by Laura R Cole
CHAPTER 9
Lord Telvani stood before the Council and smiled. All six of them looked up at him expectantly, waiting for him to speak. He could feel each of their minds wriggling in his own to break loose, but to no avail. Outwardly, they were serene and the emissaries from Treymayne did not notice a thing.
“The King and Queen’s conditions have worsened,” he stated, “And I’m afraid that they are no longer competent enough to perform their duties. Until such time as a cure is discovered, I ask that the Council officially appoint me as the interim ruler so that decisions of importance are made by a sound mind. The Queen has trusted me since her coronation as her chief advisor and I am confident that I can carry out her wills as she would if she were able.”
The emissaries looked slightly taken-aback, especially Lord Masterson, who wore a concerned expression. Telvani had gotten the feeling that the man didn’t entirely trust him. But, with the entire Gelendan Council backing him, there wasn’t much he could do. Masterson looked to the members, waiting for them to disagree. When they spoke, however, the look of concern deepened.
“I think that is a very good idea,” Elmira agreed immediately, looking thoughtful. As if she had any thoughts left in her head. “With the Queen as ill as she is, in and out of consciousness and delirium, it would be best if someone else took on the role of monarch for the time being, and I can think of no better candidate than you, Lord Telvani.”
“Indeed,” seconded another, followed by a third and then the rest the Council. Lord Masterson looked stricken. He’d worked with these people for over a year now, rebuilding the country, no doubt he thought he could have predicted their responses. Not anymore, my dear sir, Lord Telvani thought haughtily, not while they’re under my control. And soon, everyone else would be too. He already had Farthen working on finding out just how many minds his own could control. The six had originally been thought to have been a stretch, but Telvani found it was easy and was eager to try even more.
Once the details of his appointment of interim leader were worked out to his satisfaction, Telvani gave the order for his carriage to be brought. He was slightly surprised, though he shouldn’t have been, when it was the royal carriage that rolled up the cobblestone path.
Luckily, it was his same driver at the head of the upgraded carriage, so he was unconcerned when he ordered him to take him to Farthen’s castle where the experiments were being conducted. The man knew he would forfeit his life if he chose to share his destination with anyone.
When he arrived at the castle, he strolled up to Farthen’s study, not bothering to knock. The man looked up at him with a sour expression which turned to one of guilt when he saw who it was.
“Farthen,” Lord Telvani greeted him, “I’ve come to discuss possible expansion of the project.”
“It may be prudent to hold off for a bit on that,” the man replied, putting down the pen he’d been scribbling away with.
“And why would we do that?” Telvani asked, annoyed. Things were going so well.
“There’s been a new development,” Lord Farthen said slowly.
“Which is?” Telvani prompted impatiently when the man didn’t elaborate right away.
“Remember the risks I told you about before you performed the spell?”
“I suppose,” Lord Telvani agreed.
“The ones you didn’t want to hear about because you wanted to do it the next day?”
Telvani gave him a withering look.
“The earlier experiments who were successful performing the spell starting showing signs of some sort of affliction,” Farthen explained carefully, “at first, it was just a fever and some night sweats, as though the spell had weakened their bodies and made them susceptible to illness.”
Lord Telvani nodded, so far he had experienced nothing of the same and had every confidence that his own body could withstand a little illness.
“However,” Lord Farthen seemed hesitant to continue and Telvani’s worry returned, “it soon progressed into something far worse.”
“Well, what is it?” Telvani demanded, definitely worried now.
“Once the fever took hold, sores broke out on their limbs which spread all over their bodies. Their bodies weakened further, not able to fight against the illness overtaking them. Then their eyes started filling with blood, turning the whites of them red and the colored center black. And finally, soon after their eyes turned red, they lost all control of their minds, becoming mindless blood-thirsty vicious animals and turning those they controlled mad. We’ve had to put three of them down already. It does not seem to be a fluke, but rather an unanticipated side-effect of the spell. We immediately reversed the spell in several others, destroying the items that linked them and it seems to have at least slowed the process. Time will tell if we are able to completely reverse it.”
Telvani stood in stunned silence.
“It would be most prudent of you to break off your contact with the Council members,” Lord Farthen said softly.
Lord Telvani’s hands began to shake in anger. “How could you let this happen!?” he bellowed, “I just had the Council agree to put me on the throne! I can’t just break the spell, I’ll be ruined!”
“Have you shown any signs of illness?” Lord Farthen inquired meekly.
“No,” he roared back in answer, “but I certainly don’t want to wait until I do!”
“It is possible,” Farthen suggested, “that it won’t happen in your case. You are a much stronger mage than those in our experiments and we had saved the girl especially for you, who was also much stronger than the rest. Your two powers combined may have been enough to withstand whatever it was that went awry that caused this. So far, the girl hasn’t shown any symptoms either. Though the amount of time it takes for whatever this is to take hold seems to vary depending on the strength of the mages, so…”
“How in the world did a spell cause this?”
“We are still learning the complexities of blood-magic, but we are looking into it. I call it the Bricrui, the poisoned tongue. I’m hoping to eventually come up with a cure. But for now…” he sighed, “The best thing to do would be to sever the ties. There is still no guarantee that you will escape the fate that the others have followed, but it is your best chance.”
“My best chance to ensure that I am tried for treason and thrown into the dungeon maybe!” He glared at Farthen, wondering if the awful man had predicted this outcome from the very start. No matter how insistent he had been that they do the spell when they had, results in the experiments like this should have immediately been reported to him before he did it. “I want to see them.”
“I don’t think-” Farthen began, but shut his mouth at the look Telvani shot him, raising himself from the chair with much less effort than it had taken previously. How nice to see that he was healing.
He led the way into the bowels of the manor, not out into the courtyard where most of the people were kept. Telvani was struck by the sounds first. A low moaning crept up the stairway with eerie tones, sending a tingle throughout his body. One ended in a gurgling slurp and he felt his muscles twitch involuntarily at the wretched sound.
Then he could smell them, their sickening odor prevailing even before the wooden doorway separating them was opened. It creaked on its wrought-iron hinges, blocking out the moans for a split second. The stench hit him full force, and he gagged.
The first cell held a young girl, curled up in the corner in a nest of hay. She was rocking herself back and forth and emitting a soft whine. She had pustules oozing all over her face and as she glanced up at their entrance, she met Telvani’s eyes with bright red orbs. His sharp intake of breath made her cringe, and she hissed at him.
He moved onward, looking in each of the cells with similar results, each at a different stage of the blight. The last cell was empty, its dark corners black voids of bleakness. Lord Farthen stood a few paces behind, watching Telvani silently.
He sigh
ed and rested a hand on the bars. Lord Farthen lifted a finger and opened his mouth to speak, his eyes widening in warning. Faster than lightening, something shot out of the shadows, grabbing at Telvani’s arm. Clawing fingers dug into his flesh, and Telvani flew backwards away from the snarling beast. It remained latched onto the sleeve of his tunic, trying to drag him back closer to its bloody grimace. Its teeth were stained with blood, and it was spitting and foaming at the mouth. The eyes of this one so deep red as to have been almost completely taken over by black.
The creature’s fingertips ended in sharp claw-like nails and they bit into Telvani’s flesh sharply as Lord Farthen rushed forward to his aid, and called over his shoulder for the guards. Together they were able to fight the beast off, batting its grasping hands away. The guards rushed in and subdued it, pinning its flailing limbs to the bars while another held out his hand, creating a magical ball of energy which he struck out at the thing’s head.
It immediately went limp, and the guards let its body sag to the ground.
“We’ve been giving this one the latest cure,” Lord Farthen told him, jerking his head towards the now-still form on the ground while drawing back Telvani’s sleeve to examine his wounds, “It seems to have slowed the process. He’s lasted much longer than the others, but as you can see…” he let the thought trail off. It was obvious that the ‘cure’ was no such thing.
He led Telvani back to the main part of the building and gathered the supplies to clean his wound. Telvani compliantly let Farthen guide him to a chair and gently probe the scratches, ignoring the pain. He sat silently while the man repeatedly dabbed his wound with a rag and then dipped the rag into the water to rinse. He stared at the swirls of red spreading outwards from the rag, slowly turning the whole bowl a reddish pink.
“Why did you not let me know about this sooner?” Telvani whispered, his anger disappearing, replaced by fear.
“We did not know the disease itself to be directly linked to the spell until after you had already performed it. And once we realized the seriousness, I thought it prudent to be able to give you at least some answers before breaking the news.”
“I don’t like the answers you’re giving me.”
“No,” Lord Farthen admitted, drying the wound and placing a bandage over it, tying off the end, “no, I don’t imagine you do.”