Elfsorrow

Selik laughed, a rattling unpleasant sound. 'I have made my point, I have offered you alliance and now I know your allegiance. The people will not forget where you stand, Blackthorne. Nor you, Gresse. And when the army of justice rides south, remember my words.'

'Leave.' Blackthorne turned away to his sergeant. 'See he leaves our lands and pass the word. They are not to be tolerated here again.'

'Yes, my Lord.'

Blackthorne and Gresse walked to their horses.

'So why didn't you arrest him then and there?' asked the older baron.

'My dear Gresse, there are times when you must gamble and this is one of those times. Something must be done to draw the colleges together, for them to unite as they did when the Wytch Lords threatened. And I can think of nothing better than a Black Wing attack, can you?'

'And the innocents that die in the process?'

Blackthorne sighed. 'Regrettable. Regrettable but inevitable. Come, Gresse, we have places to be and I want to wash the taste of that meeting away with a good drop of ale.'

Chapter 22

Ilkar's quick summary of his conversations with Kild'aar and Rebraal had given Erienne new focus. Leaving Hirad to berate the Julatsan for never revealing he had a brother, she, Denser and Ren hurried over to the house Ilkar had indicated, wary of the panther and its extraordinary keeper who sat silent outside. They were stopped at the door by Kild'aar. The elven woman spoke briefly. Ren turned to them.

'She says you're not welcome. She says you will not defile the body of the Al-Arynaar.'

'Tell her I agree, I will not defile his body,' said Erienne. 'But if she wants us to help save her village, she'd better let us through now.'

It was late and Erienne was tired. The ache in her head was growing and it pulsed like a reminder, nudging her to do something, fulfil an obligation she didn't feel. Ren was talking to Kild'aar. It was a curt exchange. At one point the older elf pointed meaningfully at the panther who so far, like its keeper, had paid them no heed whatever. Eventually, she stepped from the doorway, her contempt clear in the set of her body and expression.

'She says the panther will claw out your eyes if you do wrong to the body.'

Denser looked at Ren with the expression Erienne recognised whenever The Raven were threatened. Utter disdain.

'It wouldn't get within five yards,' he said, and stalked inside.

They went left as directed into a candle-lit and chokingly scented room containing a single bed on which lay the shrouded figure of Mercuun. Kild'aar followed them in and stood to watch, arms folded in silent disapproval.

Erienne knelt by the bedside and Denser pulled the shroud gently from the body, folding it back to expose his head and bare chest. In the flickering light, Erienne could make out a young, angular face. No bruising was evident on the dark skin.

She placed her hands on his chest, hearing a hiss of indrawn breath from Kild'aar. The skin was cold, hard and waxy. She ignored the unpleasant sensation and tuned herself to the mana spectrum, directing a sheet of mana across the body slowly from head to toe, her fingers picking up everything it touched and penetrated.

Almost immediately she felt a surge of nausea, like gulping rancid air. She fought to keep her concentration, focussing hard on her task, driving her mind to analyse what the mana stream fed back to her. The construct she was using borrowed heavily from the Body-Cast spell, but Mercuun couldn't have been saved even by this most powerful healer casting. It could knit bone, repair muscle and organ, stop bleeding and soothe bruising. But it couldn't reverse rot and decay.

She withdrew from Mercuun's body, nodding at Denser to replace the shroud. For a moment she remained on her knees, rubbing her hands slowly down the top of her thighs. She breathed deeply to clear her head of the fetid sensations she'd experienced and returned her mind to its normal state.

'All right, love?' asked Denser, squatting down beside her and stroking her cheek.

'Yes,' she said, and looked across at Ren. 'I need to know some things. Ask her how long he's been dead.'

Ren nodded and asked the question.

'Two days,' she relayed. 'They are waiting for Rebraal before they commit his body to the forest.'

Erienne shuddered. 'So recent?' She spared Denser an anxious glance. 'Ask her if his bone breaks were tended to.'

'They were,' came the delayed reply. 'They could be treated and they responded. Still he died.'

'That's because they weren't the problem,' said Erienne grimly. 'What else do they know?'

'Nothing,' translated Ren. 'He never regained consciousness.'

'And what about the others who are sick?' Erienne got to her feet, helped by Denser.

There was a longer delay, Ren listening to what she was hearing with a frown deepening on her beautiful features. She asked a couple of questions then took a deep breath and turned to Erienne.

'It sounds horrible,' she said. 'Loss of balance, bleeding from ears, nose and anus, grinding pain in the gut and chest, loss of vision and hearing, muscle weakness and the clawing of hands and feet. I think there's probably more but that covers the most common symptoms. The worst thing is, nothing seems to reverse or even ease the symptoms, and death has occurred in as little as four days. No one has survived yet.'

'I'm not surprised,' said Erienne. 'How many are suffering at the moment?'

'A hundred and thirty-three.'

'Oh no,' said Erienne, putting a hand over her mouth, the size of the problem sending her reeling inside. 'No wonder she's been so hostile.'

Erienne walked up to Kild'aar and gripped her folded arms with both hands. She saw a pleading in the elf's eyes behind the stern mask, a barely repressed fear born of a lack of any answer.

'I'm sorry, Kild'aar,' said Erienne. 'But I need you to show me one of those still alive.'

Kild'aar nodded but didn't understand her words, only her expression and the emotion in her voice. Ren translated Erienne's words and was asked another question.

'She wants to know what you found.'

Erienne bit her lip. 'He was rotten inside,' she said as calmly as she could, recalling the feelings of decay and disease that had pervaded her so strongly. 'All his organs just so much mush inside his body, some of them barely recognisable. His brain was the same. His bones were brittle, no calcium, like he was an elf hundreds of years older than he was. I've never seen anything like it. Outwardly, he was fine. On the inside, like he'd been dead for weeks. But I need to see a live patient. Someone I can talk to. Quickly.'

Ren was momentarily dumbfounded by Erienne's description. She pulled herself together but shivered as she related the awful symptoms to Kild'aar, who gasped as Mercuun's fate was relayed to her. She looked across at Erienne, all the anger replaced with shock and sadness. She spoke a few words.

'Kild'aar asks if there is anything you can do.'

Erienne shrugged uselessly. 'I don't know. I hope so but I don't know. I've never encountered anything like this.'

Kild'aar didn't need her words translated. Beckoning them, she made to leave the room, only to stop at the sound of the door opposite opening. Leaning on the frame for support, a half-naked elf shambled out of the room and across the narrow hallway. His right hand was clamped over his left shoulder and his brow was furrowed and covered in a light sweat. His eyes burned as he took in Erienne and Denser, sparing Ren a brief glance before focussing on Kild'aar and launching into a stream of invective.

Erienne moved reflexively back until she felt Denser behind her, watching Kild'aar stretch to touch the wounded elf and having her hand slapped away. She responded to his words, her voice calming, but this only inspired him to shout, nodding into the room, his neck straining with his anger. Erienne felt her heart beating fast, the vehemence of the verbal onslaught shocking. She reached out and found Denser's hand.