by Mike Shelton
“His eyes are dilating,” Kharlia said in concern. “He’s about to pass out.”
“There is no time to get him to his tree,” Halleema told the group. “Follow me,” the healer said as she moved off down a smaller trail.
Kharlia had to run to keep pace with the long-legged elves. Then part of the king’s cloak slid down, and Kharlia gasped. The blackness was on his shoulder now. Looking up at the king’s face, she saw that his eyes were closed and his breathing was labored.
“Halleema, hurry,” Kharlia said. “He’s passed out.”
An onlooker saw the procession, and compassion covered his face, and a soft song escaped his lips. Soon another voice joined in, and then another.
Halleema turned to Kharlia and said, “The song of hope.”
More voices joined in as they lead the king farther down the narrowing path. The voices joined, turning into a harmonious chorus, filled with a range and depth of voices that brought tears to Kharlia’s eyes.
“Where are we going?” she asked, hardly able to bring the words forth. Her voice sounded harsh and unpolished in comparison to the singing that filled the forest.
“There is a healer’s hut on the ground close by here,” Halleema said. Then she turned her face up and joined in the song.
They sang of a people from long ago, a people who were persecuted in a faraway land. They sang of their hope and faith and love and of how these people didn’t give in to their brothers’ and sisters’ hate and greed and pride. They sang of a people who stayed pure, escaped in ships, and then sailed across the sea for many weeks, eventually landing in a beautiful land full of trees, greenery, water, and food—a land they named Elvyn.
Kharlia cried as the song tore at her heart with this brief history of the elves and their struggles and their triumphs. She felt truly blessed to be there that day and to have learned from them. As the song rose to its crescendo and then moved to its finish, Kharlia felt something stir within her soul—an infusion of power—and she gasped out loud.
Arriving at the healer’s hut, Halleema opened the door for the guards, to bring the king into the hut, and then continued to hold it open while Kharlia entered.
“You felt the power, didn’t you?” Halleema asked Kharlia. “Not many outside of our race have heard that song before. It is very powerful; you have been blessed today, Kharlia.”
The guards laid the king down tenderly on a small pallet of colorful blankets while Halleema moved to the fireplace and started a fire. Kharlia looked around the room—it felt alive. She could sense the life in the wood. She didn’t know if this was a power from being in this room specifically or was the residual power from hearing the joyful Elvyn song.
Moving over to the king, Kharlia felt his forehead and almost jumped back. He was so cold. She rummaged in her satchel for something that could help. She took out the vials of cinnamon and ginger, mixing them together with a few tablespoons of water. Then she brought a small cup of this mixture up to the king’s mouth and poured it in.
He did not open his eyes or say anything, but he did swallow down the concoction.
“It is spreading,” Halleema said, pointing to the blackness that was now creeping up to his neck.
“I won’t let this happen, Healer,” Kharlia said forcefully. “I made promises that I intend to keep.”
Kharlia thought about what other herbs she could use—nothing was stopping it. Tears came to her eyes as she thought about the love Lan had shown his people. About the hope he had given them, even knowing it was killing him. About all the knowledge that the elves had and the many years of study that their healers went through.
Then, turning to Halleema, Kharlia’s face reddened with anger as she said, “Why can’t you heal him? Why can’t you heal your king?”
Halleema didn’t rise to Kharlia’s anger but instead put a hand softly on Kharlia’s arm as she said, “We work with the natural forces around us, Kharlia. We can heal normal ills or pains and even broken bones and deep wounds of the flesh. But this is magic—dark magic. This is not something we have been trained in.”
Kharlia felt ashamed about lashing out at one of these peaceful people, but something had to be done. “I have seen evil in this world, Halleema: Men wanting to be king by stepping on others’ backs while having no thought for their lives. Barrier beasts having evil hearts. And the Chameleon unleashing his evil powers on us. But their powers came from somewhere. Both Bakari and Roland have taught me that power is not evil or good, only the intentions of those wielding it can determine how it is used.”
Halleema nodded her head in understanding. The two guards still present looked from Kharlia to Halleema and then to their king. Lan’s coloring was slightly better now, but he still lay unconscious.
He is dying!
Kharlia breathed in and tried to channel the energy of her anger into thinking like Bak would think. She tried to remember all she had been taught by her mother about herbs and natural healing. She remembered the feeling of uselessness she had experienced when she couldn’t heal her mother’s sickness. But she had more knowledge now. And she had studied with the elves for the past two weeks—a short time, to be sure, but she had learned things!
She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing. Echoes of the beautiful Elvyn song still floated on the air, and Kharlia breathed them in. Then the herbs, the natural healing of the elves, the power of their song, and the memories of things she had seen Bakari and the other wizards do all came together in her heart. She felt a power grow there—something new, but not frightful; something powerful, but hopeful.
Without opening her eyes, Kharlia placed her hand on the king’s forehead and used all the knowledge and power that she had felt to reach inside of him. The evil taint almost forced her hand away. But, with determination, she gritted her teeth and dove in deeper. She was a healer. That is what she had always been. And now, the elves’ magic infused her with clarity and precision.
She felt the king’s good heart and his love for his people, and tears ran down her face.
Kharlia—little one—how are you here? the king’s voice said in her own head.
I don’t know, Your Highness. But I had to do something. Kharlia choked back a sob. How do you stand the evil stain inside you?
I try not to think about it, the king said, and Kharlia felt the king wince in pain. The love of my people sustains me.
With Kharlia’s new clarity of thought, she found the cinnamon and ginger she had given the king earlier, urging these deeper into his system, and felt the king’s skin warm under the touch of her hand.
His body also had natural abilities, and she suddenly understood these. Reaching out, she somehow formed a barrier between the king’s strong heart, filled with his love for his people, and the evil taint that had crept up his arm and onto his neck. She couldn’t take the taint away, but she could stop it from getting worse. She knew she could.
Kharlia! “You are amazing!” the king proclaimed, his voice moving from within her head to a vocal praise of her abilities.
Kharlia opened her eyes and peered into the clear eyes of the king. Glancing down, she saw that the black tendrils had retreated slightly, staying now at the top of his arm. But sweat beaded on her own forehead, and her legs felt weak. Kharlia grabbed the side of the pallet to keep herself from falling over. Then Halleema caught her and led her to a nearby chair to sit down.
“Kharlia,” Halleema said, her usually slanted eyes wide with wonder. “What did you do?”
Kharlia smiled. “I honestly don’t know. But something had to be done.” Her head pounded, and she felt weak, but the power of healing still soared through her soul.
“Are you sure you do not have Elvyn blood, my dear?” the king said in a soft voice from his pallet.
Kharlia just shrugged her shoulders. “I’m just glad I could help.”
“You have done more than help, Kharlia. You are a true healer,” the king said. “A true Elvyn healer and a friend of the elves forever.” Lan sat up o
n his elbow and motioned Kharlia back over to him.
Kharlia stood up and steadied herself for a moment. She was so tired. She laughed inside as she remembered how tired Bakari was, at first, after merging with another animal. Then she took two steps over to the king’s side.
He placed his slender, pale hand on her smaller, dark one and said, “My guards and Halleema do witness this day that I name you Elvyn-friend, an official distinction that few have ever been named to. Kharlia, you will be honored in the long history of my people. Your name will be added to the song of hope. Today, you have given of yourself that which is the rarest and most powerful—you have given your love and have used that power to heal me. You will be welcome across Elvyn and will be afforded anything you desire. Kharlia, you will always have a home among the elves. With this decree, you are now blessed with all Elvyn knowledge. As a king of the elves, I, Lanwaithian Soliel, do now decree this as an unalterable and binding promise for all time.”
Kharlia gasped as power flooded into her from the king’s hand. It made her feel as if she had been born again. The air around her brightened, and the trees and flowers spoke to her. She felt the souls of the small animals scurrying by the hut. Her mind was bright, and knowledge filled it immediately. Her heart expanded, and she felt a love for all around her.
With tears in her eyes, she gazed into Lan’s face. “Thank you, Your Highness. You honor me far beyond what I deserve. It was only my intent to help you.”
“And that is why you are being so blessed, Kharlia. Your motives were pure, and your love for a king that is not even your own king showed your true heart. A heart that is now Elvyn.”
As Kharlia, Halleema, and the two guards bowed their heads to the king, in reverence, all was silent for a moment.
“And now,” the king said, breaking the silence, “I must ask more of you, my new Elvyn-friend.”
Kharlia looked back up at him with curiosity.
“I need you to go and find help for my beloved, Breelyn. I fear she may be in trouble and may need a friend.”
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
For three days, Alli had seen no visitors, except for the occasional servant, bringing small morsels of bread, and the person who periodically changed the chamber pots. None of these servants spoke to or looked at Alli. Her wrists were still held in the manacles that cut off her wizard powers, though she had been able to maneuver them to the front of her now, rather than behind her back. Her physical strength had returned after the first day, only to begin to diminish again with the lack of food and exercise.
Alli had discovered that Tobias, the Sanctuary commander, had been held there for over a month. Putting the time frame together in her mind, Alli had determined that the Chameleon had been in Quentis, sowing discord, before arriving in Elvyn. He had, most likely, now resumed the periodic role of the commander and was having a negative influence on the King of Quentis.
While sitting on the floor in the back of the cell, she heard a door open and soft voices approaching. Figuring it was another servant, she didn’t even bother to look up.
“Allison Stenos,” a strong voice said, “you have a visitor.”
The mention of her own name brought up Alli’s head. There were two men standing in the shadows of the cell wall. One was smaller than the other. She stood up and walked forward, her curiosity winning over her weakness.
As a light flared in the hand of the taller man, she gasped. It was a duplicate of the Sanctuary commander. So, her notion had been correct. In the next cell over, the real commander shuffled forward.
The other person with the false commander was none other than Jaimon. From the young man’s body language, he appeared cowed and fearful.
“The dragon rider wanted to see his treacherous wizard companion one last time,” the false commander said with authority.
“One last time?” Alli asked. “What are you going to do to him, Chameleon? He has done nothing wrong.”
The man laughed. “Good, good. You know who I am. But you misunderstood me. It is your last time, Battlemaster. My dear dragon rider will denounce his other allegiances and will join with me. You, on the other hand, will be executed.”
Alli stared at Jaimon, who had yet to meet her eyes. “Is this true, Jaimon?” She couldn’t believe he would give in, but he was young. She laughed at that idea. Jaimon was just a year younger than she was. It was just that he was so much more naive about the world.
Jaimon brought his head up slowly, and his eyes pierced hers. Alli held back her joy at seeing that the young man had indeed not defected. His eyes were steeled, and Alli knew that he had not given up at all. She was quite surprised, though, that Jaimon had fooled the Chameleon so well. This told her that the Chameleon had a weakness—most likely his vanity or his lust for power.
“The commander here,” Jaimon said, moving a hand to refer to the false commander, “and the king of Quentis have asked for my help in securing our land. I cannot turn down a direct command from my king.”
Alli had new respect for the young dragon rider. He was playing his part well, and so would she.
“They want to control your dragon, Jaimon. They will use it to conquer other lands. You know what the Chameleon wants.”
The Chameleon stepped closer. “You have no idea what we want, Battlemaster.”
Alli raised her eyebrow in question. He had used the word we rather than I. Was the Chameleon not working on his own? That information would be helpful to know.
“Like all brutes and bullies, you want to control everything,” Alli lashed out.
The Chameleon laughed heartily. “Oh, you are so wrong, my dear. I don’t want to control everything, only a part of it. My brothers and I will carve out the western lands and will rule under my father, the rightful wizard king!”
Alli was confused. “Your father?”
“My father was the last wizard king of Alaris. His kingdom and ambitions were taken from him before his designs were accomplished.”
“But he is dead.” Alli couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She glanced at Jaimon, and his eyes told her that he didn’t understand either.
The Chameleon moved toward the bars, putting his head up close to them. It was unnerving to see both him and the rightful commander in the next cell over.
“We will bring him back from the dead, and he will rule all!” the Chameleon said through the bars. “All will bow then, especially those arrogant elves. They will be the first to scrape our boots with their tongues.”
The real commander took that moment to voice his first words since the Chameleon had entered with Jaimon. “I will kill you!” he screamed. “You are crazy!”
The distraction caused the Chameleon to turn away from Alli. As soon as he had, Jaimon brought his fingers up to the bars and grabbed Alli’s fingers. She began to pull away in surprise, but then Jaimon slipped something into her hand.
The Chameleon turned back around and pushed Jaimon’s hands away from the bars as he said, “What are you doing?”
Jaimon turned, looking frightened, to the Chameleon commander. “I wanted to see her manacles closer. Their power must be amazing.”
The Chameleon frowned and took his meaning incorrectly. “Don’t worry, Dragon Rider. The manacles won’t harm you—only wizards.”
“So they won’t work on dragons?” Jaimon asked.
The Chameleon grabbed Jaimon’s arms. “Of course not, stupid boy. They are made to stop wizards like her. She will never feel power coursing through her veins ever again.”
Alli hated the Chameleon’s pompous attitude. “Afraid that my power is greater than yours, Chameleon?”
The man’s veins pulsed in his neck, and he pulled Jaimon away from the cell with him as he said, “Your power is nothing, Wizard. Already we have converted Breelyn, and now Jaimon will follow us. Their esteemed leader, Bakari, has lost his dragon and soon will come to our side as well. You cannot stand up to the dragons and their riders.”
Alli put her face to the bar
s and growled at the false commander, “We will see about that!”
A guard joined the Chameleon and Jaimon as they were exiting the room. But, before the door closed, the Chameleon turned back toward the cells. He was only an outline in the now dimmed light as he said, “You won’t be seeing anything, girl. You will be executed tomorrow, for sneaking into Quentis and trying to incite rebellion. The Wolf has already signed the decree.”
The door closed, and Alli stepped back from the bars of her cell. “The Wolf?” she whispered under her breath.
“Seems you have gained high enemies quickly.” The real commander cackled from the next cell.
Alli ignored him. Would the Wolf actually kill her? She didn’t think Kaspar would let him. But, would his son know about it? She fingered the item that Jaimon had slipped into her hands.
“What have you got there?” Commander Tobias asked, moving as close as he could against the bars.
“A figurine, from the dragon rider.” She walked closer to the high, barred window. With its meager light, she was able to see that the figurine was a small statue of a dragon, carved in jade. It felt smooth and cool to the touch. “It is from the Followers of the Dragon.”
“Those incompetent fools?” the commander mumbled. “They have been looking for a dragon for centuries.”
“Well, there is one here now. So, maybe their fanaticism was not so misplaced,” Alli said as she held the jade dragon in her hand. She closed her fingers into a fist around it and then closed her eyes.
Why did Jaimon give me this one?
She reached inside of herself and tried to find her power. It was there—but still held at bay by her manacles. She searched harder and then felt another flicker at a far corner of her mind—another kind of magic—different from her wizard powers. She struggled to grasp it. But, finally, in the darkness of her mind, she saw a green flare and dove into it.
Wizard! said a surprised voice. Alli had never actually heard this voice before, but she had an inkling of who it might be.
Cholena?
Who else? We girls need to stick together, remember?