Ariiaya
The trip to Colkirk felt quick in comparison to the terrible trudge through The Wastes, and the group moved swiftly with the promise of hot food and beds to rest their weary bones. The sadness of their departed friends lingered in the air, but each member knew it was for the best. When the town tavern came into sight, Quinn groaned with anticipation as they made their way down the cobblestone street. “Gods I hope the kitchen isn’t closed.” His stomach gurgled loudly, as if to emphasise his words.
“I hope they have beds free. My feet feel like they’re about to drop off,” added Tikkani.
Sharing their exhaustion, Arii rubbed the heels of her hands against her eyes as they entered the dim light of the tavern. The last rays of the day filtered through the small, clouded windows, and the smell of roasting meat and mead hung heavy in the air.
Thankfully the space was not crammed full, and there was plenty of tables and chairs to spare. The inn matron waved them to a table. A good innkeeper could sense hunger and thirst before an order had even been placed, and Arii knew as the woman hurried to the kitchen that soon they would be greeted with hot food.
“The Inn is unusually quiet,” murmured Krepth, nodding gratefully as the innkeeper placed bowls of bread on the table.
Hearing him, the matron said, “That’s because many of the townsfolk are sick. Didn’t ye’ hear?”
Arii paused, a chunk of bread hovering. “Sick?”
The innkeeper mopped at a spill on the table. “Mhmm, some say it be the plague, some say a curse… but I know it to be Dragon Fever. Me cousin had it, and the symptoms match what he had. Took him at the dead of midnight some five nights ago.”
Arii’s hand dropped.
Luc murmured, “I’m so sorry,” earning him a small, grateful nod as the woman continued. “There is a potion apparently – the elves in the east created it. It is not a cure, but it helps prevent the disease, even lessen the symptoms.” The woman frowned, mopping a blot of spilled drink as she added, “But many are hesitant to take it, you see.”
Krepth swiped a hand through his hair with a growl. “Fear of the preventative is outweighing the good that it does. It is proven to work, yet many still fear taking it because of misguided, illogical misinformation. Many have in their heads that it will cause more harm than good, and they spread this misinformation to others like rats in a sewer,” he sighed, his green eyes lifting to the others. “The potion is said to be imbued with magic, and we all know what most think about magic around here. Thank you for this information, Innkeeper. Keep the change.” Krepth handed the matron a small pouch of coins, to which she took with thanks.
The hunger that had tormented Arii’s insides had vanished like dust on a breeze.
“Dragon Fever?” echoed Tikkani, her expression one of confusion as she surveyed Arii’s obvious shift in mood.
Grief welled in the Fury’s heart like a storm.
Her mother had been a victim to Dragon Fever. Arii knew of the preventative potion that had been created – Freya had created it herself a short while after her mother’s death. At first many had been hesitant to take the amber liquid, fearing it had been created too quickly as outbreaks of the disease began to spread. But soon all of the people in the east had taken the dose, and the fever slowly began to dissipate, becoming a rarity.
Freya had offered the solution to the other courts, even the north – despite the rift between them. The south and west had taken it with thanks, educating the populace on the disease and its preventative. The north – with the fear of magic still strong – had not taken as kindly to the help. Some of the people took it having lost family members and witnessed their suffering.
Others – even watching people die – still refused.
Their reluctance had now resulted in the sickness spreading like wildfire over the region. Until now though, Arii had not realised how bad it had truly gotten. When her mother was first diagnosed, not much was known, nor were there many others with the same affliction. Now though, it seemed it had become far more contagious.
Nem placed a gentle hand on Arii’s back, her face dark with concern. The others shifted around the table, and the mood pitched further into desolation.
Elijah watched it all with a withdrawn expression.
Krepth answered, seeing Arii’s building distress. “A terrible disease that ravages the lungs,” he explained, rubbing his jaw as he said, “I did not think it was this far west.”
Suddenly the doors to the inn flew open, and a man and woman barged in, causing everyone – even Elijah – to jump in their seat. The man had his arm around the woman’s shoulders as he cried, “Please, please help us. It’s our son… he has it – the curse!”
A bundle of blankets was clutched in the woman’s arms, her eyes red and swollen with tears. From where she sat, Arii could hear the labour of the boy’s tiny lungs as his body fought a battle it could not win.
“P-Please, he can’t breathe,” the woman wailed.
A feeble cry emanated from the bundle.
Her heart, her stupid weak heart withered at the sound.
She could not bear it.
Krepth’s voice overtook the woman’s sobs as he called, “Come, bring him here. The best we can do is try to make him comfortable.”
Arii stood, her chair scooting back with a screech as she twisted towards their rooms.
No.
No.
Her vision swam, tears welling swiftly in her eyes as hopelessness threatened to swallow her whole. Her breath came in short bursts as she clutched at her emotions, failing to mould them into the neat little ball that could be stashed away. She was not a coward… but this… she couldn’t do this, watch an innocent little baby succumb to the horrible sickness that robbed her of her mother.
A shadow blocked out the firelight as someone moved in front of her. Strong hands gently clasped her shoulders as Elijah’s deep, smooth voice broke through her rising panic. “Arii, are you alright?”
No, she was not alright.
Even he could not soothe the blinding agony in her heart at the memory of her loss. In all the years since her mother’s death, Arii had rarely allowed herself to think about that fateful night. However, now that her feelings were slowly surfacing after being suppressed for so long, she discovered that the ironclad control she once had was crumbling to splinters.
All she could manage was, “Let me go, Elijah.”
“Let’s not do this here, Arii.” His voice was gentle yet edged with unyielding steel.
Over her shoulder she heard the commotion of bowls and mugs being brushed aside. Another weak wail sounded, and Arii closed her eyes at the sound. “My… My mother died of Dragon Fever, Elijah. There is nothing we can do for the child.”
If seeing her distress fazed him, Elijah did not let it show. Instead, he glanced over his shoulder, before turning back to her and whispering, “Can we not use magic to save him?”
Her eyes fluttered open, and were greeted with grey orbs so resolute that she had to tread lightly for fear of snuffing out the hope she saw there. “That will only slow it down – if it has not fully ravaged his body beyond repair. Magic will not save him, nothing will.”
Elijah’s jaw slid forward at her defeated tone. “We have to try.”
“It is futile to even attempt–”
“You convinced me to give in to my magic after more than twenty years of fear, you can do anything,” he interrupted, his voice low and fierce.
Her gaze inched over his shoulder once more to the table where they had placed the child, his little forehead glistening with fever. Magic had not saved her mother… but perhaps she had lived too long with the disease in her body – the sickness ingrained into the very fibres of her being.
The child though…
“My magic is not strong enough, but yours could be.”
Elijah shifted; expression turning guarded. She could see in his eyes that he still doubted himself, even after all they had been through. Over his broad shoulder she saw more townspeople begin to filter through the tavern doors, all tired, all hopeless and scared.
“I… What if I try and the child dies?”
“If you try and the child dies, then it was his fate.”
Elijah’s mouth dropped open, but she barrelled on. “The people of this land have not had hope in many years, Elijah. What they need now is to know that you exist, and you are on their side, and you will do anything to help them – show them that you are trying,” she said, stepping closer. In the dim candlelight she could see his expression changing, apprehension slowly being replaced with a flicker of determination.
“I’ll be by your side, every step of the way.” Her hand lifted to cup his cheek. “Always.”
He nodded, touching her hand before returning to the table. Arii was quick to follow, pausing as the father of the child said, “It is true, then? You’re… him? The prince who was lost?”
Elijah’s shoulders tensed before the small sea of eyes, some wide with awe, most with suspicion. After a moment’s hesitation, he rolled his shoulders, straightened his spine and swept his hair back, revealing the delicately pointed ears that showed his true heritage.
“It’s true – all of it.”
As people in the crowd began to whisper and gasp – a few even dashing from the tavern to alert others, Elijah stepped forward, his eyes like quicksilver as he said, “And I’m going to do everything within my power to save your son’s life.”
Elijah
The entire town awoke as Elijah carried the bundle of blankets containing the child to the town square, and almost everyone save those too ill to leave their houses formed a congregation.
The sky was a rich mauve blanket studded with winking stars, the moon surrounded with a deep ring of orange. He’d have believed the moon was wearing a crown if he wasn’t simmering with mounting desire to treat the now-gasping child.
Time was running out.
Cloak fluttering behind him, his friends kept close in tow as he motioned towards the large, vacant space where market stalls would normally be. Now though, the square was empty, nothing but some empty crates and barrels shoved aside.
“I’m not sure what is going to happen when I attempt the healing. Place as many blankets as possible in the centre and stay back,” he said. They rushed to create a bed of blankets and coats where he had indicated, and he fought back a shiver of foreboding as the child’s eyelids fluttered, revealing his irises. They were a shocking, unnatural blue rimmed with red.
Before heading to the makeshift bed, he turned and met the glassy, terrified eyes of the boy’s parents. Elijah swallowed before saying to them, “In case this doesn’t work…” The woman stepped forward, her hands clasping his arm as she kissed the boy’s little forehead. Uttering a quick prayer, she squeezed and whispered, “You are a miracle, Eliverus. Anything more is a blessing from the gods. Try your best to save our boy.”
She stepped back, shaking hands disappearing into her cloak.
Elijah glanced at his friends and saw fierce determination on each of their faces.
They believed in him.
Now he needed to believe in himself.
No more words were needed. A wind picked up as he knelt and gently nestled the child in the pile of blankets. Arii was swiftly beside him, silent as a wraith as he shrugged off his cloak.
“The most powerful magic is ultimately contained in your blood.” She placed a dagger on the stones in front of him, its metal clatter ringing in the air. He glanced at her hands as they placed two roughly cut crystals beside the weapon. At his drawn brows she said, “Nexus Crystals.”
“Aren’t they–”
“Illegal? Yes – for the time being.” A smirk. “A stupid law you will scrap when you become king.”
“Where in the world did you get them?”
“Nem has a small stash. They are empty, but you can use them as containers for magic.” He had no time to argue as she pointed to the blade. “Slice your palms and use the crystals – they should help aim your magic.”
He swallowed thickly. “Right. Blood magic.” He knew next to nothing about the practice, but what he did know was that it was extremely dangerous.
As doubt began to creep up his spine, the child started to cry.
The sound steeled his heart, and he heaved his mind into focus. The Dragon Fever was a disease that attacked the lungs, so he should start there. He shifted on his knees as Arii slid back, allowing him space. Gently he moved the blankets, revealing the boy’s chest to the cool air.
“Forgive me, little one. It’s going to be cold for a little while, but it will not last long.”
The stone was cold and damp through the cloth of his pants as he curled his fingers around the dagger’s hilt. A whisper left his lips as he slid the blade across his palm, welcoming the painful sting. He hovered his hand over the child’s chest, closed his eyes, sucked in a breath…
And dipped into his pool of magic.
It rose from within like ice, spreading from his chest and through his limbs like starlight. His fingertips sizzled with static as he clasped the Nexus Crystal with his free hand and willed the magic forth tentatively. So far all he had achieved with his magic was destruction, and fear of what could happen to the tiny human had his heart thundering so hard that he could barely hear his racing thoughts.
His blood dripped upon the child’s pale skin like rubies, and the babe began to wail as blue light drenched his little form, sparks snapping dangerously close to his skin.
Elijah faltered as thunder boomed overhead.
“Elijah, focus!” Arii said to him, just over his shoulder. “You can do this.”
His arms trembled as he grasped the crystal tighter, and it mirrored a riot of flickering, flurrying power within. The magic sparked through him, chaotic and molten. Suddenly the light filtered to pale gold and where slithers of static had cracked seconds before, sparkles of healing light replaced them. A different kind of magic… one he had never tapped into before.
Beneath them the earth began to shake.
Elijah’s eyes drifted closed, and he rolled his shoulders, before leaning further forward. His fingers rested upon the infant’s chest, feeling the swift fluttering of his terrified heart as his magic seeped into skin and bone, searching flesh and blood.
There.
In the centre he saw an inky ball of darkness, directly in the centre of the child’s torso. Webs of black curled and twisted, sunk deep into the child’s system.
Suddenly the child’s wails turned into coughs. Tiny, breathless little coughs.
No.
The child began to choke, his eyes wide and afraid – uncomprehending what was happening.
No.
He began to jerk, convulse, white froth foaming at the corners of his mouth.
“No!” Elijah bellowed. Teeth clenched and sweat running down his neck, he jerked forward in desperation as he pushed the magic further – but he was met with resistance. The dark mass of the disease writhed, sensing something coming for it, and its tendrils shot deeper into the boy’s body.
He was running out of ideas as panic took over.
Frantic, Elijah did the last thing he could think of.
He sent his magic into the boy’s chest, magical fingers digging in to grasp the inky mass. Then he pulled.
With a violent snap, Elijah wrenched the darkness from the child’s little body.
The darkness fought him with tooth and nail. Roots clung to the child, sickly wisps of ink that wriggled and pulsed as if alive, and Elijah could see that it had no desire to leave its host.
From behind, he heard gasps and uttered curses from the townspeople.
Elijah’s brow beaded with sweat as he lifted his hand, pulling the mass further from the boy’s now limp form. It thrummed and wriggled in his grip, pulling back towards the ground but Elijah was determined to sever its connection. His magic pulsed, and a wave of nausea swept through him so violently that he had to swallow back bile.
A buzzing rose in his ears like a swarm of flies, and within that sound he heard a faint cackle of laughter – low, maniacal and vile, and somehow familiar, yet unfamiliar too. Pain stabbed at his temples, and he wavered, feeling sick as realisation hit him.
The laughter he could hear was his own.
It was his own voice, strange and twisted, emanating from somewhere far away, where Elijah knew no-one but he could hear.
Eyes widening and heart hammering, he wrenched his attention from his inner madness and back to the chaos before him. The darkness still writhed, and all around him he could hear the shouts of townspeople as they took cover.
As he knelt on the stone, he realised that what he had dragged out from the child was not a disease after all. The thing chanted a distorted mantra, a cacophony of voices melded into one. The words were foreign, archaic, and beyond his recognition – but he felt they were a song once hissed through angry teeth.
This was not a disease, it was a curse.
Who and where it had originated from was anyone’s guess, and Elijah was not wholly sure how he knew – he just did. The dark spot roiled with resentment and anger, ancient and cold.
“Arii,” he yelled, not breaking his gaze from the thing suspended in invisible shackles before him, “How do you break a curse?”
“A curse?” she yelled back, inching towards him against the pulses of magic. “They can be removed with earth, water and a banishing ritual…” As she spoke, her voice took on steel as she realised what Elijah meant.
Swiftly she called the recruits to find fresh water and soil from the nearest healthy crop.
“We haven’t time for a ritual though,” she called.
Elijah blinked sweat from his eyes as he continued to keep the curse from the boy’s body. “Then we will need to improvise.” He wasn’t sure if the idea that was spinning through his mind would work, but he had to try. He recalled a piece of jewellery that his mother Colleen always wore, a simple gold pendant set with a tiny vial of shimmering, pearlescent liquid. He had asked her about it once, to which she replied, “It contains pure starlight, meant to keep curses away.”
He had to try.
Arii arrived beside him, her hair a wild tempest around her face as she placed the items at his knees – a waterskin and a lidless jar of dirt.
“I need to create a bracelet,” he said.
Without question, Arii began to help – uncorking the waterskin and clutching the jar of dirt. As Elijah held out his bloody palm, she piled a small amount of soil on his hand along with a small splash of water. He hissed at the pain but willed his magic forth, without any real knowledge of what he was doing. He asked, and his magic delivered, moulding earth, water and blood into a bracelet.
The metal shimmered silver, and between the delicate links hung clear crystal beads – just as he had envisioned.
Finally, it seemed his magic was on his side.
Now, he just needed starlight.
With a quick prayer to the gods for this to work, Elijah shot to his feet to hold the bracelet aloft, reaching for the stars. Clouds parted as magic exploded from him and into the sky as he reached with everything he had.
The stars twinkled brightly as he murmured. “Please, help me. Help me so that I can help him – help them all. I, Eliverus Herington, banish the curse and swear its intent fulfilled.”
His arm began to tremble, and exhaustion forced his knees to wobble as his eyesight darkened at the edges, but he did not falter as the stars above began to shine – seemingly heeding his call. The bracelet in his palm began to glow as the spheres filled with starlight.
As the light began to fade, Elijah slid to his knees, and as he did so the darkness – the curse – suspended above the little boy’s body began to scream and writhe, harder than before. Elijah stole a swift glance down at the bracelet, then to the curse as its terrified, distorted wails lifted in pitch, raising the hairs on his arms.
It was working. With a spark of hope Elijah set his jaw forward.
It was time to end this.
He pressed forward, latching the little chain link around the boy’s tiny wrist.
And the world around them snapped.
The darkness spun before imploding in on itself with a crack.
Becoming no more.
Ariiaya
The change in the air was instantaneous. Townspeople slowly emerged from cover, and the night air warmed as the blanket of stars above them began to clear from the receding clouds.
Arii moved back towards Elijah, eyes wide with awe as he slowly stood and turned to the oncoming crowd. Light gurgles sounded from the bundle he held, and as her eyes lifted from the little flailing arms and up to Elijah’s face, her heart squeezed almost painfully.
He was smiling, and despite the sheen of sweat on his brow and overall look of exhaustion, she could see pure relief on his face.
The bracelet glinted on the boy’s arm, his skin now a healthy shade of pink.
His parents rushed forward, and Elijah passed the bundle to the mother, tears streaming down her cheeks as she clutched the boy to her chest. The father placed a hand on Elijah’s shoulder, whispering, “You saved him. You saved our boy. Thank you, how can we ever repay you for this immeasurable debt?”
Elijah shook his head. “There is no debt.”
“The Prince who was lost, Eliverus Herington, he is back from the dead!” One man began, turning to the crowd and splaying his arms wide. “It’s true, the rumours were true!”
A townswoman murmured, “Magic made at midnight, under a cloak of starlight.”
“We finally have hope!” said another.
“Please, help my husband, he is sick too!”
“And my brother!” another person called.
The townspeople began to cheer and speak, and Arii could see the very subtle stiffening of his shoulders at the attention. She stepped forward and lifted her hands. “Eliverus needs to recover after healing the baby but when he does,” she looked back at the man, who nodded, “He will create a charm for each of your loved ones.”
“We will help him,” called Tikkani.
“We all will,” said Quinn as the group stood beside Elijah, a united entity.
Elijah swiped his brow and he whispered, “We have a lot of work to do.”