Elfsorrow

'No, nor any fever,' added Ilkar. 'From what we've been able to find out, it affects balance, brings on bouts of sickness and muscle weakness. One mage we found said she thought there was organ damage but it's too early to say.'

'Strange,' said Darrick. 'And how many have died?'

'So far none, but it's early days,' said Ren. 'Perhaps it'll run its course and people will recover, but if there are deaths and no cure is forthcoming, it'll just accelerate the panic we've already seen.'

'And you're hoping to get mages to leave here and travel to Balaia?' said The Unknown. 'You'll be lucky if any ships are allowed to sail if this is a plague.'

'The thought had crossed my mind. And no mage will leave here while there's work they feel they can do.'

'I'd have thought it a great reason to leave,' said Hirad. 'They might be saving themselves, after all.'

Ilkar shook his head. 'You don't understand elven society, Hirad. It's honour-based, not driven by profit and magic like Balaia.'

'So you should stay too?' said the barbarian.

'That's a tricky one,' said Ilkar. 'If this is serious I'll have to think about it, but I don't belong here. My home is Julatsa. I feel no ties like elves who have lived here all their lives or only visited Balaia to train. It wouldn't be dishonourable to leave, but that won't make it easy.'

'Don't even think about it,' said The Unknown. 'We have to find mages to help you raise the Heart of Julatsa or this disease, whatever it is, will seem a mere inconvenience by comparison.'

Hirad could see they were attracting glances from further down their table and behind them.

'I think we should keep our voices down,' he said quietly.

'We should do more than that,' said The Unknown. 'Let's get back to the inn and stay in our rooms until first light tomorrow. I don't like what I'm feeling. Anyone know when Denser and Erienne planned on getting back?'

Ilkar shook his head. 'I shouldn't worry about them. They're mages and any elf will know it. They won't be harmed. Asked to help maybe but not harmed.'

They stood up to go, Ilkar apologising to the serving boy who'd brought a plate of meat and cheese. He left coins for everything and led them outside.

'Will we catch it, do you think?' asked Hirad.

'No idea,' said Ilkar. 'It's not something we can really worry about right now, is it?'

He shrugged and walked on, trying to appear unconcerned, but Hirad could see that underneath anxiety was building. Not for himself, but for the ramifications of his mage-gathering mission. Hirad hoped dawn would bring some cheer but somehow he doubted it. Mercuun's fall was as shocking as it was predictable. A terribly slow climb up the banyan to the rope bridge had preceded a clumsy, nerve-shredding drag across the River Ix, Mercuun's weakness and lack of balance a constant threat to them both.

Five times Rebraal had had to clutch the ropes of the yawing bridge as his friend slipped or stumbled, ignoring the fire that was his left shoulder to help Mercuun, or stand by him as he recovered his breath.

It was awful to watch. Mercuun had been the most sure-footed of them all, moving with the stealth of a panther and the agility of a monkey. He could have been a TaiGethen. And now something they couldn't fathom had reduced him to a juddering height-shy oaf in less than three days.

Rebraal had breathed a premature sigh of relief when they'd reached the opposite bank and Mercuun, sweating and shaking, had wrapped his arms gratefully around a bough. Feeling dizzy with fever and the effort himself, Rebraal had begun to descend almost immediately, telling Mercuun to rest until he was sure enough to move, however long that took. It could have been days and he would have waited for his friend, but something about Mercuun told Rebraal that he didn't have days. Meru felt it too. That's why he moved too soon.

Rebraal had been twenty feet from the ground when a heavy branch had snapped above him. A dark shape had come hurtling towards him, leaves and wood flying everywhere. Soundless, Mercuun had fallen past him, arms and legs splayed to break his fall on every bough. It was an action, combined with the limpness with which he hit the ground, that undoubtedly saved his life.

And so Rebraal had found him broken but alive.

'Meru, talk to me.'

'Hurts, Rebraal. It hurts.'

'Of course it hurts. You've come down eighty feet.'

Rebraal looked at him, not quite believing what he saw. Mercuun was moving and obviously aware but his left leg was turned behind him at an impossible angle and he lay stretched, his left arm beneath him and a trickle of blood running from his mouth.

'Lie still. I've got to get some casimir and get rid of the pain.'

'Hurry.'

Rebraal sprinted away, looking for the tell-tale bright broad green leaves and yellow-green ball-like fruit. He was heedless of his own condition, adrenaline banishing hurt and fever. He had to be quick. Not just because Mercuun was in agony but because the forest was full of predators and scavengers. And right now his friend was easy prey.

Mercuun had lapsed into merciful unconsciousness by the time he returned. Flies crawled on his face and a lizard sniffed at the blood from his mouth. In the trees above, birds were settling.

'Tual, spare him,' whispered Rebraal to the God of the denizens, fishing in Mercuun's leather sack for his metal cup and small medicine skin.

He hurried to the river bank and scooped up some water, collected small twigs for kindling on the way back and built a tiny fire, using Mercuun's tinderbox to light the wet wood. He heated the water above the guttering flame, using a cloth to protect his hands from the hot metal.

When the water steamed and bubbled, he dropped some leaves into the mug, their rich fresh scent blooming in his nostrils.

'Almost ready, Meru,' he said, though his friend couldn't hear him. He was moving though, and close to consciousness again, a low moan escaping his lips.

When the infusion was ready, Rebraal decanted the murky green liquid into the skin, added some seeds from the casimir fruit and kept back the leaf sludge. While the drink cooled, he tipped the sludge into a palm leaf, blew on it until he could just touch it and spread it on Mercuun's fractures, having cut his clothes where he had to. The remainder he smeared on his own shoulder.

Mercuun's eyes flickered open. 'I'm dying, Rebraal.'

'No, you're not. Now let me support your head while you drink this.'

He knelt down and lifted Mercuun's head into his lap. The broken elf gulped down the infusion, knowing the powerful sedative would numb his pain.

'What are you going to do?' he asked when the skin was empty.

'Carry you home, Meru. You need healing.'

'But your shoulder.' Mercuun lifted an arm weakly.

'It'll be all right. Trust me.'

'Yniss keep you, Rebraal.'

'And you, Meru. How do you feel?'

'The pain is fading.'

'Good, then let's get going.'

Rebraal packed Mercuun's sack and slung it over his right shoulder before stooping to pick him up. He felt his own wound give and the blood start to flow but the leaf sludge masked him from all but a dull ache.

Mercuun hung in his arms like a dead weight, his head cradled against Rebraal's shoulder and chest.

'Not far now,' said Rebraal. 'Try to rest.'

A chuckle trickled from Mercuun's mouth. 'Don't lie. I may be sick but I haven't completely lost my senses. You're the one who should be resting.'

Rebraal gritted his teeth and set off. It was almost ten miles to the village through dense rainforest, up steep hillsides, down muddy valleys and along a treacherous stream course. Offering a prayer to Yniss to give him the strength to survive, Rebraal left the River Ix behind him.