Out of Time the Grand Quest

by Christopher Douglass

  I don’t know. Is it important? --B.

  Yes. --K.

  The words stilled on the dirt floor, a single word finally being drawn.

  Okay.

  Maria looked from the words as they were erased to Jasmine. The woman just shrugged, neither one knowing what was happening. But both of them waited expectantly for the next message.

  Milly maimed a villager. Any screaming on your end? --B.

  No. That means only death affects echo people. This is good. We can kidnap all four Joan’s. One group can protect her and make that condition a success. --K

  We can do that. --B.

  No. Maria’s group can. It is least dangerous. Will need magic for other conditions. --K.

  Don’t trust Maria? --B.

  It is not about trust, but about using what we have available. She is a weak mage, that is fact. I don’t care about that fact, but she will die if she tries doing something beyond her skills. I don’t want that. --K.

  Again the messages were wiped clean as the floor got crowded with letters. No sooner had it all disappeared then more letters were written.

  Found arrows. Need help. Woman sick. --Vletch

  Sick? How? Describe. --K.

  Coughing. Fingertips turning black. Face pale. Skin clammy. Not seen this in labs at Atlantis before. No idea how to cure. --V.

  Labs? --K.

  Was chemist on Atlantis before I became mediator. Have skill to make blood into chemicals. What is wrong with woman? How can I help? --V

  There was no immediate answer from Kimberly. Jasmine clutched Maria’s shoulder, fear creeping into her eyes.

  “He’s talking about ’Belle isn’t he? She was the one that got trapped in his echo right? What’s wrong with her? Why isn’t Kimi answering? Does that mean she doesn’t know? She’ll get better right?”

  Maria shook her had. “I don’t know. I’ve never heard of such a sickness. I don’t have any answers. I’m sorry.”

  Nimli chose that moment to reappear, falling off Jasmine’s shoulder to the ground. The fairy lay breathing hard, her skin turning gray-- almost like stone. Maria knelt next to the spirit quickly, chewing on her lower lip as she reached out to gently touch her body. A body that was giving off enough heat to warm the air around her.

  “Nimli, what’s wrong?”

  The spirit focused on Maria, her voice a bare whisper. Maria bent forward, straining her ears to hear the weak words.

  “Magic depleting too fast. Not normal. I’m dying.”

  “What can I do?”

  The spirit opened and closed her mouth, but no sound came out. Maria could tell she was having a hard time breathing. A small wheeze emanating from her lips. Standing quickly, Maria began to pace, closing her eyes and clutching her hair. She had to think. Grandpa had told her lots of things over the years right? Surely her had told her something about spirit creatures. It was bad luck if they died. They couldn’t afford any bad luck right now. Maria couldn’t afford to have any bad luck hanging over her head. She had enough of that already.

  Maria glanced over at Jasmine, who was on her hands and knees watching the patch of dirt floor for any new words. That seemed to be the only thing she cared about, completely ignoring the small creature not a foot behind her. She would be no help. If only she was a Grand Wizard like her grandfather. Or, she hated to admit it, as smart as Kimberly. Maria was sure Kimberly would know what to do. But she hated the thought of stooping so low as to ask Kimberly for help. She was supposed to be strong and smart and great, just like her mother was. Damn the fates that had made her so weak. The perverse cosmos that made her a mage with almost no power.

  Power! Magic! That was it! Grandpa had said spirits could survive off of a mage’s magic. If they were blocked from their connection to the earth, woods, sky, or wherever else they drew power from, they could survive like a parasite, sucking up a mage’s power. If this fairy was dying, that meant she wasn’t getting any magic. The heat was her body burning that magic away at a rapid rate.

  But if Maria let the spirit leech off her power, she wouldn’t be able to use it herself. She wasn’t strong enough to feed the spirit and cast spells at the same time. Maria wasn’t even sure if the magic the fairy would leech, would be lost forever or not. What if her magic was all sucked dry and she was just a normal human in the end. It would be best to let the creature die and deal with the bad luck. Yes that was reasonable. It would be the creatures own fault if it died. It had come into the Paradox Echo knowing it would be cut off from magic. It should have been prepared to die, just like everyone else.

  Maria looked down at the small woman, the life fading from its eyes. Nimli’s gaze focused on her for just a moment, her lips parting ever so slightly. While no sound came out Maria could read the single word as if it had been shouted.

  Help.

  It broke her heart. Her determination to let the creature die vanished. She was afraid of losing what little power she had, but she couldn’t just turn her back on it like that. Trying to form a small ball of energy would take to long. Even at her best, it took Maria a full minute to form a small mage light. And even that left her panting. Snatching the two inch ceremonial dagger from her belt, she pricked her pinky, holding it to the spirits lips. The magic would be diluted, but it would keep her alive until she could concentrate the energy properly.

  The fairy didn’t move. Maria was afraid she had been too late. That she had hesitated too long. But like a miracle, the spirit swallowed, her lips closing on the small droplet of blood. Maria could feel her blood being sucked out of her, could feel the magic flowing out of her. But slowly, life and color came back to the small woman. Nimli drew away, the wound having closed over already. Maria concentrated, feeling the small headache pound above her left eye like it did every time she tried using magic. Slowly, a condensed ball of pure magic grew over her fingertip.

  No bigger than a marble, still it left her tired and out of breath. Again, she cursed her own lack of ability. Any five year old fledgling mage could make such a ball while reading a book or eating. Yet it took everything she had to hold the shape.

  Offering Nimli the small orb, the spirit clutched it gratefully. She pulled it into her chest, the pure magic soaking through her clothes directly into her skin. Nimli regained some of her enthusiasm, flying up to alight on Maria’s shoulder. Maria felt this small act was the spirits way of saying she accepted Maria.

  “Thank you. I guess you aren’t as bad as I thought.”

  “I couldn’t just let you die, now could I?”

  Jasmine let out a small shout. “Hey! Somebody’s writing something! I think Kimi is finally going to answer!”

  Maria stood next to the still kneeling Jasmine, watching the words appear in the dirt. A sense of dread filling her stomach.

  She has the Black Death. Outlook grim. Spreading faster than expected. Think time is messed up, disease spreading in hours instead of days. Do not know if we can save her. But will try. Will use limited medical knowledge. Must pray and hope for best. --Dr. Kim, Medicine Woman.

  Chapter 18: Battling Death

  Vletch was worried. No one had answered his question yet, and he was clueless as to what could be wrong with this woman named Isabelle. Atlantis had long since done away with diseases. Even the common cold was written as ancient history. Vletch had learned about some of the worst plagues when he had become an understudy in the laboratories, but only that they had existed. No one thought to describe the symptoms, there had been no need. Such impurities in the human body had been bred out before the second Big Bang. The most anyone had to worry about was a headache.

  But looking down at the girl now, Vletch really wished he had delved into the ancient texts to learn a little more about such things. The black coloring around her fingertips kept creeping higher and higher. Her breathing was getting ever more ragged, and a sheen of sweat coated her forehead. He wanted to give her something, but even he knew enough that such an action might do more harm than good.


  Vletch touched the patch of pseudo-flesh on his right bicep, the day he had been branded a criminal still fresh in his mind. Even after two years, that betrayal by his own people still hurt. Charged with trying to destroy his people by introducing a virus in their midst. They didn’t want to hear the truth. He had been trying to produce a superior nano-machine using enzymes and proteins. Sure, he had made a mistake with the amounts and a small outbreak of runny noses had sprung up. But it was far from being a national threat. They were too scared of anything ruining their “perfect” society, they frowned upon any kind of non-approved and controlled innovations. Vletch had come to realize this now that he was away from what he had once thought was a utopia.

  Sentenced to death for his small mistake, he had been waiting to die. But they couldn’t take away the power granted to him by his implanted nano-machines. He was a walking periodic table, able to create all three hundred and sixteen elements. Well, it was the machines inside that created them by breaking down his blood into base components and converting it, but that was too complicated to explain to most people. His jailers never imagined he would inject himself with the special drugs that would tie him to the rift matrix. Nor that he would hide it within the tattoo he had been given that marked him as a national criminal.

  His chances of being chosen by the matrix were still low, but at least it had been a chance to escape he had never had before that. So many people had been pulled through by a summoning as the day of his execution had drawn ever closer he had lost hope. Then, the day they had come to take him to the injection and incinerator room, he had felt the pull. Vletch had watched as reality faded away and his executioners had scrambled to stop him. But no one could stop a summoning that he knew of. Maybe the ancient sages who locked themselves away and monitored the flow of time could stop it, but once he left Atlantis, no one could take him back.

  Vletch smiled, taking off his shirt to dab at Isabelle’s head while she struggled to breath. Meeting Amy had been like meeting his missing half. He had been smitten at the first. She was confident and bossy for all her diminutive size, but deeply cared about anything and everything. He knew he had finally earned a place in her heart after they had been an unofficial partnership for six months. Vletch’s grin grew wider as he remembered that first meeting. Despite it having been her own volition to summon him, she had refused to accept him as her mediator, saying he was bigger than she had wanted. Yet when he tried to go off on his own, or partner with someone else, she always laid claim to him, saying she had not decided not to partner with him yet. Only that she refused to make the contract at this time.

  Then she had relented. After her mother died and he had held her all night long under the moonlight in the middle of the woods, she had finally accepted him. Finally made the contract and became his alone. Became his delicate Amaryllis Arrista. Though only he was allowed to call her by her real name.

  Words started appearing in the dirt again. Dabbing the woman’s head on last time, he focused on the floor. Hopefully this Kimberly could help. He didn’t think too highly of her from their first meeting, but Isabelle had said to trust her. Her last words before falling into gasping breaths had been that Kimi would know what to do. For Isabelle’s sake, Vletch hoped that was true. He also hoped this Kimberly could protect his Amaryllis. If she didn’t, he vowed to wring her neck if it was the last thing he did.

  She has the Black Death. Outlook grim. Spreading faster than expected. Think time is messed up, disease spreading in hours instead of days. Do not know if we can save her. But will try. Will use limited medical knowledge. Must pray and hope for best. --Dr. Kim, Medicine Woman.

  Vletch had heard that name before. The jury that had tried him said the virus he had created was the next Black Death. But they had never explained how. These symptoms were miles away from anything he had accidentally created. Now he knew just how much the supposed sages had over-reacted. He had only given people runny noses, not created large bulbous sac’s that were even now growing on the side of her neck before his eyes.

  Tell me what to do. --V.

  Does she have what looks like large pimples? Like a golf ball was shoved under the skin? Maybe on neck, inner thigh, armpits?

  Yes.

  Lance them. Especially if on the neck. Beware of liquid inside. Use cloth to keep it from spreading. Let bleed until blood not discolored. Not sure if it will help much but can’t hurt.

  Vletch looked around for anything he could use as a towel. Finding nothing on hand, he used the damp shirt. It was a small price to pay if it saved the girls life. That’s all he had ever wanted to do, save peoples lives. Vletch refolded it quickly, laying it next to the bulbous flesh of her neck. Reaching over, he pushed on the flesh of his right arm, just above the elbow on the inside. He felt a pinch as the skin at the joint split open, a thin scalpel handle sliding out. He felt the machines inside creating the sharp blade as he pulled it free. It had a dull rusty look to it, not surprising since it wasn’t natural steel. Still, it would cut just as well.

  Placing it against the bulge, he held his shirt right underneath, pressing slightly so as not to accidentally nick an artery. A putrid smelling green and yellow liquid oozed out. Vletch could tell there was something wrong with it. Setting down his knife, he carefully squeezed the sides of the wound, eliciting moans from his patient but causing yet more of the infection out. Slowly, as if by a miracle, the bulge grew smaller and the girls breathing seemed to come easier.

  After offering the girl a quick apology, her lifted her shirt and pulled down her pants to check for more of these bubble areas. He found one on her inner thigh and one under her left armpit, just as this Kimberly had said he might. These too he lanced, being careful not to touch the contaminated sections of cloth either with his own flesh or with another part of her body.

  Done. 3 bulbous sac’s lanced. Breathing seems easier. Did not cross contaminate and spread liquid.

  Good job. Give her Doxycycline at least 100 mg. Will help respiratory. Easier breathing = more oxygen = better chance for body to help fight infection.

  What’s that? How do I make it? Chemical makeup? Never heard of it.

  The words stopped coming, as if his question had stumped her. Perhaps it had. He knew very little about her mediator power. It seemed similar to a transformation ability, only she didn’t change her body, she changed her personality. What Isabelle had told him on the trek here reinforced that belief. But it was limited to knowledge she had read or seen. He sorely hoped she had read something about chemicals and not just their names, because he had never heard of such a drug. He held his breath in anticipation until letters began appearing once more.

  C21...

  The number was erased quickly and the writing started again.

  C22H26N2O9 &. I think. Not 100% sure I remembered correctly.

  Better than nothing. Let me work, will contact again.

  Reaching down, Vletch massaged the skin at the bend below his left knee. Again that pinched feeling then the uncomfortable sensation of his flesh stretching. Gently he lifted out a small test tube and set it to the side, a film over the mouth to prevent spillage. All of it tinted red.

  Breaking his blood down into its basic parts and combining them into the drug would be the best option, but Vletch didn’t have half the equipment he needed for such an undertaking. He could probably manage somehow if he had time to experiment, but he didn’t want to waste such time. So he took option number two, creating it directly in his body. It would take more of his energy and stamina, but he had that in spades right now. Plus, this was no time to hold back if he could save even a single life.

  Carefully, he pressed down on the fingernail and meat of his left pointing finger, forcing a long needle out from under the cuticle. This he stuck into the vial’s membrane lid, focusing on the chemical combination he wanted with all his might. He felt the machines inside of him going to work. Atlantian’s claimed up and down it was impossible to feel them doing their job. That they were the
pinnacle of scientific technology. But Vletch disagreed. It was his blood they were using, his body they were disrupting. It was an uncomfortable, and sometimes painful, experience that he had grown used to over the years.

  The vial filled with a milky liquid, off white in color and thicker than regular water. He filled the vial to the brim before extracting the needle and retracting it into his body. His finger went numb while the nano-machines broke it back down into regular blood and integrated it back into the flow.

  Taking a deep breath, Vletch created a syringe from his left elbow, sucking up the slightly milky liquid. He didn’t know if this was what the Doxycycline was supposed to look like, or even if it had turned out correctly. But right or wrong, he couldn’t just do nothing. So he just had to pray and hope for the best, just like Kimberly had said.

  Kimberly had said it was to help respiration, so would it be alright to inject it close to the lungs? That made sense. Vletch was about to stick it in Isabelle’s chest when he decided he better ask just to be sure.

  No. Left arm. By elbow. Find vein. Let blood take it. Too near heart or lungs might kill her. Do not know, but no chances. --Dr. K.

  Vletch let out a sigh. He might have almost made the worst mistake of his life. He vowed if he made it back, he would study more about human physiology and medicine. This not knowing was too nerve wracking. After removing the needle from the girls arm, he reported his progress, anxiously awaiting his next instructions.

  Fire will help maybe. If she can sweat a lot, her body will make more antibodies naturally to fight infection. Bubonic plague is a bacterial infection. Unfortunately I don’t know of any other drug you can make. Not read many medical books. If you know of any antibacterial, try it. Get lots of fluid into her. Sweating makes body lose water. Too much loss will kill. Burn cloth with lanced liquid. It can spread infection. Wash well to minimize your own risk. --Dr. K.

  Fire. There was no fire around here. Wait that wasn’t exactly true. His body could make Ladium. He wouldn’t enjoy the sensation, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Wasn’t that how the saying went?