by Gwynn White
‘There are but ten healers in Phrest,’ Priestess Jewlsa replied. ‘The town of Phrest services two thousand men. That’s two thousand possible men needing healers, and the disease is relentless; in their maddened, desperate state, some men have beaten, shoved, slapped and kicked the healers.’
King Cevznik leaned back and said, ‘Captain Buckhorn.’
‘Yes, sir,’ the captain kneeled at his king’s feet.
‘Send three units of soldiers to Phrest to assist the healers.’
‘My Lord,’ Priestess Jewlsa cut in. ‘The healers no longer reside in Phrest.’
The king gave a sudden exasperated sigh. ‘Then where do they reside?’
Priestess Jewlsa hesitated. ‘South.’
The king scowled. ‘Captain, send those three units south instead. Upon their capture, take the healers back to Phrest and ensure they heal the men. Clearly they’re being lazy, for their bodies cannot be hurt and healers do not grow weary.’
Captain Buckhorn looked at Toxiv for a moment and then averted his gaze. ‘At once.’ He barked an order at a royal guard, telling him to organise riders.
Toxiv simmered. Plagues had come and gone, most spread barely a mile, but for ten healers to heal a hundred men a day each, they’d be traumatised. Would she be silent in this matter? No, she thought. Women should never be silent.
Toxiv took a brave step forward, spreading her hands. ‘Your Highness, these are desperate times, but healers are not worn boots in need of repair. They have minds, and feelings, and will suffer if they are to heal such a large quantity of men. They need rights like any other—’
‘I am the law,’ the king snapped, rising from his throne. Glory filled his eyes. ‘Let it be known this day that all healers will not deny a healing to any man suffering from the Death Plague.’
Toxiv’s stomach twisted with hatred. The king had just ended their amicable alliance. She would leave as soon as possible. ‘There are rituals that must be respected—’
‘To the fires with your rituals,’ he snarled.
‘Your Highness—’ fury scorched Toxiv’s innards ‘—the rituals are not senseless tradition. The rules of healing are there to protect a healer’s human sensibilities.’
‘And if they refuse,’ the king continued, ignoring her. ‘They will lose the protection of my soldiers.’
The onlookers in the room gasped.
Toxiv searched Queen Svelsa’s delicate face for pity, but Queen Svelsa, like all other queens before her, had taken a silent and submissive role alongside her husband. Toxiv suspected the kings preferred it that way; as did many men.
‘By the sun god, this law of yours will hold no bearing at Lightened Sanctuary,’ Toxiv retorted, showing her anger.
The king sneered at her, then clicked his fingers. Six royal guards surrounded her and Priestess Jewlsa with their blades drawn.
‘Priestess Toxiv,’ said the king. ‘You are to remain here in Juxon City and help Priestess Jewlsa keep the Death Plague from infecting our people.’
‘All the people of Senya are your people! Including those at Lightend Sanctuary.’
‘I will send word to Lord Morkat of the city of Meligna, asking him to send soldiers to aid your sanctuary’s recovery. I need you here. Since you desire the healings to be orderly, and ritualistic, then by all means oversee the process yourself.’
Toxiv breathed heavily, eyeing off the swords raised in her direction. She had no choice but to comply.
A squire rushed to the Priestess Jewlsa with a letter, almost knocking over one of the royal guards. The tension in the room heightened as the priestess snapped the wax seal and read. Her eyes scanned the ink, and deep lines formed at her brow. She gently rolled up the parchment and turned to address the entire room. ‘The Death Plague is already here!’
22
Abyslam
A chill nipped at Abyslam’s back despite the raging fires of the throne room’s hearths. The Death Plague had claimed its first Juxon City victim—fortunately, on the southern side of the Lowers, far away from the Uppers and his parents’ home. The courtiers murmured anxiously amongst themselves.
He lowered the sword he’d been pointing at the high priestess, sighing with relief that the king hadn’t given the order to kill. He’d never kill a healer, and would have betrayed his king to fight for the high priestess.
The king possessed no compassion or kindness. The healers deserved his respect, for they were pure souls who spent their lives serving the people and stood for righteousness, duty, purity; all the same values that Abyslam held dear. A healing from a healer allowed a Senyan man to live twenty years longer than the rich and powerful Bivinians to the south, or the savage Ruxdorians of the northern ice lands.
‘The little girl has been isolated within the temple,’ continued Priestess Jewlsa. ‘Our incinerators will burn away the disease if she dies.’
‘I pray that she lives,’ said Queen Svelsa gently.
‘Er, yes, as do I,’ echoed the king.
Toxiv spoke. ‘Unfortunately, my queen, more women than not, have died. The elderly women and young girls will have even less chance of survival.’
A troubled thought crossed Abyslam’s mind. Boys as young as four had been healed by healers. The subject was taboo, and never to be spoken of, but he felt great pity for the healers forced to perform these acts. Abyslam’s friend had been healed at age six. He had no memory of the healing, and felt no resentment towards the healers. They’d saved his life.
‘Captain Buckhorn,’ said the king. ‘Send the soldiers around the city warning the citizens of the plague. Have them stay inside their homes. At the first symptoms, have them report to the healer temple.’
Captain Buckhorn bowed.
‘Show the healers back to the temple,’ the king said. ‘Court is over.’
Captain Buckhorn nodded to Abyslam who guided Priestess Jewlsa out of the throne room. The captain showed the high priestess and Healer Euka out. Four other royal guards fell in step behind them.
Outside, the captain whistled at two Uppers soldiers, and organised a thousand soldiers to search the homes of all citizens while warning them of the plague. To Hawrald, one of the other royal guards that Abyslam knew from his tournament days, he gave orders to assemble fifty men to find the Phrest healers then report to the temple.
Captain Buckhorn, Priestess Jewlsa, High Priestess Toxiv, Healer Euka, Abyslam, and the other three guards set off for the temple. They rode through the Uppers to the open Lowers gate.
The smooth white stonework of the wealthier Uppers turned chipped and dreary grey as they entered the Lowers. Thatching replaced tiled roofs. Houses shrunk to half size, sometimes a quarter. Broken windows were boarded up. Dung, dirt and weeds clung to the cobble stones. Some homes contained ten or so residents. Women sat on upturned buckets nursing screaming babies with dirt-stained cheeks. At a main intersection, they turned left. Rising into the eastern sky stood the pride of Juxon City, the healers’ temple.
Its foundations were as vast as the castle’s, and its height rivalled the mountains behind it. The middle of three spires pierced the sky, and arched windows depicted the sun god, healers eye, and healers saving those on their death beds.
Captain Buckhorn installed a temporary perimeter of guards and closed the temple to the commonfolk.
The people cheered the High Priestess as they rode to the bottom of the ten steps leading up to the grand entryway. At the top, wreaths of fresh flowers were hung around their necks as healers greeted them. Vases of incense sent coloured smoke into the air.
Abyslam watched, heart expanding with pride and joy. Soldiers gossiped and undermined each other. Courtiers manipulated other courtiers for rank and riches. Vendors extorted their customers. Even the poor stole from each other. But healers were gentle, wise, temperate, and above all else, loyal to each other.
Captain Buckhorn turned to Abyslam and whispered, ‘Listen in on the healers’ conversations. The king has insisted they be granted
no rest until every man with the plague is healed. Any talk of resistance, or rebellion is to be reported to me, and me only. Understood?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Hawrald,’ called the captain.
The soldier, taller than most men and fiercer than an angry bull, was one of the few men who had bested Abyslam in the tournaments. He triumphed using strength and power. Rumours were that Hawrald was the first ever man to fight his way up out of the Lowers and into the king’s royal guard.
‘Yes, sir,’ said Hawrald.
‘You and Abyslam will stay here and keep order,’ said Captain Buckhorn. ‘The Lower guard will answer to you. I know you can handle this, Hawrald.’
‘Of course, sir.’
The captain relayed the same message to the priestesses. ‘If you need more soldiers, just ask Hawrald and Abyslam.’
‘Thank you, Captain,’ High Priestess Toxiv said.
‘We’re at your service,’ said Hawrald bowing. The healers went back to talking amongst themselves.
Hawrald leaned over to Abyslam and whispered. ‘Hope you ain’t shy.’
Abyslam stared back, blankly.
‘We’ll both be needin’ healin’s by the time this is over.’ He elbowed Abyslam. ‘Know what I mean?’
Abyslam swallowed.
Hawrald laughed. ‘Don’t worry yourself now, lad.’
Lad? Abyslam thought. Hawrald wasn’t more than five years his senior.
‘They give ya somethin’ to make ya willy go hard.’ Hawrald snorted, the noise amusing enough to distract Abyslam from the deadly plague making its way through the city.
23
Toxiv
An hour later, Toxiv stood on the raised pulpit high above the full congregation of healers and spoke about the Death Plague, and the king’s new decree. She instilled them with hope and the will to fight hard to keep their people safe.
At hearing the possible numbers of healings they’d be conducting per day, the younger healers started to cry. The older healers comforted the younger ones, but Toxiv could see the fear in their eyes as well. That night she intended to hide any healer below the age of ten away from the temple.
Later that night, when many of the healers slept, the priestesses went into a private room to speak.
Toxiv rubbed her face in distress. ‘There are thirty thousand people living in this city.’
‘And only two hundred and sixty of us,’ Priestess Jewlsa replied. ‘If you don’t include the young girls.’
‘If the disease killed over weeks instead of days, we could heal everyone in time,’ voiced a superior. ‘But the king’s new law means we can’t turn people away. It will be chaos.’
‘We could bribe the soldiers to allow us rest,’ Toxiv said.
‘They’ll have spies watching us,’ replied Priestess Jewlsa. ‘Besides, what would we bribe them with? We already can’t say no to healing them, if that’s what they want.’
Toxiv heard a bang outside the door. She put a finger to her lips signalling for the others to keep silent, rose from her chair drawing a dagger from her boot, and put her back against the door.
A knock made her jump. ‘Who is it?’ she demanded.
‘Abyslam.’
Toxiv opened it to the very young and attractive royal guard. Droplets of water clung to curly brown waves of hair.
He bowed his head. ‘Please forgive me, High Priestess.’ He reached into a satchel at his hip. ‘A messenger was taking this to the king, but I intercepted.’
Toxiv took the letter, frowning. ‘What is it?’
‘The king intercepts all temple letters coming in and going out,’ he said then leaned closer, whispering, ‘This is from Lightend Sanctuary.’
She smiled at him sweetly. ‘You disobeyed your king to give this to me?’
The young man swallowed, but showed no shame. ‘I would do anything to serve the sun god, and your cause.’
Toxiv was astounded at his words. The severest of the crown’s punishments were reserved for traitors, and Abyslam’s actions were traitorous. ‘Have you read it? The seal is broken.’
He pressed his lips together. ‘I did, but please believe me, I am only loyal to you. I also worry for my mother and father.’
Toxiv took the scroll and read it:
High Priestess Toxiv of Lightend Sanctuary,
Lord Morkat of Meligna has not responded to our request for aid. In addition, he has closed the Meligna city gates. Priestess Silica has arrived from Borrelia; she awaits your return. Priestess Yelloza sent word that she could not attend your summons, but has organised for the Ruxdorian, General Pernavaka, to bring you her best warriors. In addition, General Pernavaka will install a blockade at the entrance to Ruxdor. In return for her help, she requests healings for her men, and her people if the Death Plague should pass into Ruxdor.
There have been four hundred cases here so far. The men were healed, but only one in ten women survived. Thousands are piling up outside our gates. We are healing them as quickly as possible, but we need additional healers from Meligna city. Could the king help?
What can we do?
Your loyal friend,
Doctor Josephar
Toxiv held the letter against her chest for a moment. She turned to the room and said, ‘I must go home.’
‘The king won’t allow that,’ Priestess Jewlsa said.
Toxiv turned to Abyslam. ‘Will you take a message to the king?’
He tilted his head. ‘Of course.’
‘Tell the king that Lord Morkat has closed his city gates. Tell him that he would not send us aid at Lightend Sanctuary, and that he is keeping a significant portion of healers from doing their duty for the surrounding farmers.’
Abyslam bowed. ‘He would not appreciate my presence at this late hour, may I address him in the morning? I believe the information about Lord Morkat will interest him.’
Priestess Jewlsa searched the eyes of her fellow healers with trepidation then asked, ‘Can you, I mean, is it possible for you to intercept the letters of the king?’
‘Unlikely, but I will try,’ said Abyslam. ‘I will leave you now.’
Toxiv followed him out the door and in the hallway took his hand. ‘How can I reward such loyalty?’
Abyslam stared at her levelly. ‘Trust in me. Use me to do your will.’
Toxiv felt her breath taken away, and for a moment she wished him five or six years younger; she would take him as a lover. ‘I will,’ she said simply.
She returned to the healers.
‘I am at a loss to know what the king will do now. Lord Morkat must obey King Cevznik’s commands if he orders him to send his healers here. The king will execute him if he disobeys.’
‘How?’
‘He could just send the Juxon City army north.’
‘The king needs his soldiers here,’ Toxiv replied, and knew that the danger of the temple being overrun in Juxon City was the same danger that Lightened Sanctuary faced.
She had to get home.
24
Toxiv
Messenger ravens departing Juxon City were shot down by longbow archers on the wall walks. Toxiv couldn’t get a letter back to Lightend Sanctuary without it being read. She wondered if she could turn the Lower citizens against the king, but his soldiers required healings also, and they were many.
The new morning brought a raid of the temple. Soldiers swept through the temple overturning furniture, fabrics, books and barrels in search of weaponry. Since King Cevznik’s coronation, women and healers wielded little power in Senya. They were denied positions of authority, especially in politics and the military. Even as high priestess, any Upper or royal soldier could override Toxiv’s wishes. Women had never really owned their bodies or minds in Senya; the king’s ruling simply made it law.
She felt suffocated and trapped, and Toxiv did not respond well to being trapped.
Fifty additional cases of Death Plague had sprung up overnight. The men were healed, but only five women survived. Tw
o would recover in full. Two lost limbs, and the last went blind.
Panic spread throughout the city. Women clawed at the city gates, trying to escape. Soldiers pushed them back, tore down their ladders, and burned them. Some tried to climb out with ropes, or escape through the canals where the current drowned them against underwater gates.
Eventually, many accepted their fate and formed long organised lines before the temple. The city stopped. People stayed home. A sense of dread filled the air. Smoke rose out of the temple chimney’s as they burned the bodies.
Abyslam reported back that afternoon. He’d passed on Toxiv’s message to the king who’d pitched a goblet across the room. The royal soldier couldn’t tell her how the king would reply.
By the end of the day, the plague had spread to a thousand people. Toxiv rounded up all healer children from the city and hid them with the elderly ones in the vast temple attics. They were not to come down for seven days.
Captain Buckhorn arrived to assess the rows of healing tents with High Priestess Toxiv at his side. He approved of the efficiency of the set up. There were over two hundred beds. A soldier stood at the head of each one. They tied a blindfold over the afflicted’s eyes, and some were administered the men’s remedy for the proper function of their lower male appendicle.
At the back of the temple, inside the healer dorms, doctors were administering treatments to the women. Underneath the temple, all ten incinerators fired. Servants tipped the corpses down a chute while others carted heavy buckets of smoking ash outside, dumping them in the streets.
At the end of the healer dormitories, the captain turned to Toxiv. ‘What’s up those stairs?’
‘The temple attic.’
‘Hawrald,’ said the captain.
‘Yes, sir.’
