by Nikolas Rex
“He will be alright,” Marad said. He raised one of his arms and waved his wife to his side. She came and he hugged her tight.
“Our boy has already come of age, I must rely on him to help reveal why these men were seeking after our family,” he said, than added almost as if to himself, “after all this time.”
Then Marad straightened, “But before you go, there is something I must give you.”
He went to the bedroom he shared with his wife and was only gone for a few moments before he returned with a long blanket wrapped around what was obviously some long thin shape, almost longer than he was tall.
He held out the item before his son.
“This,” he gestured to the wrapped blanket, “was your grandfather’s. But I believe now would be a good time to give it to you.”
He motioned for him to open it.
Puck reached forward and unraveled the blanket.
Beneath the blanket was a simple long, thin, pole of metal. It was silver in color, that almost seemed to glow of its own accord. It appeared perfectly unmarked as if freshly forged and polished immaculately.
Drake watched in interest.
“A quarterstaff?” Puck finally said.
“This is no ordinary weapon,” His father replied, “It is imbued with great magic from our bloodline. Only a true Shifter can wield this to its full potential. A quarterstaff is only its most simple form. With our magic, it can take many forms.”
Puck gingerly picked up the weapon.
Instantly he felt his magic working, familiarizing him with the metal in his hands. It was unlike anything he had felt before. He began to manipulate the pole, shifting it until it was a simple ball, no larger than the palm of his hand. Puck looked at the globe in his hand. Suddenly the metal was shifting again, Marad was manipulating it. The sphere became a simple pair of metal bracers the size of Pucks forearms. Puck nodded and equipped the bracers.
“Makes it easy to carry,” Puck admitted.
“You will be armed, even if those around you think you are without a weapon,” Marad said, “I wish I had more time to train you with it. In all honesty, I hoped I would never have to train you in its use, but the need has arisen, and I only have regret about the matter.”
“I will learn on the road,” Puck stated simply, “Trial and error will be my teacher.”
“All will be well,” Marad nodded.
Aliyana ran forward and wrapped her arms around her brother.
“You must take this as well, I have already asked mother.”
She reached around her neck and withdrew the necklace.
“It will protect you,” she said as she placed it over his head while their parents watched, “It saved me, it can save you to.”
“Take care of Ranasa while I am gone,” he responded, clutching the dark crystal at the end of the necklace.
“I will.” She replied, “be safe brother!” she said into his shoulder, hugging him tightly, “I will invoke the Exalted to watch over you every day.”
She then ran over and hugged Drake as well.
“Thank you for everything,” she whispered to him, “If not for you, my mother and I would not be here now.”
She kissed him on the cheek and he looked away shyly.
“I will wait here then, until you are ready,” Drake said to Puck.
Puck nodded, “it will be not more than a few moments. And I must say goodbye to Ranasa.”
***
Not too much time later Puck stood on the road leading away from Essoril, his home town.
He fingered the dark crystal again as he looked back at the town.
“Ready?” Drake said, bringing Puck from his thoughts.
“Yes,” Puck said, putting the dark crystal beneath his shirt.
“Forward ho!”
***
Aliyana sat at the bed, slowly stroking Ranasa’s arm.
It was night again, Puck and Drake had gone long before.
She was softly singing a lullaby that her mother sang to her as a child. It soothed her.
Ranasa finally stirred. It wasn’t much but he shifted his head and looked at Aliyana.
She did not see at first and continued singing quietly.
“Aliyana?” He said, his voice no louder than a whisper.
“Ranasa?” She returned his gaze, “You are back, you are here.” She smiled, glad to see him coming to.
“I am scared,” He said, his eyes reflecting the terror he had experienced upon seeing the body of his slain mother. A tear fell down his cheek.
“Oh Ranasa,” Aliyana said, leaning over and wrapping her arms around him, “I am here, there is nothing to worry about, I will take care of you.”
Ranasa put his arms around her as well and gently sobbed into her shoulder.
Chapter Twenty
Unrest
Sulendald was a beautiful city.
It lay in a low valley, in Itherin, near the Wildlands. A large river ran through the valley. A bridge crossed the river, from a hill, to the main entrance of Sulendald. In the east, lay rolling wooded hills, which grew thicker the further east one traveled. Mountains and forests lay beyond that, with only a few sure outposts here and there until only the Wildlands reigned. It was a well defended city, tall stone walls jutted from the grassy valley floor below, surrounding the buildings within. A number of small towns, villages, and farmlands dotted the nearby lands in the west. From afar one could see the main fortress in the city center, and the spiraling of roads spinning outward to the buildings and houses around it. Another long bridge led to a sharp curve in the wide river, where a number of docks spread out like fingers on a hand. Fishing boats and large river barges docked here, filling up with trade goods to bring down river for selling to other Freeland cities. Despite its nearness to the Wildlands and the dangers therein, it was a prosperous and bright city.
But a sickness had begun to plague it from within.
No one knew who was taking them, or why, but one thing was sure, the bodies of the dead had begun to disappear.
The sickness was beyond that of the local healers. Waronen, Sulendald’s Overseer, personally knew Doyenne Carlata and had sent for her and the Order’s help. He could only hope that their advanced knowledge in the healing arts would be enough to cure the disease.
Laura hoped that as well, for all the others of the Order there with her on assignment, but not for her, for her it would be too much to hope, because she knew she would be of little real help.
They had arrived the night before, a company of almost fifty women. They had been welcomed with open arms, as they usually were. They had not done much except set up camp. Now, in the morning, they could visit the sick.
City watchmen had been assigned to accompany them for their safety. Waronen had told them it was because he did not know who was behind the corpse thieving, and he did not want to risk the harm of his guests in case the thieves grew more aggressive and began to prey on the living as well as steal from the dead.
Laura followed quietly but quickly behind Doyenne Carlata. Her black, green, and gold robes swished back and forth swiftly in their hurried pace to reach their destination. Carlata’s brown and silver hair, pulled back in a long tight braid, waved back and forth with her motions as well. She was older than Kaelynn by several cycles, but looked younger by her facial features, sharp blue eyes, a stern brow, and an equally sharp chin. Laura watched the bottom of the older woman’s boots appear and disappear beneath her robe with each step along the cobblestone street. Four Doyennes had been asked to come on the assignment, each with several Adepts and handpicked Aides. There were two areas of the city with the most concern. Carlata, head of the assignment, instructed Kaelynn and another Doyenne to the other location, while she herself and Doyenne Tyessa and her group to come with her. Carlata had brought no one else but Laura.
Why did Carlata want me here? She thought. She knows I am the worst aide in the entire Order.
But Laura had a strong gut feeling of
why she had really been asked to come along. Kimira had been right, the Doyennes had begun to be suspicious. If they found out Laura was the daughter of a powerful wizard with his magic running through her blood, they would probably dismiss Laura, Kaelynn and Kimira from the Order. The Order of the Leaf was a peaceful group, they could not afford to have someone in their company who would attract possibly very dangerous foes.
She is going to ask me questions, Laura’s heart beat faster, She wants to get in a position where we are alone so she can talk to me. She imagined a small room of someone’s house, an old man sick in bed, Carlata carefully and slowly applying a healing ointment on his body, a laborious and lengthy process, and Laura right there next to the bed, mixing up more ointment. Yes, she thought, That is exactly how it is going to be. Then she will begin to ask, and I will have no excuse to leave, for what reason would I have to abandon someone sick, someone in need. Of course she would send away Kaelynn and Kimira, so that I will have no one around to stick up for me, but myself.
She began to think of suitable responses to possible questions the Doyenne would ask her.
The buildings and the people were not much more than a blur on her right and left as she subconsciously followed Carlata to their destination, she was so deep in thought. The houses and shops were quaint half-timbered structures, their frames exposed on their outsides. Most of them had ground floors of stone, with timber framed second and third floors built in a jettying style. The upper floors projected beyond the dimensions of the floor below, allowing the roads to retain a wider open space for carts and wagons.
Laura also barely noticed that, as they continued on their path, the quality of the buildings and streets began to degrade significantly. She only realized it when the clip clap of boots on cobble stones were replaced with the squish squelch of footsteps in mud.
A large voice of angry people further pulled her from her thoughts as they all rounded a corner to face a number of city guards barely holding off a crowd of shouting people. They had arrived to the very heart of the slums in Sulendald.
It was difficult to make out full sentences from the angry mob, but from snippets of sentences here and there it was clear they were angry with Waronen, and his dealing of the sickness that had infected their homes and their lives.
“Protection from corpse thieves, really?” Carlata said to one of their escorts. Waronen was obviously protecting the women in the Order from his own angry citizens, and not from supposed corpse thieves.
The guard Carlata had spoken too merely shrugged, and then he signaled to two of his men and walked forward.
“Stand aside people! Stand aside!” He yelled over the noise of the crowd, “These are healers from the Order of the Leaf, Waronen has personally sent for them. Let them through! They are here to help those who are sick!”
A heavyset fellow pushed forward in the crowd and raised his voice in response, “Stop feeding us lies!” He cried, “Waronen is a fool and a liar! Tell him to give us the bodies of our loved ones back so we can honor their deaths in a proper way!”
“Our Leader has nothing to do with the disappearing bodies! We are still trying to find out who is responsible for that!”
“Lies!” the man cried.
“Guards! Arrest that man!” The captain of the watchmen there ordered.
Two armored soldiers grabbed the man and tore him from the crowd. He fell to his knees in the mud as they withdrew leather bindings and began twisting the man’s arms painfully behind his back. He struggled and one of the guards threw his fist across the man’s jaw with a loud crack.
The crowd roared angrily and pushed against the guards holding them back.
It was only a matter of moments before violence broke out.
Carlata stepped forward and placed her hands on the captain of the guard.
“Please!” She cried over the noise.
She quickly went around, placing her hands on the shoulders of everyone nearby.
Those she touched, visibly relaxed.
“Please,” she said again. Stillness crept through the air like magic. No one noticed the faint glow in Carlata’s palms and in her countenance.
The crowd slowly quieted, until Laura could even hear the breaths of those around her.
“Please,” Carlata said a third time, “We are here to help. Please let us through and allow us to do our work.”
Everyone began to nod in agreement.
“Let this man go,” Carlata said to the Captain, placing her hand on his shoulder as she spoke, “he means not what he says, he is simply torn with grief.”
The captain seemed unsure of what to do. Then he nodded and signaled the man released. He sat down, leaning against the side of a nearby stone wall and massaged his wrists and his jaw.
The group quickly dispersed only moments later, opening the way before them.
Carlata looked through her bag for something and soon produced a large green leaf, Laura recognized it as a remedy for pain.
Carlata knelt by the man who had been punched.
“Here,” she said, handing him the leaf, “hold it to your face, it will help.”
He didn’t move, wary of the thing in her hand as if it would bite him.
Carlata slowly lowered the leaf and gently placed it on his chin, “What is your name?” she asked.
“Emerson,” he replied.
“Well, Emerson,” She said with a gentle smile, “Do not worry, we are here to help.”
He nodded.
Then she stood and returned to her place by the other women.
The guards escorted them down the road to a large grouping of dwellings. Most of the buildings sagged like tired old things, their wood supports rotting in places, and the plaster poorly patched here and there. A stench began to creep into Laura’s nose, like decaying rotted fruit. It was unsettling because despite the rankness, it was tinged with a hint of sweetness. There were sick people everywhere, lying in the alleys, coughing and groaning. It was a horrible sight.
Carlata turned to the women around her, “All will be well,” She said.
She put on her black gloves, and continued, “But we have much work to do here. I am sure it is the same situation with the others in their portion of the city. Let us begin work straightaway, Tyessa, begin a general sweep, only the most basic work, then focus on more difficult cases as you find them. Laura and I will seek out the most difficult cases and begin with that, all is well?”
Tyessa gave a short bow, “All is well,” Tyessa immediately turned and addressed her group with instructions.
“Come with me,” Carlata told Laura.
Laura nodded her head and shivered.
***
For the rest of the day Laura followed Carlata very closely with a large number of parchment pieces bound together and a large quill pen filled with ink.
She wrote down everything Carlata instructed her to write. The Doyenne needed every observation of hers recorded so that she could go over her notes with the other Doyenne’s at night. They needed to find out if the sickness the people had was the same, so they could begin experimenting to find the cure, or if there were many different sickness that could only be healed with many different cures. Laura thought that paying attention to lessons was difficult, but as the hours passed and she took notes for Carlata, she knew she would never be able to become a healer.
It was unlike anything she had ever seen before. Almost all of those they visited were hot with fever, bedridden. The most mild had only a cough, and were taken care of by Tyessa, but Carlata sought out the worst of the sick, whether just by looking, or actually asking to be directed to the sickest person. Laura could barely stomach the sight of some of them. Their skin looked grotesquely discolored, their flesh sagged against bones on some parts of their body, the muscles beneath being almost non-existent. Some had large darkened pus filled sack protruding from the skin, oozing in small cracks where the flesh was stretched too far. The stench was worse inside the homes where the sickest
ones could not move, filling nook and cranny with rotting stink. Laura was sure she would never be able to get the stench from her clothes and that she would be sure to burn them after this assignment was over.
Carlata made observations of everything, and Laura wrote it down.
Carlata made no move to ask her any questions, but Laura was sure they would come, perhaps when they returned to camp for the night.
It was not until late in the evening, when the little girl came to them.
They were making perpetrations to return to their camp outside the city when she tugged on Carlata’s robes.
She and Laura turned to the young girl.
The girl was small and dirty, ragged long dark brown hair.
“Please come,” she said, “My daddy, he needs help. Will you help him?”
Carlata was about to tell her they would be back early the next morning, but Laura, after everything she had seen that day, knew that it was likely the next day would be too late for this poor girl’s father.
She thought of her own father and how she had never been able to know what he was like, how she had only just learned early in the cycle about her father. She couldn’t help but think maybe she would be able to help save this young girl from having to grow up like had, fatherless.
She shivered, remembering the rain and the cold on that day.
“Let us go with her,” Laura spoke up, “One last case, before we retire for the night.”
Carlata looked as if to deny her, a little angry that an Aide would ever dare order a Doyenne. But her face mellowed slightly and she smiled but it was not quite a pleasant smile.
“I had hoped to spend some time this evening,” She paused, “Going over the day’s events,”
Badgering you with questions, Laura imagined her saying in place of what she actually said.
“But we will have time for that on the morrow,” she finished.
She then turned to the girl, “take us to your father.”
The young girl nodded and turned to go.