“By the grace of the gods, the physicians rode through the night to get here. They are over a day ahead of schedule and have already managed to coax the Consul back to consciousness,” Feolan smiled. The glimmer of worry was still evident in his eyes when he looked at her, coming over to help Maeri guide her to the settee. “While you are here, I insist you have one of them take a look at you.”
“They need to focus on the Consul. I regretfully came with bad news which I must share with you. I admit it is much of the reason why I have come, although deep down I was more concerned about his health.”
Sitting down on the settee, Maeri positioned herself beside Leyna on the cushion, continuing to rub her gently. Feolan opted to situate himself on the arm of the settee next to Leyna.
Their behavior was odd. It appeared to Leyna they were making great effort to keep distance between each other, using her as a distraction. Or possibly trying to distract her? An occasional hesitant glance at one another could be seen, their speech patterns quickened. Almost nervous. The flirtatious sparkle in Maeri’s eye was all Leyna needed to know what was going on. “Did I come at a bad time? I suddenly feel as though I am intruding.”
“Nonsense,” Maeri laughed awkwardly. “We were only just talking about the upcoming masque when I discovered you outside. Queen Vorsila has already sent out a wave of invitations. You know you would be welcomed there with open arms if you chose to attend.”
“When I tell you of the bad news which I bring, if it is passed on to Her Majesty, I suspect she may be postponing the party.” Placing her left hand over her chest, she struggled to inhale a breath, giving pause before continuing again. From the arm of the chair, she felt Feolan’s body stiffen, drawing in air as if to speak before falling silent again, motioning for Leyna to continue. “Oksuva had her meeting with that Ven’shal man, Kyros. Zander helped me to escape from there only a short while ago, which is why I still look like a bit of a clown.
Absently, she rubbed at the make up around her eyes, sighing at the heavy charcoal color staining her fingertips. She waited for any interjections that Maeri or Feolan might have before continuing, finding them silent, anxiously anticipating the news.
“As it turns out, Kyros works for a man known as Rohld. Oksuva is arranging to meet with him to discuss some kind of artifact she has found. Apparently years ago now. She has had people researching. She claims it belonged to the Ven’shal Arcastus and that her researchers have ascertained it to contain some kind of magic stored there by him personally. But she doesn’t have enough control over the energies to wield it, given that she is not pure Vor’shai or of any Ven’shal blood.”
“How is it that we have never heard anything about this supposed artifact before now?” Feolan asked, idly taking Leyna’s left hand in his, patting it comfortingly. “Did Kael know about any of this or was this only just revealed to you both this evening?”
“Truth be told, I am at a loss as to what Kael knows and does not know. But my concerns about him will have to wait until some other time when there is less pressing business,” Leyna said quietly. Now hardly seemed the time to break into a tangent about Kael using the sorcerous magic when there was still a chance she could talk some sense into him about it when he was sober. “Rumor has it that Rohld has some information regarding the location of Arcastus’s body. I was not even aware that his corpse was still around.”
“Yes, the legends say it was hidden away in some secret tomb, but no one knows where and there has never been any indication to make us believe it to be true,” Feolan nodded.
“Well, Oksuva is trying to meet with Rohld. They intend to use the magic inside this artifact to raise Arcastus from the dead and wage a war against our people. With that, they are also planning to recruit the Sanarik and Namiren, playing off their possible bitterness toward Queen Vorsila at her involvement in their defeat at the end of the Siscalian war with Namorea.”
Maeri’s face was contorted in horror at the thought of what Leyna was suggesting. “A war? Resurrecting Arcastus? This can’t be allowed to happen. We can stop them, right?”
“If I can gather more information and allow us to plan an interception, then yes. It is possible. But it will be a very sensitive task –” Leyna became suddenly uncomfortably aware of Feolan’s hand twisting the golden band around her finger. The expression on his face was a combination which made it impossible to decipher what was going through his head. At Leyna’s unexpected pause, Maeri followed their eyes, a sharp gasp escaping her at the sight of the ring.
“Leyna.”
“Maeri, we are not discussing that right now,” she exhaled, pulling her hand away from Feolan. “Do you not understand what I am saying? This is dangerous! This is the sort of thing we feared we would find but always secretly hoped would never come to be. All this time we thought it was Mikel who would be plotting, and it turns out that it has been his wife. She was using him for his affiliations with the Ven’shal to try and track down this Rohld and set this all into motion.”
“I will need to send a letter to Her Majesty,” Feolan frowned, rising stiffly from the arm of the settee. “The Consul is not well enough yet to hear this kind of news, but it needs to be passed on immediately. You were right to come to us when you did. For now, however, you will come with me, Leyna.”
Come with him? It sounded almost ominous. The way the words rolled off his lips, absent of any emotion. Was he angry about the ring? Did he know who had given it to her? She found herself curious if Kael had ever mentioned their relationship in his letters to the Consul. Or if Kael was even still sending his correspondence.
She was wheezing considerably more than when she first left that afternoon. She’d thought it was improving with the stabilization of the energy flow throughout her body. No longer did she feel quite so confident in her diagnosis. It took Maeri’s help to lift her off the settee so she could follow Feolan, motioning for Maeri to come with her. She didn’t know what Feolan wanted, but what she did know was that she wanted Maeri to be there, regardless.
He led them down the dimly lit hallway to Thade’s room. Pillows were propped up on the bed, elevating Thade’s shoulders and head where he lay. His eyes were closed. His chest could be seen moving up and down with a steady rise and fall, slowed to the even, deep rhythm of someone lost in a peaceful sleep. A slight color had returned to his face in comparison to when she’d seen him last. It was a good sign that he was improving. And the physicians appeared calm in their periodic checks of his pulse and temperature.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” Feolan announced quietly, alerting the men to their arrival without speaking too loud, not wanting to wake Thade from his slumber. “If I could trouble one or both of you for a minute to take a look at this young lady here? She is the one who kept the Consul stable enough for you to treat when you arrived today, though I fear she may have taken a bit more of his illness than I at first thought.”
She would have released a sigh of relief in discovering why Feolan had requested her to come there, if not for the pain in her chest. Any strenuous use of the lungs created a massive discomfort. Too much air inhaled sent her into a fit of coughing and wheezing while exhaling too strongly left her breathless for several frightening moments where it felt as if she would suffocate.
One of the physicians looked up at Leyna from where he was bowed over Thade, squinting at her through his glasses. He didn’t resemble anything like what Leyna expected of a Tanispan shaman. In her mind she retained the childish notion that they would be like the wizards in the fairy tales she’d grown up on, with long white beards and pointy hats to match their flowing robes. Instead, they looked unremarkably normal.
The man who took notice of their presence was an older Vor’shai. Possibly one of the oldest of her people Leyna had ever seen before. His hair was graying, though peppered with remnants of the deep black that had once lent color to the strands. He was dressed similarly to a priest of the temples. A simple cotton smock draped over his torso, giving
him a sterile appearance. His thin-rimmed spectacles rested low on the bridge of his nose, his head tilted back to stare through the bottom of the lenses at Leyna.
He walked around her like a vulture circling its prey, observing every detail about Leyna, occasionally muttering and nodding his head as if in communication with some invisible consultant. Facing her, he placed his cool hands against the sides of her neck, his lips pursed in thoughtful contemplation. Leyna was unfamiliar with the methods of the physicians amongst her people. He used no implements like the doctors she’d visited in Mialan when she was a child. It was hard to imagine how they could possibly retrieve any accurate readings in using nothing but their own senses.
Stroking his chin, he moved around behind her, placing his hands against her upper back. “Take a deep breath?”
She cringed at the thought. A deep breath? Shallow ones were painful enough without willingly subjecting her body to that kind of torture. “It – hurts to breathe. Do I have to?”
“Try. I need to listen to your lungs.”
It was hard not to laugh at his statement. Listen to her lungs. With what, exactly? His hands? Even to a race of people skilled in incredible feats of magic, it sounded preposterous.
Bracing herself for the impending pain, she tried to draw in a deep gulp of air, grimacing and stopping before she could fill her lungs. The pressure of the doctor’s hands moved away from her back, his aging face reappearing in front of her, somber and quiet. “As I feared, the lungs are being crushed. When she created the circuit between them, she must have gone through the meridian at his chest, transferring a good portion of the pressure from his lungs into her own. While this relieved the strain on him, it only served to pass it on to her. We will need to extract the fluid before it builds up any worse than it already has.”
“Extract it?” Leyna blinked, stepping away from the doctor nervously. “I am not entirely comfortable with the thought. How does that even work?”
“I watched him do the same procedure on the Consul a few hours ago, Leyna. I am not sure you want to know,” Feolan smiled half-heartedly. The attempt at humor was lost on Leyna in her uncertainty, her eyes looking over to him fearfully.
“You knew they would have to do this to me?” she asked, dumbfounded by the entire situation. “How could you have known? I am absolutely fine. You should be able to see for yourself that I have improved since you saw me last.”
The doctor was deep in a hushed conversation with the other shaman, oblivious to anything being spoken between the others in the room. Leyna wished she could hear what they were saying, to prepare herself for what they intended to do. The sound of the procedure alone was enough to make her shudder.
“You look more stable, but every breath you took while trying to tell us what you discovered tonight was strained and shallow. Every time you opened your mouth, it was obvious that your symptoms were identical to those of the Consul’s. To be honest, I was finding it difficult to focus on everything you were telling me. You may have to go over it again once you are better.”
Better? How was she supposed to get better? It had been well over a decade since she’d been visited by a doctor and even longer still since she had been ill to the point of requiring any form of treatment outside of disinfecting and bandaging a wound. Medical science was beyond her scope of understanding, and therefore well beyond the point of comfort for her. “On second thought, I think it might be best if I just left and came back another time when you are all more relaxed…”
They were drawing the canopy closed around the bed like a thin privacy curtain between Thade and where Leyna stood on the far side of the room. Her mind was racing, calculating the distance between her and the door. If Maeri moved out of the way, she felt she would be able to make it before any of the men could reach her and hold her back. The doctor was old. He couldn’t possibly out run her. The other man with him might pose a bit more of a challenge. He was significantly younger. Less dignified in appearance. Almost hesitant in his mannerisms. She got the impression he was nothing more than an apprentice. An aspiring shaman. If she was lucky, he would be too confused by her sudden movement and might not react quickly enough to take chase after her.
Seeing the panic in her eyes, Feolan lightly placed his hand over her forearm, acting as a gesture of comfort while doubling as a means of stopping her if she tried to run. “Leyna, judging by the severity of your condition, if I allow you out that door, you may not survive long enough to make it back to Zander’s home. I cannot have that on my head, nor could I bear to witness the guilt it would cause the Consul.”
“I will be just fine,” she snapped, the sensation of hyperventilating coming over her again the way it had back at Malic’s. Her mind was too scattered to break free of Feolan’s cautious grip, his fingers tightened to keep her from getting loose, while being careful not to press hard enough to risk injury. At that moment she caught sight of the doctor coming around from the other side of the drawn canopy. There in his hand he was carrying something long and sharp, resembling a thin metal shaft of an arrow only without the feather flights.
A needle. She thought her heart would stop dead in her chest. Turning sharply, her instinct was to run away, her escape foiled by the sturdy muscles of Feolan’s chest blocking her path. There was nowhere for her to go beyond him anyway. Over his shoulder she could see nothing but the brilliant colors of the artwork decorating the wall, surrounding the single preserved Tanispan lily in the elegantly crafted vase. Think about the flower. Calm. Take deep breaths…
Who was she kidding? While the flower was pretty, it did nothing to ease the pain in her chest, preventing her from utilizing any deep breathing exercises. They would just have to see her panic. She’d suffered through many things, but she was not prepared to willingly subject herself to something of this nature. The needle was more menacing to her than a drawn arrow on a Sanarik bow. The Sanarik she at least had a chance at overpowering physically and escaping the strike.
The smell of Maeri’s floral perfume invaded Leyna’s nostrils as Feolan stepped away to allow Maeri to take his place, holding Leyna gently in her arms. “It is going to be okay, Leyna. I will sit with you through it. It will be over before you know it.”
They were guiding her over to a small stool near the back of the room. Defeat hung heavy over her. It would be useless to try and get away from them. Even more disheartening was the thought of what the other men from her unit in the war would have said if they’d witnessed her reaction to the needle. Their lieutenant, always willing to run full on into battle against the enemy blades, quivering like a lost child in front of such a small, frivolous object.
Positioning her on the stool, Feolan slid the nightstand away from the bed, placing it in front of Leyna to act as a support. The actions of everyone around her meant little at this point. She had resigned herself to whatever it was the doctor intended to do to her. She’d brought it on herself, after all. In the end, it would be worth it, knowing she had helped Thade. She would just have to find a way to keep reminding herself of that until this was all over.
Maeri knelt down on the other side of the nightstand. Her deep emerald eyes gazed sympathetically at Leyna over the finely polished wood. The room felt brighter than normal, the array of flickering candle flames dancing from every corner of the room creating strange, waving shadows on the walls. They were hypnotic in a sense. The way they twisted and bent before disappearing, only to reappear again to take on a new shape.
Through the veil of her thoughts, she heard the doctor’s voice coming from closer behind her than he’d been before. He was giving directives to everyone, explaining the procedure in vague details which Leyna couldn’t quite grasp. His assistant would be remaining with Thade to maintain a constant vigil of his condition in case anything was to happen. This would require more from Feolan and Maeri to make sure the procedure went successfully.
At least she knew Feolan and Maeri could be trusted. Many times Leyna had watched Feolan tend to th
e wounds of the injured soldiers in battle. His hands were steady. She trusted him with her life.
Her anxiety had begun to slowly ebb away when she suddenly felt a tug at her bodice laces, loosening them until it was supported by nothing but the pressure of the nightstand, holding it precariously in place. If there had been any shred of energy left in her, she would have been embarrassed by it.
It wasn’t until she heard the doctor give orders to remove the top of her chemise that she started to feel uneasy. Despite the melancholy mind state that had taken over her, she was constantly aware of the scars which covered the skin on her back. They would raise questions in the minds of her friends. Possibly even the doctor. It was not common for a woman of any standing to bear such marks. Her only comfort was in the fact that Feolan would be more likely to assume them to be remnants of some old punishment enacted upon her by Mikel. Although it was inaccurate, it might at least buy her some time to distract them from it without having to explain the truth.
Closing her eyes, she waited for the reaction she knew would come. With Maeri holding the bodice against Leyna’s front, the cool hands of the doctor and Feolan gently slid the fabric of her chemise down away from her shoulders and arms to expose her back. The silence was all Leyna needed to know they had spotted the scars. Part of her was grateful she couldn’t see the expressions on their faces. The questioning looks in their eyes.
Murmurs could be heard from somewhere behind her back. Feolan and the doctor had stepped away, leaving Maeri staring off over Leyna’s shoulder in concern. She couldn’t see what it was the men had witnessed. The curiosity in her gaze was obvious; driving her mad with her desire to know what was going on. “Is something wrong? Is there something which would hinder the procedure?”
“No, we were just discussing something. Leyna, if you are ready, we are going to begin.” Feolan’s voice sounded forced. He was frustrated by something. Leyna could only assume it had something to do with her.
The Myatheira Chronicles: The Vor'shai: From the Ashes (Volume 1) Page 49