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Master and Healer
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ZERI (JUNE) 13, 1538
Same Day
McNoughten Farm, Kesler Plains
Master Niklos Mikhail McGreven was weary from his long hunt, but he forced himself on, feeling drawn to this place. At the very least, the farmer could spare a cup of water. He had spent almost a month tracking Nevira Sedrock and Ranger Kas Nelvon. Together and separately, they had infected dozens of remote homesteads with either Jekrin or Heskrin. Neither disease was particularly pleasant, but Jekrin was messier. In addition to shakes, chills, dangerously high fevers, and profuse sweating, Jekrin made people breakout with weeping sores, ranging in size from a baby’s fingernail to as large as Niklos’s hands.
The hunt had ended yesterday when Niklos had finally come across Nevira and Kas’s campsite. By this time, their respective diseases, Nevira with Jekrin and Kas with Heskrin, were so advanced that they had lit a purple fire and collapsed beside it, waiting for someone to kill them. Niklos tried to treat their wounds but it was far too late to save them. He wanted to question them, but they were incoherent. Niklos shook his head to rid himself of the vile memories.
A familiar figure stumbled out of the barn ahead. Her thin frame shook. Her light brown hair hung as limply as her expression, but as she stumbled toward the house, a gust of wind blew hair back from her face.
“Reia!”
Niklos met her with open arms.
Joyful recognition transformed her countenance, but her smile remained weak.
“Master Niklos!” She greeted him with a warm hug, then leaned heavily upon him.
“Let’s get you inside,” Niklos said. “We can talk later.”
“The prince. He’s ... in the barn ... with the amrita plants.”
Reia’s statement halted Niklos.
“Amrita? Here?”
Her eyes shut, but her smile widened.
“We ... grew them ... for the children.”
Niklos needed to hear no more. Scooping her up, he carried her to the door. A few good kicks brought a distraught man to the door. Gently shoving past the man, Niklos placed Reia on the couch.
“Master, would you give ...” She waved in the general direction of the fireplace.
Spotting six vials of beautiful, deep purple liquid lined up neatly near Reia’s caydronan sack, Niklos rushed over and snatched up the lot, sparing only a second to cast off his own sack so he could move quicker.
“More ... in the barn,” Reia mumbled. “Not enough vials.”
“Sleep now, Sela.” His voice thickened as he called her ‘dear one.’ “I’ll handle the sick.”
In less than a minute, Niklos determined that six children and one adult needed the Tears. The instant he touched the youngest boy’s cold arm, he knew the child was beyond help. Two of the girls whimpered, so Niklos dripped a generous amount of Amrita Tears into their mouths, sending them into restful slumber. He used one and a half vials between the two girls, maintaining a steady stream of words in the common tongue and Bornovan.
With a heavy heart, Niklos moved to the next room where a boy of about four years clung to life by shredded threads. Niklos dumped two vials of Amrita Tears into the child. The strong elixir rendered the child unconscious. He would either wake in a day or never awaken again.
The next room held a woman. When Niklos trickled a bit of Amrita Tears into her mouth, she rallied her strength, and said, “Save my children!” Then, she clamped her mouth firmly shut.
The remaining children were more receptive to the Tears. Niklos could tell they were fading fast, so he split the remaining Tears among them and rushed to the barn for more.
A miraculous sight met him. A small hill of dirt covered with clava grass glistened as if covered with morning dew. The air around Niklos was cold. Ten tall, slender amrita plants framed the hill like a lush green, gold, and blue crown.
Reverently climbing the small hill, Niklos soon saw the thin, purple veins running up and down leaves that were as long as his arm. Each plant had six or seven fragile stems rising at even intervals, arranged roughly in a circle. Atop these, heavy flowers bent the stems out from the center, as if bowing. With a little imagination, the folds and furrows forming the flowers created a face with prominent black eyes. From these eyes seeped slow drops of Amrita Tears.
Nobody knows which tribe of extinct mountain people originated the legend of Amri’s Tears. According to the story, Amri, goddess of goodness, wept when her jealous son poisoned her daughter. Unaware of the passage of time, Amri spent four years mourning, then split her spirit into two halves. With one half she gave her daughter new life and with the other she created a weeping plant with the power to cure any poison. The harsh conditions needed to grow the plants stemmed from being born of pain and anguish.
Niklos pondered the legend as he hurried to refill the vials. The room grew warmer with each passing moment. Soon, the plants would wither and die.
“Do you need help?” asked a young man from behind Niklos.
Nodding at the prince, Niklos motioned the young man forward and returned his attention to the two slowly filling vials. After brief introductions and a quick explanation from the prince, they worked in silence until the flowers began wilting. Niklos turned away, not wanting to witness the noble flowers’ demise.
“Will it be enough?” The prince sounded worried.
“It will,” Niklos replied, hoping he was right.
“It has to be,” Prince Terosh declared.
“You did well,” Niklos encouraged.
“I wish we could have done more.” Clearing his throat, the prince added, “Reia had the harder role. Will she be all right?”
“She’ll be fine after some rest,” Niklos replied. “Come, you could use some rest yourself.”
As they raced to the house, new energy entered Prince Terosh, but Niklos didn’t have time to dwell on the changes.
He returned to each of the sick ones to distribute the Tears as needed. Niklos tasked the prince with calming the woman while he attended the children. The Tears already in the children seemed to be working, so each one needed only a drop or two more. This time, with assurance that the remaining children would live, the woman drank the sweet purple liquid. Niklos used a whole vial on her, leaving him with five remaining vials. When they had done everything they could, Niklos ordered Prince Terosh to rest. The prince grabbed a blanket and stretched out on the floor next to the couch holding Reia. A strong bond had developed between the pair, and Niklos wasn’t surprised given what they had accomplished. Amrita plants normally took four months to mature to full weeping status. They had completed the task in less than a week.
***
WHEN REIA OPENED HER eyes and found Master Niklos holding her right hand, she feared it was a dream. Her heart fluttered, anticipating horrible news. Memories crashed upon her: the Heskrin, Terosh’s plan, the anotechs, the strange floating feeling, collecting the Amrita Tears.
“Good evening,” Master Niklos gently teased. “I wouldn’t be surprised if your sleep patterns are off for a time.” He leaned down and came up with a glass of water. “Drink. You were sleeping so peacefully I didn’t want to wake you.”
Reia obediently drank several slow sips before waving the glass away.
“Are they alive?”
Master Niklos’s grim expression confirmed her indefinable fears.
“The youngest child perished before the cure was ready.”
Reia tried to fight off tears but failed.
Teven.
The little blond boy would never again sit atop his father’s head and rub for luck or sneak out at night to play with the forbidden wooden creatures.
“Here now, drink more. You’ll need the moisture for a proper cry,” Master Niklos said. When she finished drinking, he set the empty glass aside, lifted Reia, slipped onto the couch beside her, and held her as she mourned the boy.
Safe in the embrace of the man who had raised her, Reia let herself really weep.
Terosh woke a few minutes later and left the room silently when told of Teven’s death.
Reia wanted to follow him but realized he needed space to grieve. She sobbed until her tears were spent then leaned back, shut her eyes, and breathed deeply.
“Tell me of your Kireshana travels,” Master Niklos suggested.
It took several minutes to work up to talking, but eventually, Reia told him about the attack, Terosh’s injuries, the windstorm, the zalok caves, the korvers, graveground, flashflood, Resh, and everything else that brought her to this moment. By the time she finished, she was tired again.
Master Niklos got up and arranged some cushions behind her. Then, kneeling before her, he picked up her right hand. The serious expression on his face drew her attention.
“Reia Antellio, were you my daughter, I could not love you more,” he said with a gentle smile. “It is with great pride that I bestow upon you the rank of healer. May Riden continue to use your spirit and talents to bless those you meet.”
Reia blinked. Her master had bypassed the rank of guardian.
Master Niklos’s smile widened.
“You have earned this honor and more.” He squeezed her hand. “I wish I could stay longer but some Tears remain. These people have been given what their bodies will bear, and since the Tears won’t last, I will borrow a horse and take the cure to two other families.” With that, Master Niklos released her hand, kissed her forehead, picked up his caydronan sack, and went to find Semon.
Reia barely had time to whisper, “Ridenspeed, Master.” Then, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.
***
ZERI (JUNE) 15, 1538
104 days into Prince Terosh’s Kireshana journey
Governor General’s Estate, City of Idonia
Taytron’s hunt for Maledek is tiresome.
As was becoming a persistent habit, Lord Kezem paced his office to burn the minutes before a meeting. This plotting business could be mind-numbingly tedious. He wondered how his mother managed it for so many years.
The creature Belcross had become appeared in stunning detail. Kezem knew the creature preferred being called Dalonos, but he couldn’t forget the scientist the creature had once been. A faint, blue-white mist surrounded the figure, providing the only visible clue that the image was not a normal hologram.
Kezem suppressed the urge to touch his kerlinblade for reassurance.
“I’ve considered your report on the Light Ones. If these ... machines are indeed growing stronger, I’ll have to modify my plans.”
“I am listening.” The creature crossed his arms and tilted his head.
“Let’s assume the Mitran plan works for Taytron and my dear uncle. That will leave cousin Terosh as the most obvious threat, but the Rangers pose an even greater threat. They will not allow the Minstel line to fail.”
“What would you have me do? I thought you wanted me to bolster the RT Alliance,” Belcross said.
“I do. The Alliance is at the heart of the plan to destroy the Rangers. Killing the king and elder prince will be like kicking korvers. When things turn chaotic, I will need the Alliance to play their part, but there’s also another task I have for you. It must be discussed in person.”
“Did you explain this to the Ranger sent to kill me?”
“Kill you? No, I needed him to find you since you stopped taking my comm calls. Lucas could never kill you anyway. You’re practically immortal. Come to my estate in Idonia so we can discuss your next move.”
It took Kezem another fifteen minutes of cajoling to get Belcross to agree. Upon signing off, Kezem paused to consider the terrible risk he was taking. If he failed to contain the creature, Taytron’s obsessive hunt for Maledek would be the least of his problems.
Mother will disapprove.
Kezem hated how much weight his mind placed upon that thought.
I can take care of my own problems.
Wincing at the childish thought, Kezem turned his attention to capturing Belcross. As much as he wanted to test his fighting prowess against the creature, prudence prevailed. He would use the coma gas. Even with augmentation, the gas should keep Belcross unconscious long enough to be delivered.
You shall have your Maledek soon, Taytron.
