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Heart of Fire - Chapter Thirteen: Cured

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The ceiling glittered like stars when they returned to the lab, and the siblings were a symphony of angry stomachs.

“Did you find anything?” Aidan asked as they entered.

“Yes,” Syra said, setting her things down, “It turns out we only need one thing.”

“Great! What?”

“A bug.”

“A…bug?”

“Yes.”

“What kind of bug?”

“This kind.” She pulled out a scroll with a sketch of a flying insect.

“That’s the Marsh Fly,” said Lanis. “They give you a nasty fever if you get bit, so we try to stay away from them.”

“Can you get one?” Syra asked.

“They’re normal only out in the summer, but breeding season’s coming up so you might be able to find a few.”

“Good,” she said, rolling up the scroll, “Apparently, while they can give you a fever, their bite can also cure certain other illnesses without the use of mana. Once the infection is gone, we can treat the fever.”

“And how do we know if it’s gone?” asked Ristau.

Syra paused, “I haven’t figured that part out yet.”

Lanis patted her on the back and went to leave, “You and Sulaer can work on that while Ristau and I go get the fly. Aidan, you keep working on that poison.”

“But you could get bit!” Syra called out.

“It’s not like there isn’t a cure.”

***

The next night, Tahlu led them to the infirmary in Mirna. Precautions had been made to limit any accidental exposure and they were given a room to themselves. Lanis sat, disrobed, on a cot, awaiting the start of the treatment.

“As Omei’s king,” he had said, “it’s my duty to risk my life before I risk theirs.”

“How do we make sure no mana can get to him?” Aidan asked.

“By using this,” Tahlu wheeled out a casket made of solid iron. “We normally use it on convicts to keep their mana inside. I never expected to use it to keep it out.”

“We ready?” Aidan asked, gripping a vial of dark liquid.

Syra looked around at the team surrounding the casket, all looking to her for the go-ahead. She glanced over to Sulaer, who nodded and held the jar containing the small fly.

“As we’ll ever be.”

With that, Tahlu helped Lanis into the casket and they gripped at each other in a tight embrace, hoping for the best. Syra waited for them to finish before giving Aidan permission to proceed.

“I’d like to tell you it won’t, but this is going to hurt.”

He drew a needle from the vial and plunged it deep into Lanis’ shoulder. Lanis winced at the insertion, but as the toxin began to spread, he began to twitch and groan. Sulaer held Tahlu’s hand as he watched his brother pale and scream against the burning in his body, and Syra remembered how horrible it felt to just inhale its fumes.

After some time his breathing became shallow and he convulsed every so often.

“How long does this take?” Tahlu asked, pacing.

“Until he’s too weak to move”, said Aidan, “As long as he’s still breathing, we continue.”

The moon was setting before Lanis settled down into shallow, but steady breaths.

Syra, Sulaer, and Ristau all checked him over through the small glass window on the casket’s lid before nodding in approval.

Sulaer gave Syra the jar with the fly flitting about inside and stepped away. Syra unlatched the small door in the side of the casket and loosened the jar’s lid.

“Wait,” Tahlu said, asking for the jar, “Let me do it. If he dies, it should be me that gave it to him.”

Syra handed over the jar and stood by Aidan. Tahlu unhitched the lid and dumped the bug into the casket, latching the door closed. Through the window they could see it jump and flutter around before landing on Lanis’ chest. Then they saw his body flinch.

“It’s done,” Syra said, “He’s been bit.”

“Now what?” asked Cassius, who was a nervous wreck from all the worrying around him.

“Now, we wait.”

An hour or so passed and Lanis began to sweat. His breathing quickened but remained shallow, and grew steadily paler. Soon, he was drenched and mumbling as the fever took hold, his fluffy hair weighted down like a chicken caught in a downpour.

Being locked outside the casket, Syra had no way of monitoring his temperature or his pulse. She began pacing herself, up and down alongside the metal casing she prayed would not become his coffin. Every minute felt like an hour, and she looked through the tiny window at every passing until Aidan pulled her aside.

“You need to calm down,” he whispered. “Tahlu is already white as a sheet just being here. If he sees you worried, it’ll only make it worse for him.”

Syra took a deep breath and nodded, resigning herself to the windowsill. How much longer will this take? The sun is already rising and Ristau and Leimia are still here. The Lower Tal couldn’t travel during the day without the risk of burns, but she knew they would never leave Lanis’ side.

Despite the three mages’ constant surveillance, it was Cassius who caught Lanis’ dire state.

“Something’s wrong,” he said, rushing to casket to look through the window.

“What? What is it?” Syra hurried to his side, followed by Sulaer and Ristau.

“I don’t know, it…it just feels like I’m losing him. Like he’s barely there at all.”

“What do you mean, feels like?” Aidan asked. “He’s in a metal tank.”

“He’s an Empath, you daft jellyworm!” Petra yelled, “Now bring us that potion before Lanis croaks!”

Tahlu threw open the casket and grabbed Lanis around the shoulders, holding him upright, “Bring it over here, quick!”

Aidan grabbed a jar of clear liquid and handed it to Tahlu who drained it down Lanis’ throat.

“Come on, come on, that’s it. You can do it, little brother,” Tahlu cooed, holding onto him.

Syra watched as Tahlu fretted over Lanis, with his brow nearly as wet from worry. She placed a hand over Cassius’ and gripping it tight. He looked down in surprise, but smiled at her proud face and squeezed back.

“How is he?” Tahlu asked Cassius, “Can you tell? Will he be alright?”

“Easy now,” Cassius hushed. He put his free hand to Lanis’ chest and closed his eyes, “There’s still a heartbeat, so he’s alive…and he’s stop fading.” He looked over Tahlu with relief, “He’s weak, but still here.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” Tahlu pulled his brother to his chest and began to weep, rocking back and forth.

The whole group breathed a sigh of relief and Aidan had to take a seat.

“We still don’t know if it worked,” said Ristau, hiding in a shaded corner away from the encroaching sunlight.

“At least we know it doesn’t kill you,” Petra said.

“How are we going to know if the infection is gone?” Ristau asked Syra.

She was speechless at first. She and Sulaer had wracked their brains trying to invent some kind of test, but came up with nothing. But then she looked at Ristau and Leimia, and saw how they shrank from the pool of light growing on the floor.

“Sunlight,” she said, “If Lanis can stand sunlight, then it must mean the infection is gone.”

“It’s worth a shot,” said Sulaer, looking to Ristau.

He nodded and motioned for Leimia to follow him, “Better let him rest up before you do, just in case. I’ll take Leimia to the Recovery Room, come fetch us when he’s up and about.”

***

Even with both Syra and Sulaer aiding his healing, it was nearly sunset before Lanis was up and standing.

“Are you sure you want to do this today?” Tahlu asked, fussing over him. “The sun will be back tomorrow.”

“Yes,” Lanis said through pants as his brother helped him walk to the balcony, “I need to know if it worked. I need to know if my people can be saved.”

Long shadows covered the streets of the city, but the infirmary balcony still caught the last rays of light. Lanis squinted against its brightness, but stepped out with eager footing.

This is it, Syra thought as she watch the Brother Kings walk out, We either tortured a man for nothing, or we saved an entire city.

“How is it?” Tahlu asked, looking him over for the beginnings of redness and blistering, “Does it burn?”

“It’s…it’s warm,” Lanis laughed as he felt the light’s warmth flow over him, a warmth he had almost forgotten after decades of life underground.

“Did it work?” Sulaer called from behind them.

Tahlu beamed and scooted Lanis around to face them, “So far, so good!”

Tears welled and fell from Sulaer’s eyes and she hid her face with her hands, but she couldn’t hide the giant smile that took up half her face.

“We did it,” she said, looking over to Syra, her fair cheeks now red. “We finally did it!”
Syra was taken aback by Sulaer’s arms being thrown around her, “Yeah...we, we actually did!” Syra hugged her back and, for the first time, noticed how short Sulaer was for a Tal.

“Did it work?” A voice came from the doorway, and Sulaer bolted towards it.

“Wyn!” She careened into him, leaping into his arms and was completely bawling at this point. “Yes! Yes, it worked! Look, go see! He has no blisters!”

Wyn and the others joined the brothers on the balcony and saw for themselves that there were, indeed, no blisters. No swelling or redness at all. Just clean, fair skin.

“Thank you,” Lanis said, looking to Syra and the others, tears now streaming from his face. “This…I can’t…” he choked on both sobs and laughs, “This is a marvelous day, indeed!”

“It might be marvelous, but you’re still recovering!” called Ristau from the shadows with Leimia in tears at his side, “Now get your royal butt back into bed before I give it blisters!”

Tahlu and Lanis hobbled away back to the room, but Ristau stopped Syra and the others before they could follow.

“I believe a ‘good job’ is in order,” he said, smiling.

“It wasn’t just us, sir,” Aidan said, glancing over to Sulaer who was being coddled by Wyn.

Syra thought she caught a glimpse of sadness on his face, but he pushed it away and she nodded, too.

“It really wasn’t. I could barely even read Talian before Sulaer helped me. She…she really made this whole thing possible.”

Ristau and Cassius both had proud looks on their faces, and Cassius patted her on the head, ruffling her hair that desperately needed washing.

“In any case,” Ristau continued, “I believe we owe you a debt.”
Syra’s eyes went wide as she watched him pull a small box from his pocket.

“This, now belongs to you.” He opened the box to show her the glittering shard that sat inside.

“Th-thank you…thank you!” she said, taking the box in shaking hands. Finally. Finally, they had a shard after all the travelling and fighting and studying.

“This is only but the first, remember,” Ristau said. “But I sincerely hope the other four aren’t as difficult to come by.”

“Oh, good Lord, me too!” Petra wailed, causing the other to laugh.

“Now, you can’t just carry that around like some regular old trinket,” he said, taking the shard from the box, “It’s much too valuable and far more dangerous. May I?”

He held out a hand for Syra to take, which she did. Turning her hand over, he pointed to the tiny stone set in her ring.

“This is no ordinary stone, you see. It’s a morakii. And morakii are the best conduits of mana, able to hold on to immense amounts of energy. So, the best way to keep track of the shards”—He tapped the tip of the shard to the stone, and brilliant light shone from both. It glowed, and wavered, and condensed, until all the light had been absorbed into the ring—“is to keep it hidden.”

“That, was amazing,” Petra said, starstruck.

Ristau laughed and clapped his hands together, “Now, with all of that taken care of, who’s hungry?”

***

The next day, after they were bathed and rested, Tahlu gathered everyone in his meeting chamber to update Valen on their accomplishments and to discuss their next moves.

"Well, I am impressed," said Valen's reflection in Tahlu's looking glass, "I never even thought about mana being the true culprit. Splendid job, all of you!"

"Thank you, Valen, but it was Syra who realized our error and devised the plan to fix it," Sulaer said, giving Syra a grateful nod.

"So, I've been told." Valen grinned ear to ear, his brick-brown eyes swollen with pride at his little apprentice, "I had high expectations sending you off, but you have outdone yourself."

Syra flushed, hot from the eyes of those around her and from the pride she found in herself, "I'm just glad it worked."

"As am I," laughed Lanis from his seat by the door. His color had returned, but was still easily winded. Ristau had insisted he stay in bed another day, but Lanis reminded him that only Tahlu was allowed to tell him what to do, and refused to miss Syra's sendoff. So, he sat propped in a chair with Wyn charged as his keeper. "As are my people. This will not be easily forgotten, I assure you."

"How are the plans coming to cure the city, by the way?" asked Valen. "There are many Tal who need treatment."

"Ristau and Leimia are working on that now. Once the procedure is solidified, we'll have medics from both Omei and Mirna start taking patients."

"And how quickly do you expect them to recover?"

"Depending on their age and health, one to two weeks would be fair. Even sooner if our mages can rejuvenate them."

"I'll contact Vesna. She might allow them into her spring under these circumstances." Valen flipped through several rolled letters at his desk, "It seems we'll need the extra man-power."

"I take it the Black Thorn is still growing?" asked Tahlu, crossing his arms and rubbing his sleeve with absent-minded fingers.

Valen nodded, "A small group is confirmed to be in Dairos, and there are several reports of them taking Rozenfall as their current headquarters."

"That's certainly a good place to start," Aidan said, biting a nail in thought.

"Why?" asked Petra, "If their problem is with how things are being run, why don't they start with Altaira? Isn't that your capital? Just cut off the beast's head and the rest will fall."

"It is the capital," said Valen, "but it is just one city of many. There's no doubt there are minions scurrying about, but Altaira has the largest army and plenty of battle mages at their disposal. They know it would be suicide to attack with only a small rebellion of blacksmiths and farmhands."

"And that's why Rozenfall is such an asset," added Aidan. "It's built in a mana desert and filled with people who make a living fighting the magical. If they want any chance at breaking Altaira's defense, Rozenfall's a necessity."

"So, let's say they convince Rozenfall to fight," Cassius said, "what kind of damage are we looking at?"

"For humans, not much, outside of normal battle wounds. But for you?" Aidan looked over at the siblings, "I'll just tell you that Altaira's entire supply of Arrun oil comes from there, and that's just one of their commodities."

Not one peep was uttered as a grave realization washed over Syra. She wouldn't be just fighting Marrak. If he was indeed the Black Thorn leader, she would be fighting people, too, and an army of them at the rate it was going. People who had had nine years to invent and perfect ways of protecting themselves from magical kind—her kind.

"Aidan's right," Valen said. A grim expression peeked out from under loose strands put there by sleepless nights, "Rozenfall is a deadzone for the magical, even I can't go there without feeling drained. Avoid it, if at all possible."

"But for now," Tahlu said, standing and giving the party a reassuring eye, "stay to the woodland trails west of the mountains. You'll have to stop in Misty Hollow for supplies, but after that the path to Morai should be safe. Most of it lies within Kiithran territory, and they don't take kindly to uninvited guests."

"Morai?" asked Syra.

"As in the Morai Mountains? The floating ones?" asked Aidan. His voice wavered and Syra saw him tense from the corner of her eye.

Valen nodded, "The shards were originally divided between each realm, where their leaders were charged with protecting them. You now have the shard given to the Tal,"—he motioned to Tahlu—"You will find the second shard belongs to Dürgah, the leader of the Kiithrani who reside in the Morai Mountains."

"But Morai is nearly at the coast. We'll never get there in time," Aidan said.

"Not if you're walking," Tahlu said with a slight grin.

***

Tahlu led the party outside to the Southern Gate where their rides had been prepared. Aidan looked on in silent confusion, but Petra cackled at the long, fuzzy faces that blinked down at them.

Instead of horses, they were brought mero, for the Tal did not ride horses. They stood about the size as a horse, but were much more limber—-dainty even—-and of cloven hoof; perfect for scaling the rocky ledges of the mountains. And their hair was fluffy, particularly around the neck, with two small horns poking out between their ears.

"Not what you were expecting?" Tahlu asked Aidan in jest as he scratched the creature behind its ears. "Just think of them as horses of the mountains. There are many steep trails where you're going, and mero make a rock wall look like a staircase."

The mero bleated and stomped a hoof as Tahlu found its favorite scratching spot, and its leg muscles rippled under its fur.

"They're also quite fast when you get them going."

They bid their farewells and Sulaer made sure to hug each one of them before they mounted up.

“Please, be careful,” she said. “The mountains may be old and beautiful, but they can also be dangerous. Just because a rock looks sturdy, doesn’t mean it is.”

“We’re well aware,” said Petra.

“Oh, right. You would be, wouldn’t you?” Sulaer said, recalling their montane origin. “Well, I still packed you some medical supplies, just in case. There’s salve, bandages, some more amec crystals for you, Syra…some herbs if you can’t find any, and—”

“I’m sure we’ll have everything we’ll need,” Syra said, giving her pack a confident pat.

“Thank you, Sulaer,” Aidan said.

“Of course!” Warmth bubbled from her grin and he gazed on like one soaking up the last rays of sun before winter. “Oh, almost forgot! Tahlu, didn’t you have something for him?”

“Oh, yes, thank you.” Tahlu unstrapped the sword from his belt and handed it up to Aidan.

“But I already have one,” Aidan said, taking it by the hilt.

“Not one like this.” Tahlu pulled off the sheath and silver-blue metal shone brilliant in the sunlight.

Both Aidan and Syra’s eyes widened as Tahlu and Sulaer chuckled to themselves.

“Is this…austram?” Aidan asked Tahlu, rotating the blade, mesmerized by its velvety luster.

“Indeed, it is. One of the last ones made.”

Aidan twirled it with a quick hand, feeling its light weight and how it cut the air with little resistance.

“I can see why people call it, blue steel.” Syra said.

“I know you have your own sword, and that it probably means a great deal to you,” Tahlu said, “but I’m sure you’re aware that no ordinary sword can fell a dragon…”

Aidan’s twirling ceased and he laid the blade across his lap.

“Especially not one with hide as thick as Marrak’s.”

Aidan looked from the blade to the sword hung from his waist. He unclipped it and held it tight in his hands.

“This was my brother’s,” he said, eyes staring down at the finely crafted scabbard and into the misty memories it held. “My father gave it to me when I became a soldier, and it’s been watching over me ever since.” His thumb massaged the small scuffs along the sheath before handing it down to Tahlu, “Please, take care of it.”

Tahlu accepted the sword with a bowed head and sympathetic eyes, “Until you return for it. For now, what may I call it?”

“Its name is,” Aidan paused, giving a hesitant glance over to the siblings, “Drahgrashi.”

Syra’s ears screamed as her own language fell from his lips, the word for ‘dragonslayer’ Aidan’s own poison-tipped arrows that hit her and the twins in their throats.

Syra didn’t need to be an Empath to feel another wall shoot up around Petra, and Cassius just turned his face away, no doubt just as hurt by the sentiment.

“I’m leaving,” said Petra, giving her mero a tap with her heels.

“Same,” Cassius said and followed her.

That left Syra sitting atop her giant goat with mouth caught open and no words.

“I named it for Ethan,” Aidan explained, keeping his eyes averted. “I thought, if I slayed the dragon that took him me, I could look it in the eye and let that be the last word it ever heard. That somehow, it might bring my brother some peace.”

“You said you named it that when you became soldier?” Syra asked, strained and barely audible.

“Yes.”

“So, just days after taking me?” Her voice cracked.

That night had been one of her happiest, one she remembered fondly even now. How could he? she asked herself, anger churning in her gut. Of all available suitors, she had chosen him--an act no dragon took lightly--yet he found solace in the murder of her kind. He didn't know, came the small voice in her head that chided her whenever she was being stupid, You made sure of that,. You have no one to blame but yourself.

Aidan met her gaze with genuine remorse. He knew how much the sentiment hurt her, even without seeing how her face contorted from the shock. But that had been years ago, when grief and rage fueled his mission to protect his city. Syra had been his one reprieve from the nightmares and anti-magic projects that threatened to become an obsession. And despite their time and experiences together, a tickle of unease still cropped up whenever he was alone with Petra or Cassius.

He wanted to forget it all, to just enjoy their company and charge through the journey together. But he couldn't. He couldn't forget the stench of burnt flesh as his brother lie dying, or the shrieks of fear from the city streets as the shadows flew overhead, or how his gut seized when Syra's voice boomed from a scaly beast.

She had been honest in her explanation—he knew Syra well enough to know she hated to lose anyone—but resentment still festered and a sliver of him remained callous to her cries.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said, letting the words drip from his tongue and burn into her ears.
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