Oralia felt naked without her sword. Leaving it behind was not a decision she’d made lightly. Ultimately, given the uncontrollable tremors in her hands, it was the realization that she’d be more likely to drop it than swing it that’d convinced her to go without. She had other weapons, of course. All of which were strapped on her person, tucked conveniently out of sight. She was relieved when neither Briony nor Novera asked her to remove them before making her approach. While she had no reason to suspect the Belfasts of selling her out to the enemy, it was better to be cautious than dead.
“Madam Belfast.” Oralia halted mere paces from Novera’s cloaked figure and dipped her head in respect.
Novera did not return the bow. From her hollow stare, Oralia sensed it was not out of disrespect. Novera’s far-off expression was one Oralia had seen many times before on battle stricken soldiers returning from the field. The faun’s sad brown eyes searched Oralia’s face as she spoke. “I’m afraid I don’t know what to call you anymore.”
“I prefer Oralia, but ‘traitor’ seems to be the more popular option in these parts.”
Several stunned seconds passed before the edges of Novera’s downturned mouth attempted a smile. “Was that a joke?” The faun shook her head slowly, causing the ringlets of coiled hair gathered around her shoulders to bounce and sway. “I never thought I’d live to see the day.”
The joke had taken damn near three months to craft and Oralia was quite proud of it. In addition to landing, it did as Oralia intended, breaking the silent tension that hung thick in the around them.
“It’s good to see a familiar face.” Novera’s smile faded. “But I suspect you’re here for the same reason the realm is. I’ll spare you the runaround. No one knows where Rasp is. Faris left several months ago to find him and I haven’t heard from either since.”
It was mostly the truth, but there was more Novera wasn’t saying. Such information would only come with trust. Something Oralia severely lacked in her present situation. “I understand why you would be reluctant to trust me, Novera. My reputation, the horrible things I have done in the name of the realm, it is a lot for anyone to overlook. But I swear to you, whether you realized it or not, you and I have been on the same side since the massacre in Sunstorn.”
Also only partly true. As Oralia understood it, Lonebrook had been working hand-in-hand with the resistance since the Night of Stolen Lives. Oralia had only let the resistance think she was in their pocket. Playing both sides was infinitely easier when both parties thought they owned you. Naturally, this was not something one uttered aloud when trying to win favor with someone who’d already picked the losing side.
“Faris told us as much.” Novera’s left ear flicked as the sadness slowly trickled from her somber expression. “Which, if it were true, makes me wonder why you’re here. If your loyalty is to Larkspur, then wouldn’t you be with her now? Trant and I are no fools. We know Lonebrook is not worth saving. Pragmatically, speaking.”
Fuck. So much for keeping her questionable allegiances unsaid.
The faun narrowed her eyes. “Whose side are you really on?”
“The people’s. I have no desire to be a revolutionist. I am simply trying to right a wrong before it hurts more people.” Oralia neatly steered the conversation back on track whilst conveniently skipping over the part that mentioned saving her own skin as well. “As you know, Rasp cannot fall into the realm’s hands. Finding your son first can prevent that from happening.”
“I told you, I don’t know where Faris is.”
“While that may be true, I suspect you have a way of communicating with him.” Oralia lifted her head and squinted at the gnarled branches above. She spied three ravens disguised amongst the dark foliage. “If I am not mistaken, these individuals belong to Rasp’s flock. Would be quite useful for running messages between you and others on the outside, I imagine.”
Novera stomped her hoof against the ground. “I don’t know where Faris is and that’s the truth! My last message forbade him from coming home.”
“At the expense of you and your village?”
“It is a price we are willing to pay.” Novera lifted her chin and locked eyes with Oralia. The downcast faun from earlier was gone, replaced with the steely-eyed determination of someone who’d already accepted their fate. “Faris cannot be allowed to return. I know my son. He’d travel through the seven realms of chaos to get back here. Whatever happens to his father and me, I ask only that you keep him away.”
“I could,” Oralia agreed. “Or I could eliminate the problem at its source. Faris will have no reason to come home, risking capture, if his village is already saved.” As noble as Novera’s intentions were, she was right about one thing: Faris would fight. And he would keep fighting, tirelessly, until his parents were dead and he turned around and blamed Oralia for standing by and doing nothing. And he would be right for doing so. Perhaps if he learned someone else was already stepping in, he’d do the smart thing and stay hidden.
“How?” Novera challenged. “Do you have an army Briony isn’t unaware of? According to her, your crew is looking awfully skeletal these days.”
“I do not have an army yet,” Oralia admitted. “But I do have a number of favors to call in. How long do we have?”
“A handful of weeks at most.” Novera allowed a moment of silence to pass between them, still searching Oralia’s face for unspoken truths. She must have found her answer because the creases around her eyes softened. “I believe you when you say you want to help the people. But I’m not convinced your motivations are entirely selfless.”
There was no sense in denying it. And yet, the willingness to admit it felt equally wrong. Oralia opted to say nothing at all, allowing Novera to come to her own conclusion.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“You must be in dire need of my help to risk everything for a village that amounts to little more than a speck on a map.”
“I am,” Oralia said. “Although, I still do not know what it is you do.” Briony had not been very forthcoming with those details.
Wordlessly, Novera raised her right hand into the air and a spark of silver magic rippled across her fingers.
That. Explained. A. Lot.
Of course Faris’s mother was a witch! His sisters had to have inherited it from someone. Forget tunnels, how they’d managed to miss this was well beyond her. For the life of her, Oralia could do little more than gawk like a fish gasping for air. She found her words several stunned seconds later. “You are a healer?”
“The term healer is a bit of a misnomer. As with most things, it is a spectrum of power. There are those that can make a person’s condition better, and those that can only make it worse. I’m afraid my abilities fall somewhere in-between. I cannot heal, I cannot hex, but I can detect afflictions and abnormalities. My real gift is in the research that comes afterwards. Unlike most healers, I rely on knowledge and medicine to help people, not magic.”
Novera started to move forward. “May I see the affected area?”
Oralia stepped swiftly away. “I cannot allow you to do that. The last time I came in contact with a witch it ended…”
The crisp autumn air faded away as the stench of smoke and charred flesh filled Oralia’s nostrils. She knew it was a hallucination, a cursed byproduct of her own tortured mind, but she felt the singe of ash against her skin all the same. The heat clawed its way inside her mouth, lighting her throat on fire as it seeped into her blistered lungs. Blinking the invisible sting from her eyes, Oralia took a steadying breath. “It ended horrifically.”
Novera’s voice worked as an elixir, soothing the blistering ache tearing at the fabric of Oralia’s mine. “I have examined many curses before,” the faun assured her, coaxing Oralia’s eyes back open. “I know how to take precautions.”
Oralia hesitated. This is what she wanted, wasn’t it? Someone who could provide definitive answers? Suddenly she wasn’t so sure. Either her condition was treatable, and there was a chance she would survive the dark magic coursing through her veins, or it wasn’t. At least not knowing left her options open. A definitive answer meant she couldn’t cling to the safety net of denial any longer.
Fighting the constant tremble in her fingers, Oralia unfastened the top row of buttons and drew back the cloth of her tunic, exposing the dark branching veins that snaked along her collar bones.
Novera placed her hand against Oralia’s sternum. A warm pulse of magic rippled from the faun’s palm and spread across Oralia’s clammy flesh. She felt the darkness respond. Unlike Novera’s magic it didn’t push, it pulled instead, attempting to draw more of the foreign magic into itself. Novera’s eyes flared an eerie, silver blue. Her hand lingered only a moment longer, before she pulled away.
“I am afraid to ask,” Oralia admitted.
The light in Novera’s eyes faded to normal again. “It will prove fatal if left untreated. Although you do not possess the magic necessary to increase the dark entity’s strength, it is slowly sapping yours.”
“Untreated.” Oralia rolled the word around in her mouth as she considered the gravity of Novera’s diagnosis. “That would imply it can be reversed?”
“The easiest way would be to allow the spirit to switch hosts. Given what I’ve heard about your encounter with a fire elemental, I should not have to explain why that would be a very poor idea.”
The smell of smoke teased at the corner of Oralia’s mind as her thoughts returned to the nightmare that awaited her each time she drifted to sleep. She saw the terror in Grettie’s wild eyes as the dark entity consumed her from the inside out. ‘Unfitting’ had been the spirit’s words. It wished for a host more powerful. For the fate of the world, it was imperative to prevent that from happening.
Novera wrung the last of the magic from her fingers as she spoke. “How to extract it without the use of another vessel will be more difficult. Especially given your unique situation. I will need time to research the answer. Time I may not have unless the realm’s stranglehold on the village is removed.”
There it was–the unspoken deal Oralia had known to expect. There was no sense in dancing around the topic anymore than necessary. They both knew the severity stakes now. “I require a healer with your talents. You need a warrior to liberate your village. Assisting one another is the only way either of us makes it out of this damned conflict alive. Will you accept my help?”
“I will, gratefully.” Novera’s tone was unconvinced, as though she was holding back many unspoken doubts. “In order to uphold my end, I will need to know more about the affliction. Any particular changes or symptoms I should be aware of?”
Oralia rattled off the list of usual suspects: weakness, nausea, muscle spasms, and body aches. It wasn’t until she reached the end of her very extensive list that she realized Novera was fighting to constrain an amused smile.
Oralia furrowed her brow. “Did I say something humorous?”
“I thought perhaps you were feigning ignorance before, but you really don’t know, do you?” Novera shook her head. “My dear, yes, you are infected. Beyond a shadow of a doubt. But did you ever stop to consider that perhaps there was an additional explanation at play? The dark entity is not the only lifeform sapping your strength.”
Oralia’s gaze followed Novera’s pointed stare all the way down to her midsection. “No.”
“Afraid so.”
“That is not possible. I have always been careful.” Admittedly, after surviving the magical showdown with an ancient, awakened spirit back on the Iron Ridge, she may have been less than careful a few times. But only a few. And it shouldn’t have mattered anyway! Oralia thought her age had put the matter to rest a century ago.
Novera’s timid smile was now a full blown smirk, accentuating the worry lines around her tired eyes and mouth. “It’s early. A few months at most. Orcs normally carry for ten, so you have at least eight more to come to terms with reality.”
This was not reality. Not the one Oralia lived in, anyway. Sure, in the middle of the night, when her sleepless thoughts were left to wander unchecked, the occasion ‘what if’ scenario had crossed her mind. But that’s all it had even been. Magical thinking. Oralia hated how, slowly but surely, the fantastical was bleeding over into actuality.
Competing emotions tore at Oralia’s racing thoughts. Alas, her body wasn’t faring any better. It felt like she was drowning outside of water. There was air all around her and yet her damn lungs couldn’t fill. “Is it…salvageable?”
“It?”
“If I call it by any other name, then my situation ceases to be a hypothetical.”
“Faris was right. You are more melodramatic than you let on.” Novera reached out and gave Oralia’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Rest assured, I sense it takes after you already.”
Oralia didn’t know what that was supposed to mean.
Fortunately, Novera spared her the awkwardness of having to guess. “The child is strong and, I daresay, stubbornly resilient.”
Oralia sucked in a mouthful of cool night air as the weight of the situation came crashing down upon her. Amidst the chaos, a single thought wormed its way through. Oh dear gods. Sascha’s going to have two of me to deal with.