Alysium

by Tiffany Pelletier

  “Kill them!” Gideon commanded. No prodding was needed, however as each teenager rushed forward, stomping and crushing as many as they could as fast as possible. As the ravenous beetles scurried left and right, Ranelle gasped as several turned back toward the spilled supplies.

  “The medicines!” she shrieked as she ran forward. As the bugs reached the spilled contents, however, Ranelle watched as they skirted away from the spilled herbs, especially one of the plants she hadn’t been able to identify. The plant sprig was blood red in color with a thick stem and sharp needle-like leaves that branched out from the stem in tight bunches. The beetles avoided this herb as they reared onto their spiny back legs, hissing angrily. They turned away from the medicines, moving toward Ranelle instead.

  By this time, Gideon had killed most of the beetles they hadn't already stomped on, cutting them neatly in half like he’d done before.

  “Behind you!” Ranelle yelled as the fleeing beetles rounded on Gideon. Three more slices of his sword and the tunnel was quiet once again, except for a few deep breaths they all shared, silently waiting and watching for any more movement. Once they realized the beetles were gone, they cautiously gathered up the spilled supplies.

  “Are any of the medicines ruined?” asked Gideon, his brow furrowed with concern as he bent to clean up the clothes that had spilled from his satchel.

  “No,” said Ranelle, quietly thinking, “this one seemed to keep them away from the others.” She held up a sprig of the red-stemmed herb the beetles had avoided.

  “Maybe they don't like the smell of it?” asked Lara as she bent down to check on Charlie.

  “I think it’s more than that,” Ranelle replied as she replayed their strong reaction to the herb repeatedly over again in her mind.

  “What do you mean?” Gideon asked as he stood up from collecting his clothing and looked at Ranelle expectantly.

  “Maybe their aversion to this herb stems from something else,” she said, holding the plant up to the light, “maybe this herb can help Charlie.”

  “How?” asked Lara, who was wiping the sweat from Charlie's brow with a dry cloth.

  “In nature, there are remedies to poisons found in herbs like these, but it takes time to find out which herb cures what illness. The beetles may avoid this plant because it’s what breaks down the coagulant in their armor,” Ranelle suggested, kneeling and pulling more supplies from her bag. After a minute of pawing through the satchel, she found what she was looking for; a mortar and pestle.

  She immediately started plucking the sharp red needles off the sprig of the plant. She dropped them into the mortar along with a splash of water from her water bladder before working the pestle, grinding the herbs into a paste. When it was thoroughly crushed, with no chunks left, she placed it on the ground, setting one of their pyrus lanterns down next to it. As the heat from the lamp warmed the stone mortar, the mixture eventually began to bubble and deepen in color. Ranelle mixed the poultice with the pestle one more time before setting it aside to cool.

  As the others looked on, she grabbed a few strips of clean cloth from the medicine satchel. She tugged and twisted each one to soften and stretch them. When the fabric was pliable enough, she took the mortar, blowing on the mixture inside to cool it, and got to her feet.

  Sitting down on the stone floor by Charlie’s right side, she crossed her legs and laid his arm, wound side up, across her lap. Ranelle neatly scooped the poultice onto both the entry and the exit wounds, piling the red paste into small mounds. She then used the strips of fabric to make a dressing, holding the poultice firmly to the cuts and tying them securely in place.

  She then stood and repeated the application on his other arm, piling the poultice into mounds over each wound, then securing them firmly with strips of cloth. As she finished, poultice juices dripped down Charlie's arms, the red pigment of the herb resembling blood smears as they stained his skin.

  “Do you think it’ll help him?” asked Lara, wiping Charlie's forehead again, her face contorted with fear for him.

  Ranelle understood and felt Lara's pain. She’d known Gideon only a short time, but already her heart hurt just thinking about anything happening to him. “Honestly, I don't really know,” she said, shrugging her shoulders heavily, “I know those bugs feared that herb. I think the chances are as good as any.”

  Lara nodded solemnly then gazed back down at Charlie, sniffing a bit while she wiped his neck and face. “So now we just wait?”

  Ranelle nodded, “Unfortunately.” She stood, setting the bags up in a new spot while Gideon went to block up the crack that the beetles had come out of.

  He bent, pulling an ax from his pack of weapons. Approaching the crevice with the mindset of a miner, he aimed his strikes carefully, knocking the opening on either side with the point of the ax head. Rocks and dirt broke free on cue, falling and piling up to fill in the hole.

  “Get through that skin-crawlers!” Gideon said, dropping the ax to the tunnel floor before plopping himself down next to where Ranelle was standing, “we should try to get some rest.”

  Ranelle looked down at him; his face was weary from the day's events, and his eyes were heavy. She sat down next to him, nodding her agreement as Gideon leaned his head softly against her shoulder.

  Abree and Lara followed suit, each searching for a comfortable place to settle down for more rest. Lara quickly plopped herself down next to Charlie, laying a hand gently across his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his labored breathing. Her head was propped on one of her satchels as she held him with her watchful gaze.

  “Let me know if he gets any worse,” Ranelle called softly to Lara.

  The girl didn’t answer as her attention was focused on the boy lying at her side. She watched his chest move with each breath, her eyes soft and still as if looking away might somehow disturb the rhythm.

  Abree had already returned to her initial resting place and closed her eyes, ignoring the others, visibly unvexed by Charlie's current plight.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ranelle,” came a whisper.

  “Mmm...” she replied, irritated that someone was trying to wake her from her dream. It had been a beautiful dream too.

  She was with Gideon. They were walking toward a large crowd of people, hand-in-hand. Then suddenly, the people began to clap with happy smiles on their faces as Gideon raised his hand, Ranelle's clasped within it tightly, into the air triumphantly. As the crowd cheered, she gazed into Gideon's eyes, which shone bright with excitement. He turned to her and spoke, but the cheers from the crowd were deafening.

  “What?” she said, leaning in closer to him.

  “Ranelle!”

  Her eyes flicked open.

  “It's Charlie! He's waking up!”

  Ranelle wiped the grogginess from her eyes. She hadn’t realized just how tired she’d been. Getting to her knees and crawling to his side, she got there just as Charlie's eyelids slowly slid open.

  “Wha...what happened?” he croaked, his throat rough and dry. He was exhausted, each word sounding as if it took tremendous effort.

  “The beetles, they made you very sick,” said Lara softly, dabbing the rag over his forehead lovingly, “but Ranelle was so clever, she figured it out!”

  “Well, it’s going to take some time for the poultice to fully breakdown the coagulant from the beetles. You may need some more herbs to help with the swelling,” said Ranelle to Charlie as Lara waved her hand dismissively.

  “You cured him!” said Lara beaming, turning back to her injured companion with tears leaking down her face, “she was amazing, Charlie.”

  He nodded, the effort causing him to retch.

  “Better out than in,” said Gideon in a joking kind of way, “it’s best to turn him on his side till he's done.”

  The girls complied, gently rolling him onto his side until he was finished. As they lay him once again on his back, Lara wiped his mouth with a rag.

  “I suppose he should rest now,” said Ranelle to
Lara.

  “More rest?” spat Abree, rolling her eyes, “we’re never going to get anywhere if we keep stopping all the time.”

  “Really?” said Ranelle, rounding on Abree, her fists clenched, “you're really going to say that when we've stopped for your foot this entire time?” She felt her heartbeat quicken as she glared at Abree with spite.

  “How about…,” said Gideon, putting his arm between the two girls as they slowly edged toward each other, cheeks red and tempers flared, “we calm down and think about what’s good for the group.”

  “How about we let 'Miss Nurse' stay behind with those two,” Abree said to Gideon as she pointed her finger toward Charlie and Lara, “and you and I scout out ahead.”

  “You and I?” Gideon said slowly, as if the wheels inside his mind were whirling.

  “Yeah, we are the team leaders,” she said pompously with her hands on her hips, an awful grimace on her face as she glanced momentarily at Ranelle.

  “You lost that position,” Ranelle growled.

  Abree went to step toward Ranelle aggressively, but Gideon interceded once again.

  “What about your foot?” he asked, his eyebrow raised.

  “It feels much better...I'm itching to keep moving.”

  Ranelle stepped toward Gideon and hooked her arm through his, pulling him back into an involuntary conference with her.

  “You're not seriously entertaining this idea, are you?” Ranelle asked in a harsh whisper when they were out of earshot from the others.

  “I need to find out what's ahead so that I can prepare, and you need to stay here and care for Charlie.”

  Ranelle froze. She felt like her heart had nearly stopped. As she swallowed hard, she tried to come up with an argument. Any argument. She wanted to tell him that Charlie would be fine without her, or that Lara could do the poultice without her, but it wouldn’t be the truth. She wasn't sure if Charlie would recover even with her help.

  How’d I get stuck being the nurse?

  It was a dumb question she already knew the answer to.

  She had the knowledge the others lacked. Ranelle, just like her mother before her, was gifted when it came to working with medicinal herbs. During her mandatory lessons growing up, she had found working with plants to be satisfying and predictable.

  At this point, she looked Gideon in the eye, unable to mask her overwhelming disappointment.

  “Okay then, it seems like the decision's already been made.” Ranelle felt her stomach lurch as the words left her mouth.

  How can he leave? He said he was different.

  She hurt; the anger inside her grew, crashing like surging river waves on an embankment. Unable to stand the overwhelming disappointment she felt, she turned away from Gideon, retreating next to Charlie, kneeling to prepare more poultice.

  “Ranelle,” Gideon tried to say quietly as he approached her, “don't be...”

  “Have a good time,” she interrupted forcefully, dumping a handful of the red herb’s needles into her mortar and mashing it violently with the pestle. She didn’t look up. If she had, she would’ve seen Gideon watching her efforts with a nervous look on his face.

  “Don't be like that,” he said, sweeping her shoulder-length hair gently to one side of her back with his fingertips and laying a hand on her shoulder.

  She shrugged his hand off her, pretending to be hastily absorbed in her work.

  “Good luck, team leader,” she said pointedly.

  Gideon sighed, biting his lip, his hand slowly falling to his side as his shoulders drooped heavily. Unable to hide his dismay, he slowly gathered his bundle of weapons and satchels.

  Abree grabbed her pack as well, a fierce grin spreading across her dirt-smudged face.

  It made Ranelle sick to her stomach to witness the deplorable girl’s look of triumph.

  “We’ll scout out ahead and report back,” said Gideon, turning to the three of them being left behind.

  Lara nodded, and Charlie grunted his understanding weakly.

  Ranelle chose not to answer. She was angry and hurt and let her feelings control her. She knew that she should respond, tell him not to go, or wish him good luck. She knew she should say something...anything…but she couldn't. She just couldn't show him how much he was hurting her. Beyond the upset, she couldn’t bare Abree having the satisfaction of knowing that she’d affected Ranelle negatively.

  Instead, Ranelle got to her feet, collected one of the pyrus lanterns, and continued making Charlie’s poultice.

  As Gideon and Abree said good-bye, the latter of the two sneered at the others as she headed off with a smile of deep satisfaction. Gideon, head hanging and forlorn, slumped off after her, turning back in the slight chance that Ranelle would be watching.

  She wasn't.

  She forced herself to focus only on the poultice she was making, squeezing her eyelids closed as she listened to Gideon’s footfalls fading into the distance. She held them closed tightly until the smell of cooking herbs brought her attention back onto what she was doing. She looked down at the bubbling poultice, stirring and blowing on it quickly to cool it down. Taking the lantern that she’d used to heat the medicine, she returned it to its place in the center of the tunnel, glancing down the mineshaft as she set the lantern down. She noted the footprints in the sand that disappeared ahead into the darkness.

  Something pulled at her insides.

  Guilt.

  She peered once again into the shroud of blackness beyond the pyrus firelight. She had a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach; she had from the moment Abree had suggested going ahead with Gideon alone. Horrible images and possibilities weaved through her thoughts, making it hard to concentrate.

  What are Abree’s intentions?

  Whatever the contemptuous girl had planned, Ranelle knew that Gideon could take care of himself.

  Why do I care, anyway?

  She was angry. Gideon had hurt and disappointed her, like she always knew he would. Despite her anger, when she returned to Charlie, kneeling to reapply the freshly made poultice to his wounds, she just couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something wasn't right.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The trio padded down the tunnel, two figures tall, and one much shorter.

  “Do be careful, Regent,” said the blundering woman, stumbling over a small rock, “the cave-in site can't be much further.”

  Obadiah Warren sincerely doubted the portly woman had any idea where their end goal lay, no more so than her own two feet.

  “Surely you have others to attend to,” he said, forcing a smile. Obadiah was getting tired with the woman, exhausted even. How his son could spend so much time with such ‘simple’ people, he could never understand.

  “None as important as you, Regent,” she said in between labored breaths. Her forehead was slick, and her cheeks were crimson with effort.

  As the chubby woman stumbled clumsily forward, Obadiah turned to his manservant, beckoning him with a finger. Furlong had been his most trusted aide for many years and was always at his side. As his master called to him, he advanced close enough so that their words remained private.

  “I wish to be rid of her,” Obadiah said in a bored voice.

  “Yes, Sir,” Furlong replied, nodding his understanding as he moved on to talk to the woman who was a few paces ahead of them.

  “But, it’s procedure for non-miners to be accompanied while in the mines,” said the older woman as she conferred with the manservant.

  Wishing himself free from further discussion on the matter, Obadiah slowed his pace and finally paused, facing the wall and bringing his attention upon a small rock protruding from the unevenly cut wall face. He chanced a look toward his manservant and saw the man's stern face, unwavering. Obadiah watched as the woman hung her head, then fidgeted with her outfit, straightening her hems and brushing imaginary dust from her shabby dress. Finally, she lifted her head with slight indignation and walked back in the direction they had come.

 
Obadiah stood still; his attention now removed from the wall as she approached him quietly. The portly woman paused her advance, murmuring, “Regent,” before giving a slight nod and passing by him. The Regent turned, watching as she retreated to the Apex. Obadiah smiled to himself and walked up to his manservant, clapping him firmly on the shoulder.

  “Well done, Furlong, now we can be unhindered while we investigate.”

  “Yes, Master,” said the faithful man with a look of satisfaction.

  Obadiah had come to significantly rely on Furlong, who’d been in his service for many cycles.

  A shame it will all be coming to an end soon.

  As the two men continued their walk down shaft number eight, they rounded a bend in the tunnel and spied what they’d been looking for. The passageway ahead appeared mostly undisturbed, except for the debris that fully blocked their progress.

  “The ceiling held,” reported Furlong as he reached up, placing his palm on the rock face above their heads.

  “Yes, yes, I noticed that as well,” said the Regent with a frown.

  “You think they survived?”

  “Oh yes, I would say chances are good,” Obadiah replied, scratching his chin in thought. He’d been pulled away from burrow business by a hastened message. There’d been a cave-in, and Gideon was now missing, along with his mining team.

  The boy wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near the mines.

  He was becoming more and more cumbersome to Obadiah’s plans. The Regent knew there would be trouble when he’d discovered his son’s infatuation with the miner girl.

  “What do we do next?” asked Furlong, noting the Regent’s thoughtful expression.

  “Mmm...that's the question it seems,” the older gentleman replied, considering the options. After a few quiet moments of thought, pacing back and forth in the mineshaft, he said to his servant, “I must get word to the others.”

  “But how, Sir? Now that the tunnel is fully blocked, our runners can’t make it through, and it could take weeks to clear it.”