by J. P. Ashman
Gitsham remained asleep, standing, but asleep.
Several balms, ointments and unguents were brought forth and applied to Biviano’s tender flesh, as well as a strange gas that moved around and finally into Biviano’s nose and mouth.
Heads shook here and there and the clerics and Feliscine muttered to themselves and each other from time to time.
Sears didn’t miss Effrin’s worried glances his way, and after a good while that seemed to have only made Biviano look worse, the red bearded guardsman finally stepped forward, eyes locked on Effrin. ‘What’s going on Effrin?’
Fal felt the tension build and Buddle growled; the look of surprise on Feliscine’s face when she turned to look at the bloodhound was unmistakeable. After a brief, stunned moment, she finally pulled her gaze from the animal and looked back to Biviano, ignoring Sears’ question, as did the clerics, bar Effrin, who stepped away from the bed and walked round to Sears. Fal didn’t miss the glance the cleric gave Bollingham.
‘They’re doing all they can to save him, Sears, but—’
‘But what?’
Effrin looked nervous and Bollingham placed a hand on his sword, much to Fal’s surprise.
What’s going on here? Fal thought nervously.
Effrin continued carefully. ‘He’s close to the end, as you know, Sears. There’s no cure yet formulated—’
‘Then what the hell are they doing to him?’ Sears’ voice rose towards the end, and the elf clerics looked worriedly over their shoulders at him.
Swallowing hard and steeling a glance to Bollingham, who slowly stepped back out of Sears’ eye-shot, Effrin continued. ‘They’re testing their possible cures on him.’
‘He’s not a bloody experiment!’ Sears shouted, pushing Effrin to one side and stepping forward.
Fal winced briefly at the word, remembering the last experiment he was part of, before rushing forward, along with Bollingham, to grab Sears’ thick arms and haul him back away from the working clerics, who, despite the sudden threat, calmly continued their work about Biviano.
Although they managed to pull him back slightly, Fal froze when a pair of burning red eyes turned on him. He flew through the air as Sears lashed out, the big man turning then on Bollingham, who released the arm he held a fraction before it swung around, attempting to fling him off. He ducked quickly, but received a knee to his chest which flipped him backwards and slid him across the stone floor.
Righting himself quickly, Fal drew his falchion and rushed in, waving it in front of Sears before dodging about him, egging him on.
Sears grabbed left and right, determined to take hold of the sergeant before he had a chance to use his falchion on him. Every time he thought he had the tattooed man however, he'd already moved.
Before anything else happened and despite Effrin’s shouts for Sears to calm down and Buddle’s sudden barking, the elf mage, Feliscine, stepped back and shouted in surprise.
Everyone stopped.
‘What is it?’ Orix looked across the bed at the elf mage from the stool he stood upon.
‘I… I don’t know,’ Feliscine said, her head tilting as she looked at Biviano’s still form.
‘What have ye done to him?’ Sears shouted, as Bollingham warily stalked back across the room towards the big man.
‘Nothing and nor will we be if you don’t control yourself,’ Orix said, pointing a small finger at Sears. ‘We need a workable cure from the experimental ones we have and your friend here is close to dead. We need try the ones we have and if we spend any more time discussing it then he’s dead anyway. At least this way he has a chance.’
In that instant Sears’ glowing eyes faded and his breathing calmed. He looked to Fal and Bollingham, his expression one of regret and shame.
Both men nodded there understanding, although Sears couldn’t help notice Bollingham’s laboured breathing.
Oh shit, I broke his ribs…
‘He’s…’ Feliscine started.
‘He’s what?’ one of the other elves said, looking to his companion and friend as her eyes scanned Biviano.
Feliscine shook her head. ‘I’m not sure, but…’ She reached over and pulled the nearest elf cleric towards her, whispering into his ear quickly.
The cleric’s eyes widened and he nodded. ‘Possibly,’ he said, looking down to the still form lying on the bed. He reached out with a syringe and plunged it into Biviano’s arm.
Sears stepped forward, but Orix held his hand up high and the big man stopped, face reddening.
‘What is it?’ Orix asked Feliscine.
‘I can’t say what or who he is, but from what I’ve felt when I try to contact him… he has great resolve, both mentally and… I don’t quite know… his soul?’ She looked at Buddle then, who barked once, tail wagging.
‘Let’s see then shall we,’ the elf cleric said, after taking a sample of Biviano’s blood. ‘The potion you hold,’ he added, motioning suddenly to Sears, ‘let’s have it.’
‘I tried this and it didn’t work,’ Sears said, taking the small flask from his belt, confused as to how the elf cleric knew he had it.
‘We can tell one has been used on him already, recently and several times, was it that one?’ the other elf cleric asked.
Sears nodded. But how could ye know?
‘Where’s it from?’ the same elf said.
Sears shook his head. ‘I don’t remember. I truly don’t. I’ve had it years, it refills itself.’
Fal looked to Bollingham who nodded and shrugged at the same time, seemingly to confirm the story.
The elf held out his hand and Sears passed it to him. ‘Like I said, I tried it.’
Removing the stopper from the flask and sniffing it, the cleric’s eyes widened, before passing it to the cleric with the needle. ‘It’s ancient, but powerful, much more powerful than I’ve ever smelt.’
‘Try tasting it if ye think it smells bad,’ Sears said, scrunching up his nose.
The elf with the needle looked to his companions, all of which, including Master Orix, nodded. With a nod himself, he plunged the needle into the flask and deposited a drop of Biviano’s blood.
‘What are you hoping for from this? A cure?’ Effrin asked, as confused as the rest.
‘We shall soon see,’ Feliscine said, winking at the human cleric. She placed her hand on the potion and blood mix and closed her eyes tight. The air in the room grew thick with static and the tips of the mage’s golden hair danced lightly as she hummed gently to herself. The pleasant sound continued, as did the pressure in the room. Buddle’s tail wagged harder than ever and almost everyone in the room’s ears popped suddenly as the mage stopped humming. Her beautiful eyes opened and she nodded to the cleric who’d taken the blood, before removing her trembling hand.
The flask was shaken thoroughly then, before being added to a larger container and its contents brought in by the clerics and mage. With a quick stir of the now mixed potion by Master Orix, a long handled silver spoon was dipped into the viscous liquid by one of the elf clerics and gently brought to Biviano’s lips. Without any help from anyone, Biviano opened his mouth and the liquid was poured in.
He swallowed, Fal thought hopefully.
Sears pressed his hands to his bearded cheeks and rocked slightly back and forward, as all in the immediate vicinity held their breaths.
After several moments, the first breath to be released, heavily, was Biviano’s as his eyes slowly began to open and his skin immediately began to improve.
‘By the gods,’ Master Orix whispered, before shouting out with joy, ‘we’ve got a cure!’
A cheer erupted from those present then as Biviano’s eyes finally opened fully, taking in the angelic features of the elves looking down on him. Despite the beauty of the female elf by his side, Biviano couldn’t help but settle on the red bearded face of the man who appeared next to her.
‘Sears,’ he managed slowly and quietly.
All fell silent as Sears leaned closer to hear his friend spea
k.
‘Ye’re a dick, ye know that?’
The elves’ eyes widened as Sears stood straight and roared with laughter, followed by Fal, Bollingham and Effrin.
The laughter continuing as the elf clerics rushed about the room with the gnome, administering the cure to the other patients there, the large container already replenishing itself as they'd hoped it would after adding the bearded guardsman’s ancient potion.
After several tense moments passed, it became clear to all that the potion they'd created didn’t hold all the answers.
‘None of them are responding?’ one of the elf clerics said, clearly confused.
‘I don’t understand?’ Orix shook his head slowly. ‘It worked on the guardsman over there?’
With a heavy sigh, the elf cleric who'd taken Biviano’s blood placed a delicate hand on Orix’s shoulder. ‘Clearly we have more work to do, Master Orix, as much as it pains me to admit.’
Orix was nodding before the elf finished and he finally agreed, knowing many more would die with every moment wasted. ‘We should take blood samples of all of these patients then and repair to the clerics’ chamber.
Solemnly nodding their agreement, the elves set about alongside the old gnome. They swiftly took samples and resigned themselves to the fact that some if not all of those around them would surely pass before a true cure was created using what they'd already discovered.
Across the room, Biviano had fallen asleep once more, a peaceful look upon his face as Sears finally allowed Effrin to tend to his wounds.
Fal’s stomach churned and bile rose in his throat as he looked about the faces of the clerics. We thought we had it, so swiftly, so simply. Gods below, how long will it take them to find an answer to all of this? Rubbing the weariness from his face, Fal moved across to Master Orix, offering his services to the cleric, although he didn’t know how he could help.
Bollingham assisted Effrin with Sears, none of them paying any attention to the elf mage, who'd drifted to the side of the room, her eyes locked on Biviano.
Who or what is he? Feliscine asked.
I don’t know. I have my suspicions, but I can’t be sure, Gitsham replied. His eyes remained closed as he stood in the middle of the room, multiple clerics moving around him to various beds and their suffering occupants.
Nor can I, Feliscine thought. Thank you though, she added sincerely, for pointing out the big man’s potion. It would have taken us a long time to produce enough of a cure to go around without it, and many, many more in this city would have been lost.
I’m glad I could help, Gitsham replied, whilst remaining motionless. Although it seems we’re yet to find that cure?
No, but we have the means to distribute one now. And we do have the guardsman’s blood and the combined knowledge of all who are here, so I’m sure it won’t be long until we have a cure.
I can feel that you sincerely believe that, and that warms my heart.
Feliscine nodded subtly, despite the pain she felt as she cast her eyes about the room at the few souls already slipping away from their broken bodies.
They’re both intriguing, these two, she thought finally, looking back to the closest bed. It’s rare indeed to find such beings, and rarer still to find them together. She smiled warmly as her eyes moved from the recovering Biviano to briefly stop on Sears, before settling finally on Buddle. Mind you, friend, you’re quite extraordinary yourself.
The bloodhound’s tail wagged so vigorously his back end shook from side to side where he sat; looking up at the beautiful elf he’d just spoken to. It’s nice of you to say so, Feliscine, and even nicer that you noticed!
The elf mage winked at Buddle, before moving to assist her companions.
With a departing slap to the back from a wincing Bollingham, who thought it was time he got out of everyone’s way, Gitsham was startled awake. ‘What did I miss?’ the dog handler said flatly, genuinely; completely confused.
Buddle turned a full circle at that moment, dropped to the floor, yawned and fell asleep.
***
A proud peacock-sized bird of the purest white, with a similarly long and beautiful tail, walked slowly into the King’s bed chamber. It cocked its head sideways as it saw the King, and then hopped, surprisingly delicately for its size, onto the end of the grand bed where the sick man sat up, looking into the bird’s eyes.
‘I’m sorry it has come to this, my old friend,’ Barrison said gently, as the bird slowly padded up the large bed to stand directly in front of him. Correia had opened the beautiful, tall stained-glass windows and a strong breeze blew in, a hint of smoke detectable from the pyres burning throughout the city. The caladrius’ feathers ruffled slightly as the window opened, as did Barrison’s hair.
The elegant bird cocked its head again and leaned forward, its neck extending further than it looked possible, until Barrison looked almost cross-eyed into the bird’s bright blue eyes.
The King looked sleepy then and his eyes drooped as the bird pulled its head back, releasing a beautiful yet mournful cry. It turned swiftly, leapt from the bed and unfolded its angelic wings to soar effortlessly out of the window and across the city. It beat those wings once, twice and then up, up it went into the clouds above. Its call slowly faded as it vanished into the thick, grey clouds that suddenly unleashed a torrent of cold rain.
After a moment’s silence in the room, with nothing but the sound of torrential rain outside and the heavy beat of her heart, Correia spoke. ‘What now?’ she asked simply, her voice little more than a whisper as she stared at her father.
Barrison’s eyes had closed.
‘It will continue high into the sky, higher than it or any other bird can go,’ Errwin-Roe explained sadly.
‘Higher than it can go?’ she asked, confused.
The elf lord nodded. ‘Until it burns up in the atmosphere of this world, along with the sickness it has drawn from your father.’
A sickness I caused. Severun finally looked upon the deathly form of his King.
Correia’s eyes suddenly widened and she moved to her father’s side. His cheeks had flushed and his eyes ran with tears, but all signs of the plague had vanished.
My eyes never left him, Correia thought, gripping his hand tightly, yet I cannot recall seeing the plague leave him?
‘I feel ten years younger,’ Barrison said, his glazed eyes opening as he turned them upon his daughter. His voice was shaky, but grew stronger as he continued. ‘Yet there is a part of me missing; a sadness I feel will never pass.’
‘The caladrius will never leave your heart then, or your memories. That is a good thing King Barrison, a good thing indeed.’ Errwin-Roe turned and left the room, a tear rolling down his cheek.
***
Three wrecks lined the opening of Wesson’s walled harbour, nothing more than masts and the tips of fore and aft-castles breaking the rippling waters. Citizens and sailors alike were talking about thunder with no lightning just off the coast on the nights the ships had made a break for open water, yet no one linked it with the actual destruction of the vessels. Even when a large ship was occasionally spotted out to sea – a ship much larger than any normally seen in the King’s fleet – there were no rumours it was that ship that was responsible for the thunderous sounds or the three wrecks.
Lord Errwin-Roe made his argument to King Barrison, once the King had been bathed, fed and was ready. The two fought verbally over the use of black powder, although the elf could not deny its effectiveness against the ships that had tried to break the quarantine. A warning was given by the elf lord and heeded by the King, but the subject was left largely unresolved as the conversation turned to more pressing matters.
Whilst the King and his advisors spoke to the elf lord and his advisors about what the continuing plague and all that had followed meant for both Altoln and its neighbours, mages and clerics from Tyndurris, as well as their elf counterparts, worked with a myriad of concoctions and potions; trying to work out how their combined ingredients had
worked on one man, but no other.
A flash of emerald and a burst of static that lifted the hairs of everyone present filled the clerics’ chamber of Tyndurris.
‘Any luck?’ Orix asked. Dark bags hung under his eyes and his stomach growled for food as he stood on a stool next to Feliscine, eagerly awaiting a hopeful answer.
She turned to him with a tight smile, but shook her head. ‘Not this time, Master Orix.’
Sighing hard and rubbing at his face, the old gnome nodded. ‘It was worth a try,’ he said through his hands.
‘We’ll keep on until we have something,’ she said to him, encouragingly.
‘I know, and we’re forever in your debt because of it.’ He lowered his hands and managed a weak smile up at the beautiful elf.
‘There’s no debt owed here,’ one of the elf clerics across the room said, and Feliscine nodded her agreement.
‘Well then,’ Orix said, stretching his arms out to the side, ‘let us continue.
‘Falchion?’
‘Yes, Master Orix?’ Fal walked across from the doorway where he’d been standing watching the occasional flashes of magic and plumes of coloured smoke.
‘How fares the guardsman, Biviano?’
Fal nodded. ‘Very well, actually. You’d hardly think he’d been sick at all. The other patients however…’
Orix nodded and Fal could see the weight of it all wearing the gnome down.
‘Is there anything you need me to do, to help?’
‘No, thank you, Falchion, but knowing you’re there should we need you is more of a help than you realise.’
Fal nodded to Orix and bowed low to Feliscine, who smiled in return, before he moved back to the doorway.
Another colourful flash of magic lit the chamber, followed by a hollow pop that rang through Fal’s ears as he turned back to face the room. Please let whatever that one was work, he thought, before seeing the human magician who’d enacted the spell shake his head regrettably.
