William King - Shadowblood

Weasel had managed to find some survivors. He was pulling them out of a cellar. There were two of them, an emaciated looking man and a woman who looked as if she had once been much fatter, judging by the way the folds of skin flopped on her face and neck.

"Who are you?" Sardec asked.

"My name is Pteor, your honour, and this is my wife, Karin."

"What happened here, man?"

"The plague, sir. It swept through the town and killed most of the people. Too many to burn or bury. Then the dead started rising. Lots of people fled. Some of them fought. The fires started. The town burned to the ground. I don't know what happened next but all the dead men left. It was as if something summoned them."

"How did you manage to survive?"

"I'm not sure, sir. By the grace of God, I think. The herbs helped and the fact that we hid in the cellar probably didn't do any harm either."

"The herbs?"

"When my wife started to show symptoms of the plague I tried red berry root. It’s not something I would normally have tried since red berry is more for pregnant women than anything else but the colour reminded me of the plague spots and nothing else seemed to be working so I thought — why not? It helped and then the fever broke and she got better. She did the same thing for me when I started to go down."

"Are you saying you found a cure for the plague?" Sardec felt suddenly excited. He told himself not to get to hopeful.

"I tried the paste on other people and it seemed to cure all the symptoms as well. Of course some of them died from complications, or hunger or simply just the strain. But none of them rose from the dead."

"Are you sure, man?"

"I can't be certain, your honour, since I only tried the herbs on half a dozen people. However, if I did come down with plague again, I would want my wife to try the same cure."

"You think it's likely that you might come down with the plague?"

"Who knows, sir? We've not shown any symptoms since we recovered."

"Do you have any more of these herbs? Quick, man — answer me!"

"I have a sack of the stuff in my basement. It's always been cheap. Who would've thought it would be so useful? It might not prove to be so cheap in the future!"

"Will you give us some?"

"Are you sick?"

Sardec nodded and indicated the children and the limping, weary soldiers. Rena coughed a little too and he widened his gesture to include her.

“What about you, your honour?”

“I am not sick.”

“It’s true that the Terrarchs are blessed by the Light then, sir, and that the plague passes you by.”

Sardec did not feel blessed but he could see how things might look that way to a mortal so he simply nodded. “How long does this cure take to work?”

“A few hours, sir, if the victim is in a really bad way.”

“Might it be worth those men who don’t have the plague taking some of the drug anyway, as a preventative?”

“I don’t see how it could hurt, sir, other than by exhausting the berry paste when we might need it later.”

“If this works, Pteor, I will see that you have your weight in gold. You will go down in history as the man who found a cure for the greatest plague in history. You and your wife had better come with us. Pack up what you need. You’re going to be rich and famous!”

The mention of the gold made the man perk up. He hustled off and got busy, and Sardec offered up a prayer for his endeavours.

It was night and for the first time in a few days, there were no signs of illness among Sardec’s small command. No one was kept awake by coughing. All of the people who had seemed to be getting ill slept peacefully. Sardec sat within the abandoned Palace and watched some more antique furniture burn. Once he would have despised the waste but now they needed the warmth more than they needed the beautiful old chest of drawers. He looked down on Rena and thought he detected the faintest signs of improvement. There was more colour in her cheeks.

“They look healthier, sir,” said Weasel. The Barbarian grinned and nodded his head emphatically.

“Do you really think that old alchemist has found a cure for the plague?” he asked.

“We’ll just have to wait and see, but it’s starting to look that way.”

“If we can get this knowledge home we’ll all be heroes,” said the Barbarian thoughtfully.

“If we can get this knowledge home I’ll see you all decorated by the Queen and with a pension for life.” Sardec realised he was making very free with the rewards but he felt sure such munificence would be more than justified. In some ways it would be the discovery of the age. Who would have thought that a simple medicine used to ease women to childbirth would prove to be the cure for the worst scourge ever unleashed on this world?

He told himself to calm down, that it had not been established yet and even if it was the cure might only work for some people or prove only temporary. He felt hopeful though and that brought fear — of failure, of death. More than just the safety of his small party rested on him now. The lives of every human being in Talorea or quite possibly the world now did.

Perhaps Fate had just done this to torment him, to dangle the possibility of success and triumph in front of him just to yank it away. He told himself not to be so self-obsessed. All he could do was try and complete the task set in front of him and leave others to worry about the machinations of destiny.

Rena’s eyes opened and she saw him looking down on her.

“Hello,” she said.

“How do you feel?”

“Better than I have done in days.”

“I’m glad to hear it. You look better too. So do the others.”

“You look thoughtful. What were you thinking about?”

He told her. “You worry too much,” she said.

“I have a lot to worry about.”

“You’ll do your best. You always do.”

“What if I fail?”

“What if you don’t? All you can do is try. You can’t let worrying about the consequences stop you or make you second guess your decisions. You’re right — this is potentially the most important thing in the world now. You need to bring knowledge of it back to Asea or Lord Azaar.”

He saw the realisation flicker across her face — they did not even know where Asea was or whether she was still alive. “There are others who will know what to do about this. The important thing is that it works and we bring it back to the West. Then we might have a chance to overcome this plague and win this war. And now you had better get some rest. We still have a long way to go and you need to recover your strength.”

“What about you?” she asked. “Don’t you need rest too?”

He rose from beside her and glanced around. “I just need to check the sentries and then I shall get some sleep.”

Rik was glad the coach approached Askander. The tension had increased within him with every league as they approached the city and he felt like he was wound up so tightly that something within him might break. He knew that the greatest struggle of his life was approaching and now he just wanted to get it over with.

The full moon was near. That was when the barriers between worlds were at their lowest. If there was any time when an attempt to summon a Prince of Shadow was going to be made, it would be then.

He was as ready as he was ever going to be. He had learned a lot from Tamara and from Asea both. He could see in the deepest of shadows and darkness now in a manner that did not only use his eyes but gave him a strange mystical awareness of the space that surrounded him.

He could open the pathway and look through it to any shadow within a hundred yards, listening and seeing things there in black and white.

He could open the paths between deep shadows in a manner that would let him pass through them. He could mould the shadows and bend them to his will when he concentrated, altering their appearance, letting them flow over him to hide himself, to cloak him from the eyes of those who would see him. He had kept this a secret even from Tamara.