Acarad carried Endrah in his arms through a teleportation spell and into the halls of the Guard’s house. He left a trail of blood behind him as he searched for an empty room.
“Prince Acarad,” one of the guards called. “When did you get home?”
“I will explain later,” Acarad answered. “I need an empty room and a team of healers.”
“Third door on the left your highness,” the woman answered.
Acarad followed her instructions and kicked the door open. The room was small but it would do. He laid Endrah down on his side on the cot in the center of the room. He set to work, gathering his magic within his hands.
“Please, help me heal him,” Acarad murmured. He ran his hands over Endrah’s shoulder and wings, settling a net of healing over him. “Please help me heal him.”
“Your highness,” a voice called. “What happened?”
“He tried to stop a skirmish on the Tolocian border,” Acarad answered. “Arrows through his wings and shoulder. I need my healing potions, water, and a brazier.”
“Elaine, go to the prince’s workroom and gather what he listed off,” a female voice said. “Here, let me see his shoulder.”
Acarad stepped to the side and began focusing on trying to knit Endrah’s wings together. He muttered prayers of healing under his breath as he funneled his magic into Endrah’s wings. He barely noticed as a young woman brought his potions and brazier from his workroom. Without a thought he summoned a green-tinted vial of potion.
“Pour this into his mouth slowly,” Acarad said. “Make sure he drinks it. It will help with the pain and fever. The arrowhead is barbed and has poison.”
With that, Acarad fell into a trance, mixing several potions for bone, flesh, and muscle knitting together. He called out dozens of herbs he needed to thicken the brew and increase its effectiveness. Soon the arrow was out and the wound was being cleansed. Acarad rubbed the warm salve into Endrah’s wings and winced as the sprite whimpered in pain. He lost track of how many healing spells and prayers slipped past his lips as he worked. After what felt both like mere moments and several days, Endrah’s wings were free of poison and were beginning to knit together.
“Someone get me splints,” Acarad said. “Make sure they are made from the flexible wood that we use for apple baskets and children’s casts. His wings are delicate.”
“Prince Acarad,” one of the healers said. “You need to sit down, you are shaking like a leaf in the wind.”
“I will when I finish,” Acarad brushed the healer’s hand away as someone brought him the materials for splints.
He carefully wrapped Endrah’s wings in layers of cotton and flexible wood. He bound them together with light magic seals. Endrah’s breathing was deep and labored, his hair plastered to his face and neck. Someone had cut his Drifter’s uniform off of him, and he lay bare from the waist up aside from the bandages and splints.
“Prepare a guest room for him close to my rooms,” Acarad ordered. “And have a page to help send a message to my parents and sibs. Tell them I am home.”
With that, Acarad sat down on the floor beside the cot. He began praying again, hoping that he had done enough to save Endrah.
~
For Acarad, everything went by in a blur over the next two months, waiting for Endrah to wake. Tending to Endrah’s wings and the duties he had allowed to build up blended together. Days and nights passed like moments. Unfortunately for him, no one else knew of the bond between Drifters. Acarad received only one calling in his time with Endrah, and that Calling only took him as far as the palace square to stop a lynching of a man from Toloc. He went right back to Endrah’s side as soon as he could each time he left. If you ask me, it was something a bit more than just the Drifter’s bond drawing them together. Acarad’s lover came in a few times, but he couldn’t stand the silence. The high lord left Acarad alone, both in the room and in terms of relationship status. Acarad threw himself more heavily into his work, sitting beside Endrah at all hours, waking at even a twitch somewhere on Endrah’s body. Endrah only ever half-woke, just enough to drink broth and water before slipping away again. Acarad and the healers took turns caring for Endrah, bathing him, undressing and redressing him, checking his wounds, and altering his splints as his wings healed. Acarad sent message after message to Aviary’s border, trying to reach Endrah’s family. None of his messages sent by men were answered. Acarad would talk to Endrah absentmindedly as he worked, hoping that hearing a voice would be able to lure him out into reality again. At long last, all his work paid off.
“I tried to send another message today,” Acarad said. He pulled a stitch in the coat he was finishing tight. “It was sent right back to me sooner than the others. I have tried to call some Minor Elementals for help but it seems that they stay clear of densely populated areas like the capital.”
“Why not ask Brooke or Wanda,” Endrah asked weakly.
Acarad jumped, pricking his finger with his needle. He set the sewing aside and came closer, pushing Endrah’s hair out of his eyes.
“How long have I been down,” Endrah asked.
“Two months,” Acarad answered. “How do you feel?”
“I need to sit up,” Endrah said. He put an arm under himself and tried to sit up on his own.
“Here, let me help you,” Acarad said. He put an arm behind Endrah’s back, beneath his wings, and helped him sit up.
“My wings feel heavy,” Endrah put a hand on Acarad’s shoulder to stabilize himself.
“I had to put splints on them,” Acarad untangled the blanket from Endrah’s legs. “They were damaged pretty badly, there are still holes in your wings but they are healing.”
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“You knit my wings together,” Endrah asked.
“I did my best but I don’t know if it worked,” Acarad answered. “Once you are stronger we can try to see if they are strong enough to hold you.”
“How did you find me,” Endrah asked.
“I was called to Glade’s side of the border,” Acarad answered. I had finished my Calling when I saw you holding one of the soldiers in the air. I saw you go down and I caught you.”
“Those men,” Endrah gasped. “I need to see if they’re alright.”
“Slow down Endrah,” Acarad kept Endrah seated on the bed. “The ones from Glade are all fine.”
“What about the others,” Endrah asked.
“They wanted to kill you,” Acarad answered. “And likely me too because I helped you. I did an informal execution on the battlefield. They were pushing the border before you arrived.”
“They were trying to attack your homeland,” Endrah asked.
“Yes,”Acarad answered. “You can see the men you saved when they get back from the training grounds.”
“I need to send a message to my family,” Endrah said. He put a hand to his head. “But the border is probably closed. Maybe I could get through from Kellar.”
“I will try going through Kellar,” Acarad said. “You need to rest and heal. Just because you are awake does not mean you are well.”
“But I have responsibilities,” Endrah said.
“You can’t carry them out if you can’t even stand,” Acarad said. “I am not trying to hold you down and you are barely able to sit, let alone walk, run, or fly.”
“I have been away from home for three months,” Endrah whispered. “Even if Tamarah got my message to Father, they will be so worried.”
“I will try again and again until I reach them Endrah.” Acarad said. “But before I do, I am going to make sure you eat something.”
“I don’t feel hungry,” Endrah said.
“You still need something solid,” Acarad replied. He reached for a pull cord in the wall. “I will have a page bring both of us something to eat.” He gently tugged on the chord and a bell sang a short song on the wall.
“Acarad, I need to get to work,” Endrah said.
“You can work when I know you won’t fall out of bed,” Acarad turned Endrah so that his legs were back on the bed. “I will give you some small things to start with after you eat.”
“I-” Endrah began. A knock at the door interrupted him.
“Come in,” Acarad called. A little boy peeked his head through the door. “Please come in.”
“You rang Highness,” the boy said.
“Would you please go to the cooks and ask if one of them could fix a meal for both me and Drifter Endrah,” Acarad asked. “And then down to the seamstress to ask for more clothes in need of mending.”
“Sure thing your highness,” the boy bowed.
“And once you are done you may take one toy from the chest in my public sitting room,” Acarad said.
“Thank you highness,” the boy smiled and slipped out the door.
“Acarad, why are you doing this,” Endrah asked.
“Doing what,” Acarad cocked an eyebrow.
“You are acting like a healer,” Endrah answered. “But you are a prince.”
“I am a Wizard, Drifter, Prince, and master swordsman,” Acarad said. “I have many roles to fill.”
“But you were born to be a prince, to rule your country or whatever land your family gave you,” Endrah said.
“Humans tend to reach out for more things to do than they were born for,” Acarad smiled a little. “I take it that isn’t the way of your people?”
“No,” Endrah said. “We follow in our family’s steps before us. If our parents were healers, we become healers. If we come from blacksmiths, we work in the smithy. We stay with our families.”
“What if you don’t want to follow what your family does,” Acarad asked.
“You must follow in your family’s path,” Endrah’s eyes dropped down to his lap. “Your dreams must come last. Put everyone else before yourself, no matter what it takes. Honor your mother and father, help those who need you, never stop working for the better. If you stop, idle hands can brew terrible potions.”
“That sounds like a quote from literature,” Acarad said.
“It is from Traditions in the Wind,” Endrah said. “All children must read it over and over until they have it memorized.”
“Why,” Acarad asked.
“To put in our minds what is right, and push out what is wrong,” Endrah answered. “What destroyed our people before was change and war.”
“Change must happen if people are to be moved forward,” Acarad said. “Have you ever wanted to be anything but a merchant?”
“I...I have always wanted to draw and paint,” Endrah sighed. “I have always used the excuse that the things I draw can bring a profit in for buying and selling, bartering, and trading. I traded my drawings for other things that one uses in the home, vases, area rugs, other drawings, or little trinkets. When Mother saw that I was focusing so much on my drawing she took most of my supplies and set me to task again.”
“Why would she do that,” Acarad asked.
“My pulling away from the family would have broken tradition,” Endrah said. “Her brother left the family trade and as punishment, his wings were cut off and he was cast down to the Forgotten. She named me after him, but feared that I would follow the same road.”
“It is a crime to break tradition, Acarad asked.
“Yes,” Endrah answered. “The only two exceptions to the rule have always been the Monarch and Drifter. A Monarch is chosen from lower castes by their wings. A Monarch has the wings of a Monarch butterfly. When they are found, they are raised to the Highest, along with their family. The Air Drifter is chosen by First Wind to do as she bids.”
“I didn’t know Endrah,” Acarad said. He put a hand on Endrah’s leg.
“Humans aren’t supposed to know,” Endrah replied. “But the Earth Drifter must, in order to do their duty.”
They sat in silence for a few moments, Endrah toying with his hair and Acarad trying to take in what he heard. The silence was broken by a light knock on the door.
“Enter,” Acarad called. He moved his hand from Endrah’s leg.
“I have brought you and your companion food,” the young lady at the door said. “But I cannot open the door highness.”
“Here, allow me,” Acarad stood and crossed the room to open the door. “Thank you for being quick.”
“It is a pleasure to have you home highness,” the woman said. She had one tray of food balanced in her arms. “We have all tried to make your favorite dishes. Unfortunately we didn’t have enough carrots to set aside for your carrot cake.”
“It is alright,” Acarad said. He took the tray in his hands “Tell the others I send my thanks to them too.”
“Of course Highness,” the woman curtsied before slipping back into the hall.
Acarad closed the door and returned to Endrah’s bedside. The two ate in silence, apart from the clink of silverware and the sound of Endrah’s attempts to hide how much he enjoyed the rich man’s food from the tray.
Endrah stayed with Acarad in Glade for another month before his wings were unwrapped. He couldn’t see them, but once the splints were off, Endrah knew he wouldn’t be able to fly. Oh, they could still move, but he couldn’t fly. He was one of the Forgotten, just like his namesake. He waited for Acarad to leave before letting himself fall to the ground. If you could have seen his wings tremble with his silent sobs, your heart wouldn’t have been able to continue reading for a while.