1x1 - Fruity and Astra

[astrasinthewild]

Reunited with his sister and his family, Theo clung to Myse as the younger girl cried quietly into his chest, relief at having her brother back. Before he left with them, he answered Gard’s question “I just know that they were dark, like they had all the brightness taken from them.” that was all he remembered of the figures. That if they wore armor, it wasn’t shined. And that what they did wear was dark in color.

Tsena gave Gard a curt nod as the guards rejoined them, taking a moment to check Gard’s horse to make sure it was fit for travel. Keeping herself busy was how she kept her mind from wandering into darker thoughts. Valdeyr looked up from his ministrations at the comment on Elym’s condition “Head wounds are notoriously fickle.” he allowed, his voice unhappy. He placed the back of his hand on Elym’s head, keeping track of the rising fever, and grimaced at the heat. Elym flinched under the touch, his brow crumpling in pain and a small whimper escaped his lips, trying to twist away “Still, Elym, stay still.” it was useless, he knew, to tell the unconscious man to stay still. All the same, Elym settled at the words, panting slightly as sweat mixed with tears “No magick.” Tsena had rejoined them from checking Gard’s horse and her words were sharp, expression cloudy. She glowered at Valdeyr who scowled back before she went to check on Cyphren “I’ll accept your aid but Tsena is right.” Valdeyr motioned for Gard to join him in the cart, lifting a piece of the blankets to reveal the discoloration along Elym’s collar bone “He’s already been exposed to too much magick. It will only worsen his condition to expose him to more.” Magick sickness. It was a curse to half-borns who shared a magickind parent and a human parent, manifesting in different ways in those who carried it. For some, it was mild, a few irritations or sneezing when exposed to magick. For others, it was a death sentence, forcing them to live as far from magickind as they could. Elym suffered the middle ground. His mixed blood reacted to magick like it was an allergy, causing weakness, rash in the form of discolored skin, tremors and, in very dangerous cases, shock. Valdeyr suspected that the shock Elym was in now was due more to the foreign magick he had been exposed to than the actual injuries he’d suffered. But he had no way to know until “His system needs to clear the magick out before we can do anymore. But to do that, we have to break his fever.” right now, Elym’s system was fighting two fronts. The shock that had been induced by the magick exposure and his injuries. Treating the latter would help treat the former “Are you familiar with medicinal herbs?” Valdeyr lifted the bag he’d brought with him, the soft clink of glass and clay jars rattling inside “He needs a tonic but I can’t watch him and make it at the same time.” Valdeyr was giving Gard two options: watch Elym so that he didn’t slip into a worse state or mix the herbs.

Approaching Cyphren, Tsena held up a roll of bandages and a salve “You should get that leather recut.” she said, nodding at the dark spots on his body where the leather had rubbed him raw “No one will praise you for withstanding pain.” she still wore her leathers and armor, having left her broad sword in the cart with Elym “Can you manage yourself?” Tsena would help him tend his wounds, if he needed, but she knew how stubborn men could be when it came to showing pain. The salve was both an antibacterial and a numbing cream, to help clean the wound and keep the pain from being overwhelming “We have time to treat you.” she didn’t intend to leave without the other two guards. Already Isleven had been emptied of most of the families with young children.

…

To say the horses were displeased with Loren and Talon’s choice of action was an understatement. While they obeyed, due to good training, their ears were flat to their skulls and their eyes rolled in anxiety. They didn’t want to be in this village that smelled of death and fire. The closer to the village center they went, the worse it seemed to be. Finally, the horses simply stopped, stamping their feet, refusing to be spurred further. Whoever was crying continued to do so but it was weaker and interspersed with coughing, suggesting they were close to the center of the village where the smoke continued to rise.

BlackFruity

 

[astrasinthewild]

Shaking his head at what appeared to be an apology, Valdeyr appreciated the straight answer “Better a steady hand than a poor tonic.” he replied, his voice gruff despite the almost kind response “If you’ve a good hand at stitching, you can do Elym’s ankle. The wound is beyond my skill so it’s just bandaged tight to keep from getting worse.” he began digging through his bag, pulling out glass jars with wood tops and clay pots stoppered with beeswax. If Gard could sew up Elym’s ankle, that was one step closer to getting the young man back up. And they would need to get him conscious as soon as they could. Putting the pots and jars down, Valdeyr started checking them for the ingredients he’d need.

The wound on Elym’s ankle, if Gard chose to aid, was dressed in bandages with two pieces of ironwood on either side to keep it from moving. The wound itself looked like something had tried to twist his leg off but only succeeded in cutting his skin in multiple spirals. The skin, like that around his neck and shoulders, was discolored from the magick exposure and was a light pale cream that stood out against the darker skin from the knee up. It was uneven in size, like he’d stepped in paint, and freckled up along his inner thigh. The bandages were still doing their work, soaking up the blood that continued to leak out but a salve that had been administered earlier had slowed the bleeding so that Elym wouldn’t bleed out. It would need to be reapplied after stitching.

Tsena listened to Cyphren, nodded as if agreeing then “Of course.” she turned her hands slowly, her gaze unreadable, and dropped the bandages and salve into the dirt “I’m sure, unlike a village of 600, you’ve ample supplies to be wasting on small wounds. And no doubt all the time and energy to waste waiting for those wounds to get worse before treating them.” she turned, her heel kicking dirt over the supplies as she walked away. Her tone was loose, indicating she was not offended despite her actions. Tsena was of the opinion that it was a waste of time to care about those who did not care themselves “Silly me.” Valdeyr heard the tone, glancing as Tsena walked by and very decidedly thought Not my problem. Tsena stepped up into the drivers seat, taking the reins “I trust your people will join us on the road to Thistlefoot.” was the only warning before Fainne and the cart horse beside him began moving, a steady but slow trot. Slightly off balance as he held multiple jars and a grinding pot between his knees, Valdeyr rolled his eyes at Tsena’s behavior. Honestly. He loved the woman, but her temper was far too fiery for her fair-haired appearance. While Cyphren’s comments on the tonic were accurate, Valdeyr couldn’t help but correct him “Loreflower is only good for fevers brought on by non-magick illnesses, young man.” his tone was that of scholarly excitement at being able to share “Magick sickness fevers are a different matter.” not caring whether anyone was listening, he continued to babble as he worked “Ficklewood and paintbrush blossoms are the better options for treating magick sickness fevers because they…and when combined with sap from elderwood trees…but the viscosity has to be tempered by…” Tsena rolled her eyes in the driving seat, listening to him ramble as he measured out the herbs. The cart was moving slowly, gently bobbing across the well worn and maintained streets of Isleven. When they left the village, it would be rougher roads.

…

The crying was weaker but as the guards came towards the center of Lunerial, they’d see a small girl cradling her mother. It was obvious from the large pool of blood and the javelin in her stomach that the mother was dead. The girl was pale, her dark hair matted, and she didn’t seem to be aware of the guards, crying into her mother’s hair. Ahead of them, the oily smoke was thicker and climbing into the sky from a stack of bodies. It appeared that the attackers had not bothered to do much more than take the dead and fling them into a pile before lighting them with whatever cursed fire they carried. Most of the dead were blackened bodies but it was impossible to tell who was who or where one body ended and another began. The fire had melted skin, muscle, bone, and now only a few features of the humans and magickind that had lived remained.

BlackFruity

 

[astrasinthewild]

Valdeyr focused on mixing the tonic as the guards exchanged words, leaning back into the side of the cart. It wasn’t crowded but it certainly wasn’t going to be comfortable until Elym was able to ride. There were stocks for food, carefully preserved and stored in wooden boxes. Leather sacks that had been waterproofed to hold water for journeys. And a collection of smaller bags with clothing and personal items. Carefully stored with the smaller bags was a pair of short swords, each measuring half the length of Tsena’s broadsword. There was nothing particularly special about them, their leather-bound grips worn and repaired. The only thing that made them out of the ordinary was the small marking on the scabbard. An etching of a tiny dragon.

It felt a little wrong to leave an injured, even one with only minor injuries, behind but Valdeyr suspected saying so would insult everyone involved in the exchange. He did think, however, that Tsena could have been a little kinder. Not that what he thought had ever mattered when it came to her decision-making processes. He balanced the mixing bowl carefully as he leaned in to check on Elym’s status. The roads of Isleven weren’t bad but it was a far cry from the smooth roads of a city like Thistlefoot. The jostling elicited a soft groan from Elym, his eyelids fluttering between closed and open, eyes racing beneath them. The blankets appeared to be working as he was drenched in sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead even as Valdeyr gently patted the sweat away. The action caused Elym to clench his fists and twist away from Valdeyr, pulling the blankets as he did “Elym…” his voice was equal parts worry and exasperation. Similar to the speckling of discolored skin on Elym’s shoulders and neck, discolored skin peaked out from under the blanket under his collarbone. The sight caught Valdeyr’s eye and he bit his lower lip. A reminder that magick sickness could leave permanent scars if it was left untreated.

“Almost done with the tonic.” Valdeyr directed his words at Gard as he checked the liquid. It was clear but had a pearlescent shine to it, not milky but nearly, and nodded to himself “I’ll need your aid to get him to drink it. He’s a finicky patient at the best of times.” careful not to splash Elym with the tonic, Valdeyr began to transfer the liquid to a small cup with an angled rim. The last time Elym had been ill, when he was younger than now, he’d refused the other man’s care by giving Valdeyr a black eye and hiding up a tree in Hovenia forest until his mother’s scolding brought him down. That had been when the Tsena and Elym were new to Isleven. Above the cart, a raven circled before landing on a rooftop to watch it move through the village.

…

Looking up from her mother, the little girl’s tear-stained face met Talon’s. Her ears were delicately pointed, indicating she was either full or half elven. She was maybe ten years old “Where is papa?” she asked, her voice breaking as she spoke. Her skin was pale, much too pale, and her fingers trembled as she clutched her mother’s shawl. The javelin had gone through the mother, pinning her to the ground, as she defended her daughter.

BlackFruity

 

[astrasinthewild]

If Gard had not kept hold of Elym’s leg, it would have jerked out of his grip. Elym trembled as the man treated his wound, his body tense and stiff, pain twisting his face and causing tears to seep out from under his closed lids with every stitch. When Gard had finished, a whimper of pain escaped Elym’s lips as his body, still trembling, slumped. Valdeyr had taken a few glances at Gard’s work, nodding in approval, and now devoted his entire attention to the man’s question “I think it would be best if it was a little of both.” his tone was grim but he scooted so that he was sitting near Elym’s hip, facing him, before instructing Gard “If you please, lift his upper body and secure his arms and head as best you can. My suggestion is that you bring your arms under his and the wrap your hands around the side and back of his head.” It would be an awkward position but “We need his head to remain stationary but if his arms are free, there is a good chance he’ll fight back when we try to give him the tonic.” it was a reflex, Valdeyr had learned, that Elym had little control over when he was unconscious. A defense against enemies, like a dog that snaps at the hand that wakes it suddenly. He didn’t know what had created such a defense in the young man and neither Tsena nor Elym had ever offered an explanation. Only apologies when it happened. Valdeyr had finished pouring the tonic into the cup and was ready when Gard felt comfortable. Behind him, a cat jumped up onto the end of the cart to watch them, eyes narrowed, and pupils dilated.

Tsena listened to the conversation and fought the instinct to turn around when Elym whimpered or groaned. She had to trust that the two men would care for her son. And she had her own worries now. As they drew closer to leaving the village proper, more animals and birds had begun to appear. Crows joined ravens on rooftops. Sparrows and starlings sat on fence posts. Rats had begun to pour out of stables and storehouses as they passed and followed in the shadows. A few cats who had not been able to go with their owners were stalking the cart. Once they left the village, Tsena knew that there would be greater issues than just pests following their cart. A decision would need to be made at that point. Her son’s recovery or their lives.

…

Her lower lip trembled as the little girl stared at the large man. His voice was kind. She had sat with her parents while the dragon thunder passed overhead, watching their jeweled bellies and trying to remember their names. Unlike Isleven, Lunerial didn’t hide from the thunders unless the watchtower sent warning. So the village was caught unawares when the attack came. It was a strange smell first, that some of the villagers joked about. But soon it was everywhere, causing people to cough and struggle to breath, fleeing to get inside, to get anywhere that the smell wasn’t. She had clung to her papa as they ran, trying to get out of the village. But it had been no use. She remembered her mother’s scream as strangers dressed in dark armor rushed through the village, trapping them, herding them with swords and fire back to the center of the village. They had dragged those who refused and killed those who fought back. Her papa had held her close, trying to hide her from view as her mama clung to them both. Then she was ripped away from them both, her papa’s voice begging and her mama’s screams and reaching hands. And fire. There had been fire.

Her papa’s name? He was just papa. She didn’t know him as anything else. The extended hand wasn’t immediately taken, still holding tightly to her mother’s bloodied shawl “Papa…” she said again, dark eyes filling with more tears. She had felt the fire and then her mama had grabbed her, trying to run. The strangers had laughed. At his second question, the tears fell and she simply pointed at the pile of burned and twisted corpses, pulling her mother’s shawl to her chest. Her leg, revealed as she clutched at the shawl, was burned badly. Not just burned, but withered to the bone and what remained of the skin twisted. There was no obvious wound but it was clear that she would never walk on that leg again. The skin was twisted similarly to Elym’s, though not shredded. A low wail began as she sobbed, leaning her head into Talon’s hand, her tears falling onto her mother’s face.

BlackFruity

 

[astrasinthewild]

Valdeyr appreciated the humor, knowing that it would be difficult to laugh in a few minutes. He took a deep breath, preparing himself, and then released it as he leaned in. Elym hadn’t stirred much as Gard had maneuvered him, though his head did twist a bit as his body realized he was being restricted. Valdeyr reached out to grip his chin and Elym’s body went rigid “Hold steady, my friend.” Valdeyr said to Gard before quickly pressing the rim of the cup to Elym’s lips and covered his nose with a hand to ensure he swallowed. The reaction was immediate. Elym’s back arched violently, trying to tear out of the grip that Gard had on him, his good leg coming back and slamming a knee into Valdeyr’s shoulder blade. The doctor winced, knowing he’d have a bruise in the morning, and kept pressing the cup to Elym’s lips. Elym’s arms tensed sharply and fought against the hold, lashing and grabbing at whatever he could. His head tried to twist away and a miserable keening sound, garbled as he swallowed, escaped his lips.

The cat on the back of the cart puffed up and hissed, startling Valdeyr “s**t!” the doctor cursed as the cat lunged, twisting to avoid it and falling into the side of the cart. Turning as it landed, the cat was spitting and hissing as it prepared to lunge at Gard only to be caught by the scruff. Holding it tightly, Tsena quickly dropped the furious feline off the side of the cart and into the grass as they passed the village’s border “Hurry up, Valdeyr.” she scolded and the doctor flushed, quickly going back to the struggling Elym to finish giving him the tonic. The birds that had gathered were in uproar, crying and screaming as they circled the cart, the angry cast to their wings sending shadows across it. Fainne and the cart horse bucked angrily, snapping at the reins but Tsena kept them under control, barely. The rodents flooded from the shadows, attempting to climb the wheels but were deterred by their motion. The cats were not so deterred. They hissed and advanced, running to keep up with the cart s**t s**t s**t Valdeyr felt his mind repeating the word over and over until he pulled the cup from Elym’s mouth “Done.” he said but didn’t move away fast enough. As he pulled back and turned to put the cup away, Elym’s knee came up again and caught him in the chin, cutting his lip “Ow! Blast it, Elym!” he coughed, holding a hand to his bleeding lip “Every time. You can let him go now,” the last was directed at Gard, the doctor’s gaze on the animals that now hounded the cart.

But Valdeyr need not have worried. As Cyphren and Midnight approached, the animals scattered, going to the grass and shadowed trees to continue stalking the cart. Releasing a tight breath, Valdeyr raised a grateful hand to the approaching cart. The birds had veered off as well, now circling higher above them. Elym sagged in Gard’s chokehold, the blankets thrown off and some of the supplies scattered from his thrashing At least he won’t be adding to those. Valdeyr thought, his eyes lingering for a moment on the scars on Elym’s torso. The one closest to his collar bone was a light cream starburst, with smaller flecks and swirls of discolored skin dusting his chest and shoulder. Another, less visible one, was above his hip. The skin appeared to have puckered and then settled, giving it a weird rippling appearance. Once Gard released him, Valdeyr would cover Elym with blankets again to help the tonic reduce the boy’s fever. With luck, Elym would wake up soon.

…

Holding the shawl tightly to her chest, the little girl looked up at the guard, nodding. She twisted to reach one hand out and her body jerked. She looked confused, before the life left her eyes and her arm fell to her lap. Her tiny body sagged but didn’t fall, the shawl slipping from her fingers to the ground. The feathered end of an arrow stuck out over her shoulder, the shaft as black as the feathers, with no distinguishing marks. The arrow that had pierced her lungs and heart, entering through her back, had been fired from over three thousand meters. The archer lowered the long bow as his beast stamped a foot in irritation, wanting to be on its way. No survivors. That was the only rule. The two strangers would be left alone, as they were not witnesses to anything but the aftermath of the attack. Turning his beast, the archer spurred it into a canter down the eastern side of the valley, away from Lunerial, knowing he would be long gone before the two strangers could catch up.

BlackFruity

 

[astrasinthewild]

Holding a handkerchief to his split lip, Valdeyr chuckled at Gard’s comment “Perhaps. But it might not have done any good.” he dug in his bag and pulled out a salve, similar to the one Tsena had offered Cyphren, and dabbed some of it on his lip. Wincing at the sting, he continued “Elym is exceptionally strong for his size and age,” he leaned back against the side of the cart, sighing “I’m just grateful he didn’t break anything this time.” Valdeyr didn’t specify whether he meant supplies or bones. As the youngest guard joined them, Valdeyr let the two catch up and placed a hand on Elym’s forehead. It was too soon for an actual reduction in his temperature but he wanted to test his reactivity. If it was severe, Valdeyr feared that he would be forced to wake the young man up before he was well enough. Other than an exhausted mutter, Elym didn’t react to Valdeyr’s touch. A good sign. Hearing Cyphren’s comment about the horse’s reaction, Valdeyr turned to speak to him “Every year it seems his magick grows stronger and reaches greater distances. I fear what that will mean for his system.” Magick sickness was fickle and strange, effecting everyone differently. For Elym, it meant his body was constantly fighting itself.

Adjusting the blanket on Elym, Valdeyr blinked at Cyphren’s questions before breaking into a broad smile and scooting closer to the back of the cart to converse “Yes it was. Paintbrush blossoms are found throughout this region, they grow close to the edge of Hovenia forest on the northern side, you see. Ficklewood, on the other hand, is less a plant and more a composite of substances that has been treated. It’s partially composed of the thistlefoot leaf, the plant for which Thistlefoot is named, and a roasted tuber called taklan that grows in areas that are heavy in magick. We normally harvest taklan when the dragons have migrated south for the season from the valleys around Isleven.” he chattered, hands animated as he dug in his bags for samples, bringing them out to show Cyphren “I ground the two up and mix them with a sap from the elderwood trees which is this,” he held up a small jar of golden sap, the color shining in the sun and glittering like it was full of tiny lights, “and honey milk.” Valdeyr tapped a leather water bladder, indicating the container actually held what he said “There are some other herbs that are mixed in, of course, but those are found in any fever relieving draught one could make. It’s the taklan that is the most important for aiding in magick sickness side effects.” he turned, pulling a wooden crate to his side, and reached in. What he brought out looked like the b*****d child of a potato and a raspberry. Bright red in color and peppered with little roots, it didn’t look very impressive “Dragons are naturally strong in magick. Anywhere they stay for long periods tends to soak up the excess magick they give off, including these ugly things.” Valdeyr laughed, knowing how weird taklan looked. The first time he’d been told that they could help with magick sickness, Valdeyr had been unwilling to even consider it “Even just eating some of the taklan for a few days can slow the progression of the disease, reducing the side effects, and allowing the patient time to get stronger.” he paused, trying to recall what else he’d been told about the strange tuber.

“The fibers in taklan act like a block,” Tsena’s voice carried though she didn’t look back “preventing the magick that is causing the sickness from being absorbed by the body.” Valdeyr smiled at her addition, nodding “Just so. I often have patients take them home and use them in porridges, stews, or have them make it into a thick drink.” he looked at the tuber in his hands, his expression sad for a few minutes “Of course, this is only a means of giving the patients some relief. It doesn’t actually stop the progression of magick sickness.” Placing it back in the crate, he tried not to look at Elym as he spoke to Cyphren “There are a few other native tonics and draughts that use herbs and plants found in this area. Any weed on the side of the road will have some benefit. Living near thunders fundamentally changes the structure of plants and animals in the areas. It’s a blessing and a curse in some cases.”

…

A gust of wind passing through Lunerial lifted the ashes from the smoldering pile of bodies. It pulled at the shawl in the little girl’s hands, tugging at her hair as it went. The fire was finally dying, the crackle of the flames going out and leaving the village in total silence. Nothing still lived in this place. Other than the two guards fleeing the village, it was an empty place. The first to fall in a coming war.

BlackFruity

 

[astrasinthewild]

Valdeyr smiled at Gard’s assessment of Elym’s strength “I once saw him put an injured foal over his shoulders and walk it from the pasture to the village for care. He was twelve years old,” he looked back at the slumbering Elym, the boy’s head turning to side and his lips moving in soft murmurs. He always talked in his sleep, Valdeyr knew, but especially so when he was ill. Not that any of what the boy said would make sense if he spoke loud enough. Valdeyr had once taken the time to listen to what Elym said in his fever dreams but the contents had made no sense. He’d spoken of fire and dragons and pain alongside musings of the sea and the rustle of leaves as if they were the same thing. When he woke, Elym never remembered what he’d said. This time would probably be no different. Valdeyr watched Cyphren take out an old book, noting the raggedness of its cover and pages. Gard’s comments on what it meant when the book came out brought a smile to Valdeyr’s face “I welcome questions! I am,” he paused “I was the only doctor in Isleven. It’s not often that I get to converse with others on medicinal herbs,” his smile was warm, welcoming.

Gard's question was not unexpected but Valdeyr hesitated to answer it immediately. The short answer was yes, because they lived so near thunders that visited frequently. The long answer, however, “Isleven has always attracted dragons. Even in small thunders, we see the effects of their magick in plants and animals that live near us. So magick is something that is almost impossible to avoid. And Lunerial is…was a magickind village,” he began, settling back against the cart’s edge. He set the medicinal herbs he’d been holding back in their crates as he continued “So in a small part, aspects of this medicine are used in daily life. The taklan is harvested not just for medicine but also for food, as I mentioned earlier, to be a preventative to magick sickness,” Valdeyr glanced at Tsena’s back as she guided the cart down the road before looking back at Gard “However, Isleven did not have any severe magick sickness victims until Elym. His situation,” here, Valdeyr paused and looked once more at Tsena. Tsena kept her silence, already knowing what Valdeyr would say “Elym’s situation required the creation and experimentation of medicines to make a successful treatment for magick sickness of various severities,” Valdeyr’s hands were clenched in his lap, “So we have many different treatments that are unique to this area.” It had taken years of testing to develop the fever reliever that Valdeyr had just used. There were more medicines that he had as well, from those that reduced the skin lesions, brought down painful swelling, and slowed rapid heart distress. Salves to lighten scarring, to calm seizing muscles, to close wounds in the mouth. Valdeyr reached to his own pack and carefully extracted a book similar to Cyphren’s. Only it was packed with notes, pieces of paper shoved in, extra pages added, dried herbs, and a hundred other additions that he'd added over the years. Several pieces of twine and leather kept it all sealed so all the loose pieces wouldn’t fly away or fall out, “In the ten years that Elym and Tsena have been in the village, I have added more than two hundred pages to this,” he hefted the tome with a hand, his smile one of misery and guilt “But the one thing that has always eluded me is a cure,” Valdeyr sighed, resting the tome in his lap, hands pressed tightly to the cover “Magick sickness persists. It can be mild. Or it can kill.”

BlackFruity