Twilight was upon the marsh when the village broke the tree line. An unabashed sigh of relief left Echo as if speaking for everyone. It wasn’t like any of them wanted to pitch camp in the swamp.
Larris sur L’eau was a curious settlement. Suspended directly over the water in places, it consisted mainly of grayed boardwalks attached to pitch covered pylons and stubborn cypresses. Earthen dikes expanded the limits of the town far beyond what Narsis described, or at least, what any of them had pictured. It was hardly some small outpost like Cawold. There had to be a few thousand who called it home.
The thought turned Mira’s stomach. Thousands. The capital was prepared to let thousands die.
Her feathers bristled. Captain, she thought. What would you do?
The stable master gasped at the sight of them. “Travelers?” he muttered more to himself than them. “Has the quarantine been lifted?!”
“Regretfully, I am afraid not,” said Brother Luke. “Could you tell me where I might find my brothers who Lord Korik has summoned?”
A defeated sigh filled the man. “Whole west ward’s been converted into a hospice. You’ll find them there.”
Brother Luke inclined his head. “I’ll be off at once.”
“It’s getting late,” said Norm. “Don’t you think we should wait ‘til morning?”
“Time isn’t our friend in many ways,” Brother Luke said somberly.
“I’ll go with him while the three of you secure our lodgings,” said Zhel.
“There’s a tavern ‘long pier six in the east district,” said the stable master. “Ain’t much, but they rent rooms.”
Apprehension creased Mira’s jaw, though she relented. It was for the best. The friar needed to check in, and it wasn’t like they would be much use.
Splitting from them on the boardwalk, they made their way into town.
More than mosquitoes filled the air. Wary eyes followed them as they made their way. There was little doubt they were the first new faces in weeks, and with the ravages of the Hunger taking its toll, xenophobia had set in.
Echo’s wings folded around her. With each step, she pressed a little tighter to Mira’s side until she forced her hand into her grip.
The knight took account of their surroundings. There were far too many ears trained on them to speak openly. At least, not in the common tongue anyway.
[Are you alright, my lady?] Mira chirped to Echo in zeyphyrni.
The zephyrni language was in every way like its speakers. Light and graceful, it danced on the air. It was comprised of high pitched whistling and trilling sounds, characterized by long strings of consonants and soft vowels. Few of the grounded spoke the tonal language, with some of the more earthbound races, such as the dwarves, being completely incapable of even hearing all of it, let alone mimicking it.
The duchess shot her a curious look. [Your diction is awful!]
A long series of Rs denoting offense trilled Mira’s tongue. [Sorry!] she huffed. [It’s not like it’s been oh… fourteen years since I’d had anyone to talk to like this.]
[Fourtee… How old were you when you came to live among the grounded!?]
[Five.]
Echo’s face froze as she regarded her knight. “Bloody hell!” she managed to mutter.
[I was just lucky Captain Theris took me in.] Mira shrugged. [But what about you? You seem on edge.]
[There are a lot of eyes on us, and they don’t seem altogether savory.]
[They’re probably surprised to see outsiders, especially zephyrni,] Norm interjected.
Both women looked perplexedly to him.
[You speak zephyrni?] said Echo.
[No, but I know how to cast a basic translation spell,] said Norm. “Now come on,” he continued, switching back to the common. “I see the tavern.”
At that hour, in any other tavern in the kingdom, people would’ve been three sheets to the wind. Bawdy songs would have called down the street. Lightweights would have been stumbling home, leaving the heavy hitters to boast, brag, and brawl.
But not now.
The boardwalks were deserted. Buildings stood dark and vacant. Watchful eyes darted from view on their noticing. The only sound was that of peep frogs and buzzing insects.
“Excusez-moi mesdames, monsieur,” came the voice of a young boy.
He stepped from the alleyway between the tavern and a neighboring shop. Seven, maybe eight years old. His clothes were filthy and tattered. His dark hair was matted and unkempt, features shrunken with the ravages of hunger.
Peeking from behind was a little girl. No more than five, she was in no better state than him.
Mira’s feathers fluffed at the sight of them. “Hello,” she began calmly. “What are your names?”
“I’m Caleb,” he began in a quavering voice, “and this is my sister, Vivveen.”
The knight scanned their surroundings. “Where are your parents?”
Caleb’s face fell.
“They got sick,” said Vivveen. “Really, really bad.”
A heavy breath of understanding called from Echo.
“Could you spare a coin or two?” Caleb asked, eyes trembling as he gazed up at them. “We’ve not eaten in days.”
Mira’s heart ached, but before she could as much as move, Norm scooped them up.
“Looks like we’ll need to make sure they’ve got room for seven,” he said.
The tavern was as dead as the street. A single man lay passed out on the bar. The tavern keeper, a large, brutish looking figure eyed the women cautiously as they stepped through the door. A moment later, Norm stumbled in with the children and he perked up.
“Norm!” he bellowed.
“Hey, Armand,” Norm said casually. “Got any rooms?” Mira and Echo looked at him, their brows knitting. “What?”
“N-Nothing,” Echo stammered out.
She turned a quizzical eyebrow to Mira as he went to speak with Armand.
“I think it best we simply accept whatever peculiarities our human… friend comes with,” said Echo.
All Mira could do was nod.
Settling at a table, they ordered as much stew as the children could eat. They’d devoured two bowls before Mira finished her first.
The tavern only had two rooms; fortunately, Norm managed to secure both. The kids were on their third bowls when Zhel arrived. His eyes were distant as they fell upon the others.
“That bad?” said Norm as the nu-duwar crumpled into the seat beside him.
“Worse than I wish to talk about with little ones about,” said Zhel.
Norm handed the children a pair of coins. “Why don’t you two get a couple of sweet rolls, and then we’ll see about baths.”
Although the prospect of baths didn’t particularly light the children’s faces, the promise of pastries certainly did.
Only after they were a comfortable distance away did Zhel continue.
“It was horrible,” he muttered. “Half of them can barely breathe, and the other half are mad with hunger. The only constant is their begging for food, but no matter how much they eat, it’s like… like it’s being drained from them faster than they can take it in.”
The door opened. A familiar voice, one of the calmest and most even tempered wafted inside. Brother Luke offered a weak smile at seeing the others gathered around the table.
“There you are,” he said at the sight of them. “I thought I’d seen Master Zhel duck in here, though it was rather hard keeping pace.”
Starting across the room, he beckoned for the person he’d been talking to, to follow. Manners straightening her posture, Mira prepared to welcome another priest of Korik. She was not prepared for the goliath that stepped over the threshold. There was no mistaking a go’thial demigiant at any distance.
He was nearly eight feet tall. His stone gray flesh was a canvas of swirling tattoos from the top of his bald head down and out of sight beneath his collar. Crystal blue eyes greeted them with the same serenity as the friar’s, though heavy bags beneath them threatened to take him from consciousness at any moment.
Mira’s eyes went from the hulking figure to the weapon’s check at the bar. Much like the nu-duwar, the go’thial had a particular… reputation, but unlike the night elves, Mira did have firsthand experience fighting the nomadic tribesmen. Experience that still made her ribs ache when it got cold.
She could get to her halberd in two flaps, but that was one too many to avoid a clubbing blow from the brute. Her side throbbed from the memory of her first encounter with the go’thial.
“Next round’s on me,” he offered, his voice like two boulders grinding together.
“This is Healer,” Brother Luke introduced him as fresh tankards arrived.
“Healer?” Norm repeated. “Was your mother psychic or something?”
He shook his head. “Go’thial choose our name when we come of age. We take pride in tying it to how we want the world to see us.”
“He’s a traveling priest, like me,” Brother Luke continued, “though he serves the Lady of the Harvest, Estoria.”
“Estoria?” Mira sputtered. “Isn’t she a human goddess?”
Brother Luke nodded. “Indeed. Of the Ferrion Pantheon, to be precise, unlike my Lord.”
“You serve a Ferrion goddess?” Mira said in disbelief.
“The gods choose us by our hearts, not our flesh,” said Healer.
Guilt pricked at Mira’s conscience. First Zhel and now Healer? For the second time since leaving Sitri, she’d jumped to conclusions. She winced at the phantom of a prick in her back. That traitorous, backstabbing elf. They were supposed to be allies! His dagger was dull, extra painful as it tore through her unarmored jerkin. She could still see his leering face as she cried out in pain. If it hadn’t been for that kindly old kobold shaman she would have bled out.
“Friends can as easily wear the skin of foes, as an enemy can disguise himself a friend, little bird,” Captain Theris’s voice echoed in her head.
I’ll do better, Captain, she swore to herself. I promise.
She forced a smile upon her face. “I suppose they do.”
“Ferrious is quite some way from here, isn’t it, Brother Healer?” said Echo.
“Just Healer, lass,” he corrected her. “Estoria don’t care much for that brother, father, mother, sister stuff. But aye.” He nodded firmly. “It’s an easy two months even with a good wagon and sturdy oxen. Longer still to track down my tribe in the Narrons.”
“Healer was one of the first priests to arrive,” said Brother Luke. “I thought, perhaps, he might have insight for us.”
Mira choked on her drink. “Us?” she coughed.
“Of course,” Brother Luke said as if it was obvious. “We need to figure out where this plague came from and how it’s transmitted if we’re to stop its spread, and I’m afraid that—.”
“We are the only ones up for the job,” Norm said knowingly.
The priests hung their heads.
Echo took a long drink and sighed. “What do we know?”
“It comes on fast,” Healer began. “Faster than you can imagine. It might start with someone wanting a little snack, maybe taking an extra helping of dinner, or a few more sausages at breakfast.” He shook his head. “Within the hour, they’ll have eaten every crumb they can set their fingers on and’ll still be starving. In days, they’re rendered helpless, and it’s not much longer before they…”
“It wastes them away from the inside until all that’s left is a husk,” said Brother Luke.
“How many have managed to recover?” said Norm.
Healer shook his head. “Not a soul.”
Mira averted her eyes. “And how many have…?”
“I’ve stopped trying to count, dame knight,” said Healer. “I buried twenty within days of arriving. That was weeks ago, and I can’t guess how many went before.”
Zhel drummed his fingers on the table, shaking his head. “It doesn’t make sense.” He looked up at the go’thial. “Starvation takes weeks, not days.”
“Tell that to the Hunger,” Healer said darkly.
“When did this start?” Mira’s jaw tensed with agitation. “How is this the first I’ve heard of this?”
“Sitri is likely trying to avoid a panic,” said Echo. “Lock the swamp down and keep everything on a need to know basis.” Her eyes drifted closed. “That’s what we would’ve done in Clearwater Cove.”
“I can’t guess at the movements of governments.” Healer shrugged. “But I can tell you that it started ‘round the same time as the spring thaw.”
“We had a lot of snow this winter,” said Norm. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen the river flood so bad.”
“And the Dolmnas washes through the Larris Marsh on its way to the sea,” said Brother Luke.
“Sounds like something must’ve been trapped in the ice and gotten loose,” said Zhel.
Echo pressed her fist ponderously to her lips. “That’s a distinct possibility, but I think we should start at the beginning.” Her eyes fluttered open. “Who was the first to take ill?”
The giant priest’s features fell as he turned his gaze to the bar. “I see you’ve met their lil ones.”
Both children sat at the bar, graciously eating their sweet rolls. They were the first affected? Their parents, taken by plague. Yet, they remained? Hungry, yes, but not infected.
A glimmer of hope sparked in Mira’s heart. “The children? Has… Have any been taken?”
“I see what you’re thinking, dame knight, but…” Healer nodded. “We lost five just this morning.”
Anguish creased the knight’s face. Once more, hope was snuffed.
“It’s not fair,” she whispered her thought aloud. “Give me a war band, some rampaging beast,” she scoffed, “a dragon! Something I can fight.” Her eyes narrowed. “What are we supposed to do about something that kills everyone it touches but nobody can see?”
Echo patted her arm comfortingly. “We find out where it’s coming from, how it spreads, and then, gods willing, we figure out how to fight it.”
“In the meantime, we do what we can to help,” said Zhel.
“And that starts with getting a couple of kids that’ve seen the worst of it washed up and put to bed,” Norm concluded.
Brother Luke and Healer bid them goodnight before returning to the plague ward. There, impromptu quarters had been prepared for the various clergymen attending the ill.
They finished their drinks and took the children to the tavern’s bath before retiring to their rooms. Caleb was asleep in Norm’s arms before they reached the base of the stairs. He would sleep well that night.
Their quarters weren’t particularly special. Simple accommodations, appropriate to a town of its size. Both rooms had a pair of footlockers and beds — Zhel giving his to the boy as nu-duwar needn’t lie to sleep —the women’s was slightly larger, with a table and chair that Echo sat at to study her spells.
Vivveen sat next to Mira as the woman brushed her hair. Across from them, Echo seemed absent as she leafed through her book, muttering to herself with increasing frustration.
“My la—?”
Echo slammed the book shut, smashing her fist into the table. “Bollocks!”
Mira dropped the brush in a rush to shield the child’s ears. “Language!” she admonished her.
A throaty growl welled in the duchess’s throat. “Well it is!” Her snap sent the child scampering into Mira’s lap. “I’m sorry, it’s just—.” Echo sighed. “This Healer, bloke. Do you understand what this means, Mira?”
“Not every go’thial is a barbarian, my lady.”
“No, not that.” She shook her head. “It’s a third pantheon. We’re entering Crescent Bow territory.”
There could be no disagreement as Mira nodded. “You’re right. Korik and… what’s her name? The moon lady? Lu’Arien! That was bad enough, but now the Ferrions are getting involved?” She shook her head. “This is definitely Crescent Bow stuff.”
“What’s a Crescent Bow?” Vivveen asked in her tiny voice.
Sweeping a wing around her, Mira offered a smile. “They were heroes that stood against the deepest darknesses. Teesha Moonflower, the Champion of the Elves, Hennet the Whitefire, the greatest mage ever, the gnomish templar, Sook, Teeka Sparrowhawk, Zhort Barrish, Sir Jared of the Storm Knights, Melias, the Last Galacian, they were legends!”
Echo joined Mira on her bed, curling her wings around them to create an impenetrable wall of feathers. “They faced down demons and gods alike. Never failing. Never faltering. Not giving a step to those that would doom our world.”
The girl looked between the women in wonder. “What happened to them?”
“No one knows,” Echo admitted. “Shortly after they destroyed the orc god, Garutal, they retired to Teesha’s keep, Moonflower Manor, and just,” she shrugged, “vanished.”
Vivveen’s eyes blazed with curiosity. “What did they do? What were they like? Was Teesha pretty? What’s a Galacian? What—.” A great yawn wiped all words from her.
Echo smiled. “Stories for another time, fledgling.”
“Now,” Mira ran her thumb across her cheek, “it’s time for bed.”
Even the child had to agree.
Settling into bed, Mira was surprised to find a little lump press into her side as she stretched. Vivveen curled next to her, half-consciously stroking her feathers. The knight rolled over, wrapping her in her wings just like her mother had done for her so many times when she was little.
“Will they come?” Vivveen muttered from the edge of sleep. “The Crescent Bow?”
Words failed the knight as Echo’s joke replayed in her head. “You’re hardly Teesha Moonflower.”
“Gods willing,” Mira whispered, “it won’t come to that.”
Continue to Chapter Ten
About the Author
A. S. Raithe is a fantasy author living near Pittsburgh with his wife and children. Always the creative type, it wasn’t until high school and being introduced to a local bestselling author that he found his passion for writing. He took time away from writing to attend college before being convinced by his wife to pick it up again shortly after their wedding. Outside of writing he enjoys exercise, baking, gardening, folklore, music, and hiking.
