Bitter Winter, page 10
part #5 of Ilyon Chronicles Series
When he approached the wood pile, two other men were there—Gavin and Ket, if he remembered correctly. His father had always been good with names. He’d made a point of it since arriving, but still struggled to remember everyone in camp. Gavin nearly matched Balen in bulk and muscle mass, though he was shorter, while Ket was more average. Neither one seemed to notice him approaching, or at least didn’t realize it was him. Not that he wanted any special treatment.
“We’re wasting resources on an enemy that came in and killed our people,” Gavin stated heatedly.
Ket nodded in agreement. “I wonder if they knew they could be bringing in the fever.”
“Wouldn’t put it past them,” Gavin grumbled. “We should have dealt with them right away. Maybe we wouldn’t be dealing with this now. I still say they should be eliminated. It might stop the fever from spreading further.”
Clearly they didn’t know about Rayad yet. Trask had brought the news this morning that now one of their members was ill.
“Someone should just go in and end the problem. We’d all be better off for it.”
Daniel sucked in a breath. Would he be a hypocrite to speak against them when he understood their feelings and maybe even harbored them himself? It would solve a lot not to have to worry about the soldiers when their own people were facing the threat of a deadly illness and starvation.
No, it wouldn’t be right, and it was up to him as their king to set an example. He cleared his throat. Both men turned and, upon recognizing him, dipped their heads.
“My lord,” they murmured. Only Ket looked slightly shamefaced over their conversation.
Normally, Daniel would have protested such reverence, but in this instance, their respect was more important than his discomfort with the mantle of leadership. If he didn’t put a stop to this unrest now, then he and the other leaders in camp might have to deal with murder later on. He would avoid that at all cost and peered at the men, attempting to project just the right amount of kingly authority he may have inherited from his father.
“I understand the situation with the soldiers is difficult,” he said, “but we don’t have much choice.”
“They killed my brother,” Gavin ground out.
His gaze bordered on a glare, though Daniel could see in his watery, red-rimmed eyes that it came more from sorrow than anger. Good thing, because Daniel wasn’t in the mood to get punched in the jaw for defending the soldiers.
“I am sorry.” He tried to convey the deepest of sympathies. All it took was imagining if Elanor had been killed to understand the man’s pain. “If there was anything I could do to change what happened, believe me, I would. But it is my sister, not these men, who are directly responsible. She ordered them here. I’m sure most had no desire to go trudging through a frozen forest to find us.”
The men’s faces remained hardened, but neither one spoke against him.
“I know you want justice for your brother and feel like eliminating the soldiers is the way to get that and help everyone still here. But we are followers of Elôm. We must live our lives to a higher standard. We can’t allow ourselves to become murderers just because some of them may be. It would do far more harm than good.”
Gavin and Ket hung their heads. After a heavy, silent moment, Gavin nodded and met Daniel’s gaze.
“You’re right, my lord.”
With that, they wandered away. Once they were out of earshot, Daniel released a long breath. Trying to be king was exhausting. Would he ever feel ready?
* * *
Liam carried a handful of used cups to a basin of hot wash water. There wasn’t much else to do besides administer tea, clean up, and monitor the sick. But that was all part of the job. He’d choose it any day over soldiering.
He scrubbed the cups in the steaming water and set them on a rack to dry. He should go check on Rayad again soon. Was anyone else from the cabin getting sick? He’d have to check for any symptoms. The fever set in so quickly—
“How are your mother and the others?”
Liam’s attention snapped to the General. It was the first time he’d heard him speak since the attack. His silence, though unusual, had been a welcome blessing. Up until now.
Before he could think of how to answer, Leetra’s icy voice cut in from where she worked near Liam. “How do you think they are after your attack and the threat of this fever you brought?”
Her purple eyes smoldered with the glare she sent his grandfather. The General looked away and bowed his head. Liam had never seen him daunted by anyone before. It was probably the first time in his life that he wasn’t in control of a situation.
Liam focused on his work again. He didn’t want to be part of the exchange. He had hoped to avoid interaction with the General.
A couple of minutes later, Leetra walked away to check on the sick soldiers. Liam held his breath. Just as he anticipated, his grandfather broke the silence left by the crete’s absence.
“So, you’re a physician now?”
He’d kept his voice low and void of the ring of any of his usual derision. Even so, Liam stood still and silent for a long moment. Technically, he was still under Josef’s training. He was more an assistant, but Josef did trust him now with nearly all his work. He swallowed and forced confidence into his voice. He was confident in his profession.
“Yes.”
He looked over at his grandfather, waiting for a response. Would he call Liam weak? A coward for choosing to heal people instead of kill them?
But the General only nodded slowly. Liam narrowed his eyes. His grandfather was never so quiet, so calm. For some reason, such a response left a coal burning in Liam’s chest. Never in his entire life had he ever dared nor wanted to antagonize the man, but with everything they now faced, just enough anger simmered inside him to propel him to speak. He stepped in front of his grandfather, standing straight and tall. He would never cower before this man again.
“And to answer your other question, Mother and the others are grieving and scared. How could they not be after what you’ve put us through?”
The lines in the General’s face deepened. Just a little of his usual sharpness crept out with his words. “I did not know Michael would die in the attack.”
“But you knew some would. We are not the only family grieving.” Liam shook his head in disgust. “Your men killed helpless women!”
“Had you surrendered, you could have avoided such death. I warned Marcus.”
“No,” Liam said with enough force that his grandfather blinked in surprise. “You of all people know that surrender is not an option. We would have been thrown into prison camps, bound for the execution block, if we hadn’t died of starvation or fever before that. And who knows what harm your men might have done to us in the meantime. Michael and the others, their deaths are on you.”
Liam turned away and joined Josef and Leetra before the burning in his eyes could turn into anything more.
* * *
The day dragged by. Jace spent almost every moment at Rayad’s bedside praying for a miracle or even just a small sign he would recover. Rayad wavered back and forth between consciousness. While his fever didn’t get worse, his coughing did. Liam came to check on him a couple of times and said this was the normal progression of the illness. That didn’t make it any less difficult for Jace to witness.
They also learned from Liam that Dagren and a few of the others had fallen ill. Now all the soldiers except the General and two other men were battling the fever. The first man who’d come down with it was not doing well.
Though Holden and Elian insisted he get rest, Jace hardly slept that night. He hated the feeling that every moment he spent near Rayad could be one of the last. It made him want to cling to each moment they had.
When morning arrived again, Jace tore himself away from Rayad’s cot to head outside for his daily meeting with Kyrin. Heaviness pressed down on him this morning even greater than it had the day before. He should have slept more, but rest wouldn’t come easily for a while. Even if he tried, his mind refused to quit imagining the worst.
When Kyrin left the cabin and walked toward him, she didn’t appear to have slept well either. Her reddened eyes stood out in her pale face. She almost looked sick. A painful jolt stabbed his chest.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded slowly. “Just tired.” She looked into his eyes. “How is Rayad?”
“The same. Josef says it could be days before we know if he’ll recover.” The wait would kill Jace. He just prayed Rayad had the strength to fight that long. He rubbed his forehead. “We’ve been through difficult things before, but seeing him like this . . .” He shook his head.
Kyrin’s eyes flooded with moisture and sympathy, and she wrapped her arms around herself as though she wished, as he did, that they could hold each other. Why must they be apart during such a trying time?
“If there’s anything I can do, let me know,” she said.
“Just keep praying.”
“We will.”
They talked for a few more minutes before turning back toward their cabins. Jace had only taken a step when he heard a muffled thump in the snow behind him. He looked back, and his heart plowed into his ribs.
Kyrin was on her knees, one arm out to brace herself.
Chapter Ten
“Kyrin!”
Jace rushed toward her and dropped to his knees. She looked up, both fear and despair flashing in her eyes. He yanked off his glove and put his hand to her face. Her skin radiated heat into his palm. No! His stomach lurched, and he pushed aside her coat collar to expose her neck. Red splotches tinged her skin. They met each other’s eyes and, for that awful moment, Jace felt everything he loved most dearly crashing down around him. Like losing Kalli and Aldor and the farm, he saw himself losing the foundations of his life again. Please, Elôm, no.
He scooped Kyrin up into his arms and carried her to her cabin. Knocking the door with his foot, he looked down into her face. Tears had filled her eyes. He didn’t like the shadow of resignation in them.
“You’re going to be all right,” he said.
The door opened, Kyrin’s mother standing on the other side.
“She’s sick.”
Lydia’s face paled. She hurried back to let them in.
“Kyrin?” Kaden stepped toward them, his face going slack. “Is it the fever?”
“Yes,” Jace answered grimly.
“Bring her over here.” Lydia led the way across the cabin and gestured to the empty bed that used to be Michael’s. Jace set Kyrin carefully down on the edge of the mattress, keeping his hand on her shoulder to steady her. Lydia felt her forehead and then helped her get her coat and boots off.
“I’ll get Josef.” Jace strode to the door and outside. On his way to the meeting hall, his heart pounded a hard, sluggish beat. First Rayad and now Kyrin. He’d never been in danger of losing them both at once. Clenching his fists, he forced such a possibility as far away as he could. He wasn’t sure he could survive losing both of them.
When he entered the meeting hall, the sickness permeated the air along with the pungent scent of herbs. Josef, Liam, and Leetra all looked up from their various places along the row of cots containing sick men. Josef straightened and stepped toward him.
“Is Rayad worse?”
“No.” Jace glanced at Liam, his throat constricting. “Kyrin is sick.”
Liam’s eyes widened before his expression went taut. “What are her symptoms?”
“Fever and the rash. She collapsed while we were out talking.”
Liam immediately strode across the room for his coat. As he slipped it on, Josef brought him a small pouch.
“Here are the herbs for the tea. Get her to drink as much as she can, and start compresses like the others. Come and get me if there is anything out of the ordinary.”
Liam set his face determinedly and nodded. He did a better job at hiding his fear for Kyrin than Jace probably did.
Back at the Altair cabin, Lydia had Kyrin in bed and had already put cold compresses on her head by the time they arrived. Kaden and Ronny stood nearby. Ronny’s eyes were wide, while Kaden watched with a deeply furrowed brow. Jace had seen him in many dire situations, but the look on his face lacked all of his usual confidence. Jace understood. It was the same helplessness he had been battling since Rayad had fallen ill. They were too used to taking action when their loved ones were in danger.
Jace stopped at the end of Kyrin’s bed as Liam gave her a quick examination. Though alert, she was clearly miserable. She did attempt to give him a brave smile, and he did his level best to return it. If nothing else, he had to be her strength and keep her hopeful, even if his own hope withered.
After a moment, he looked at Lydia. “I’ll let Marcus know.”
Her worry-strained face softened as she glanced at him. “Thank you.”
Though he hated leaving, Jace walked outside again and crossed camp. At the door to his cabin, he knocked and stepped back so he wouldn’t be too close to whoever answered it. Marcus did a moment later.
“Jace?” He peered at him questioningly, but a look of grim knowing settled in his eyes.
“Kyrin’s sick.” Every time he said the words, the cords of fear around his chest wound even tighter.
Marcus processed this for a moment in the calm way he faced every calamity, though his concern wasn’t hidden. “Is she in our cabin?”
Jace nodded.
“I’ll get my things.” Marcus turned back inside.
Jace didn’t try to stop him. Marcus was Kyrin’s brother. It was up to him whether or not he wanted to expose himself to the fever.
“You go,” Jace said when he returned. “I need to check Rayad and let them know.”
With a nod, Marcus hurried on to the Altair cabin and Jace toward the other. Inside, he found Elian sitting at Rayad’s side while Holden brewed more tea. They both reacted in concern when he gave them the news.
“She’s young and strong,” Holden attempted to comfort him. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
If only Jace could find any confidence in that. Josef had said both young and old succumbed to the fever.
“You go on and be with her,” Rayad’s weak but determined voice grabbed Jace’s attention. He hadn’t realized he was awake. Rayad nodded at Jace. “You don’t have to keep sitting with me. It won’t help me recover any faster.”
Jace sighed heavily. He wanted to be with both of them. “I’ll come back later,” he said finally.
“Don’t wear yourself out trying to be both places at once,” Rayad said with a little of his usual stubbornness.
Jace had to smile. It was heartening, if only for a moment. He turned for the door but paused near Holden. “Come and get me if there’s any change.”
“I will.”
* * *
Daniel pulled on his coat and headed outside. It didn’t feel exactly right to be paying a social visit to Elanor while the camp was on the verge of crisis, but what else was there to do? At this point, it was a waiting game. Either their dragon riders would return with the remedy or they wouldn’t. Josef, Liam, and Leetra were doing all they could for the sick. Beyond prayer, there was nothing Daniel could do personally. So, if he couldn’t be useful elsewhere, he might as well do something in pursuit of Elanor. If nothing else, it might cheer her up and distract her from worrying about Jace and Elian who were now exposed to the fever.
Along the way to the cabin Elanor shared with Anne’s parents, Daniel smoothed his hair. He was so out of his element here. Had he been courting a lady back in Valcré, he would have brought her some token of his affection. Here, he would show up empty-handed. He had nothing to his name beyond a title and a hope for a future. Of course, Elanor didn’t care about any of that, but it did add to the insecurities he battled lately.
When he had first arrived last summer, he had been more than happy to adopt life here in camp. It was exactly the sort of life he’d always wanted. However, time and this brutal winter had exposed how little his privileged upbringing had prepared him for the stark realities of life. Once, he might have been able to affect an entire nation with little more than a spoken word. Here, he was next to powerless. Simply another fugitive fighting to stay alive.
“You look very deep in thought.”
Daniel nearly tripped in the snow at the sound of a female voice. He turned quickly to find Elanor’s pink lips quirked in amusement. So now he was both powerless and clumsy, not to mention completely unaware of his surroundings. Shrugging off any sting to his pride, he smiled back at her.
“I was.”
She crossed the short distance between them, her skirts sending frozen bits of snow scattering along the path. “Where are you off to?”
“I was actually coming to see you. I thought you would be at the cabin.”
Her smile blossomed more fully as she learned of his plans. “I was just out for a walk. It’s cold, but the fresh air helps clear my head.”
Though her smile lit up her face, her weary eyes betrayed the deeper turmoil inside.
“It’s hard being cooped up when there’s nothing you can do to help.”
Her delicate brow wrinkled, and she nodded in agreement. They started walking slowly, but neither one said a word for a minute or two. Both had so much to think about. Still, this was not the way he intended to court Elanor. Surely he could find something to bring the smile back to her face while learning more about this young woman he hoped would someday be his bride. Lingering in the oppressive mood that permeated camp wouldn’t actually help anyone.
“So, tell me, what were winters like for you growing up? Did you have any fun as a child with James?”
Her entire stance perked up at the questions, and he smiled to himself.
“We did have fun. We loved to play Fox and Geese in the snow. Sometimes we built snow dragons, or at least attempted to, and pretended we were on grand adventures. James was kinder then, though still a handful.”
