by Sanan Kolva
The doctor carefully slid each bottle into loops on his belt. He gave her a faint smile. “I told you that my parents and I lived for a time in the jungle. After I saw the elf who was guardian of the village, the high priest took it on himself to teach me a great deal of very, very old lore about the ‘ancient spirits’. I was the first outsider initiated into their arts. Much of it was rituals for appeasing angry spirits, or asking for blessings, but the teachings also included ailments suffered by spirits and how to treat them. Lucian has proven that the tales carry truth. Fortunately for him.” Doctor Kinnel pulled on his coat and hefted his gear. Cylin followed him out of the infirmary.
To Cylin’s relief, no one expressed concern at seeing the doctor leave, and people gave little attention to his route. The last thing Cylin wanted was for rumors to begin about Lucian falling ill. She offered the doctor a steadying hand up the slick slope, much as she wanted to urge him faster. Just inside the cave, Devin met them, shifting restlessly from foot to foot.
“You can bring Lucian back, can’t you Doctor?” Devin asked in a rush.
“I’ll do my best,” Doctor Kinnel said. “Lucian is in his room, I assume? Good. Devin, fill a gallon bucket with snow, and another with warm water.”
“Yes sir!” Devin scrambled to obey.
In Lucian’s room, Quicksilver paced. He greeted the doctor with a quick nod. “No changes. He’s still… out there somewhere.”
“Do you know of any narcotics, alcohol, or other drugs in the caves?” Doctor Kinnel asked him.
Quick blinked. “Uh… he’s got some whiskey stashed away in the back.”
“Bring a bottle.” The doctor set his bag down on the floor beside a small stone table.
Quicksilver’s eyebrows rose in question, but he left the room. Cylin looked to Lucian, as if he might have woken in the brief time no one was watching him. He still lay in apparent slumber.
Doctor Kinnel pulled a chair to the table and sank into it with a tired grunt. He opened the duffel and pulled out metal rods. Cylin watched him assemble a tripod. A blackened metal pan at the base seemed meant to hold a small fire. The doctor pulled a brass bowl the size of his cupped hands from the bag and held it to her.
“When Devin returns, wash this twice in the warm water, then once with snow.”
A faint sheen of residue clung to the insides of the bowl. Around the outside, she could barely distinguish figures cast in the worn metal. Some danced, others knelt and raised their arms in supplication to looming forms. “What’s this?”
“A sacred ritual bowl, passed down for generations from priest to priest,” Doctor Kinnel said. “It was given to me upon completion of my training.”
Cylin stopped. “You’re a priest of a faith that calls Lucian and Quicksilver gods?”
“I am,” he said simply. “And that training has served me well over the years. Though I do not call either of our resident elves ‘gods’, nor offer them worship.” He continued assembling the tripod.
Devin entered, pulling two large buckets on a wheeled dolly. He brought them to the table and stopped, panting. Steam rose from one, and the other was piled high with snow. “Is this enough? I can get more.”
Doctor Kinnel turned and nodded approval. “That’s plenty. Thank you. Sit and rest.”
Cylin looked at the buckets. “Am I supposed to dunk this in the water, or use a cloth or something to wash it?”
The doctor fished a square of cloth from his pocket. “Use this. And fully immerse the bowl when you wash it.”
The water in the steaming bucket was pleasantly warm, not too hot. Cylin used the kerchief to remove the residue during the first and second wash. It clung to the cloth and bowl both, and she scrubbed hard to clean it off. The snow, now turning to slush, melted faster when she set the warm bowl in it. Heat rapidly leached away, and her fingers stung with cold when she set the clean bowl on the table.
Quicksilver returned carrying one of the bottles scavenged from the bandits’ trucks. “Sorry! Took longer than I thought to find them.” He paused and eyed Doctor Kinnel’s setup. “What’s this?”
Doctor Kinnel motioned for Quicksilver to set the bottle on the table. “It is the Ritual of Waking, to be administered to spirits who become lost while Dreamwalking.”
“I’m pretty sure I never heard of that being taught in medical school,” Quicksilver said. “Even at the ones that were pretty... out there.”
The doctor poured careful drops of liquid from his vials into the bowl. “No, I learned this ritual when I was initiated as a priest of the Calinao faith at the age of fifteen.”
Quicksilver’s mouth formed a silent “oh.”
Uncertain silence filled the room as Doctor Kinnel added ingredients to the bowl, then set it atop the tripod. He emptied a small bag of compact pellets into the burner pan and lit them with a hand-held lighter. As the mixture heated, he murmured soft words in a language Cylin didn’t know. When steam rose from the bowl, he opened the whiskey bottle and poured a shot into a measuring glass, then carefully added that to the mixture. The sharp tang of alcohol joined less familiar scents, like a market filled with exotic spices.
Devin shifted restlessly, and finally sat in a chair. Quicksilver watched Doctor Kinnel with rapt attention. Cylin glanced over to Lucian and wondered just how a bowl of hot whiskey and scented oils was supposed to bring him back.
Doctor Kinnel said it worked before. And I don’t have any better ideas.
The doctor’s words more clearly became a chant. She could almost hum their cadence. The doctor lifted the bowl by its edges and stood. Cylin followed him to Lucian’s bed and, without thinking about it, held out her hands in silent offer.
He gave her the briefest nod of thanks and rested the bowl in her hands. It was uncomfortably warm, but not burning hot. Doctor Kinnel dipped his fingers in the liquid and applied the mixture to Lucian’s face. It left rust colored streaks on Lucian’s tan skin. First, three straight lines on his forehead, then half-circles under his eyes. Two straight lines on either cheek, another down his nose. The doctor continued chanting, and when the first lines dried, he applied more. Cylin caught herself whispering the most frequently repeated words in the chant, though she had no idea what they meant.
What’s this supposed to do? Is this a waste of time? Cylin looked to Doctor Kinnel. Though his chant held steady, sweat dripped down his face, and his expression was strained. His hand trembled when he began a fresh application of the lines. What’s he doing, and what’s it doing to him?
As the doctor began a fourth application, Lucian’s cheek twitched, and he turned his head away from the doctor’s hand. Quicksilver jerked to his feet with a startled yelp.
Doctor Kinnel let his stained hand fall, and his chant faded out in a long breath. “He’s back.”
Cylin caught him with an arm as he wavered. Devin scrambled over and took the bowl so she could guide Doctor Kinnel to a chair.
“Back and extremely not happy about it,” Quicksilver said.
“Well that’s his own damned fault for taking off without warning in the first place,” Cylin snapped. “Are you okay, Doctor Kinnel?”
He raised a shaking hand to wave off her concern. “Such a ritual is better left to the young and hale. It’s draining.” He closed his eyes. “Set the bowl over the fire pan again. Let it boil dry. The fumes will prevent him from attempting to leave again for a time.” He grabbed the whiskey bottle and gulped down a deep swallow.
Devin complied quickly. A moment of silence fell over the room. Then, Lucian’s eyes snapped open.
He rolled from his bed to fall in a graceless sprawl on the floor. Quicksilver, Devin, and Cylin all started toward him, but Doctor Kinnel raised his hand. “Wait.”
“What? But--” Devin began.
“If my experience from the previous time holds true, he will be disoriented and confused,” the doctor said. “Allow him a chance to recover.”
Lucian pushed up on his hands and knees, breathing hard. He raise
d his head, turning toward their voices. His gaze showed no recognition, like when he’d been in the throes of an episode. His lips curled back and he growled in the back of his throat.
“Lord Lucian?” Devin asked.
Lucian’s gaze cleared briefly. “Out,” he snarled.
Devin started toward the doorway, but paused when no one else followed. “Um…”
“I am not leaving until the bowl is empty,” Doctor Kinnel said. “Come, sit down, Devin.”
Devin hesitated, then returned and sat. Cylin kept an eye on Lucian, half-expecting him to use his magic to somehow force them all to leave. However, his eyes already glazed over. Abandoning his efforts to stand, Lucian lay down on the stone floor and closed his eyes again.
Quicksilver let out a breath and joined them at the table. “Whatever you did, it must have drained his magic. He should sleep for a while. Maybe until tomorrow morning.”
Cylin eyed him curiously. “You’re not familiar with this ritual?”
“Nope! I have no idea how it could even work. Didn’t know any humans could do something like that. If another elf is powerful enough and has the right skills, they can catch someone who’s gone off into the spirit realm, even drag them back to their body, but you, sir, are definitely not an elf.”
Doctor Kinnel chuckled. “That I certainly am not. And I can offer you little insight as to how the rituals work, only that they seem to do so.”
“Are you sure that the ritual is what brought him back?” Devin asked uncertainly. “Couldn’t Lord Lucian have been coming back anyway, and it was coincidence?”
Quicksilver shook his head emphatically. “No, the ritual definitely forced him back to his body. If he’d been on his way back on his own, he wouldn’t have been half as outraged as he was.” He sighed and looked to Lucian. “Might be better if the rest of you aren’t up here when he wakes.”
“It may well be best if no one is here when he wakes,” Doctor Kinnel said. “Last time, it triggered an episode.”
“A what?” Quicksilver asked. “I’ve heard that term used once or twice, but no one wants to explain it.”
“When Lucian has an ‘episode’, he thinks that everything and everyone is part of some mind-game his mother is playing on him,” Cylin said.
Color drained from Quicksilver’s face. His eyes grew wide. “He… that’s…” He swallowed hard. “I… I heard that he… used to have instances of that, but… but he’d healed from that long before I ever met him, probably before I was even born. Does this… happen often?” He sounded genuinely frightened by the idea.
“Once in the time I’ve been here,” Cylin told him. “Which has been less than a year.”
Doctor Kinnel cleared his throat. “They aren’t frequent, but are more likely to occur in times of high stress.”
“But what do you do? How do you treat them?” Quicksilver asked.
“We wait them out, mostly,” the doctor said. “Sometimes, he’s willing to talk during them, but it’s often safer simply to allow one to run its course. Although Cylin succeeded in calming him somewhat, when she witnessed one.” He checked the bowl atop the tripod, and nodded in satisfaction. “This should suffice.” He dipped a cup into the bucket of water and used it to extinguish the flame in the fire pan. “Cylin, Devin, help me pack all this back into my bag. Spirits willing, I won’t need these tools a third time.”
Quicksilver fidgeted. “I think it’d be better not to leave him completely alone in this cave. I’ll stay in one of the other rooms, but I’m still going to be here when he wakes up.”
“That choice is yours,” Doctor Kinnel said. He pushed to his feet with a grunt.
“Lucian won’t wake for a while, right?” Cylin asked. When both Doctor Kinnel and Quicksilver nodded, she continued, “Then you can take Doctor Kinnel back to the infirmary, Quicksilver. Devin and I will stay here until you return.”
Quicksilver blinked. “Me? Why?”
“Because you can take him down the same way you brought me up here, and save him a long walk,” she said.
“Oh! Right, I can do that.” He turned to the doctor. “If you don’t mind, that is, and aren’t afraid of heights.”
“Ah, you mean flying,” Doctor Kinnel said. “These weary bones would not object.”
Quicksilver cast a long look at Lucian, then left the room with the doctor and his gear. Cylin stood, pulled a blanket off the bed, and draped it over Lucian.
“Cylin, do you think Doctor Kinnel could teach someone how to do that ritual he did?” Devin asked.
She gave him a long, speculative look. “You want to learn it?”
“Well, he did say it’s work for someone younger, and you saw how drained he was.” Devin rose. “And maybe he knows other things that will help Lord Lucian, but that he doesn’t have the time or materials to do. I could do something useful.”
“Ask Doctor Kinnel,” she told him. “If he can teach you, he’ll tell you, and if he can’t, at least you’ll know.”
He nodded. They both sat again and waited in silence.
Quicksilver found them still there when he returned. “You guys can go if you want. But if you want to stay, I don’t mind that either.” His tone was cheerful, but his eyes were more serious than Cylin had seen before. “In either case, though, we should leave Lucian’s room and let him sleep.”
Cylin glanced to Devin. “I’d rather stay in the cave until he’s awake. Devin?”
“I’ll stay as well.” Devin climbed to his feet. “The sitting room is more comfortable, though.”
They left the bedroom and followed another branch of the cave to a room furnished with five stuffed chairs, a fireplace with no chimney, and several low tables. Swaths of fabric on the walls added bright splashes of colors around the room. Warmth radiated from the fireplace, though no fire glowed in it. They each settled into a chair around the fireplace.
Quicksilver finally broke the silence. “I hate waiting around doing nothing but staring at the wall. Do either of you know how to play Shadow Ladies?”
“Play what?” Cylin asked. “Never heard of it.” She glanced at Devin, who shook his head in answer.
Quicksilver grinned and fished a deck of cards out of a pocket. “Perfect. Get comfortable, and I’ll teach you.”
Several hours later, Cylin was convinced that Quicksilver could either read minds, or was excellent at sleight of hand and stacking decks. Given that he was an elf, both could be true. But she was catching the hang of the card game, and enjoying it, especially when she or Devin shuffled instead of Quicksilver.
She dealt six cards to each of them. “Question for you, Quicksilver.”
“Oh?” He checked his cards, then turned his attention to her. Devin frowned at his own hand, reordering the cards.
“I know Lucian’s mother is dead. Is his father too?” Cylin asked.
“Lonewind?” Quicksilver laughed. “No, it would take a lot to kill Lonewind.”
“Something like the destruction of most of civilization and the corruption of huge stretches of the world?” Cylin asked dryly.
“Oh, well, sure, that might have been a danger to him, if he’d been here,” Quicksilver allowed.
“Is he out wandering through the spirit world like Lucian?” Cylin asked.
Quicksilver shook his head. “About two centuries ago, he made a craft that could withstand the vacuum of space and left this planet with most of our clan’s older generation.”
Cylin just stared at him. Finally she glanced to Devin to see if he already knew this story. He opened and closed his mouth, struggling to form words. “He… what… How? Why?”
Quicksilver smiled wryly. “You know how Lucian can be stubborn and really intense sometimes? Imagine that ten times stronger. Lucian is a powerful, impressive man. Lonewind is a force of nature. Fortunately, he also has people who anchor him. Lucian going Ghost is creepy, but I would take the Ghost any day over seeing Lonewind lose control and let loose the Demon.” He shuddered.
“And that relates to him leaving?” Cylin asked.
“Our clan lived in a remote region, well away from humans, but technology was advancing. Lonewind realized that a time would come when elves wouldn’t be able to count on remaining hidden away and unseen. He didn’t want to make the necessary adaptations to live among humans, and he didn’t want to pretend to be less than he was. So, he decided the alternative was to leave. Also, he’d fallen into a funk, lost interest in most things, and even his best friend couldn’t pull him out of it. When he first started on the idea of a spaceship, most of us were just glad he’d finally found something that energized him again. It took me at least a decade to realize he was actually serious about leaving. Though I’m sure some people figured it out much sooner.”
“And he did this a full century before any human began developing space flight?” Cylin asked. Her parents had taught her about such fantastical achievements as sending people into orbit and even landing on the largest moon.
“He thinks outside the box. Or the planet,” Quicksilver said.
“And he didn’t see any middle ground between ‘adapt to living around humans’ and ‘leave the solar system’? We’ve got three moons! He could have just moved to one.”
“The moons were the first place humans went when they figured out how to get up there without dying,” Quicksilver pointed out. “Besides, there’s no air on the moons.”
“There’s no air in space, either,” Devin argued.
“Yeah, but he planned to find a new planet where he and the rest of the clan could live,” Quicksilver said. “Apparently, that’s not as easy as it sounds, because last I heard, they hadn’t found one.”
“Why didn’t he take Lucian, you, and the others with him?” Cylin asked. Did Lucian’s father abandon him?
“He wanted to!” Quicksilver assured her quickly. “Lonewind loves Lucian with everything he has. Lucian stayed because he chose to. And because he stayed, Chance, Tash, and their wives all stayed too.” He shifted uncomfortably. “If they’d gone, I’d have gone too, but I was actually glad for an excuse not to. The ship was large and all, as such things go, but it would still have gotten pretty claustrophobic for me. I don’t do well with confined spaces.” He shook his head. “But, at least until the war, we still heard from them regularly. Spirit-walking makes distance a lot less of an issue, even between stars.”
