Faerling

Book 1, Crystal Mirrors

Part III

"Are you sure you're not planning on running away?" Alec grinned. One glance at Genna's pale face, however, informed him that it was not a time to joke.

"I'm not planning on going anywhere," she said quietly. "I only want to sleep. I'm so tired."

"You look rather green."

She smiled weakly. "I'm always rather green. 'Tis in the blood."

"Just rest," Alec said, heading out the door. "I'll bring some food up in a little while."

Genna watched Alec leave, then sat swiftly onto the bed. She reached behind her to scratch her shoulders and back. The itching had grown worse as the day wore on, adding to her misery. She now realized that she *should* have asked Alec to find some salve for her back, but she just couldn't seem to think straight today.

Without thinking about it, Genna slowly fell back onto the bed, instantly asleep.

The room was dark, but with his darksight Donal could see a figure on the bed. The body appeared to be unusually warm, but Donal wasn't concerned with the health of the individual. He simply planned to quietly remove a few trinkets and make his escape. He slipped up to the side of the bed, where a leather pack had been dropped carelessly to the floor. He halted and stood still as the figure on the bed moaned and turned over. When all was still again a moment later, Donal knelt down next to the pack and quietly opened it. He reached in to the small leather bag inside and opened it, spilling its contents into his palm.

Donal stared at the ornate gold brooch in his palm. He recognized it from the morning and was pleased to have it in his possession again. He decided that it would be enough to gain from this room and slowly stood. The piece should garner him a lot of money, between the unusual design, fine quality of gold, and the intricate work. He was slipping the jewelry into his pocket when a sound from the bed caught his attention.

He turned slowly, the brooch dropping from his fingertips into the depths of his pocket. The Faerling he has seen that morning was sitting up on the bed, her eyes wide but unfocused, sweat beading on her forehead. She was muttering something under her breath in a language Donal didn't understand. He waited in silence, hardly daring to breathe. Her head turned toward him, and her eyes caught his. Her voice suddenly became clear.

"T'shal hli cahm dento, sritorr. T'shal hli cahm dento."

Donal couldn't understand the words, but he could almost feel the air of the room grow heavy. He tore his eyes from her face , the voice and words ringing loudly in his head. An ache grew swiftly at his temples, and a moan escaped him involuntarily. His hands went to his forehead, pressing against the pain.

"T'shal hli cahm dento."

The words echoed in Donal's head, ringing in commanding tones. The pain in his head overwhelmed him and he blacked out.

Voices nearby drew Donal back to consciousness. His eyes flickered open, and he was relieved to find the room still dark and only occupied by the still figure on the bed. He heard a key turn in the lock and reflexively rolled under the bed to hide.

"Meg, I'm flattered, but I have to take Genna's dinner to her." Alec gently tried to disengage the serving wench's arms from about his neck.

"Ah, but she's just a Faerling. I'm human," Meg smiled seductively. "And I'm soft and warm and..."

Alec pushed her away. "Next time I come through I *promise* I'll be by to see you. But not now."

Meg pouted and leaned against the door to Alec's room. "But none are so strong as you, my warrior..."

Alec laughed. "Meg, I know you for what you are, and I know you don't save yourself for me alone. Now let me by." He transferred the plate he carried to his left hand and set down the flagon of ale so he could unlock the door. Stepping inside he retrieved the ale and shut the door saying firmly, "Good-bye, Meg."

He turned, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness before stepping further into the room. He set the plate and ale down on the single table in the room and lit the oil lamp, sending a flickering light into the small room. No sense wasting a light bead, he figured, when an oil lamp was available. Besides, he didn't figure to be awake for longer than it took Genna to eat.

He moved to the side of the bed, saying softly, "Genna, wake up. I've brought back your dinner."

The figure on the bed didn't move.

"Genna?" he asked, slightly louder. He sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to shake her shoulder. He drew his hand back quickly, startled, for her shoulder was burning hot. He drew the sheets back and rolled her over onto her back, noting the dark cast to her skin, the beads of sweat dotting her forehead and rolling down her cheeks. As he watched, she mumbled something about her shoulders, and tried weakly to roll back over.

Alec allowed her to roll back onto her side and then gently drew down the back of her tunic to reveal the dry reddened skin of her shoulders. A slight touch revealed this to be the center of the heat on her body. Drawing the covers back up over her, he grabbed his moneybag and quickly left the room in search of a healer.

The moment Alec left the room, Donal rolled out from under the bed and stood up, checking his pocket to make sure the brooch remained within. Then he smiled and made his way to the window, opening it quietly and stepping out, over the edge, and climbing quickly down the outer wall of the inn. Glancing back one more time at the window of the room from which he had just come, he shook his head and then raced off into the night.

"I'm afraid there isn't any more that I can do."

Alec glared at the cleric. "What do you *mean* you can't do anything. Does your goddess simply close her eyes to the misery this girl is in?"

The cleric shook his head. "I mean no such thing. But I have prayed to Aylia many times now, and she has seen fit to make the Faerling comfortable, but the fever is beyond Her power. All you can do is wait, and try to help her remain comfortable. This salve should help the rash on her back and shoulders, and cool water will help the heat." The cleric stood and handed a small pot of salve to Alec.

"How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing," the cleric said softly. "Simply remember Aylia and Her people, and aid those who you can. That is all." He turned quietly and left the room.

Alec took a cloth from the table and dunked it in cold water, wrung it out, and placed it on Genna's forehead. "Fine," he said to himself. "What a fine mess. Get yourself trusted by the gods to take of a simple girl and next thing you know she falls sick, probably to some sort of nasty plague that'll wipe out the whole town before the month is done." He pulled up a chair and sat on it to watch her. Bowing his head, he said quietly, "Aylia, if You are still listening, please help this girl make it through the night."

Around midnight Alec woke to hear Genna hoarsely speaking in a strange tongue. "Genna?"

She sat up and looked at him. "My back itches!" she said loudly and matter-of-factly.

"Turn around," he directed.

When he turned, he lifted up the tunic and spread some of the salve on her back. The redness appeared to have gone from most of the surface, centering now on the areas around her shoulder blades. When he finished applying the salve, he instructed her to go back to sleep, only to find that she already had. He pushed her back down and covered her again with the sheet. Drawing his long legs up into the chair, he tried again to get comfortable while he watched her for any change.

Genna screamed. The pain in her shoulders had become excruciating, and she hardly heard Alec trying to quiet her. Tears ran down her face, and her head ached. She felt as if her shoulders were on fire, and licks of heat flew through the rest of her body. She felt as if she would literally burst into flame soon, if the heat didn't stop. She reached behind her, trying to scratch her back.

"Don't scratch," Alec instructed. "You'll make it worse."

"No it won't," Genna sobbed incoherently. "Please... please..."

She arched her back, screaming again. Her voice was dead from the abuse she had given it, and all that emerged was a harsh croak. Alec grabbed her by the shoulders, pushing her back down as she tried to get up and run from the room. Suddenly, he felt all the tension go out of her. He released her in surprise, and watched as she crumpled to the bed, apparently asleep. As he pulled the covers his hand brushed her arm, and he noted that she seemed cooler. He watched her for a moment, but she continued to sleep deeply, breathing evenly, the dark flush of her skin fading. Sighing in relief, Alec made himself a bed on the floor and fell asleep.

Faerling is copyrighted by Deb Atwood.

Copies may be kept for personal use but may not be redistributed without the expression permission of the author.

Tryslora Eloran (deb_atwood@fac.com)