by C B Samet
I thought about the people lining the walls of Joshua’s clinic. Their mouths were crusted with blood.
“Don’t look so worried, Abigail. The plague hasn’t reared its ugly head in eight hundred years. It’s eradicated. That’s why it’s in my history books and not in your husband’s medicine books.”
I bit my lip. I couldn’t share the source of my information with her. She wouldn’t believe me. “How was it finally stopped?”
She walked to her bookshelf and pulled a book. “Everybody died. There are no precise records of how many, but hundreds of thousands in all likelihood.” She spoke the words in the frank tone of a history professor—coldly reciting facts about distant events without any thought on their bearing on the present.
Sunny opened the book she’d selected and slipped her glasses back on her nose. “I always use this poem during class because the imagery is so vibrant.” After looking over the page, she turned the book for me to read.
See the devastation of the disease,
Smoldering in the breeze.
Death destroys hope with decay,
Indiscriminately, every life is prey.
All obscured by the ashes,
Overshadowed dismay crashes.
Death’s tentacles ensnare all,
Merciless, cataclysmic, curtain call.
Stone of Blood, Stone of Health,
Save the lives considered wealth.
Beneath the poem was a notation:
The Omega plague has not cursed this land for over two-thousand years. It is the obligation of the living to document devastating events as they unfolded so generations to come may know the suffering and the heroism. The plague’s origins were traced to Kovia, where its first victims succumbed.
Further transcription illegible.
FS Klux
Circa 6280
“So, it occurred eight-hundred years ago and two-thousand years before that.” I stood and paced her office. I wondered if eight-hundred years ago, history professors were declaring it eradicated.
Sunny sat back down in her desk chair. “Someone saw the devastation and wrote it down, or at least passed it along verbally until somebody else wrote it down. The history is rich in these few lines. They burned all of the bodies, so you can imagine a gray sky of smoke and ashes day after day.”
“And the stones?”
“Mythical legend. Some historians say magic was used to finally end the plague.”
“You don’t think so?”
She stared at me. “You’re exceedingly level-headed, Abigail, but I see your imagination running rampant at my words.”
“I’m worried.”
“I can see that.”
“I’m going to evacuate my family until I have answers about what’s going on. I can relocate you as well.”
“I’m an academic, not an alarmist.” She shut her book.
I stopped pacing. “And I have magical talents, so I believe the possibility of magical intervention merits a bit more consideration.” She knew I was the Avant Champion, and although Sunny had never seen my Traveler’s Star or Warrior Stone in action, she had heard of their capabilities.
Sunny blinked. “Do your talents include seeing the future?”
“No.”
“Mine do,” Mal said.
“Not helpful,” I murmured.
“Beg pardon?”
“Nothing. Thank you for the history lesson.”
“Perhaps take a holiday. When you return, you’ll see you worried about nothing.”
“I hope you’re right,” I said, as I pulled the door open and left.
I arrived home via my usual surreptitious route—inconspicuously transporting to the end of the long roadway to my house, and then walking down it. I felt the urge to run. I picked up my pace. Soon my feet were flying beneath me.
When I reached the house, I panted for air. After three children, I hadn’t taken the time to rebuild my endurance—and I was feeling it.
I still sparred with Baird, but less frequently than I used to. I’d lapsed into the comfortable stability of my family life, mindful that it might be disrupted but not diligently preparing for the next catastrophe.
I stood outside, catching my breath. My impression of this new dilemma was that it would require more cunning than strength. This wasn’t a fight against evil, or a bloody civil war; it was a plague—the worst plague in the history of the world.
This was a healer’s domain, not mine. Joshua’s war. So why did I feel the same angst as I did before battle?
I opened the door and stepped inside my house.
“Mama!” Rebekah squealed. She left her blocks on the floor and ran into my arms.
I squeezed her tight to me. No matter our disagreements at mealtime, naptime, and bedtime, she was always delighted to see me. Her greetings were in contrast to Natalie’s—from whom I usually received little more than an obligatory “hello.”
Too soon in our hug, Rebekah squirmed out of my grasp. I set her down, and she turned her attention back to her blocks.
Gert stood and smoothed the bun of her brown hair. “Lady Cross. You’re home early.”
“Yes.” I turned toward her. “There are quite a few people ill in Marrington and Oxville. I’m taking the children to my mother’s. The staff can have days off until we return. I recommend everyone take similar precautions.”
Her brow furrowed as she nervously fingered the hem of her dress. “Similar precautions, m’lady?”
“Yes. Somewhere remote. With family.”
“Your estate is quite remote m’lady.”
“And it may be sufficiently so, but I’ll be taking the children to my mother’s nonetheless. Please let all the staff know they will receive holiday pay on the days they would have worked. I’ll send word when we’re back at the estate.”
“Yes, m’lady. I believe Cook Mo has already prepared several meals for the week.”
“Excellent. We’ll take some with us, and all the staff can divide the remaining rations among themselves.”
“Yes, m’lady.”
“Can you watch Rebekah while you spread the word? Just until we’re packed?”
“Yes, m’lady.”
“Where can I find Natalie?”
“Riding lessons.”
“Thank you.”
I left the house and walked toward the barn. The six-stall wooden building still looked pristine, as it was only two years old. To the left stretched a mixture of open pasture and woodlands for the horses to roam. To the right was a corral for riding and training.
I spotted Natalie atop my horse, Phobus, cantering around the perimeter of the corral. Phobus’ chestnut hair glistened in the sunlight.
Natalie’s long brown hair flowed behind her. She maintained perfect posture in the saddle. I wondered if I’d ever looked so graceful riding as she did. Natalie made riding look like art; a dance.
I walked to the perimeter of the fence and Phobus caught sight of me, cutting across the center of the arena towards me.
Natalie let the reins fall. “Hello.”
“You’re riding beautifully.” I stroked the short hair between Phobus’ eyes as he lowered his head to me.
“You’re home early.”
“Yes. We’re going to Nana’s.”
“So suddenly?”
“So suddenly.”
She looked around the barn, house, and garden. “Where’s Papa?”
“He’s still in Marrington. There are a lot of sick people. He’s helping take care of them.”
She pouted. “He’s not coming with us?”
“He’s not,” I confessed, apologetically. “I’m taking you to Misty Isle. Then, I’ll go help your father.”
“Why can’t we all go help?”
I considered how “helpful” the children would be, running through the castle halls, knocking over fine Bellosian vases, banging on Taco silver, and causing mayhem.
“You can’t go because there’ll be sick people everywhe
re. I don’t want any of you getting ill.”
“You and Papa are going.”
“Yes, and I’m not risking anyone else in this family.”
“That’s not fair.”
“It’s called being rational. Now, before you continue to wear down my patience, go back to the barn and tell Will to ready the carriage.”
She scowled, but had the good sense not to argue with my stern expression. “Yes, Mama.”
She retrieved the reins and whirled Phobus around. She loped one last time around the arena before heading to the barn.
My gaze roamed around the estate.
Paul. Where would Paul be?
The kitchen.
I walked around the house to the kitchen. The small building was linked by a covered walkway to the main house. This separation was designed to reduce the chance of a kitchen fire spreading to the house. Fortunately, we’d never had such an incident; probably because I seldom cooked.
I opened the door and stepped inside the kitchen. Warmth and a variety of mouth-watering aromas filled the air. To my left, something simmered on the stove. Opposite me, the pantry stood—where canned food and drying meat were kept along with an insulated bin with an ice-filled bottom for keeping glass jars of milk and blocks of cheese fresh. I kept it cool with ice transported directly from the mountains. To my right sat a table for chopping and mixing, above which hung bushels of drying herbs.
I was always amazed at how much food was required to keep the household and helpers fed each week. I couldn’t imagine doing everything myself around the house either. With three children needing food, clothing, and an education, I would have had to quit the university position if I hadn’t had help.
The only other option would have been to live in Misty Isle where my mother, stepfather, and half-brother lived. Although the island possessed breathtaking beauty, I wanted more space for my family than a minuscule hut.
Cook Mo emerged from the pantry, carrying milk and eggs. Paul was in tow.
Paul spent hours with the bulky, dark-skinned cook, learning about herbs and recipes. I liked that my children received both textbook and real-worlds educations. My parents had taught my brother and I similarly, and I think that was why I chose electives involving excursions and explorations when I attended the university.
“Lady Cross,” Mo greeted me with cheer.
I smiled. “What’s Paul cooking us for supper?”
Mo set down his ingredients on the table. “He’s making chicken and sausage stew for dinner. We heard the news ’bout you heading for your mother’s, so I thought we’d assemble pancake batter to take with you on the trip.”
“Very thoughtful. Thank you.”
“Mama, why are we going to Nana’s?”
I leaned down toward him, placing my hands on my knees. “We need to leave home for a little while. We’ll be back.” I knew it wasn’t the location that troubled him but the abruptness of leaving.
Mo began breaking eggs into a wooden bowl. “Gert says you’re alarmed ‘bout a sickness.”
“Yes. Alarmed enough I’m taking the children to my mothers.” I laid a hand on his thick forearm briefly. “And anyone else who wants to go.”
He stared at me for a moment, before giving Paul instructions on measuring out the flour.
“That’s generous of you, m’lady.”
I had met Mo at Joshua’s clinic. He’d traveled from Ntajid to Marrington utterly penniless and alone, looking for work. He’d asked Joshua about working at the clinic, but Mo knew nothing of healing remedies. On further inquiry about what skills he did possess, he admitted to being proficient in the kitchen.
We hired him on at a time when Natalie was a toddler and Paul was on the cusp of eating regular food. The new house and external kitchen were still under construction. Mo cooked for us, sleeping in what would eventually be our completed barn. Now, he had his own small house on our property and made wages comparable to a teacher’s salary.
“If I introduce you to my mother’s village and you cook for them, they may never let you leave.”
Mo flashed his brilliant white smile. “I believe I’d like to meet them, but I’ll stay here this trip. I’ll tend to the chickens and horses while the house staff is gone.”
“Thank you.”
I turned to Paul, who was mixing batter in a bowl. “Can you be at the carriage in an hour? I’ll go pack.”
Mo looked at Paul. “What do you think, Cook Colt? Will we be wrapped up here in an hour?”
“Yupperdos.”
“There you ‘ave it m’lady. An official yupperdo.”
I chuckled and left the two of them elbow deep in flour.
After exiting the kitchen, I entered the main house through the dining room. I walked through the living room, past the fireplace, and on towards the bedrooms.
Baird? I called to my friend.
Yes, Abigail. His replies were always prompt—though I worried about invading his privacy. Our link formed a mental communication with words only, and I couldn’t see or sense where he was or what he was doing when I began a conversation.
Are the monks aware of an illness in Marrington?
Watertown, Ntajid, Marrington. We have word of many ill in several places.
Mal tells me this is the Omega plague.
Baird fell silent.
I wondered if he doubted Mal, and was thinking how to refute my companion’s claim—or if he knew enough about the Omega plague to be speechless.
That’s a frightening claim, Baird replied.
He hasn’t been wrong in eight years.
“I haven’t been wrong in over seven-thousand years.” Mal appeared in front of me, leaning on the doorway to my bedroom.
I scowled at him. It was unfair he could eavesdrop on my silent conversations with Baird.
I turned my attention back to the monk. I’m taking the children to my mother’s, then I’m going to the castle where Joshua has been summoned.
Do you need my help?
Probably, but not yet. I’ll be in touch.
I could have asked him to begin investigating the outbreak, but I knew that my mere mention of it, and the seriousness of our conversation, would already propel him to do so.
An hour passed, then two, before the entire mound of luggage was finally packed and loaded and the children were herded on board the carriage.
I couldn’t seem to keep them all corralled at once. Paul recalled another book he wanted to grab. As he went back to the house, Rebekah used the distraction to run toward the barn. Natalie remained on the wagon with arms crossed, glaring at me.
At last, I had them all in one place. We rode the wagon to the end of our lane. When out of site from the house, I transported us instantly to Misty Isle, wagon and all.
A salty breeze enveloped us. I hadn’t been raised on the beach, but I’d been frequently visiting my mom here for thirteen years. The island felt like a second home. I gazed around at the small, thatch-roofed houses. A few pedestrians wandering about waved at our arrival.
Paul and Natalie leapt off the carriage, rushing to find Nana Nadine. Rebekah screamed to join them as I held her. She couldn’t safely jump off the wagon like the other two.
I snapped the reins and the horse, Brawny, ambled forward, toward my mother’s cottage. I pulled him to a halt in front of my mother’s door. The children had left it open. After I lowered Rebekah to the ground, she rushed inside the house as well.
I dropped the reins and hopped down from the wagon. Brawny was a well-trained gelding. He’d stand complacently as long as the reins rested on the ground.
Frowning, I looked at the packed wagon. Prior to children, travel had been as simple as appearing somewhere at will. Now, every excursion demanded planning, and packing, and snacks, and endless changes of clothing.
My mother appeared in the doorway with Rebekah wrapped around her neck. Despite my mother’s age, betrayed by long, brown and grey hair, she carried the toddler with ease and adoration.
8
My mom smiled at me. “This is an unexpected visit.” She looked around. “Where’s Joshua?”
“I’ll give you all of the details when the children are distracted.”
“Ah, well.” She gently pinched Rebekah’s cheek. “What do you say about a walk on the beach?”
“Beach! Beach!”
“Beach?” Paul said from inside the house.
I called to him. “Yes. Can you let Natalie know?”
“I don’t want to go,” Natalie called from somewhere inside the house.
“I didn’t ask if you did. Spit, spot, on the dot.”
Paul snickered, as Natalie gave a complaintive groan.
Trad, my half-brother, appeared in the doorway.
“Trad!” I gave him a warm hug and had to stand on my tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. When had the once lanky teen grown into a young man? He stood taller than me now. He had fine stubble on his chin and shaggy brown hair framing an oval face.
“Good to see you, Abbey.” He returned the embrace.
When everyone came outside, we followed the trail through to the beach. I recalled eight years ago when all of this vegetation had been flattened like a pan-pan from a devastating harbor wave. Mulan had erupted and seismic forces had created an enormous wave. The wave sped to Misty Isle and leveled foliage and buildings. Fortunately, Mal provided me advanced notice; Baird and I were able to evacuate the island. Within a few months, the villagers rebuilt their homes. Years later, there was no trace of the devastation.
Paul, Natalie, and Rebekah ran ahead with their dutiful uncle keeping pace.
I walked beside my mother. “Mom, I need to leave the children here.”
“Absolutely. What’s going on?”
I explained the plague on Crithos. “Joshua is helping at the castle. I want to see what I can offer. Perhaps I can take people to the Healing Springs or bring water from the springs to them.”
“How long do you suppose you’ll be gone?”