PRINCE REYN
Prince Reyn didn’t want to think about dying, despite the genetic scourge that worked its way through him; he wanted to think about the exotic, beautiful young woman who sat next to him on the lush worldforest canopy. The light deepened toward the rich colors of sunset—a normal sunset without the threat of Shana Rei hex ships or their smothering eclipse plate that had nearly killed the Theron forest.
Osira’h leaned closer, touching her shoulder against his arm; it seemed to be a casual gesture, but Reyn felt an electric connection, and he was sure she felt the same. He was so glad she had come here with him. Osira’h, the halfbreed daughter of Nira and Mage-Imperator Jora’h, was the oldest of Nira’s five halfbreed children, all of whom had different abilities and characteristics. Osira’h had large opalescent eyes, an alien vestige from her father’s genes. Her hair was feathery, her chin small and pointed.
She had known about Reyn’s secret illness long before he even told his parents, and she had thrown all her energy and imagination into finding him a cure. She was sure someone on Ildira would be able to solve the problem. When Osira’h had solicited help from all medical kithmen, her words bore the weight of the Mage-Imperator himself. She stood by Reyn’s side, waiting and hoping.
But no results, so far.
“I wish I could sense you through the thism, like I sense other Ildirans,” Osira’h said with a sigh as she leaned closer against him. “Then I could know what you’re feeling.”
“Right now, I’m feeling glad to be with you.” He enjoyed just being next to her. “I’m feeling safe.”
She sat up straighter, more determined. “And I feel that we need to find a way to cure you.”
Reynald had already seen numerous medical researchers and had undergone intensive testing, all to no avail. For a long time, he had hidden the fact that he, the only son of the King and Queen, suffered from a debilitating microfungus that had attached to his DNA, which led to ever-increasing neurological breakdowns—he had no doubt that it was ultimately fatal. Reyn hadn’t wanted to become a laboratory specimen, a poster child begging for sympathy, so he had covered up his pain and his flagging health for a long time until it could be hidden no longer. Now the secret was out, all across the Confederation.
He changed the subject. “I want to talk about the faeros and how you summoned them to help us here. They’ll be very important if the Shana Rei attack again.”
“Not more important than you.” Osira’h wasn’t teasing.
“Much more important.”
She frowned. “They are capricious, self-absorbed … and incomprehensible. And they suffered great losses when they battled the Shana Rei for us. I have no idea if they will listen to me again.”
“But you have a telepathic link with them. That’s why you were bred. That’s why you’re so special.” Reyn stopped himself. He could think of many reasons why Osira’h was special—to the Ildiran race, and to him.
As a child, she had been a pawn and a savior, the most powerful of her half-siblings. She had fulfilled her destiny and helped win the Elemental War when she was only eight years old, and the rest of her people applauded her, revered her, and now remained in awe of her. Osira’h had felt different from them, an outsider. Maybe that was why Reyn felt so close to her.
When the Shana Rei nightshade plunged Theroc into a constant eclipse, smothering the sentient trees, Osira’h had dug back into that long-dormant connection she had with the fiery elementals and she begged the faeros to join the fight against the shadows. But the fireballs were not enslaved to her. Not anymore.
“I doubt they’ll come again. They have no reason to listen to me.”
As the two sat in the deepening twilight, bright lamplike insects rose from the leaves and flitted about. With a rustle among the dense fronds, green priests climbed up to the canopy to talk among themselves, discussing some important news they had received through the telink network. Seeing their intent discussions, Reyn was alarmed. “What is it? What happened?”
He was accustomed to watching the green priests spread news. Each one of them could touch a tree, tap into the verdani mind, and communicate news and experiences instantaneously across the Spiral Arm. Now, one of the priests sprang over to them, deftly placing his feet on the interwoven fronds. “Bad news from Shorehaven. The wyvern struck again, and a heavily armed hunting party was trapped and killed, including two CDF soldiers.”
Reyn shook his head, which sparked a throbbing ache in his head. “With all of the great crises facing the Spiral Arm, we still have monsters here at home.”
The green priest also bowed toward Osira’h. “And your mother sent a telink message informing us that she and Mage-Imperator Jora’h are en route to Theroc. They will meet with Mother Estarra and Father Peter, after which they will escort you home to Ildira.”
Reyn’s heart fell to hear the news. He could see a flash of delight followed by a flicker of disappointment on Osira’h’s face. “I suppose Theroc is just as dangerous a place for me as Mijistra,” she said. “The shadows are everywhere.”
“I’m glad you stayed with me as long as you did,” Reyn said. “I won’t deny that I’ll be disappointed to see you go. I’ll miss you—you’ve been such a help, and such a close friend.”
She gave him a smile, then leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. “I will be looking for a reason to bring you back to Ildira—but not until we can guarantee it’s safe. Our medical kithmen have not stopped researching your illness—they could find a treatment any day.”
Thinking he was part of the conversation, the green priest added, “Confederation medical researchers have the same quest. Green priests have spread the call far and wide, hoping that someone will find an effective cure. The reward offered is large enough to tempt many teams.”
Much to Reynald’s consternation, his parents had made sweeping announcements about his illness, offering full details on every aspect of his condition in hopes that someone might find a cure. Reyn knew that his parents did it out of love, but he had never wanted that. He was normally a quiet, private person.…
As Reyn digested the news, his sister Arita found them at the top of the canopy in the deepening dusk. “You two have had enough private time. I’m joining you.” She swung over, making her way across the fronds, as comfortable in the trees as any green priest. “Don’t give up hope, Reyn. We all want you cured.” She looked at Osira’h; the two young women seemed to have joined forces.
Reyn felt embarrassed and overwhelmed. He knew how many people felt sympathy toward him, how many people wanted to help. He drew several breaths, calmed himself. “There’s no need to go overboard.” There was so much he wanted to express, but somehow the air seemed suddenly too thin, his head lighter. When he inhaled, he saw encroaching black static around his vision that had nothing to do with nightfall.
“I’m fine,” he gasped. “Don’t … worry.”
Then the darkness made his head swim, and he lost his balance. Lightning bolts of pain skittered through his nerve endings. He winced, fighting it, but he was falling back into unconsciousness, dropping from the high tree branches.
He felt hands grasping him, a firm grip, loud shouts. Arita and Osira’h clutched him, hauled him back upright.
Not … now!
Someone was scolding him, but he couldn’t tell if it was Arita or Osira’h. Probably both. “You are not all right, and we are not going to give up on getting you help!”
Although he was on the verge of passing out, the strong arms held him, and he leaned back into the embrace. As he faded, it was the greatest strength he could find.