Sora went directly to Crash on shore. He stood over the body of the woman. His eyes turned to her as she approached, and he took a step back. “The plague,” he said quietly.
Lori overheard him. Her mother pushed them out of the way and made room for herself. “The plague?” she echoed, not truly a question. She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and tied it around her mouth, then knelt next to the woman, turning her over on her back.
The woman appeared pale and motionless, as good as a corpse, though as Sora looked closer, she noted the fragile rise and fall of her chest. Lori motioned for Ferran to grab the woman’s shoulders and they dragged her out of the water, onto the bank. She checked the woman’s pulse and breathing, her eyes swiftly taking stock of her symptoms. “It’s the plague,” she confirmed. “Her pulse is weak. Another hour and she’ll be dead.”
“What is she doing out here all alone?” Sora asked. “Was she looking for help?” No one answered, of course, because no one knew.
Her mother checked for other injuries, touching the woman as briefly as possible. Lori finally sat back on her heels. “I can’t treat her here,” she said. “We’ll have to move her back to the ship.”
“Isn’t this plague contagious?” Caprion asked logically. “Not to sound inhumane, but is that such a good idea? You would put Silas’ crew at risk.”
The four looked at him. The Harpy stared back expectantly. Then Crash said dryly, “On that note, where are the missing members of Silas’ crew? I suppose something inhumane happened to them?”
Caprion shot him an angry glare. “We passed over a village in the forest. It appeared abandoned, but the Dracians wanted to investigate.”
“And they…what, disappeared?” Crash asked sarcastically.
“We touched ground and they went off on their own. We became separated,” Caprion replied. He became troubled and looked at Sora. “When I found them, they were not themselves. They became violent. Something affected their minds. I had to leave them behind. Is this a symptom of the disease?”
Everyone in the circle seemed alarmed.
“I don’t know,” Sora admitted. She felt very cold. “Someone has to tell Silas.”
No one seemed eager to do that.
“This woman must be from the village,” Lorianne suggested. Her eyes returned to the prone figure on the ground. “If we can cure her, we can find out what happened. From what I’ve seen, deranged behavior can be a symptom of the plague, but only in its very late stages, just before death, when the sickness reaches the brain….” Lori chewed her lip in thought. “If we remove the Dark God’s magic from this woman’s body, then we can safely move her to the ship. Sora?” She turned to her daughter. “We have need of your Cat’s Eye.”
Sora was deep in thought, pondering why the woman appeared abandoned on the riverbanks, all alone. It seemed strangely foreboding. The missing Dracians worried her as well. She touched her necklace subconsciously. “I…uh, what?”
“Use your Cat’s Eye to draw out the Dark God’s magic,” her mother repeated, and raised an eyebrow.
Sora glanced at her mother, then back to the prone body, uncertain. “Right,” she murmured. Her four companions watched her, waiting. She tried to prompt the necklace into action with a surge of thought, but nothing happened. A bit of sweat broke out on her brow.
Ferran joined their circle around the woman. He frowned as his eyes searched Sora’s face. He, more than anyone else there, seemed to notice her hesitation. He wore a Cat’s Eye as well, the only other bearer she knew. Most of the stones were destroyed after the War of the Races, tossed back into the ocean from whence they came, deemed too dangerous to continue using after the war. Knowledge of the stones had been forgotten over time, just as humans had forgotten about the races, their magic and lore.
Sora hadn’t told anyone about her trouble activating the necklace. She was hoping the issue would fade away with time and that the necklace would return to its former self, but it seemed like the longer she waited, the worse the problem got.
“I’ll try,” she said quietly, and stepped next to the body. She knelt down at the woman’s side and placed a hand on her arm. At this point, she expected the necklace to release a fierce jingle of bells and glow with a bright green light. That light should flow from Sora's hand into the poisoned body and seek out the Dark God’s taint, then draw the black energy into itself, absorbing and nullifying its power, thus releasing the victim from the plague. She expected that—but nothing happened.
“Um…just a minute….” she mumbled, aware of her mother’s expectant gaze.
Suddenly, the injured woman shuddered. Her eyes opened, showing pure white orbs rolled back into her head. Then her pale hand whipped through the air and grabbed Sora’s arm. Her face twisted into a terrible grimace, somewhere between a scowl and a smile—a frenzied leer. An inhuman shriek ripped from her throat, spittle flew from her lips, and she launched herself up off the ground.
Sora cried out and stumbled backward, taken by surprise. She twisted her arm and broke the woman’s grip, then shoved her away.
The woman crawled after her, but suddenly Ferran stood between them. He caught the diseased woman by the neck, gripping her under the jaw, and lifted her clear off the ground. Sora gasped, falling back onto the wet dirt of the riverbank.
Around Ferran’s wrist, a leather cuff glowed, with a bright red Cat’s Eye embedded in its surface. The stone flared a crimson color, and the light spread over the woman’s body, up her neck and over her face like a scarlet cowl. As it entered the woman’s mouth, her jaw stretched wide. Another horrible scream ripped from her throat. Tendrils of black smoke began to spew from her lips as the dark curse was expelled from her body. The Cat’s Eye drank in the toxic residue like water going down a funnel.
Then, unexpectedly, the woman began to cough and hack. Her body stiffened and convulsed. A black, tar-like substance spilled from her lips, gushing down the front of her muddy shirt. A hideous smell drifted from her body, like rotten meat, heavy and pungent in the air. Ferran didn’t loosen his grip, but held the woman aloft as she vomited. Finally the spasms passed, and the woman went limp in his hands, her shirt stained dark with phlegm.
With rigid self-control, he set the body gently back on the ground. Then he turned to the river, a disgusted grimace on his face. He staggered the first few steps. Sora knew what that felt like. Usually the Cat’s Eye became energized and jubilant after absorbing magic, but the Dark God’s power was different. It tasted like moldy sewage water. Ferran barely reached the river before he vomited, emptying the contents of his stomach into the flowing current. Lori rushed to his side, a worried frown on her face.
Sora watched the two interact—the way her mother hovered near Ferran’s side, her hand resting on his shoulder. Then she rubbed his back gently. Sora noted the closeness between the two of them. It made her feel awkward. She wondered if she should ask her mother directly about their relationship. Later, she thought.
Finally, Ferran sat down on the banks, his arms resting on his lanky legs, his head bowed. He took deep, long breaths to settle his stomach. Lori rummaged through a pouch on her belt, perhaps for an herb to ease his discomfort.
Sora rubbed her arms, disturbed by Ferran’s violent reaction. She remembered curing a farmer from the plague almost a year ago, but the nausea wasn’t nearly as intense. Was the plague growing stronger? More difficult to dispel? Or did Ferran simply have a weak stomach? Somehow, she doubted it—the man drank like a fish.
Realizing Crash was standing only a few inches from her side, Sora looked up and met his gaze. He watched her carefully and she felt that closeness again—that bond they had created on the Isles, when touching and talking felt so natural.
“Your Cat’s Eye should have responded to that,” he said quietly.
She wanted to turn away, but his eyes wouldn’t allow it. They were a bright, poisonous green in the sunlight, too vibrant against his dark hair.
“My necklace has been
acting strangely,” she admitted. “Since the Isles, I can’t control it as I once did.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
She glared at him, suddenly irritated. “Because you won’t talk to me for more than a half-minute.”
Crash stared at her.
Sora felt her bubble of anger grow. “I thought we agreed to be more open with each other!” She jabbed a finger into his firm chest. “I thought you said you would be there for me. That we were a team!” She jabbed him twice more, for emphasis.
Crash caught her wrist and glanced around. Caprion stood only a few meters away, staring at a pile of moldy leaves, very obviously eavesdropping. “This isn’t a good time to talk...” Crash muttered.
“Then when?” she demanded, trying to wrench her hand back. But he wouldn’t let go. “When are we going to address this? You can’t avoid me forever. Half the crew are talking about us!”
Crash’s face darkened momentarily, a look that made her want to step back. “So I’ve heard.”
“Well, it can’t go on,” she pushed. “You need to do something. Avoiding the subject makes you look like a coward.” She nodded firmly, proud of herself for stating her thoughts so directly. Yes, a coward. A frightened, stupid coward. It felt good to say that, like untying a hard knot.
She could tell her words affected him, but only because she knew him so well. She saw the marginal hardening of his lips, the tightness around his eyes. Frustration. Good. She continued in a fierce whisper, “You told me not to doubt you. Well, now I doubt you more than ever.”
Crash’s grip tightened a notch on her wrist. He held her eyes with his, their faces so close she could feel the heat of his skin. His firm glare intimidated her, just as it always had, but she didn’t back down. If anything, it only made her more determined.
“Hey,” Lori called suddenly. “What’s going on?”
Sora glanced up at her mother, who stood a few yards away with Ferran, both observing Crash with suspicion and concern. She knew what they must look like—the assassin’s hand on her wrist, their faces close together, scowling at one another.
“Absolutely nothing,” Sora said, and yanked her hand back.
Crash let go this time, though he seemed unsettled, first crossing his arms and then turning away, like he didn’t know where to place his hands.
“Feeling better?” Sora asked Ferran. His face looked drawn and tired, but not terribly so. He nodded slightly to her, though he didn’t reply.
Then the sick woman stirred on the ground.
The five travelers paused and glanced down at her prostrate form. When she coughed, her pale, cracked lips parted and a wheezing breath escaped. “Help…” she murmured.
Sora moved quickly to her side, relieved for the distraction. “We’re here,” she said softly, kneeling next to the woman’s head. “We’re here to help you.”
“No,” the woman croaked. Her eyes fluttered and she tried to lift her head, but the effort was too great. Sora wondered if the woman was fully conscious, or perhaps consumed by a fever-dream, a delirium. “My village…my children…help….”
Sora looked at her mother's pale face.
“What about your children?” the Healer demanded. “Where are they?”
“My village…help them….” The woman groaned and flung out her hand, attempting to point in a direction. Her eyes opened and rolled upward, searching the forest. She pointed to the thick, tangled woods. Her arm swayed and then landed in the dead leaves above her head, stretched to the North. “My children… please…help Maggie, sweet Maggie…. ” The woman shuddered and her eyes closed again, her body returning to a limp, flaccid state.
Sora stood up and turned uncertainly to Lorianne.
“We need to go to her village and see what happened,” her mother said immediately.
“It’s a long trek through the forest,” Caprion offered. “We could fly there much faster.”
“What of the plague?” Sora thought to ask. “Ferran and I have the Cat’s Eye to protect us, but the rest of you….”
“I’ll be fine,” Crash said.
Caprion cast him a narrow look. “If the assassin goes, then I go as well,” he said.
The two glared at each other.
Ferran shifted on his feet, shoving his hands into his pockets. He chewed on a long yellow reed from the river, spinning it between his straight teeth. “Troublesome,” he murmured, and raised an eyebrow at Lori. “Sora raises a good point. You don’t have protection against the plague, and it seems to be growing stronger. It could be dangerous for you….”
“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Lori said. “If the plague has spread this far, and grown this strong, then the entire Kingdom could be at terrible risk. Much has changed since we traveled overseas.”
“A small village in the woods is hardly indicative of the entire Kingdom,” Crash replied.
Lori shot him a fiery look. “What did you say, Viper?” she asked loudly. “If you have an opinion, speak up.”
Crash remained solemn and stoic. “There’s nothing we can do. Her children are already dead. If not, they’ll die very soon.”
“And what of the missing Dracians?” Lori demanded.
Crash shrugged. “I don’t see the point of risking our entire crew over the fate of two men.”
Caprion shook his head. “Of course he would say that,” he said to no one in particular. “His kind value death over life. Cut down the weak and leave them to rot. Isn’t that the way of the Hive?”
The Hive. Sora remembered that term—the name of a colony where Crash spent his childhood. Or perhaps it wasn’t just a simple colony. Perhaps the term meant something more. Caprion made it sound like an entire network of places with its own history and traditions.
Crash stared at the Harpy dangerously. Tension settled over their group, and for a moment his hand twitched toward his dagger. But the assassin contained himself. “No,” he said levelly. “Quite the opposite—I won’t put Lori’s life at risk.”
Sora saw a look of surprise pass over Caprion’s face.
Crash turned to Lori. “You’re a Healer and a valued asset to our team. I won’t allow you to risk your life.”
Lori gazed at him for a long time. Then, finally, she nodded.
“But we can’t leave the Dracians behind,” Sora said softly. She looked at Caprion. “There’s a chance they’re still alive?”
Caprion looked uncomfortable. “I honestly don’t know if they’re still alive, and I’m not immune to the plague. I took a risk returning to the ship. I feel fine, but perhaps the sickness is slower to work on me. I could be infected.”
“He’s not,” Ferran interjected. “I would see it with my Cat’s Eye. But he brings up a good point. Perhaps he should stay behind.”
A brief silence fell as the five companions regarded each other.
At that moment, the skiff from the Dawn Seeker arrived. Silas stood at the bow and jumped ashore before his crewman could secure the boat. “Well?” he barked. “Where are my missing men?”
Sora felt the situation coming to a head. She could see the temper flare on Silas’ face and went to meet the advancing Dracian. “They were infected by the plague,” she started.
“I had to leave them behind,” Caprion interjected.
Silas hesitated mid-step. He didn’t seem sure where to unleash his fury—upon Caprion, Sora, or the whole lot. He looked like he wanted to strike someone in the jaw.
Then he pointed at Ferran. “Go get them,” he growled.
Ferran raised an eyebrow. “Your men are probably dead,” he said. “The risk involved—”
“You have a Cat’s Eye, don’t you?” Silas snapped. “You can take the risk. I don’t abandon my crew. Fix this, or find your own way to the City of Crowns.”
The treasure hunter chewed his reed stubbornly and said nothing.
Lori finally indicated the woman on the ground. “She needs my care,” she said. “And she might have information abo
ut what happened in the village. Permission to bring her on board, captain?”
Silas studied the prone figure. “Does she have the plague?” he asked.
“Cured it,” Ferran grunted.
Silas beckoned impatiently. “Then bring her aboard. The rest of you,” he scowled, “find my men and bring them back. You have until nightfall. You hear me, Ferran? No wandering about! If you don’t return by tonight, consider yourselves stranded.” Then he whirled back to his boat and flounced away.
“A fat lot of help he is,” Sora muttered.
“Hypocrite,” Ferran agreed.
Crash looked skyward, and Sora followed his gaze. It was close to noon. The sun set early this time of year and they only had a few hours at best. “How soon can we get to this village?” he asked no one in particular.
Caprion answered, “It’s about two miles away. I can’t transport all of you. I’ll have to make several trips.”
“I think we should make our way on foot,” Ferran said.
Sora gave him a questioning look. “Is it truly necessary to walk? It would be much faster to fly….”
“Better to search the forest,” he explained. “See what we can find on the ground.”
Crash nodded agreement. “Caprion can fly above us, since he’s susceptible to the plague.” The assassin stared at the Harpy as though intentionally pointing out his weakness.
Caprion looked uncomfortable. Sora didn’t think he was used to being at a disadvantage.
Then Ferran chimed in. “I have to agree with the assassin,” he said. “I’m curious to see what we might uncover in the woods. The state of the forest could tell us a lot more about the plague than an abandoned village. And let’s not forget the stench.” He wrinkled his nose to emphasize his words.
Caprion shrugged. “As you wish,” he said shortly.
It seemed they had reached an agreement. Ferran helped Lori carry the sick woman to Silas’ skiff. She looked reluctant to go, and cast Sora a concerned look, mouthing the words “Be careful.” Sora felt a sudden stab of uncertainty as she watched her mother walk away. Lori was just as much a warrior as the rest of them. She obviously wanted to join the hunt, but she didn’t have a Cat’s Eye to protect her from the plague. Since Crash was one of the Sixth Race—a child of the Dark God—he didn’t seem concerned about catching it. He was probably immune. Sora considered returning with her to the boat, but she couldn’t stand the thought of waiting for Crash and Ferran on the ship, surrounded by clowning Dracians and the irascible Captain Silas.