by JMD Reid
“Runt! Fetch Lieutenant Jhoch on the wind!” his pa bellowed. Then he knelt down beside Ary. “You’ll be okay, Jayne.”
“I shouldn’t have watched the Cyclone,” he groaned, trying to reach out and grab his pa’s hand.
“Ary!” a woman shouted.
His ma appeared. She fell to her knees beside him and grabbed his hand. Ary couldn’t understand why her face was so dark or why she wore a blue coat. Why did she even care?
“What’s wrong with him?” his ma wailed.
“I don’t know,” his pa answered. “Some Theisseg-damned sickness.”
“Do something!”
Anger flashed across his pa’s bearded face. “I’ll let your disrespect slide, Scout, on account of your husband lying sick.”
“Sorry, Sergeant-Major.”
Why is Ma calling Pa that? The sky yawned overhead, expanding into the void. Darkness crashed down on Ary.
“I sent for the medical officer.”
“It’ll be okay, Ary,” his ma whispered, touching his forehead.
Soft, cool hands.
The world swirled around Ary. He drifted through heat, swimming through fever. Voices whispered at him, calling out from every direction. His ma, his pa, Chaylene, Srias, Jhevon, Gretla, Vel, and the golden Luastria.
He swam in circles, reaching out with his hands for something to grasp.
Cool cloth brushed his fingers. He seized it, heaving out of the fever into linen sheets, a mattress beneath him. His eyes struggled to open.
Ary lay in his ma’s bed, looking up at the bare rafters above him as he coughed for his life. The choking plague burned through his young body, consuming his flesh as it suffocated his lungs. The last time Ma showed me love, a distant, older voice whispered in his mind.
His younger sister, Srias, lay beside him, hacking and choking, her life strangled by the plague. Ary wanted to reach out and grab his little sister’s hand, but he was too weak. The fever cooked his flesh, the disease’s fingers squeezing his throat. His breath wheezed.
“Stay with me,” his ma whispered, kissing his forehead. “I can’t lose you both. Not so soon.”
“Please, Ary,” Chaylene wailed. “Don’t die.”
Ary stared at his sister’s round, wan face. Her red eyes met his for a moment. A spasm ran through her body. She’s about to die, the older voice whispered. You can save her. Reach out and grab her hand.
“Save . . . her . . .” Ary choked.
You can set her free. You have to break her chains.
He tried to move his hand. The blankets draping his body were heavier than stone. His weak limbs struggled to move towards his little sister. He couldn’t let her die. He had to protect Srias. With Pa dead, it was Ary’s duty.
Srias gave one last, rattling cough, the air wheezing out of her frail body. She shook once, her eyes closed, and his ma let out a mad wail. Ary’s right hand moved closer. He had to save her. He coughed as he strained.
Ary seized his little sister’s hand.
The warmth bled out of Srias while his ma sobbed, shaking his sister’s shoulders, begging her to come back.
I always survive, the older voice whispered.
“Please don’t die,” sobbed a different woman. A hand clutched Ary’s left in a fierce grip.
Ary turned his head, looking away from his dead sister.
To Chaylene.
Ary lay in a different bed, a different room. His right hand clutched nothing. Srias had been dead for almost seven years.
Lieutenant Jhoch held a cup full of bitter liquid to Ary’s lips. Chaylene squeezed his hand, her eyes red and swollen. Am I dying like Srias? He remembered the cold, dead feel of gripping his little sister’s hand. His fever broke soon after her fires had died. He’d recovered from the choking plague.
His ma had never forgiven him for that.
I always survive, a young voice whispered. I failed to save her.
“How could . . . I save . . . Srias?” he choked out.
“What’s wrong with him, Lieutenant?” Chaylene asked.
The liquid burned down his throat. The world grew black. The void reached out to engulf him.
“It’s similar to the camp fever. But the convulsions . . .”
“He’ll get better, right, Lieutenant?” Her hand, clammy with sweat, trembled as it clutched his.
The void swallowed the doctor. The bed vanished. Ary hung in darkness, clutching Chaylene’s hand.
“I don’t know,” the doctor’s voice whispered from across eternity.
Light blossomed.
Chaylene transformed into the golden being. A Luastria bound with chains of pulsing, beating light. Ary floated in the void, bodiless, the fever gone.
The Luastria sang in pain.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Betrayed,” she sang. “I gave them my love, and they repaid me with treachery.”
“Who?”
“Free me from this agony!”
The chains pulsed, the light surging into her body. She convulsed, fighting her bondage. Ary wanted to take away the pain, to free her, but agony would engulf him if he dared to touch those chains.
“Free me.”
“How?”
“Break my chains.”
“I can’t,” Ary shouted. “There’s too much pain.”
I failed to save Srias . . .
“Why did you betray me? I loved you all so much. I showered you in my love every day. Why, Iiwroa? Why did you keep me chained?”
Ary drifted closer to the Luastria. That name sounded so familiar to Ary. Iiwroa. He’d heard it before. “How can I break your chains?”
“The foci are my chains,” she howled. “One has been broken. But that was so long ago.”
“Broken?” He looked at the Luastria. Twelve chains bound her cruelly, leading off into the eternity of the void. But wrapped around her left leg was a black chain, ending at a snapped, broken loop. “How was it broken?”
“Free me, please! End my agony. Sing the song on the heights and break my chains.”
The void vanished. Ary grew sluggish, his thoughts slowing. Fire raged through him, consuming him. A hand gripped his, soft and cool. Loving.
“Ma,” he croaked.
“Ary?”
His eyes opened. Chaylene stirred, her blonde hair matted with sweat, rubbing sleep from her eyes as she sat up in her chair. She was so beautiful, even with her white blouse rumpled, drool staining the corners of her dark lips. He tried to tell her. Only a whisper came out.
“Are you awake?” Desperate hope filled her face. Her hand touched his forehead, gentle. “You’re burning up. Lieutenant! Lieutenant, come quick!”
“I’ll fetch him,” Zori shouted.
“He’s burning with fever! He’s so hot.”
A cold, wet cloth draped his forehead. He tried to talk.
“Please get better, Ary,” Chaylene whispered.
Fire consumed his wife’s face.
“The law said I had to care for you,” his ma cackled, “but that’s over now that you’re about to be an adult. Don’t bother coming back. There’s no place for you here.”
He lay next to Srias, clutching his sister’s cold, dead hand.
“I’m sorry, Srias,” he cried. “I tried to save you.”
“In fact, it’s best you volunteer. Go off to play marine like you always wanted.”
Fire devoured him.
“I . . . I’m afraid for you,” his ma cried, clutching his other hand. “I’m sorry, Briaris. I just . . . wanted you to know that before you left.”
Confusion filled Ary. But you just said you don’t care for me, Ma.
“You’re my son. I . . . was confused . . . Everything was covered by this . . . this fog.”
He squeezed Srias’s dead hand. She squeezed back.
“I’m your mother, Briaris,” his ma wailed, then her voice turned grim. “The law said I had to care for you, but that’s over now that you’re about to be an adult. In
fact, it’s best you volunteer. Go off to play marine like you always wanted.”
Which is it? Are you my mother, or don’t you care?
“Stay with me, Ary. I can’t lose you.” Srias turned her face, her dead eyes staring at him. “I love you, Ary.”
His sister’s dead face burned coal-black.
Chaylene lay in the hammock, choking and coughing, dying of the same sickness that had killed his little sister. “Don’t die, Lena,” he sobbed. “I can’t lose you. Come back to me.”
She spasmed and choked, her breath rattling out of her flesh. The ship creaked about them. He seized her hand, gripping her with a fierce intensity. Fire crackled inside Ary, his fever consuming more of his flesh, the heat spreading to every part of his body until he was living flames. He burned. Blazed.
Then, like a candle guttering out, the fire vanished.
A cool touch stroked his forehead. He opened his eyes. Chaylene smiled at him. “Your fever broke,” she whispered, her tired face shining. “Goddess Above, it broke.”
“Chaylene?” he asked, trying to sit up. Weakness enfeebled him. “Where am I?”
“The infirmary. You’ve been here for nearly three days.”
His stomach rumbled. He gave a weak smile, saying, “Explains why I’m so hungry.”
“The medical officer thought you were going to die when the fever hit last night. Lieutenant Jhoch said no one survives when a fever burns that hot.”
“Guess he was wrong,” Ary croaked.
She kissed his forehead. “I’ll get you some broth.”
“Thanks. I love you, Lena.”
Her dark cheeks were spread wide by her smile. The most beautiful sight in the world.
Chapter Thirty
Coajyoa 28th, 399 VF (1960 SR)
“I can’t believe you’re going to morning formation,” Chaylene huffed, her hands on her hips as Ary dressed. “You just spent the last three days almost dead.”
Ary shrugged. “I feel fine now.”
He sat on the narrow cot in the mostly empty infirmary, a room lined with linen-covered beds and lit by wide windows. Alcoholic tinctures tickled Chaylene’s nose as she breathed, her stomach churning. Three days, and her nose hadn’t grown used to the medicinal scent.
She threw Lieutenant Jhoch a look. “Please tell my husband how foolish he’s being.”
The lieutenant adjusted his spectacles then ran his hand through his balding, light-brown hair. “Now, son, I’m inclined to agree with your wife. Your body needs time to recover after such an ordeal. You nearly died. Honestly, I’m surprised you lived.”
“Well, I feel as fit as a boar, ready to haul the wagon, sir.”
The lieutenant frowned. “Well, you seem hearty, but I’m loathed to release you. Your training is strenuous. It could cause you to relapse before you’ve recovered.”
“See, Ary,” she said. “Just take it easy.”
“I’m fine.” Ary buttoned-up his shirt. “I’ll prove it.”
Why is he being so stubborn? Chaylene wanted to throttle her husband. She’d spent the last three days scared for his life, clutching his hand, afraid to leave his side and then learn he’d passed away while she visited the latrine. The stubborn, down-stuffed fool didn’t comprehend how close to death he’d come.
She gaped as he dropped to the floor and did push-ups, counting fast as his arms pumped.
“See, Lieutenant,” he said. “I feel fine. Other than wanting to eat an entire boar by myself. I’ve never been this hungry before.”
The medical officer peered down at Ary as he did his calisthenics on the clinic’s floor. “Well . . . you do appear to have the constitution of a Chuthi pegasus. I’ll release you back to training on—”
“Lieutenant!” Chaylene objected. Then flushed as he glanced at her, mild annoyance on his face. “Sorry for the interruption, sir.”
“It’s alright. You’re worried about your husband. As I was saying, you can return to duty, son, but if you feel any fatigue over the next few days, you will report here immediately.”
“Yes, sir,” Ary said as he gained his feet, barely flushed and breathing normally. Chaylene knew the marines did far more push-ups than that each day, but shouldn’t he be winded? Even a little? Yesterday, he’d been as weak as a hatchling and today he was as fit as a roc.
The lieutenant grabbed a piece of parchment, scribbled hastily on it, and handed it to Ary. “Give this to Sergeant-Major Gahneich.”
“Yes, sir.”
“All right, I’ll give you some privacy to finish getting ready.” He paused at the door, giving Ary a fatherly look. “I do mean it, son. If you feel at all fatigued, do not hesitate to report back here. You gave us all a scare, and I’m not rightly sure what caused your illness.”
“I will, sir.”
“Good.” the lieutenant stepped out of the small room.
Chaylene gave him a firm look. “You better, Briaris.”
He sat down on the bed and laughed before pulling on his boot. “You sound like my ma.”
“That is a hateful thing to say,” she gasped. “I would never treat you she did.”
“I dreamed about her. About the day Srias died.” He gave a snort. “That was the last time I was really sick. You know, more than a headache or a sniffle.”
Chaylene remembered that winter when the choking plague had burned through Isfe. Her ma wouldn’t let her leave the house and go see Ary. “You’ll get sick and die,” her ma had said, wrapping her arms around Chaylene. “Then I’d be all alone.” Her ma had a strange, almost dead glint in her gray eyes when she’d said those words.
“I was so scared. I thought I was going to lose you,” Chaylene said to Ary, eyes misting, her vision blurring.
He pulled her onto his lap. She lay her head on his shoulder as he held her. “I’m fine.”
“You were shaking so hard the entire bed groaned. And that fever . . .” He stroked her hair. She closed her eyes, savoring this moment.
“I’m not going to die. I beat the sickness.”
“You said such strange things. What’s a chain? And why do you have to break it, Ary?”
He stiffened, his hand freezing. He took a sharp breath. “I don’t remember.”
“You don’t?” Then why did you tense? “It’s like your dreams, Ary. The ones that make you mumble at night.”
“It was all so confusing. But I don’t remember anything.”
Her forehead creased. Why would he lie to me? “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. We should get going. It’s almost time for morning revelry.” A grin split his lips. “I wouldn’t want to get in trouble on my first day back.”
“You can tell me anything, Ary. You can tell me about the dreams. They have to mean something if you keep having them.”
“They don’t, Lena.” He kissed her cheek. “Let’s go.”
She worked her teeth, her heart stung by his denials. Why won’t he tell me about them?
~ * * ~
Ary couldn’t shake the fever dream of the glowing Luastria. He felt bad for lying to Chaylene. What happened to me when I got struck by the lightning? Did Theisseg really touch me? Am I tainted? His scar prickled.
Chaylene could never know. He could never stand the look of betrayal, of disgust, in her eyes. Our house burned down. I almost died. Did I bring the Storm Goddess’s taint into our bed?
“Her Highness has decided to grace us with her presence,” sneered the Sergeant-Major when Ary joined the formation.
“Sergeant-Major,” Ary nodded, handing over the note from the medical officer.
The Agerzak snatched it up, tugging at his black beard as he read it. “Seems Princess is entitled to special treatment after her fainting spell.” He fixed his angular eyes on Ary. “You will obey these orders. I won’t have your death ruining my service record. Do you understand me, Princess?”
“Yes, Sergeant-Major!”
“Good. Fall in. You missed out on three days of training, so you’re going to
have to work extra hard. We’ll be fencing again today. And I hope you don’t have any unfortunate accidents like yesterday. Right, Mudguppy?”
“No, Sergeant-Major,” Ahneil answered, her shoulders set. Her angular eyes flickered over to Estan’s bandaged forehead.
“For calisthenics, we’re running today! To the hill and back!”
No one groaned, though Ary wanted to. The Sergeant-Major would have made them run it twice if any had. Ary clenched his fists and dreamed of the day he could pop the Sergeant-Major in the mouth and knock out a few of his rotten teeth.
“What are you ladies wanting on? Your invitation to Princess’s ball? Get your sorry rumps moving before I plant my foot so deep up your backside you’ll be tasting my polish!”
As they ran, Guts and Estan fell in beside Ary, disbelief on Estan’s dark face. “I can scarce fathom that you have survived, let alone that you are back for training only a day later. I was certain you would perish. The malady appeared quite severe.”
“I feel fine,” Ary answered, his boots thudding with theirs. “The lieutenant didn’t know what was wrong. But it passed.”
“We all visited you,” Guts said. “But you were out of it. Shaking and moaning, talking to people that weren’t there. I’m not ashamed to admit that I was terrified.”
“Oh?” Ary asked, surprised.
“Yeah. If you died, then the Sergeant-Major might call me Princess.”
Ary laughed hard.
“We were all praying you’d pull through.”
“Chaylene never left your side,” Estan said. “She stayed there day and night, sleeping in that chair. So Lieutenant Jhoch has no idea what caused your sickness?”
“Bad vapors.”
Estan shook his head. “What afflicted you was something far worse. I’ve read a few medical textbooks, and convulsions are never a good symptom. I suspect a rare pestilence infected you. But one that doesn’t seem all that contagious. No one else has come down with your symptoms.”
“What can I say, Estan?”
“It is curious. It makes me wonder if it wasn’t a pestilence.”
“What else could it have been?”
“A parasite. A worm or other organism growing in your body.”
Ary shuddered. “You’re not making me feel better.”
