Drefan

I crumpled against the wall of the spiral staircase. Thank the Gods I was alone while I wheezed, a hand grasping at my tunic, right over my breast bone. The tightness in my chest was crippling as I sank onto the stone step. I couldn’t even manage the stairs without my lungs giving out on me? Was this from the dredge? From the opium? I had been gone for a little over a year and my time on the mat was the majority of those hours. I hung my head between my knees, coughing. I just needed time...

No one could see me like this. But if this was what would happen when I climbed a set of damned stairs… This body was starting to fail me, wasn’t it? But that was no one’s fault but my own. I wasn’t dying...was I? The door overhead opened and I surged to my feet. Hacking another cough I stuffed my hands back into my pockets. Taking on that uncaring demeanor that I was known for. No one was allowed to know how bad off I was. No one.

I acknowledged the servant that passed by with a quick bow of my head, the respectful greeting that was given regardless of rank. This also afforded me the chance to keep my face concealed so any pain that was written on my features would not be seen. Coming to a stop at the higher exit to the stairs, I took in a deep whistling breath before stepping into another long hallway. Black Guards blended into the dark stone walls in measured intervals on both sides.

Ignoring everything but why I was even in this hallway, I knocked on the door to my brother’s bed-chamber. There was the scratch of a wooden chair on the floor before the door was opened and green eyes peered out at me. Seeing me for who I was, Thom fully opened the door with a smile and invited me in. But as soon as that door closed I was backed up against it and arms encircled my middle. I puffed out a startled breath, stiffening at first, not expecting Thom to immediately embrace me.

“Thom,” I managed before I was coughing again.

“You sound awful,” Thom began and his green eyes widened, “Wait, you sound as bad as Nate sounds!”

His hands pressed against my chest to hold me where I was and he leans his ear against me. There was no way to hide the wheezing and the tightness in my chest. Thom looked up at me with dawning horror in his eyes while his freckled cheeks lost their color.

“We have to talk to a healer!”

“No,” I grasped one of my brother’s hands in mine, “I don’t need any of this to get back to Father. You know how much he hates weakness.”

“But-,” sorrow clouded those bright green eyes, “What if you die?!”

“It’s not that bad,” I lied as I needed time to figure out what I could do if it truly was that bad.

“How can you be so sure? You were away for months, smoking that stuff for so long. Who knows what it did to you! Dref, you can’t just brush me off like this. I saw you half-dead in the back of that cart. I won’t ever forget seeing that.”

I grabbed his other hand and held onto both of them. If I was going to say anything else it was not going to be so easily heard by the Black Guards in the hallway. Seeing that I was not going to reply so easily Thom released me. I made for the bed. Sweeping a look at my brother’s room, it hardly looked lived in. The desk was the only spot that looked used, with stacked books on Royalian laws and discourse on top of various pieces of paper. So Thom was spending that much more time at the cabin, was he sleeping there too?

I settled on the edge of the bed, waiting for my brother to sit beside me.

“Nath’s gotten worse, hasn’t he?” Pivoting myself, our knees just touched.

Thom gave me a look at the change in conversation, but his shoulders let go and he crumbled beside me, “Yes…”

Shit.

Thom shakes his head hard and he takes in a deep breath looking back at me, “I’m not stupid. I know you won't tell me why you left and that’s fine, but I am going to demand to know if you are so sick that it's fatal!”

I couldn’t look him in the eyes, I never could. I had promised when I first saw him in that cradle that I would protect him from whatever Robert threw at the both of us. I saw the evidence of my victories in that Thom could still smile like nothing in the world was wrong and how his eyes still lit up like rays of sunshine. I could not have failed him that badly then or so I told myself.

But I should never have gone into the deserts without him. I had promised to protect him and for the first time in my life, I had left him unprotected, for months. I had to hold myself back from asking if there was anything wrong with him. But Father would have made Thom forget any hurtful words or grasping hands. Thom was his heir. The only way to know if anything untoward had happened was to demand to see any marks or new scars on Thom and such an order would come across as insane and invasive. So I stewed and I concentrated on what had Thom worried about in this present moment. My health, and my well-being. Neither my Father nor I deserved him.

“I won’t see anyone in the Capital city,” I gave in then, to see a healer of some sort as a way to calm his dread. He was already worrying about Nathanael, he did not need to worry about me too.

Thom’s brows furrow and he tilts his head as he thinks, as was a habit of his.

“Lady Milistree? Nothing she finds out would leave her room.”

Not a bad suggestion.

“Alright. Tomorrow.”

“Together?”

I shrugged and ruffled the mop of dark red hair that adorned my brother's head, “Yes, together. Now, how much of the exams have you memorized?”

Thom groans at the reminder of his studying, “Not nearly enough. I understand why it takes years before people are comfortable taking the Merit Exams.”

The Merit Exams were a civil service examination system that selected individuals for the 6 Imperial Ministries. The exams served to ensure a common knowledge of writing, the laws, and the literary style among ministers. The ideal achievement by merit gave validity to the imperial system while the common culture helped to unify the empire. Although Thom was heir by birth, it was an expectation that he study for, and excel at the Merit Exams prior to his taking the throne. Robert had done the same before he became Emperor.

“Speaking of studying and education, I’m going to be coming back and forth again like I did when I was studying at the Necromancer Academy. Lord Daugovantril has accepted me as a student of his, which means I will be studying under him in the Necromantic Bastion.”

“Lord Daugovantril wants you as his apprentice? That’s terrific! You’re going to have lots to talk about when you come home on study breaks.”

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Thom’s excitement was always contagious and it helped that I had already been thrilled at the prospect of studying under an Ascended.

“I will have plenty to share. But for now, tell me about this last year…”

I settled in for Thom’s stories, passing the time by his side that evening.

-

The next morning I held onto Thom’s hand, keeping him close to me. Before leaving, Thom told me that Lady Milistree of the Shadow Ellearn was now the Royalian diplomat in the Camarian Empire. She was a good replacement for me, likely better at it than I had ever been. She was much older, doubtlessly more mature, and able to handle the disdain that Camarians felt for any that were not their own. The hatred of the Camarians was a subtle thing in the northern court. Not so among the common people who were likely to throw rotting vegetables at you while you watched for a knife in your gut. But in the castle, the courtiers had perfected silent disgust. They had pretty smiles behind fluttering fans, brittle things that didn’t mean anything at all.

The Camarian castle was overwhelmingly bright, with white stone walls, columns, and vaulted ceilings. At the far end was the main staircase to the second floor, and to the immediate left was the council room while to the immediate right was the ballroom. The nobles brought color into the entryway with their dresses and frock coats of various pastel colors.

Both Thom and I played our parts as foreign princes, we bowed our heads to those that showed us that level of respect. We apologized to any who wished to converse with us and kept going through the main entrance of the castle. Thom’s smiles were far more genuine than my own which were always tinged with a certain bitterness. We avoided the royal entourage, not there to speak to the King or Queen.

Down a western hall, I had to stop to double-check where the healing wing was. The answer was a grunt from a guard who gestured down the hall we were in and to the left. He would not show that level of disrespect to a servant, but here he was, showing it to the two of us. My free hand curled into a fist, but Thom tugged on me and I allowed myself to be led. But my dark blues promised hell to the belligerent guard before I looked where we were headed.

Did Thom just not notice? Or did he not care?

I guess I’d never know.

Bright sunshine greeted us as we turned into the healing wing. The Camarian castle had large mage-glass windows that allowed in vast quantities of sunlight. Patients lay in simple beds, in two rows, while clerics bustled about, patient to patient.

“Lady Milistree?”

“Prince Thom? What are you doing up here?”

“I’ve come with my brother, Milady,” Thom gestures to me.

Lady Milistree stood straight from where she had been leaning down to examine a patient.

“Prince Drefan,” a dark auburn brow rises over a teal eye, “You look ill.”

Gesturing with black lace-covered fingertips, she leads the way through the healing wing. While the clerics of the royal castle wore white and beige robes, Lady Milistree wore her black lace and crushed velvet black gown. She opened a door at the end of the hall and ushered us both inside.

She lights a candle and pulls the cover of the window up and out of the way so the sun can shine in. For that moment I could see the cadaver scar that is normally hidden by her black shawl before her arms lowered.

“Frankly your Highness, you look like death,” Lady Milistree lays her lace-gloved hands on my shoulders and would gently but with purpose, push me down to sit on a wooden table.

Thom cannot stand still nearby and Lady Milistree looks from him to me.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I slid into opium addiction.”

“The whole time you were gone you were smoking it?”

“Yes, and before that, I was mixing it with alcohol.”

A soft whistle and Lady Milistree would gesture that she was going to listen to my breathing. I pulled my tunic up and then I sat perfectly still, uncomfortable with her ear pressed to my chest.

“You have severely damaged your lungs, I can hear the wheezing each time you draw in a new breath.”

Fingers touched the skin around my eyes and mouth, a disapproving look crossing Milistree’s features.

“I wish to check your internal organs for damage. I will have to use the shadow to infiltrate your body and allow me to see within you.”

I eyed her warily, “How?”

Lady Milistree stood back and she raised a hand, a black-grey substance rolled over her digits.

“I will have it go through your belly button.”

Holding up my shirt again, Lady Milistree cupped her hand over my abdomen, and I could feel the shadow against my skin. It made me want to squirm but I forced myself to stay still, gritting my teeth as it found its way in. She would go on to ask me questions as I felt the shadow disperse inside me. I could see that her normally teal eyes were shadow-covered. Between the medical questions she asked and what she saw inside Lady Milistree came back to herself and crossed her arms over her chest.

“You have yellowing of your skin and eyes, your breath is sweet and with the shadow, I could make out many bulbous spots on your liver. You stated there was blood in your stool as well. It appears as though your liver is failing you Drefan. It is only a matter of time before it begins to affect your mental states, and between your liver and your lungs, you are going to begin suffering from disorientation, extreme fatigue…”

There were black spots before my eyes, why were there black spots everywhere?

“Drefan!” Thom is standing before me now, hands on my shoulders, trying to catch my attention. But I’m staring at the wall past his head. Where was that high-pitched wheezing coming from?

Wait. By the Divines, it was coming from me, from the lungs that were failing me.

This was what panic felt like.

Lady Milistree sets a hand on my right arm, “You cannot run from this, your highness. This is something that will follow you no matter where you go, now.”

Damn it, she said it with such resignation.

“I am going to die, aren’t I?”

That shortness of breath tightened my chest as coughs wracked my frame.

Lady Milistree nods, “I would give an educated guess of a few months to a year from now.”

Damn it, my life had always held such little value to me, and Robert. But if I wasn’t here for Thom who would take the blows for him and those licentious hands? What would that do to him? Leave him as just another bitter prince who wished he was dead? I could not leave him again, I would not leave him again. I pushed myself through the coughs, shakily grabbing onto Thom’s wrists. I could see the tear stains on his cheeks.

“I’m not done yet.”

“Then what will you do? How can you fight this?” my brother asks.

“Lord Daugovantril is willing to teach me, make me his apprentice. I will learn the ritual for separating a soul from its body.”

“You’ll become an Ascended?” There was disbelief in my brother’s voice and I didn’t blame him. It was a plan created in desperation, but gaining the powers of an Ascended Necromancer was what I had initially been after when I searched for Drakor’s soul. I had hoped that in finding our ancestor’s soul I could have somehow melded it into my body, gaining the powers that he had in ages past. But this time I would have the power entirely to myself. Which was a much more agreeable idea. It would save me from dying and it could perhaps give me the power I needed to take care of Robert.

I nodded, “I’ll make it happen. Don’t worry about me, you’ve got the exams to study for and Nathanael to worry about.”

“You can’t just make me not worry, you know.”

“I know, but I can damn well try!”

“Boys,” Milistree shakes her head, “If there is nothing else I have patients to attend to.”

I winced, “Right, sorry Lady Milistree.”

“And Drefan, are you going to be taking the place of the Royalian diplomat once you are...better?”

“Eventually I would like to.”

“When you do, I will not miss it. I have been more insulted in this last year than I have in the other five hundred years of my life. I will not miss this place,” Milistree opens the door back into the healing hall and leaves just the two of us.

“Is it that bad?” Thom asks, looking from the closing door to me.

“She’s not Royalian and she is Ellearn. They will only insult her overtly.”

“So they treat you worse?”

All I can do is shrug and I stand from the table, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“It's fine, don’t worry about it. What they say doesn’t bother me.”

The jagged letters scarred into the flesh of my left arm said otherwise.

Monster...