Solace

by Bethany Adams

  “I would not have distracted you with this now,” the healer said. “But someone needed to know in case of disaster.”

  “Indeed,” Lial agreed.

  He wasn’t exactly safe from harm. Despite Ralan’s assurance that Lial was unlikely to die, there was a chance he wouldn’t escape this healing session unscathed. The prince hadn’t Seen Kezari’s actions, after all. The futures might have changed for the worse. With that in mind, Lial connected with Delbin, the closest strong telepath he trusted, and passed along the information about Elerie.

  Then Lial took a deep breath and got to work.

  A Galaren healer—Bleyiak had been a Galaren healer.

  The discovery brought a wide grin to Lynia’s face in spite of the serious nature of her research. She couldn’t help it. She’d had so little to go on that each revelation was its own miracle. Maddy stared at her in confusion, but Lynia didn’t explain, lifting her pen to take more notes from On the Folly of Abuiarn: Or, A Study on the Dangers of Mixed Magic instead.

  Much like Moranaia itself, the colonies of the time had taken in fae from other realms, and political turmoil in Galare had caused an influx on Abuiarn. Bleyiak had come from a noble family, a younger son who’d played at becoming a healer though his ambitions reached higher. He’d wanted power, and Abuiarn had provided the opportunity.

  Until it hadn’t.

  Before the incident with the princess, Bleyiak had met and befriended other newcomers. Tebid Ored, for one. It was unclear how close the two men had been, but Bleyiak must have at least heard the account of Rrelen. This book made no allusions to the meaning behind its title—the reckless blending of a virus from a little-explored colony and the magic used by Galarens had indeed brought folly.

  “This is phenomenal. In a horrible way,” Lynia said, explaining what she’d learned to Maddy. “Although I have to wonder if he actually released the virus into the energy field. Another book said that ‘the Source heaved as it absorbed, and its touch brought perversion instead of renewal.’ That sounds more like the poisoned energy Kien used, which harmed mental channels and prevented magic use instead of sickening the body like a disease.”

  Maddy pinched her lower lip between her fingers for a moment as she listened. “I have to wonder if it’s both. Release the two methods at the same time and you have total chaos.”

  “I wouldn’t like to find out.” Lynia shuddered. “I suspect the onraiee of the time didn’t want to, either, as details are sparse on the actual mechanics of the spell or spells used.”

  “What about treatment?”

  “Also annoyingly sparse.” After flipping back to the proper page, Lynia skimmed the short passage again. “This mentions the arrival of Healer Emereh, who was summoned by Tebid Ored.”

  Maddy’s brows rose. “Now, isn’t that interesting?”

  “Very.” Lynia ran her finger along the next line. “As is this. ‘Emereh devised a treatment to cure the affliction, but many died before it was shared. When the rest were cured, so few remained that the survivors followed Emereh to his home realm.’ If I had time, I would search for the descendants of those survivors to see if any stories remain. Maybe one of them wrote down the actual treatment. Although I suppose I may still find it in the last book Selia brought.”

  “Here’s hoping.”

  Lynia lifted the final tome, the rough leather binding catching against her fingers. The book must have once been quite expensive. Though ancient, the paper still held enough crispness to suggest fine quality, and based on the flecks glinting yellow in the creases of the embossed title, the letters had once been filled with gold foil. Were she to make a copy of this one, she would never be able to bring herself to do a simple transfer to a plain book. This deserved to have a duplicate crafted, gold and all.

  The Wayfarer’s Trial. A curious title for an account of Abuiarn’s fall. An outsider’s perspective, perhaps? Lynia searched the cover and the opening pages for the name of the onraiee who’d written the work, but she found nothing. An anonymous traveler, then. Well. Whoever it was, Lynia could only pray their adventure had been useful.

  Recklessly, Lial drew in magic from the world around him, using a fair amount of his stores to convert the energy to his use. Then he concentrated the power on the worst spot in Korel’s lungs. With luck, the virus would react the way Fen’s affliction had and die off. Even as Lial repaired the cells already damaged, he monitored the disease’s progression.

  Viral replication increased at first, and he almost cut off the energy flow. Could this version of the illness be destroyed by healing magic, a force of creation? Lial’s very breath slowed as he watched—and prayed he wasn’t making a terrible mistake. He added more energy, as much as he could spare.

  And waited.

  Just before he pulled back, the virus slowed its reproduction enough for hope to build beneath the surface of his worry like the first bubble preparing to boil. Alerielle joined her power to his, then, and some of the shells surrounding the invader’s core began to break down, the inai within dying beneath the force of their magic. This could work. If they could sweep enough energy through, it would absolutely work.

  But bubbles were made to be broken.

  They’d only managed to clear one section of Korel’s lungs when Alerielle’s energy gave out. Panting, the ancient healer braced her hand against the bed, her head dipped low. Normally, Lial would have checked on her, but he was too busy fighting the exhaustion that blew through him in a dizzying rush. He blinked against the urge to close his eyes for a moment’s rest.

  He did his best to pull in extra power, but the task needed more magic than his body could convert from the natural world. Really, it would take more energy than he possessed at the best of times, and he was far too worn out for that. But he couldn’t give up. Though he might faint from energy loss, it would be worth it to try.

  “Stop,” Alerielle said, her voice rough and strained.

  With a shake of his head, denying her command, Lial let his eyes close—not to sleep. It would make it easier to block out the world and suspend thought. To simply be. Then he sent his awareness into his patient.

  The bits of virus they’d killed hadn’t revived, but the infection hadn’t been stopped, either. Outside the small area where they’d overwhelmed the virus, replication had accelerated. Miaran. Their power might have destroyed some, but the rest had soaked up the ambient power to fuel reproduction, and thus greater destruction. There were more dark flecks in Korel’s blood than when they’d begun.

  Lung function decreased, and the man began to cough violently in a vain attempt to purge the invader. Lial hesitated. If he tried to clear the lungs, it would feed the virus. But if he didn’t… He did another scan of Korel and cursed. The damage had spread so quickly while they fought the virus in one spot that there were now countless things to repair. Every organ was headed toward catastrophic failure, and the only tool Lial had—magic—would make it worse.

  With his natural ability to regenerate rendered moot by the strength of the virus, Korel would die a terrible death.

  Lial jerked back, his gaze flying to Alerielle. She sat straight now, and although pale and worn, her eyes gleamed with knowledge. She’d recognized before he had that it was over, yet even now he struggled to give voice to what they both knew.

  He’d failed.

  “I have a potion that will ease his suffering,” Alerielle said softly.

  Lial’s stomach lurched, and his hands shook as he wiped his damp palms across his knees. She wasn’t talking about pain relief. He had similar potions in his own collection, but he had never had cause to dispense them. Either he’d saved his patients, or they’d died too quickly to require such a thing.

  The tincture did ease pain and relax the body, but it also took time to work. It wasn’t designed for something like this; it was to aid the elderly in their last days. How long would the virus ravage Korel’s body, prolonging a miserable experience and allowing the virus time to spread? It ha
d already reached the nervous system, and soon—

  Korel’s body jerked, a cry slipping from his lips as the affected nerves fired. A death like this would be akin to torture.

  “Magic would be faster,” Lial whispered, though everything within him rebelled.

  Alerielle studied him for a moment before nodding.

  The usual flare of his power was a dull, cloudy blue as it surrounded Korel—this time not to heal. Lial’s nails dug into his palms with the urge to pull his magic back, and it didn’t matter that the man was a traitor. Even if Korel were to be executed in a few marks’ time, Lial still would have healed him.

  Lial brought life. It was his calling.

  He’d been tasked with preventing this plague, but he was the one taking the first victim.

  The weak thread of Alerielle’s power joined his. “I’ll help,” she whispered.

  Lial couldn’t answer. He could barely handle the feel of his own skin as he grasped Korel’s damaged, stuttering heart with his magic while Alerielle took control of the man’s mind. Was it murder to bring relief to the almost dead? Lial’s head said no, but his soul might never accept it.

  He exchanged one last glance with Alerielle, waiting for her assent. Then together, they brought Korel permanent ease.

  A state Lial might never find again.

  Chapter 30

  Excitement coursed through Lynia’s veins as she turned the page to find exactly what she needed—a recipe. If she’d been able, she would have kissed the unknown archivist who’d pulled this book to send to Selia, for although there was no onraiee attributed to the work, it hadn’t taken Lynia long to figure out the source. This was Emereh’s own journal. Emereh, who hadn’t been a Moranaian healer at all, at least not exclusively. He’d traveled between realms, studying as much as he’d lent aid.

  She skimmed the list of ingredients he’d used in his potion, and each one picked at her memory until realization crashed across her in an avalanche. Almost all of these things were ordered by Bleyiak. Not all, but enough that she had to wonder if the man had devised a cure in advance for the very disease he’d unleashed. Quickly, she scribbled the theory in her notebook before pushing the thought aside. She could research the drec’s intentions once the crisis was past.

  For now, she had a potion to concoct—but it would work best with Lial’s help.

  “I have something,” Lynia said to Maddy. “But I want to see if Lyr has news of when Lial might return before I go to the healing tower. Do you think Anna would be willing to purify water again?”

  Maddy’s brows creased in thought. “Probably. I can check. But what did you find?”

  Lynia smiled. “The recipe for the potion Emereh used to cure the original virus.”

  That certainly served to brighten Maddy’s expression. The younger woman stood, closing the book she’d been studying. “Then I’m almost certain she will help. You check with Lord Lyr, and I’ll check with Anna.”

  With a quick surge of power, Lynia copied the recipe in her notebook, sealing the ingredients in her memory. But she grabbed The Wayfarer’s Trial and her notebook anyway before heading for the library door. The faster they could proceed, the better. If she was lucky, she could already have the components prepared and ready for use before Lial returned from treating Korel.

  There was no need to knock on the study door this time. It opened not long before she reached it, and Kai strode out, a frown on his face. “If you need to speak to Lyr, you should probably hurry. We were interrupted three times during a simple report.”

  “Did something else happen?” Lynia asked.

  Kai’s expression darkened further. “The fairies have refused to help. They only provided one helpful bit of knowledge, aside from telling us to get our shit together. According to the princess, natural shapeshifters are immune.”

  “Good news for Kezari, if not the rest of us,” Lynia muttered. She settled her books against her chest. “Is Lial back? He will want to know.”

  “We haven’t heard anything from Oria yet.” Kai ran his fingers through his hair. “Another worry, that. I’m trying not to think about why Ralan didn’t want me to go.”

  Lynia gave his upper arm a quick, comforting squeeze despite the knot of fear his words created in her stomach. No word from Oria was… “Better not to speculate,” she said, as much for herself as Kai.

  “I do have enough to fret over otherwise. I haven’t heard from Caolte about my father’s health, either. Arlyn says no news is good news, but…”

  “I understand.” With her own concern for Lial, she more than comprehended. “Let us hope it is good, indeed.”

  As Kai hurried off, Lynia took a deep breath and entered the study to find Lyr pacing behind his desk. Alone. “Where is everyone?”

  Lyr pivoted to face her at the question.

  “Meli is speaking with the head of the household’s assistants, and Arlyn and Kera are filling in some of the senior scouts on the current crisis,” he answered, rubbing at his brow. “I’ve been answering anxious mirror calls and monitoring the shielding. Cora and Selia went to check on their children, but gods know what Ralan is doing. He has kept himself scarce since heralding upheaval. As usual.”

  Once again, exhaustion lined her son’s face, and it twisted Lynia’s heart to see it. Her fingers tightened on the edge of her books as she stopped near the edge of his desk. At least she had a possible solution for the crisis, provided it worked—and she was able to create it.

  “I have a potion recipe that might help,” Lynia said. “But I need Lial here for optimal effect. Kai said you hadn’t heard anything from Oria?”

  Lyr crossed his arms. “I haven’t.”

  “Clechtan,” Lynia cursed. “I’ll have to get started without him. I wanted to warn you of a possible request, though. If he doesn’t have all of these ingredients on hand in the healing tower, I’ll need you to find them for me quickly.”

  Her son nodded. “Let me know.”

  Before Lynia could leave, the mirror chimed, and Lyr groaned—a sound that only deepened when he identified the source. “It’s from the Rekel of the Taian branch. Caeleth’s father, no doubt. Could you tell me how Caeleth is doing when you reach the healing tower?”

  “Of course,” Lynia replied. She’d seen the Rekel’s temper firsthand, though it had been a few centuries. “I’ll go now.”

  Avoiding conversations like that was one thing she didn’t miss about being Myerna. One thing out of many.

  Delbin’s hands clenched into fists, but he couldn’t say the motion was borne of anger. The chaos coursing through him was more complicated than that. Why had Lial chosen him, of all people, to share that revelation with? Now he was forced to wait in the tiny entry room with Moren, withholding information the other man would surely want to know.

  Wasn’t that a fine twist of fate? For years, Moren had known that Delbin’s brother had fallen to Allafon’s influence, but he’d never sent word while Delbin was living on Earth. Even now, they hadn’t spoken about how Moren hadn’t brought Delbin home after Allafon’s death. They’d been too focused on the search for Korel for that confrontation. Ironic that Delbin had learned a secret that might even be more extreme.

  “I suppose I deserve the disdain in your eyes,” Moren said softly from his place by the stairs. “I am sorry about your brother.”

  Well, damn. Delbin’s irritation didn’t fade, but guilt was happy to join the party. How was he supposed to keep from telling the man that his mother was alive when he was being sympathetic? Then again, how did a person reveal that someone’s mother hadn’t died five hundred years ago? That wasn’t covered in one of Lynia’s etiquette books.

  Probably. Those things were surprisingly thorough.

  “Now might not be the best time to discuss such things,” Delbin hedged, because if they fell too far down the family discussion rabbit hole, there was no way hey, your mom’s unconscious in the basement wouldn’t slip out.

  The door opened, and Aris stum
bled through, Kezari in elven form close on his heels. The poor guy looked like hell, his face gaunt and his eyes heavy with grief. And though usually unbothered by much of what happened around Braelyn, Kezari was by no means neutral now. She kept casting guilty looks at Aris and then trying to hide her concern, only to glance over again. At least she seemed to realize she’d messed up.

  Aris headed toward the narrow bench against the other wall, only to halt halfway there. Yeah, Delbin hadn’t wanted to sit in the blood still pooling on the wood, either. But when Aris turned to Moren, it wasn’t just disgust on his face—it was fear and revulsion.

  “The healer didn’t cleanse the spot?” Aris asked harshly.

  Moren shook his head. “When Lial arrived, they took Korel upstairs. They’re trying to save him now.”

  Kezari stopped beside Aris, her hand settling on his shoulder. “You are too drained for this.”

  “Everyone in this room is at risk,” Aris said. Ripples of fear coursed down Delbin’s back at the mage’s stark tone. “The only dark energy I sense in this chamber is on that bench, but that doesn’t mean it will stay that way.”

  “Skizik—”

  Aris drew his sword with a hiss, green light flickering around the blade. “I stopped having a choice the moment you squished Korel’s body into the ground like a waterskin. I don’t know why his blood was filled with obscene magic, but it should never have been spilled.”

  “I am sorry,” Kezari said. Her hand dropped to her side, and she stepped back, though Aris didn’t appear to notice. “I thought only of you.”

  “I know,” Aris muttered.

  Delbin couldn’t help but feel sympathy for the dragon, no matter how badly she’d fucked up. He knew what it was like to have a different way of looking at the world. After all, he’d been voluntarily exiled to Earth a hundred years ago at the young age of sixteen and had lived there until recently. He might be Moranaian, but he didn’t always think like one.