped and turned back to them. “I don’t know how I could forget this…. There is another stranger here.” She pointed towards one of the other houses.
“What stranger?” Atissa asked alarmed, slightly raising.
Visitors seem to be a truly uncommon occurrence in this place, Mark thought. He held the deep hope that this valley could be considered among the worst of backwaters in this world. You never appreciate the simple things until they are gone. Like toilets. And other things. He glanced down Dennia’s mostly covered legs, keeping control of his facial expression.
“The boys found him while hunting two days ago,” Dennia said. “He was lying on a trail, so they decided to bring him here.” Her eyes were full of concern. She clearly had complex feelings about her boys bringing home strangers.
“Can you show us?” Atissa asked eagerly. Then remembering herself she looked to Mark as if asking for his confirmation.
“Please,” Mark said. He was unsure if he was comfortable with the leadership role, he had been tossed into. For now, there seemed to be no choice but to play along.
They rose and followed Dennia to the house. Mark noticed that Atissa had one hand on the short copper knife she carried on her belt.
“Iristos”, he said, “maybe get the axe from the boat. Just to be safe.” He glanced at Dennia to observe her reaction to his precautions.
“Of course, master,” she said immediately, bowing to him.
Great. Another person deferring to me, Mark thought. I’ll have to start charging a daily rate soon.
Iristos hurried off.
“Get my bow, too!”
Iristos confirmed he’d heard Atissa’s request with a wave, without looking back.
The tiny house Dennia guided them to seemed to be something like a tool shack. A young boy was sitting on a stump next to the low entrance, whittling away at a piece of wood.
“Is he awake?” Dennia asked.
The boy jumped up. “No, mother. But he must have woken up before I came. Some of the foot is gone.”
“Your brother might have stolen it during the night,” Dennia said.
The boy looked away, confirming that this was a possibility.
“He has only woken up two or three times since the boys brought him here,” Dennia said. “We gave him food and water. But he is still very pale.”
“Does he have a fever?” Atissa asked.
Dennia frowned. “If that were the case, I wouldn’t allow my family around him. No fever, no other sign of disease. He… he looks like somebody who has lost a lot of blood. But there’re no wounds on his body.”
Iristos returned, handing Atissa her bow and quiver. Mark didn’t ask for the axe. If anything dangerous were to happen, he would make sure to stand behind the big man. Preferably far behind.
When she saw that his companions had readied themselves, Dennia stepped through the entrance. Mark considered sending Iristos first, but that would probably look too paranoid. Reluctantly, he followed Dennia inside.
The ceiling was too low for Mark to stand upright. Most of the people he had met so far were shorter than the average he was used to. Even Ipras and Iristos, while big and muscular, wouldn’t be seen as exceptionally tall back home.
The entrance let just about enough light in to be able to see. The man lay on a low, narrow bed at the opposite wall, half covered by a thin blanket. His eyes were closed.
Dennia had told the truth. His face, upper body, and arms were unnaturally pale. It was as if the blood had been drained from him.
“What could be wrong with him?” Atissa asked. She had come in behind him. There was hardly room to move and Iristos could only stick his head through the door, trying to see.
Mark noticed that everybody was looking at him. Again. Carefully stepping closer to the bed, he suppressed a sigh.
He was very well educated, but medicine was one area he knew next to nothing about. When he invested so much in his health, he didn’t really need to. Nutrition, intermittent fasting, sport. He always made sure he took great care of himself. Also, other people were icky.
Well, let’s cover the basics, he thought.
The blanket was moving slowly up and down. “He's still alive,” he said. “Breathing… rhythmically.” He was improvising.
It cost him a measure of will to reach out and feel the man’s forehead. “No fever.” The skin wasn’t sweaty. It felt almost too dry. At least that was something.
When he retracted his arm, the man’s hand shot up and grabbed his wrist. Mark flinched.
Out of reflex, he grabbed the hand with his other hand to free himself when he noticed that the man had turned.
The stranger was staring up at him with wide, open eyes. The bluest eyes Mark had ever seen.
He blinked and his expression changed. Comprehension? It looked like the man was recognizing Mark. His lips slowly formed a wide smile.
He let go of Mark’s wrist and his eyes dropped closed again ever so slowly. As his expression relaxed, he whispered a single word, through dry lips.
“Fantastic.”
Mark ran his fingertips over the stubble on his cheeks. While he usually kept his face meticulously shaven, he wasn’t fundamentally opposed to the look. If kept in form, it could look quite good. In a slightly roguish kind of way.
The problem was, he didn’t feel at all roguish at that moment. And the outline of his beard wasn't sufficiently in form at all.
Sitting in the wooden boat he watched Atissa and Iristos work the oars. When they had departed from the beach, he had wanted to take one. But everybody thought that was inappropriate and that the teenage girl should do it instead. Atissa apparently agreed with that. She was working the piece of wood without complaining.
Mark let his gaze trail over the water. The shore was moving by at a steady pace. After passing Logger’s Lake without being spotted they had crossed a network of waterways and smaller lakes, steadily getting closer to the mountains.
During the council, the men had explained that the lakes would end in a river that connected the valley to the outside world. They were supposed to reach the valley’s last lake by morning.
Mark couldn’t wait to get out of there. Wherever here is, he thought. Once again reminded that he clearly wasn’t on earth. Or at least not in the present day.
He pushed this line of thought to the side once more. Speculating without sufficient information was a waste of time. He didn’t allow his brain to go through the list of options modern entertainment had filled it with. Instead, he focused on the here and now.
Observe and adopt, he reminded himself. What was good advice when starting a project with a new customer organization, held also true for life. As a general rule, it was never good to be categorized as an outsider. Humans were social animals. Cut off, one died in the wilderness. Here that might be literal, he thought, watching the endless trees pass by. Unless you bring the right skillset.
He glanced over at Atissa.
He couldn’t help but be impressed by the girl. Considering the last twenty-four hours, most women, or rather most people, he knew would have fallen apart. Resilience. Maybe these people just naturally had more of it. There wasn’t much comfort in a bronze tool world.
Mark’s eyes dropped to the axe they had taken from the warriors. Atissa had split the former owner's head with it. The second man she had killed in that fight. Still, so far, she seemed fine. I can only hope not to be around should she eventually crack, he thought.
He felt mostly fine, despite only getting a couple of hours of sleep at the refugee camp. It hadn’t been particularly restorative, but he’d thrived on very little sleep before during busy periods at work. And he knew he would be ok once he got out of this barbarian warzone and somehow back to work. Life was about staying busy.
“Cliff Lake is behind the next curve, master,” Iristos said. Mark turned to look ahead. A first glow over the mountains to the east announced the coming morning. Apparently, they had made good time.
“The camp is on the other side,” the young man said. “The people there probably don’t even know about the attack on Logger’s Home yet.” The thought seemed to just have occurred to him and he looked unsure what to do with it.
Iristos reminded Mark of some of the construction workers he had met during his years working as an engineer. Before Anne…before I switched careers, he thought.
Iristos was clearly not the smartest guy around. But he was strong and competent in his handling of the boat. Tall and broad in the shoulders he was a mirror image of Ipras. Working the oars with Atissa the two were an unsymmetrical picture. It had taken them a couple of minutes to find their rhythm as Iristos’ strokes were much more powerful.
“We will take another break there,” Mark said. It was not a question. They had discussed it in the council.
“Yes, we better rest up,” Iristos said, looking unsure at Atissa. “The river…will be harder.”
If she noticed, she decided to ignore it, stoically working her oar. Mark had to smile. It came with a pang of sadness. He remembered a girl in a gymnast uniform with the same attitude. For some reason, he didn’t push the memory aside this time.
Their boat turned the corner and with the first light of morning, they rowed out on a lake half the size of Logger’s Lake.
“There it is,” Iristos said.
Looking in the indicated direction, Mark spotted a group of four or five houses on the opposite shore.
“How many people live here?” he asked.
“Not many,” Iristos said. “We gather here when we collect the wood from the different camps and prepare the Drive.”
The loggers called the annual transport on the river the Drive. They compared it to driving cattle and joked that cattle were probably better behaved than the long tree trunks on the mountain river.
Somebody must have spotted them. When they reached the wooden pier a small group of people had come together to greet them. There were two women, two boys that looked a bit younger than Atissa, and a couple of smaller children.
When Iristos climbed on the pier and tied up the boat, the older of the two women stepped forward to meet them.
“Greetings, Iristos. What brings you here this time of year?” she asked in a resolute tone. She wore a headscarf like most of the women and older girls Mark had met so far. Based on her face and her uncovered arms he guessed she was in her thirties. But he couldn’t be sure given how these people lived.
“Greetings, Dennia. I am to bring them to Riadnos,” Iristos said, pointing at Mark and Atissa.
“With Tepras’ boat?” the woman, Dennia, asked. “How will he get it back?”
“I…the council decided it,” Ipras said.
Great, Mark thought, climbing on the pier, one of those. Straightening himself he accepted his hiking stick from Atissa.
“Maybe you can introduce us, Iristos,” he said.
Apparently just noticing him now, Dennia’s eyes widened slightly when she spotted the stick.
“Ah..yes. This is master Mark,” Iristos said, unsure about the unfamiliar task. “And this is Dennia….ah.”
Whatever Dennia might have thought when she had noticed Mark, her irritation with Iristos’ fumbled introduction broke the spell. She waved him to be quiet and stepped forward to bow her head to Mark.
“Master Mark, I greet you welcome. I am Dennia, wife of Jennos. I’m afraid my husband is on the Drive and cannot welcome you in person.”
“Thank you. I hope we won’t inconvenience you too much. We would like to take a break before we go down the river.”
Mark had become more accustomed to playing the magi role. He wasn’t very comfortable with it as he didn’t know, yet, what exactly a magi was. Not being able to fulfill people’s expectations could get him into trouble. On the other hand, being seen as a weird stranger might do that even quicker. For now, he just went with it.
“Please, come.” Dennia gestured for them to follow. “My family has already begun their chores, but we will prepare you a meal.” She quickly walked over to the small crowd and gave out instructions. Reluctantly, they dispersed.
“I assume strangers are an uncommon sight around here?” Mark asked Dennia, while they walked.
“Very. It is quite lively here when the men come for the Drive once a year. But they return over the pass”, Dennia pointing towards the mountains,” so we mostly only get to meet people when we go to Logger’s Home for feast days. Did you come through the western pass, master Mark?”
Mark hesitated before answering. “I came from far away and don’t know these mountains at all. Without these two as my guides, I would get lost in the woods immediately.”
Dennia nodded politely and indicated for them to take place around the table in front of the biggest house. Luckily for Mark, she didn’t even question his evasive answer. She wasn’t the first. Him being ambiguous seemed to confirm something to these people, rather than make them suspicious.
Whatever these magi were, so far, he seemed to fulfill the role.
“I am afraid, we don’t have much bread left, but there is cheese and meat,” Dennia said, with a quick look to Atissa that Mark could not read. “My boys are good hunters.”
Mark took a seat on the wooden bank, grateful to be able to use the house as a backrest. Despite his dedication to daily workouts, his body wasn’t used to sleeping on the ground and sitting on stones.
“Please, master,” Dennia said, gesturing towards the seat at the head of the table. Mark glanced over to Atissa and Iristos, who looked at him expectantly. They hadn’t taken their seats yet.
This must be a seat of honor thing, Mark thought, reluctantly giving up the house wall.
Having taken the seat at the head of the table his companions took their seats as well. The expectant looks were still there.
It took Mark a second before it dawned on him. You expect me to tell these people that their neighborhood is being invaded and on fire, he thought. Great.
Being a shootable messenger of bad news was a typical job you hired a consultant for. Mark generally left such projects to his colleagues with business degrees, preferring what he considered productive work.
He sighed. “Dennia, we bring some urgent and bad news. The village, Logger’s Home, was attacked and conquered. The inhabitants had to flee. Your leaders sent us to inform your people in Riadnos.” He nodded to Atissa, trusting her easily over Iristos to string sentences together.
Dennia looked from him to his companions. The frown on her forehead betrayed her doubt.
“It is true,” Atissa said while Iristos nodded. “An Assanaten troop attacked Logger’s Home yesterday. Ipras and the others think they must have come over the eastern pass.”
Dennia paled. “The boys…they said they saw smoke in the distance…,” she said quietly as the news sank in.
To Mark’s surprise, she caught herself almost immediately.
“What do the elders want us to do?” she asked.
Resilient, he thought once more.
Atissa gave him a questioning look and received an encouraging nod. “We…the elders asked master Mark to meet our men in Riadnos. We’re supposed to ask the anax for help.”
“What about everybody else?” Dennia asked, her eyes wandering to her family members that were going about their tasks close by.
“They’ve sent out messengers to warn the other camps,” Mark said. “The elders will lead everybody to the entrance of the eastern pass. They want to wait as long as they can and then cross over the mountains. We’re to ask Tepras to meet them halfway with supplies and clothing.”
Dennia nodded. “They lost the boats when the village was taken.”
“Yes,” Iristos said quickly.
Dennia ignored him.
“We do have a boat here, but it’s not big enough for all of us,” she said, before pausing a moment. “The girl will bring you food. I must tell the others about what’s happened while you eat.”
Back to being the resolute host she turned around to leave. After two steps she stopped and turned back to them. “I don’t know how I could forget this…. There is another stranger here.” She pointed towards one of the other houses.
“What stranger?” Atissa asked alarmed, slightly raising.
Visitors seem to be a truly uncommon occurrence in this place, Mark thought. He held the deep hope that this valley could be considered among the worst of backwaters in this world. You never appreciate the simple things until they are gone. Like toilets. And other things. He glanced down Dennia’s mostly covered legs, keeping control of his facial expression.
“The boys found him while hunting two days ago,” Dennia said. “He was lying on a trail, so they decided to bring him here.” Her eyes were full of concern. She clearly had complex feelings about her boys bringing home strangers.
“Can you show us?” Atissa asked eagerly. Then remembering herself she looked to Mark as if asking for his confirmation.
“Please,” Mark said. He was unsure if he was comfortable with the leadership role, he had been tossed into. For now, there seemed to be no choice but to play along.
They rose and followed Dennia to the house. Mark noticed that Atissa had one hand on the short copper knife she carried on her belt.
“Iristos”, he said, “maybe get the axe from the boat. Just to be safe.” He glanced at Dennia to observe her reaction to his precautions.
“Of course, master,” she said immediately, bowing to him.
Great. Another person deferring to me, Mark thought. I’ll have to start charging a daily rate soon.
Iristos hurried off.
“Get my bow, too!”
Iristos confirmed he’d heard Atissa’s request with a wave, without looking back.
The tiny house Dennia guided them to seemed to be something like a tool shack. A young boy was sitting on a stump next to the low entrance, whittling away at a piece of wood.
“Is he awake?” Dennia asked.
The boy jumped up. “No, mother. But he must have woken up before I came. Some of the foot is gone.”
“Your brother might have stolen it during the night,” Dennia said.
The boy looked away, confirming that this was a possibility.
“He has only woken up two or three times since the boys brought him here,” Dennia said. “We gave him food and water. But he is still very pale.”
“Does he have a fever?” Atissa asked.
Dennia frowned. “If that were the case, I wouldn’t allow my family around him. No fever, no other sign of disease. He… he looks like somebody who has lost a lot of blood. But there’re no wounds on his body.”
Iristos returned, handing Atissa her bow and quiver. Mark didn’t ask for the axe. If anything dangerous were to happen, he would make sure to stand behind the big man. Preferably far behind.
When she saw that his companions had readied themselves, Dennia stepped through the entrance. Mark considered sending Iristos first, but that would probably look too paranoid. Reluctantly, he followed Dennia inside.
The ceiling was too low for Mark to stand upright. Most of the people he had met so far were shorter than the average he was used to. Even Ipras and Iristos, while big and muscular, wouldn’t be seen as exceptionally tall back home.
The entrance let just about enough light in to be able to see. The man lay on a low, narrow bed at the opposite wall, half covered by a thin blanket. His eyes were closed.
Dennia had told the truth. His face, upper body, and arms were unnaturally pale. It was as if the blood had been drained from him.
“What could be wrong with him?” Atissa asked. She had come in behind him. There was hardly room to move and Iristos could only stick his head through the door, trying to see.
Mark noticed that everybody was looking at him. Again. Carefully stepping closer to the bed, he suppressed a sigh.
He was very well educated, but medicine was one area he knew next to nothing about. When he invested so much in his health, he didn’t really need to. Nutrition, intermittent fasting, sport. He always made sure he took great care of himself. Also, other people were icky.
Well, let’s cover the basics, he thought.
The blanket was moving slowly up and down. “He's still alive,” he said. “Breathing… rhythmically.” He was improvising.
It cost him a measure of will to reach out and feel the man’s forehead. “No fever.” The skin wasn’t sweaty. It felt almost too dry. At least that was something.
When he retracted his arm, the man’s hand shot up and grabbed his wrist. Mark flinched.
Out of reflex, he grabbed the hand with his other hand to free himself when he noticed that the man had turned.
The stranger was staring up at him with wide, open eyes. The bluest eyes Mark had ever seen.
He blinked and his expression changed. Comprehension? It looked like the man was recognizing Mark. His lips slowly formed a wide smile.
He let go of Mark’s wrist and his eyes dropped closed again ever so slowly. As his expression relaxed, he whispered a single word, through dry lips.
“Fantastic.”
