Chapter Text
The screams of the dying echoed through the fortress at the Breach. Commander Gren flinched every time a new voice rang out, as he hurried along in General Amaya’s wake. The General strode through the empty corridors, one hand on the hilt of her blade, as if the fortress was under attack.
They were under attack, in a sense; days ago, the first soldiers had dropped for seemingly no reason while out on patrol. They clutched themselves and howled with pain, though they had no injuries that anyone could see. Slowly the infirmary filled up, and cots were dragged out of rooms to accommodate the sick. Then the field healers had fallen as well, and now Amaya and Gren were two of the rapidly dwindling number of healthy bodies struggling to keep the fortress functioning.
When it came to corporeal foes, General Amaya was in a league of her own; none could stand against her. Against this type of threat? Gren suspected that, on the inside, she was as scared as he was.
They paused at the wall, where cascades of molten rock heated the air to a hazy shimmer, making it difficult to breathe and even harder to see. At least the screams were muffled by the lava falls.
General , Gren signed. Amaya didn’t seem to notice - there were dark circles under her eyes as she stared out through the haze towards the Xadian side of the breach. According to the messengers, the fortress there was faring no better.
Amaya? he tried again, reaching out and gently touching her arm when she didn’t respond. She started, then shook her head and signed;
Sorry, I was thinking.
You need to get some rest, Gren told her. Amaya flapped her hand at him as if to dismiss the idea. I mean it , he insisted. You’ve been awake for nearly two days straight.
Someone needs to stand guard. The soldiers can’t defend themselves like this. Amaya suppressed a yawn. I can sleep when I’m dead.
I hope help arrives from Katolis soon. Gren chewed the inside of his cheek. I don’t know how much longer we can go on like this.
Amaya’s expression softened. Go get some rest, Commander. That’s an order.
King Harrow’s brow furrowed as he drummed his fingers on his knee. The atmosphere in the council chamber was thick and heavy, just like the snow that carpeted the courtyard outside. The only sound was the crackling of the fire in the grate.
The King and his most trusted advisors were seated around a large circular table. No one had spoken in some time, given the look of concentration on the King’s face. In the end, Opeli cleared her throat politely.
“Your Highness, if you need more time to consider, we can adjourn for now,” she said. “But we can’t hesitate much longer. The situation at the border is getting desperate.”
“No, I know.” Harrow sighed and looked up, his restless fingers falling still. “We’ll withdraw the troops from the border. Only the afflicted,” he added as a ripple went through the room. “And enough healthy soldiers to accompany them back.”
“This will leave the Xadian border practically undefended!” Saleer leaned forward in his seat, gripping the arms tightly.
“I understand, but the soldiers can’t defend it effectively as it is, with so many of them weakened. At least if we bring them back to Katolis we can study this sickness and perhaps develop a cure.”
“We don’t even know what it is! We could infect hundreds, maybe thousands more people by bringing them here!” Opeli fixed Saleer with a steely glare, and he fell quiet.
“Your Highness, with your permission, I can have the royal apothecary quarantine a wing of the castle. That way we can keep the disease contained while we treat the sick.” She spoke evenly, but two spots of colour in her cheeks betrayed her anger. There was no question of leaving the soldiers out there to suffer. Harrow nodded gravely.
“I trust your judgement, Opeli. Do whatever you have to do, if it will help keep everyone safe.” He rose to his feet, followed quickly by the council. “Have a contingent of soldiers set out at first light to help bolster the border garrison.” The room filled with murmurs of assent, then, realising they had been dismissed, the council began to file out of the chamber, eager to leave the oppressive atmosphere behind. Opeli and the King watched them go, both steeling themselves for the exhausting task they had ahead of them.
“How likely do you think it is that the apothecary will come up with a cure?” said Harrow. “Be honest.”
“Truthfully?” Opeli chewed her lip. “I don’t know. The messengers said it was like they were burning up from the inside. There’s no pattern to who falls ill. None of the field healers could do anything to stop it. But we have to try, don’t we?” Harrow nodded.
“Of course. Take whatever resources you need. If we can save even one soldier…” he fell quiet again, thinking of his sister-in-law. Amaya’s name had not been on the list of the sick, but if anyone could fall victim to the sickness…
Opeli reached for the door, and then leapt aside with a cry of alarm as it burst inwards.
“Viren!” she said accusingly, as the High Mage strode across the room, a stack of books in his arms. He dumped them onto the table with a resounding thud and dusted off his hands. “Where were you? You missed the council.”
“I was researching,” said Viren shortly. “Xadian diseases, toxins, poisonous plants and creatures, the effects of ambient magic-” he shuffled the books across the table, opening them to the relevant passages. Opeli folded her arms, unimpressed.
“You should have been here.” Viren didn’t bother responding; instead, he turned to Harrow.
“King Harrow, if I may, I’d like to show you something.”
Not to be ignored, Opeli took a furious step toward him. “You think you can just waltz in here, hours late, and-”
“It’s alright, Opeli,” said Harrow evenly. He held out a placating hand. “I’m sure Viren had a very good reason to miss the council.” Besides, the two of them would have ended up bickering, he thought to himself.
“I did. If I’m correct, the disease is magical in nature. If I can figure out the origin of this phenomenon, it will be a relatively simple task to counteract it.” Opeli drew back sharply.
“You want to use dark magic on our people?” This time, the disgust in her voice made Viren look up.
“To save their lives ,” he said, frustration creeping into his tone. “If you want to waste time covering them with leeches or distilling herbs-”
“-And what’s wrong with herbs?”
“Oh, nothing.” Viren scoffed. “If you want to make them a nice soup.”
“And you wonder why she doesn’t like you,” Harrow muttered as Opeli stormed from the room. Viren made a dismissive noise and turned back to his books.
“In Xadia, magic suffuses the land, much like the way every living creature contains its own life force.” He tapped a passage as if to punctuate his point. “In rare cases this can have a… negative effect on people who spend long periods of time nearby, particularly if they are not accustomed to it.”
“So this may not be a disease after all?”
“Perhaps, perhaps not. I need more information to be sure.” Viren drew away from the table and rubbed his chin thoughtfully with the pad of his thumb. Harrow sighed.
“Oh, no.”
“What?”
“You’re scheming again.” Viren even had the audacity to look affronted.
“I’m not scheming- ”
“You are. That’s your scheming face. What are you planning?”
“I was thinking ,” Viren said, with as much dignity as he could muster, “that I know of somewhere that might have the information I need.” Ah, there it was. Harrow could pinpoint where exactly in any given conversation Viren was about to suggest something terrible. He’d had a lot of practice.
“We’re not going back to Xadia.” he told his High Mage flatly.
“Of course not. That would be ridiculous.”
“Good, I’m glad we agree.” Harrow turned on his heel, and Viren leapt to intercept him before he could reach the door.
“There’s a tower somewhere on the borders of Duren and Neolandia said to hold forgotten tomes of magic.”
“Dark magic,” Harrow interrupted, but Viren barely paused.
“For a short time following their exile, the human kingdoms co-operated to preserve what precious little magical knowledge had escaped from Xadia with them,” he continued smoothly. “They built repositories - great libraries - to make sure that knowledge would survive.”
“Even if this place is still standing, I don’t think Duren and Neolandia would be happy to let us take their magic books.”
“That’s why I was about to suggest that we…” Viren searched for the right words. “...discretely borrow them.” Harrow raised an eyebrow.
“You’re suggesting we steal from neighbouring kingdoms.” Viren opened his mouth to respond. “- No , Viren. We’re not thieves, and we’re not going to sneak around behind our allies’ backs.”
“I wouldn’t suggest it if I wasn’t sure it would help us!” the High Mage insisted, looking a little desperate now. “Wouldn’t it be worth it, if it can save lives?”
“I remember you saying something very similar a few years ago. Do you remember?”
“How could I forget? The Long Winter was hard for-” he checked himself. “-for many people.” Harrow’s expression darkened.
“And what do you think Sarai would say if she were here?”
“I…” for once, Viren didn’t have an answer. They both knew exactly what The Queen would have thought of the idea. Harrow gave a hollow, joyless laugh.
“Right.” He made for the door. This time, Viren didn’t stop him. The King paused in the doorway, daylight and crisp winter air spilling into the gloomy chamber.
“I’ll think about it,” he said quietly, before letting the door swing shut behind him.
In the cosy, firelit rooms of the Banther Lodge, two young princes were missing their father. Callum was sitting on the plush window seat, staring out at the darkening sky as fresh snow began to pile up outside. Tomorrow they would spend hours jumping in and out of snow drifts, just like they had earlier that day. Reflected in the window, Ezran was play-wrestling with Bait on the floor. Callum was only half-watching, when a dark, fluttering shape shot over the treeline and crash-landed by the front door.
“It’s a messenger crow!” Callum shot to his feet and hurried downstairs as fast as his ten-year-old legs could carry him. On the doorstep was a bedraggled, grumpy-looking crow with a scroll tied to its foot. He huddled the exhausted creature to his chest, shut the door again (with some difficulty, as he had to do it one-handed) and climbed the stairs back to the room he shared with his little brother.
The crow wasted no time in snuggling inside Ezran’s jacket. It stayed there, an oddly-shaped bulge, while Callum took the letter that had come attached to its foot.
He had briefly hoped it would be from Claudia - she had promised to write to him, after all - but when he saw the King’s seal he mentally kicked himself. Of course it was from their father - he wouldn’t have up and left in the middle of the night without sending word.
“What does it say?” Ezran sat expectantly on the carpet with Bait in his lap. He was learning to read, but Callum still read aloud to him when he had to. Besides, they both enjoyed it. Callum broke the seal, unfurled the paper, and cleared his throat.
“Dear Callum and Ezran,” he began, in his best reading voice. Ezran’s eyes lit up.
“ Boys, I’m sorry for leaving so suddenly last night. Something urgent came up and I had to return to Katolis for a while. I’ll be back as soon as I can, but in the meantime, be good and take care of one another. Enjoy the snow while you can! When I get back, we will build the biggest snowman you’ve ever seen! Love you lots, Dad.”
Callum let his head fall back against the window as he thought about this. “Huh. I wonder what’s going on that’s so important.” Ezran shrugged and gave a yawn.
“Something really boring, I bet,” he said. Callum turned back to the letter.
“Wait, there’s more; P.S. I hid a special treat for you somewhere in the lodge! See if you can find it!”
“Dad’f not goo’at pficking hidingf pflaces, if he?” Ezran mumbled through a mouth of sticky jelly tart crumbs. Callum’s eyes widened as he stared at his brother over the top of the letter. A big wicker basket sat on the floor, still half underneath the sofa that sat up against one wall. The letter fluttered to the ground as Callum threw himself down beside Ezran.
“Hey, save some for me!”