Could it really have worked? Alec didn’t know how it was possible that writing on the page would have influenced Sam in that way, but there was no question that she reacted faster than she should have. Now two of the massive men were down, one with an arrow through his neck and the other with a knife in his brain. Neither injury was survivable.
Strange that even though he knew they had aimed at him, he struggled seeing them down like that. The urge to heal went deep into his core, and seeing others suffering, especially if there was something he could do about it, was difficult.
The remaining man moved quickly as he swung his sword. He was faster than Sam, even with whatever magic the paper provided.
Alec couldn’t believe he actually thought the paper had any magic.
What else could have changed Sam?
She called on him to keep up what he was doing. There wasn’t anything he could think of that would make her any faster or stronger, but was there something he could do that would slow the last man?
The paper seemed to respond to listing of symptoms. Would it work in reverse?
Hyperactive reflexes, accelerated speed, abundance of strength. Would decrease all of the above with seven parts opium with one part vilen.
The princess’s bed suddenly slid across the floor and into his chair, sending him toppling to the floor. The makeshift pen went clattering to the floor, as well. The tray spilled and the bowl holding Sam’s blood splattered, cracking as it struck.
The massive man jumped over the princess’s bed and landed in front of him.
“What did you write?”
Alec clutched the paper. Somehow, he’d managed to hold on to it when he’d fallen. “Nothing,” he managed.
The man stalked toward him, starting to raise his sword, when he faltered.
His eyes widened.
“Sam! He should be—”
The man’s boot caught Alec in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him before he got a chance to tell Sam the man was slowed. Would she know?
24
Saving the Princess
“Alec!” Sam yelled. She wasn’t sure what he’d tried to tell her, but knew she had to get to the brute before he could harm Alec.
Sam barely got out of the way before the brute collided with the princess’s bed, sending it crashing into Alec, who tumbled off the chair and lost the pen as it skittered across the floor. The brute jumped, and it carried him over the bed as he turned his attention now to Alec.
She scrambled toward the nearest brute, unsheathing his sword and hefting it. The sword was heavier than it looked—heavier than any normal steel sword—and she swung it as she circled the end of the princess’s bed.
The brute raised his sword to attack Alec.
She lunged, but missed.
The brute kicked Alec and he doubled over, whatever he tried to say cut off.
Had the sword faltered?
If so, it might be the opening she needed.
She jumped in front of him, catching his sword with the one she’d taken, knocking him back.
The brute staggered, his jaw clenched as he tried swinging his sword around, but she caught it before he could. Either she’d sped up… or Alec had somehow slowed him.
The wide-eyed look on the brute’s face made it clear which it was.
“That’s how it works? Writing in blood?” she asked, swinging her sword around, knocking his from his hand so it clattered to the ground.
“You will never get a chance to understand.”
“No? I think he’s already learned enough for us to figure out the rest. You can’t move like you could before, can you?”
The brute laughed. “This is temporary. Soon enough I’ll be restored, and you… you will fade. Then this will be finished.”
She jabbed at him with the sword. He twisted, so rather than piercing his stomach, the blade only went through his side. He grimaced but said nothing.
Sam swung again, this time bringing the sword slicing up.
It grew heavy—too heavy for her to hold.
The brute grinned. “As I said. You fade.”
Sam pulled on all the strength she could and kicked, catching him in the chest.
He went flying across the room, crashing into the wall. His eyes remained open, watching her. Somehow, he managed to say nothing when she’d hit him.
“Alec?” she asked.
She could feel whatever he had done seeping from her. It went slowly at first, but then more quickly. She had experienced enhanced strength and reflexes, but that seemed gone. And if what he had done for her was gone, then whatever he had done to the brute would soon end.
The brute watched her, and a dark smile spread across his face, as if knowing her thoughts.
She circled around the princess’s bed, and picked up one of the crossbows, taking a bolt and nocking it, while pointing it at him. “Explain this.”
He laughed. “You won’t fire. I’ve seen it in your face.”
“Why are you here for me?”
“For you? I’m not here for you.”
Sam looked over her shoulder, noting the princess. Would she recover or would the effect fade for her as well?
But whatever Alec had done to help heal Sam the first time had worked, why wouldn’t it work now? Why wouldn’t her speed and strength remain?
“You cannot hold what was never meant to be,” the brute said. “You can augment, but it fades. You fade. Much like you cannot take away what has been given. Eventually it returns.”
“Like what you did to the princess?” Sam didn’t even know if the brutes had done anything to the princess, but it seemed the most likely answer.
“You begin to see.”
“I don’t see anything. You said you can’t take away. What did you do to her?”
The brute began to push away from the wall, flexing his arms and wrists as he did. “Some still know the old ways, and they know how to make such changes linger, especially when written in the book.” He waved toward the princess’s bed.
Alec held the crossbow out and risked a look over. The princess seemed to be breathing more easily now, and if anything, her color had improved. Did the smell remain? She only noted the mint from the paste, and nothing more.
“He’s healed her. She’ll recover.”
“For now. Once you’re gone, I will finish her myself.”
Sam fired the crossbow.
The brute caught the bolt as it flew toward his face.
With a smile, he threw it to the ground and started toward her.
Sam needed Alec to do something. If he could only write on the paper again, somehow slow the brute once more, they could get away. But she’d seen the blood spill and the bowl crack on the ground. There would be no more writing.
She threw the crossbow at the brute.
He smacked it away.
Sam had to draw him out of the room. If she could, she could give Alec a chance to escape. Or better yet, the princess a chance to awaken so she could help him.
Scrambling backward, she still had some residual speed, but nothing like she’d had before. She grabbed her knife out of the fallen brute’s eye, trying not to gag as she did, or notice the squishing as the knife pulled free.
She held it out toward her attacker. The brute eyed the knife before flicking his gaze to her face.
Sam reached the door and stepped into the hall.
The brute laughed. “You won’t find safety there, Kaver.”
With a jump, he reached the door.
Sam darted back, across the hall, and her back pressed into the stone. The brute stepped into the hallway, blocking her from leaving.
Whatever she did, she was trapped.
“Why?” Sam asked.
“You can never understand.”
He took a step toward her.
As he did, Sam heard feet pounded along tile, almost thundering toward her.
The brute seemed to notice it too.
She looked past him. Five soldi
ers marched along the hall, all armed with swords. The highborn who had captured her was with them, watching her with an amused expression.
The brute noted them, then turned the opposite way and casually strode to the end of the hall where he disappeared.
She quickly shoved her knife into her boot. If they didn’t catch her with a weapon, she might get away with only prison. Might.
Now she stood in the hall alone, the guards each watching her with swords drawn, as if they hadn’t seen the brute. With the way he’d turned and left at their arrival, she didn’t think he worked with them, but how would he have managed to hide himself from them?
“Do not move,” the nearest guard said.
Sam held her hands up. “I’m not moving.”
After everything she had planned, she had found her way into the prison. Only, this way, there would be no escape.
25
An Awakening
Alec rolled toward the paper as Sam backed out the door. Was there anything he could even do to help? If he could only write on the paper again, he might be able to help augment her ability once more. How had it faded as quickly as it had? Then again, could magical paper explain how had she gained the abilities she had in the first place? Had he not seen it himself, he wouldn’t have believed it possible. He still wasn’t sure whether he could believe what he’d seen.
He smoothed the page across the floor. Without the blood and without anything to write with, there wouldn’t be a point of what he tried here.
The brute stepped through the doorway after Sam. He had to do something—anything—to help her. Even if it involved magic that shouldn’t exist.
The problem was that there wasn’t any of the blood left. Even if he wanted to help her, and even if the blood could somehow work on her, he wasn’t sure there would be any to even use.
The bowl lay cracked near him.
Alec crawled through the shards of porcelain, ignoring the way they poked him as he did. His hand caught a particularly painful shard in the middle of his palm, reopening the wound from when he’d cut his hand to try and see if the blood would work on the page.
He bit back a cry of pain, looking up long enough to see that the huge man had the advantage on her. He had to hurry. Using whatever magic the paper possessed, he’d been able to speed her up and make her stronger; she had been able to counter him, but even that hadn’t been enough to succeed. It had taken him figuring out a way to slow the man, only then had she a chance. Alec doubted he would have stood much of a chance had it been he who had to face the brutes. Sam at least had fighting skill. He had… well, not fighting skill.
His skill was what she needed right now.
He reached dried blood. Sam’s blood.
With the bowl tipped, the blood had congealed quickly. It flaked free, and remained sticky in places, but attempting to smear it with his finger was useless.
Could he liquefy it in some way? The idea seemed grotesque, and something he would never have even considered, but this was a desperate time, and he had to try anything that could help her.
Alec chose the largest section of clotted blood and peeled it from the floor. Thinking fast, he wondered if there was anything he could mix with it to make it so he could write with it. Saliva came to mind, but he didn’t relish the idea of putting blood in his mouth. If he found a cup or another bowl, he could spit into it and mix the two, but all such bowls and vials from the tray had been destroyed.
The only option involved spitting into his hand.
Dropping the clotted blood into his palm, he spat.
Using his index finger, he began swirling it in his palm. The combination of the saliva and the clotted blood and—surprisingly—his own blood from the shard of the bowl that pierced his flesh—all mixed together. As he reached for the paper, the sound of boots thundered across the tile.
Alec looked up to see a pair of palace guards hurrying into the room. They were dressed in the formal, deep blue jackets and pants, and each carried a sword unsheathed. The lead man, an older man with a long, weathered face and a soft chin, surveyed the room quickly before his gaze settled on Alec.
“You, physicker. What happened here?”
He glanced at himself, clutching the page tightly in his fist so he didn’t lose it. He still had to find a way to help Sam. But then, if the guards were here, did it mean the massive man had been chased off? That might be the best outcome, especially for Sam.
“There was an attack.” He started to stand but at a look from the other guard, he sank back to the ground. They weren’t interested in him getting up. Not that he could blame them. If he were a guard and came upon a scene like the one in this room, he would think the princess had been attacked. Possibly even that Alec had been involved.
“I can see there was an attack. Why are you not trying to help these men?”
Alec managed to stand and peered over at the fallen men. Even dead, they were terrifying. They were massive, the enormity of their size imposing. There had been something about them, a certain supernatural speed and agility, almost as if they had been enhanced by the paper, only permanently so. If he could discover how, he might be better able to help Sam.
“They’re dead. There’s nothing I can do to help them.”
Alec rubbed his eyes, trying to think through what he knew. These men had tried to attack Sam and Alec. They were somehow implicated in what had happened to the princess—he knew that much. But how? What was the connection? And now the palace guard seemed more concerned about these dead men than about what had almost happened here.
“There was a woman,” Alec said.
“We captured her.”
“She was—”
He didn’t get the chance to tell them that Sam had helped the princess, and that without her, they might not have been able to do anything to help her. The princess coughed, and the guards rushed over to her.
Alec could only watch as she sat up. The color had returned to her cheeks, much more than he would have expected to have happened so quickly. She was still thin, but less so than she had been and now looked like there was nothing wrong with her that a few dozen meals couldn’t fix. The hollowness to her eyes was gone, leaving her with a less haunted expression. Even her hair had taken on more of a luster, leaving her looking, if not healthy, at least somewhat well.
“Where am I?” the princess asked.
“The university, my lady,” the lead guard said. “You’ve been deathly ill. The physickers saved you!”
The princess looked over to him, and Alec wanted nothing more than to shrink back into the wall and hide. The physickers hadn’t saved her. Something impossible had. Alec still didn’t know whether he could believe it.
“What happened?”
The guards looked to him for answers. What could he say that would placate her? What did she need to hear now, and what would be better for her to hear when she was well? He might be able to give her something. He probably had to give her something.
“A wasting illness, princess. Your body was rotting from the inside.”
“I remember… I remember seeing a man who told me the same. He left thinking he could find help.”
Alec nodded. She had probably seen all the physickers while she’d lain here nearly dying. Would she survive? With the way her skin appeared, and the way she seemed to recover even as he watched, each breath growing stronger, he thought that she might. Though it seemed impossible to think that she would, especially after seeing how sick she had been, but he couldn’t deny it.
A sickening sense came to him then.
What if it faded, much like the effect of the magic had faded on Sam?
He would have to keep writing. That was all he could do.
“My lady?” the guard asked.
“I need food. And a bath. I should like to see my father.”
The guard nodded, waving the other guard out of the room. Alec assumed it was to go for her father.
It was then the princess seemed to reali
ze there were two bodies in the room with her. Her eyes widened, and she stared at them a long time, before looking to the guard for answers. He paled slightly.
“My lady, there was a woman found here. We think she killed these two and intended to come after you, but we arrived in time to thwart her.”
Alec didn’t even dare argue. What would happen to him if he did? But if he said nothing, Sam would be placed in prison. Maybe worse.
“Where is she now?” the princess asked.
“We’ve taken her to the prison. She carried a knife with her and…”
Possessing a knife in the same room with the princess would mean more trouble for Sam than she deserved.
“She helped you, my lady,” Alec said.
The guard shot him a look full of anger, but Alec ignored it. If he didn’t speak up, it was becoming clear that not only would Sam end up in prison, but she might be executed.
The princess looked over to him. “She did what?”
“Helped. Those men attacked. I think they might have been responsible for your illness. She came to let me have a chance to heal you.”
As he said it, he realized he had said too much. The princess had been sick for too long, and now he made claims of poisoning and a claim that these men—men she wouldn’t know—had been responsible for it.
“These men?” She studied him in a strange way. “You know them?”
Alec shook his head. “I don’t know what brought them here at this time, but I know what I saw, and I know what they attempted. They wanted you gone.”
The princess’s face paled slightly. “I…”
She sagged, and Alec hurried toward her, but the guard rounded on him, sword raised. “Do not touch her, physicker. I will see we call the master—”
Alec pushed the man to the side. “Call who you would like, but I’m going to make certain that she’s unharmed.”
He reached the princess and touched her lightly on the neck. She breathed, but it was slow. Her pulse was not as regular as it should be. Had the healing begun to fail already?
Wasting: The Book of Maladies Page 20