by Simon Archer
“Not exactly,” I responded.
“Well, did you learn anything new?” Ffamran asked, clearly trying to find a silver lining among my worry.
“Yeah,” I said, “I need to get better at chess.”
4
Diana
I crept through the trees, with my bow and arrow drawn. Sloan, my sphinx Merkin, flanked me across the clearing. He had his nose to the ground, sniffing like a dog. Even though he was part-lion and not a bloodhound, Sloan had a keen sense of smell and was an excellent tracker.
We had burst into the forest the minute Martin announced that the corruption had struck the young Dyers boy. There was no immediate sign of what had brought the corruption. So, we quickly changed tactics and quieted our steps, in case the perpetrator was still close by.
Since we’d begun studying the corruption, we’d found that it had to be planted. It would begin in some water source or plant and then could spread to humans through ingestion. However, the corruption did not spread on its own. It had to be fed. The source had to be consistently infected, like the well in Remklat. We estimated that the man and his harpy Merkin had come no less than six times to make the well as deadly as it was.
If we were able to catch the corruption in the early stages, it was easier for Martin to heal. It took less out of him, and the sickness did not affect as many people. Hopefully, whatever Miji had eaten was something only infected once.
“There is nothing here,” Sloan reported silently. We rarely used the mental link provided by our bond, but it was undeniably useful in these covert situations.
“You do not smell anyone?” I checked disbelievingly.
“Save for the Dyers children, their Merkins, and the parents, there is no one,” Sloan said. “Other than natural forest smells, of course.”
“Of course.” I rolled my eyes, though he couldn’t see me. “Sloan, how is that possible? Normally you can smell even the corruption, but there is no trace of that? Not anywhere?”
“It was in the original honeysuckle, but it wasn’t even in the plant as a whole,” Sloan explained. “It did not go down to the root. It was only a few droplets on the petals themselves.”
That assessment made me pause. If it wasn’t in the root, then it hadn’t been absorbed into the rest of the plant. It had just been placed on the plant recently with no time to seep, to fester.
I leaned against a tree, my back slamming against it. I tried to clear my thoughts, but the forest was always full of noises, like a rushing creek or buzzing bees. Amid my ruminations, another deadlier realization hit me.
“This was a targeted attack. This was deliberate.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Sloan confirmed. “There have never been any cases of the corruption so isolated.”
“Or so fresh,” I added. “We have always come to it later in the stages when it has a chance to be infected two times or more.”
“Who could have gotten so close to the Dyers’ yard?” Sloan asked. “Surely they would have noticed if it were someone strange prancing about?”
I closed my eyes and shook my head. It could not be. I did not want to believe it to be true.
“Sloan,” I said slowly as if holding back the thought would cause it to be less true. “I do not believe it was anyone strange. I believe that whoever infected the honeysuckle would have been someone they trusted to be in their yard.”
“Diana,” Sloan said, drawing out my name into two syllables. “You cannot be sure of that.”
“I do not wish it to be true, Sloan,” I argued, “but it makes the most sense, does it not? Whoever infected the plant was someone they knew, someone that probably lives in the city.”
“The corruption has entered the city and not in a way we ever anticipated,” Sloan finished the thought for me.
“It is a citizen,” I said. “A citizen of Insomier has brought the corruption to our doorstep.”
“We’re going to have to warn Rebekah,” Sloan advised. “And the king.”
“One thing at a time.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, sighed, and ran a hand through my hair. The gesture knocked the hood of my cloak back, so I quickly pulled it back into place. “We need to scour the area and see if they corrupted anything else nearby.”
“Do you really think they did?” Sloan questioned. “This really feels like a targeted attack. They put it directly in the Dyers’ yard, on an edible plant. They could have put it anywhere, and they chose that specific honeysuckle in that specific place?”
“I know, I know,” I rushed through the words, my thoughts flying faster than my voice ever could. “But why? What have the Dyers ever done to Hennar and his followers?”
“They befriended Martin,” Sloan stated, his voice hollow and informative.
“No,” I said with a deliberate shake of my head. “There has to be something else.”
“Do not let your heart get in the way of sense, Diana,” Sloan scolded. He made his way across the woods, so we were back in the same area.
I could see his narrowed eyes and pursed lips. He did not approve of my relationship with Martin, claiming it would only bring me trouble. He thought I was incapable of merely having fun with him.
“You are in too deep for that,” Sloan had told me when he first found out about Martin and I. “You have cared about him too much for too long already.”
My inability to think clearly right now was only proving him right. I had to sort out my thoughts and address the clear problem at hand. The Dyers were highly thought of in Insomier, and nothing in their lives had changed to put them in danger. The only sensible thing was Martin. It had to be.
“We talked about this, Diana,” Sloan reminded me. “You, me, Rebekah, and Altair. Do you remember?”
“Of course I remember,” I said, slightly insulted. “We anticipated the consequences of Martin’s growing presence in the kingdom.”
“And we talked about it again when he told us Hennar had seen and confronted him when he’d healed Ffamran,” Sloan added. “Hennar is vengeful and thinks himself king. While he does not wear a literal crown, he will see Martin as a threat. He will not let him and his light go about healing things and wrecking his plans without consequence.”
“I know we were expecting some kind of threat or attack,” I mused, “but I really thought it would affect Martin directly.”
“We should have anticipated this too,” Sloan said with a scowl. He sat on his hind legs, and his tail swished in tight, even strokes like he was keeping time to a song. “I am ashamed we did not.”
“Hennar likes to go for the less obvious route with the maximum damage,” I said, thinking through our strategic conversations. “It’s why he goes for the farms and not the city, even though it has the most people. He knows that if he attacks resources that are far from the center of the kingdom, it’s harder for us to monitor but will also damage us in other ways, like food and water shortages.”
“He would have thought it too easy to harm Martin directly,” Sloan continued my train of thought. It was almost as if I could see the calculations running through his eyes, especially when his blonde eyebrows creased like they were doing now.
“So Hennar planned to go after those he cared for and loved, like the Dyers,” I concluded. “Anyone who associates with him is in danger.”
“Including us,” Sloan pointed out.
“I am not worried about us,” I said without thinking.
Sloan’s eyebrows, once crunched together, jumped up and apart in surprise. “Damn, Diana, you are terribly in love with this man.”
“No, I am not,” I protested. “I am a soldier, and he is the only one who can save our kingdom. I am duty-bound to protect him.”
Sloan shook his head disappointedly. “You can tell yourself that over and over again, but it will never change your feelings for him.”
“I do not have feelings for him,” I griped, my fist tightening around my bow. “Martin is the best chance we have had at riding the kingdom of
Hennar and the corruption. He needs to be protected at all costs.”
“You swore to protect Insomier, Diana,” Sloan said sternly.
I slammed the bottom tip of my bow into the ground with frustration. “What do you think I am doing, Sloan? I am protecting Insomier by protecting Martin. How come you cannot understand that?”
“I want to know how kissing him is protecting him,” Sloan said, keeping his voice even but sharp.
“At least I am with him in the evenings that Rebekah is not,” I reasoned, trying not to let the insult behind Sloan’s words impact me. “So, he is never alone.”
“Your excuses are thin,” Sloan said, still keeping his voice tight, but his nose lifted into a slight snarl. “Rebekah is more than enough to watch over him and keep his bed warm. This boy jeopardizes your priorities, and if you continue down this path… Well, it matters not what I saw. I fear there is no stopping you.”
With that, Sloan rose to his feet and padded away from me. He refused to turn around and spare me another glance.
I snarled at him and wished for the briefest of moments to shoot an arrow through the back of his head. I would never actually do it, but the thought of shutting him up comforted me. I exhaled, purging that feeling as I tried to remind myself that Sloan was only looking out for my best interests. He never had class when it came to telling me what I was doing wrong, and this had been the way it was ever since I was a child. The two of us were one of the oddest bondings I had ever witnessed. We were probably the only two that did not get along like best friends. I did not believe that he nor I knew how to show any affection for the other.
More times than I could count, I had wished for a different Merkin. I wanted a bond like the one between Alona and Harmony. They confided in one another and strengthened their bond. Alona even had an admirable gift that could be used more often than she ever would. It was a skill wasted on such a passive, non-confrontational person.
I, on the other hand, was gifted with something rather useless. I stopped advertising my gift to others because, more often than not, once they found out what I could do, they almost always abused it. Save for Alona, who never touched me without asking or tried to befriend me just for my gift.
I was grateful to have my old friend back in my life again. However, at the thought of her, my throat closed. She, too, was close to Martin as he was the main reason that we were able to reunite. This meant that she was in danger and a new target for Hennar.
No matter what Sloan said, I knew that I had a stake in Martin’s protection. His safety meant the safety of other people, like Alona and Bailey-Sue and the Dyers, all of whom I had grown to adore, not to mention the fate of Insomier itself. I would do whatever was needed for him, whether that was having his back in a meeting with the king or kissing away the worries of his day.
A rustle from the trees interrupted my thoughts. My head snapped up in the direction of the noise, due south, and my eyes darted about the setting. There, no more than twenty feet from me, crouched a humanoid figure hidden by a green cloak. However, the green did not match the leaves surrounding it. It was darker by at least three shades, and smoother. The figure held out a vial, the glass glinting against the sun as they held it above another flower.
My brain raced to put the pieces together. However, my arms acted first. I raised my bow and pulled back an arrow. Practiced as I was, I knew I had to make this routine motion slowly enough as to not make a sound. As if by some premonition, the figure lifted its head and dashed into the forest the moment my arrow was in position.
Unable to stop the motion, I released the arrow. It whizzed through the air and sliced the top of the flower off the stem. A sizzle radiated into the air, and a plume of black smoke rose from the decapitated plant.
I didn’t hesitate a moment and pursued the figure.
“Sloan,” I called in my mind. “Something is here.”
“I hear it,” he replied. “It is headed south of you. Two legs, light-footed, clearly running.”
“Understood,” I reported back and picked up the pace.
I followed the sound of rustling branches and the patter of footprints. Sloan had been right in that this figure was light on their feet and pranced about the forest like they could anticipate every rock and root.
“He is headed west now,” Sloan announced.
I adjusted my direction and finally caught a glimpse of the figure I was following. He was on the shorter side and slight. He had a hood over his head, and I could only see slick brown leather boots under his green cloak.
I held my ground and kept the figure in my sights as I inhaled and raised the bow up to my shoulder. Pulling the arrow back, I aimed for the flicking edge of the cloak, intending to nail it to the ground.
Once again, just as I was about to release my arrow, I was interrupted by an unexpected pinch of pain in my hand. I yelped from the sharpness of it as I involuntarily released the arrow. The projectile flew wildly in the wrong direction.
I ignored the throbbing pain in my hand and continued onward. The figure was no longer in my sights, and I quickly lost the trail, as the forest fell into a rare silence.
I roared, releasing my pent-up frustration and the pain in my hand. Finally, I dared to look down at the wound that ruined my chances of catching this traitor. A small red bump rose on my skin between two knuckles. Sticking up from the center of the bump was a needle-thin, black twig. It looked to be no bigger than an eyelash.
With a swift movement, I removed the bee stinger and huffed. At least the little bastard was dead and could not ruin any more good shots. I would tend to the throbbing once I got back to the castle, but first, I ventured back the way I had come to admit my defeat to my Merkin.
I approached the section of the woods I had been in when I spotted the figure. Sloan was there, sitting by the poisoned flower. The petals were reduced to ash by the corruption, but I knew the small individual plant would not bloom again. There was no hope for it at all.
“This seems like an odd thing to corrupt,” Sloan commented, looking down his nose at the flower. “There is nothing around here.”
I observed our surroundings and nodded my agreement. “You are not wrong. Why would they choose this spot?”
“I wonder…” Sloan mused, but then he trailed off.
“What is it?” I asked. We were speaking aloud now, not worried about being overheard as we both figured the traitor to be long gone by now.
“I wonder if they intended to attack us,” Sloan suggested.
“I thought the same, but then why would they attack this flower and not either of us directly?” I asked. I kicked the disintegrated petals with my boot. “These are not typically consumed raw like this.”
“I know, but I cannot help but think that the only reason to attack this area was that we were here,” Sloan said, staring me in the eye.
Eye contact with Sloan was always intimidating, so I quickly broke it. My gaze naturally traveled to the bee sting on my hand.
“Are you hurt?” Sloan asked, more out of politeness than actual concern.
“Nothing that a simple salve cannot fix,” I said lightly.
“We need to tell Rebekah about this,” Sloan advised.
“I believe we need to tell not just Rebekah, but Martin and the king as well,” I relented.
“Do you actually plan to tell them all?” Sloan questioned. “Or will you just tell me you are going to tell them and then keep the information to yourself?”
“I will tell them,” I assured him. I understood his concern as I had been known to toy with newfound information until I was ready to present it or until I had eliminated the threat myself.
“I want your word,” Sloan demanded.
“Honestly, Sloan,” I said, insulted. “Do you not trust me? Even after all these years?”
“I do not trust you when it comes to any matters regarding Martin Anthony,” Sloan admitted without shame. “Now, swear to me that you will tell them or I will, and believ
e me, you do not want my account of events. Especially when it comes to the part where you lost the traitor because of a bee sting.”
I exhaled audibly and slung my bow over my shoulder. I bit my tongue between my teeth. I did not expect this promise to be so hard.
Sloan raised his eyebrows expectantly. I swallowed and finally opened my mouth.
“I swear to tell King Atlus, Martin, Rebekah, and the rest of the council about the threat we saw here today.” I gave him my best fake smile. “There? Satisfied?”
“Yes,” Sloan said. “They deserve to know, Diana. The threat is closer than any of us thought.”
5
“So, let me see if I understand this correctly,” Alona said, lifting her head from her hands. “Hennar plans to challenge you to a game of chess every time you go to heal anyone infected with the corruption. If he wins, he takes a piece of your light, and if you win, he will heal the infected person. Do I have it right?”
“Pretty much,” I confirmed.
We left the Dyers after the corruption fiasco. We assured Vanna and Styu that Miji was going to be okay. While he still had the corruption, it was contained and wasn’t going to grow anymore. I promised them a thousand times over that I was going to find a way to heal Miji completely. Despite their weak smiles and assurances that they believed me, I couldn’t get their gaunt expressions and sad eyes out of my mind.
Bailey-Sue, Diana, Alona, Ffamran, and I reconvened back at the castle and quickly called a meeting of our closest allies. We met at the center of the hedge maze in the Gardens of the castle, one of the few places that could easily fit a group of humans and half a dozen dragons.
King Atlus had agreed to let the Gardens become a home for the dragons, though they were still able to come and go as they pleased. Each of the clan members had found their sections of the Garden, making their nooks a temporary home. Because of this reason, most humans refused to come out to the Gardens anymore, afraid of the dragons as they were. We used their fear to our advantage and met in the Gardens often.