Page 60 of Poisoned Kingdom (Secrets of Dagome #1)

Reynard

S everal hours passed, and even I was finding the ride hard.

The chill misted my breath, and my muscles were stiff from keeping the same pose.

The sun hung low over the horizon, blinding us with its last red glow as we crested the hill.

Verdant plains, now bare in anticipation of the upcoming snow, framed the lights of Ostrava that highlighted the houses as dusk settled and my unit descended en masse.

We were halfway to Tivalaran, and I toyed with the idea of checking the groundworks a report had mentioned.

‘Let’s go and face whatever fate’s prepared for us,’ I whispered, nudging the horse onward.

The town welcomed us with nervous bustle, unusual for this time of the day.

Many people were still on the streets, likely curious about the sudden arrival of the large group of armed men.

The town council was apparently also in the square, the three elderly men squeezing their hats in their hands as if they didn’t know whether to drop to the ground or bow their heads.

‘My lord, your herald arrived a short while ago. If we’d known you were coming, we would have prepared the town, a welcome. . .’ the eldest started, but quickly stopped, looking at his companions. ‘We assigned a house for you and your men. He said it would be enough, your herald that is—’

‘Herald?’ I asked, confused, until I saw the master of the Blades heading towards me with such a thunderous expression that I instantly moved away from the council.

One look at the woman in my arms and he exhaled slowly. ‘She’s sleeping, thank the gods. We need to talk. Tova . . . he’s in rough shape. I dragged a healer over to sort him out before she sees him, but I’m not sure if he’ll survive the night,’ he said.

I nodded, pulling the cloak tighter around Sana while pondering what to do.

‘Her quarters are ready?’ I asked, and when he nodded, I slowly, and as gently as I could, passed her to Irsha. ‘Take her there and point me to Orenson. I need to see his condition for myself.’

I wouldn’t be able to hold her off for long, but I wanted to be ready and ensure the healer spared nothing to save the dwarf’s life.

Irsha nodded again, and I clasped his shoulder, knowing he would guard her with his life.

He pointed out the houses. ‘Our quarters are in the house by the market—the one with carved flowers and vines on the front. Tova and some of your men are in the healer’s house. If you look to the left, you’ll see the banner.’

‘Good. I’ll send someone to bring her as soon as I can,’ I replied.

‘Try to prepare her for the worst.’ I ran a hand through my hair, an old habit in times of stress.

I wanted to hold her if the worst came to pass but would not force her affection today.

‘She’ll take it better if it comes from you,’ I said.

‘Sana needs a friend more than she needs a king.’

Irsha sent me a questioning look, but I shrugged and looked to the side as he carried Roksana away. I was probably making a mistake by letting her sleep, but I didn’t want her rushing in unprepared.

Night had fully settled over the town, covering everything in a grey veil, and the mists slipped in, giving the fae lanterns an otherworldly hue.

I walked to the healer’s house, only briefly stopping before the town council. ‘Thank you so much for your hospitality. Rest assured we’ll be leaving in the morning. No ceremony or special treatment is needed. Just feed my men and give us privacy.’

My brief speech was met with consternation, but I didn’t stay to listen to their objections. Soldiers saluted, opening the infirmary door without being prompted. The stench of decay was so strong I stopped. Even being used to the smell of death on the battlefield, I gagged.

A young woman appeared, wearing the uniform of an apprentice healer, stained with blood and other fluids. She bowed, and didn’t straighten, her whole body shaking.

‘Don’t be afraid. Just tell me where the patient is,’ I said, and she gestured to a heavy oak door carved with healing ivy.

I entered, covering my face with a sleeve in a vain attempt to block some of the odour, only to see my men holding down a crazed dwarf. His eyes were glazed with fever, and the healer was standing in the corner, clutching a vial.

‘What’s going on here?’ I demanded.

‘He’s delirious, sire,’ one of my men answered. ‘He shouts and fights as if he were still locked inside the cage we found him in.’

I approached the haughty dwarf, now reduced to a shadow of himself, and looked at his emaciated face.

‘You . . . I know you . . .’ he rasped when his gaze landed on me.

‘Let him go,’ I ordered.

He instantly jumped off the examination table and grabbed a metal instrument, holding it like a weapon.

‘Tova . . .’ I said, approaching him with caution. ‘Sana is here. You want to see her, right?’

‘My drah’sa?’ he asked, lowering the metal tool.

‘Gods, he listened . . .’ The healer rushed towards me, pushing the vial into my hand. ‘Make him drink this, Your Majesty.’

‘Yes, your drah’sa,’ I said, taking another step towards the dwarf and wondering whether I should give him a chance or grab him by the scruff of his neck and force him to drink whatever potion the healer had given me.

‘She came for you. But first, you need to drink this medicine. You don’t want her to worry. ’

‘Is she worried?’ he asked, calming as if the mention of Sana alone was enough to bring him back from a mindless rage.

‘She is. Your Sana was looking for you. She told me to find you, but you must drink this before you see her,’ I told him, and, in a moment of inspiration, added, ‘Your condition is dangerous for her.’

That was the right thing to say. As soon as I mentioned a danger to Roksana, he reached out, snatching the vial from my hand and emptying it in one gulp. I stood frozen, realising where the stench came from.

Three fingers of his right hand were mutilated beyond recognition, pus oozing from broken bones and torn muscles, with maggots writhing in the mangled flesh. Tova didn’t seem to care, as if he no longer felt any pain there.

I recalled the words of the army healer when I had argued against amputation in the past: There are wounds no magic can help. All you can do is remove the rotten flesh before it kills the soldier.

I nodded to the healer. ‘Do what you must.’

Tova pushed the vial onto the table and staggered, taking a step back before landing heavily on his rear. ‘Tell her . . . M?ot sent men to kill her, the mages, the kingdom is falling apart, and he blames her . . . Wiosna, the miners . . . all dead; it’s a fucking tomb.’

He fell back, head lolling to the side, and the healer sprang into action.

‘Put him on the table. Quickly!’ he said, and my men rushed to assist him. ‘The sedative won’t work for long. I have one chance to save him.’ The healer’s apprentice stepped in, and together, they began preparing the dwarf.

I stepped aside to allow the medics to work and beckoned to one of my soldiers.

‘Tell me what happened, and as soon as the healer finishes, send someone to bring his friends from our quarters.’ A part of me knew I should call Sana now, but I didn’t want to delay a procedure that could save Tova’s life.

The man briefed me, and I discovered it was pure luck that my men had stumbled upon the wagon returning to Wiosna. Its wheels were stuck in the mud up to the axles, and the dwarven merchants had argued whether to unload the merchandise and dig the wagon out or abandon it.

‘We found him in a pig crate, my king,’ the soldier said. ‘Rotting in his own filth. I don’t think they cared if he were dead or alive when they handed him to M?ot, as long as there was a body.’

My jaw tightened. I wasn’t Tova’s friend, but for the pain his imprisonment had caused Roksana, I would ensure M?ot paid for this. My thoughts of revenge stopped abruptly when the heavy door was thrown open and Sana walked in, freezing in the doorway.

I moved to intercept her, but as if my movement spurred her to action, Roksana sucked in a lungful of air and rushed towards the still figure on the table.

‘Tova! I’m here. I found you, tinkerer. Please . . . please open your eyes. Please, talk to me . . . Tova!’ Tears streamed down her face as she wrapped her arms around the dwarf, cuddling him as if she hadn’t noticed his dirty clothes and the layer of filth that covered his body.

‘Please step away, my lady,’ the healer said, gently pulling her away from the table. ‘We need to prepare him. His hand needs to be removed if he is to live.’

‘What?! Removed?’ Sana stared at the healer in horror. ‘But his work . . . He needs both hands. You can’t just chop one off.’

‘If I don’t, he will die.’

The man was blunter than I’d like, but Sana didn’t struggle when he pulled her away, thrusting her in my direction.

I instinctively wrapped my arms around her.

She was shaking, but as I tried to take her to a different room, she looked at me in such a way that I instantly knew not even a dragon could force her to leave.

We watched as they stripped him of his dirty clothes, leaving only a modesty wrap around his hips.

Hot tears fell on my hands as Sana silently cried, her gaze sliding over his swollen flesh covered with colourful bruises.

Tova had been beaten, starved, and gods knew what else, and the more injuries that appeared as they removed the filth from his skin, the more Sana stiffened in my embrace.

When he was prepared, and the healer had placed his instruments on the table, drawing sigils to aid in the procedure, the shimmer of aether caught my attention.

My skin prickled in a wave of goosebumps, but it hadn’t come from the healer.

Small jolts of energy sparked where I touched Roksana’s bare skin.

It felt like the air before a storm, heavy with tension, and my heart sped up with the prickle of fear.

‘Sana?’ I whispered, tightening my grip.

She raised her head, looking at me with eyes that had lost all humanity.

I’d seen that look once before—the day she’d struck me with the hairpin.

I wasn’t even certain if she could see me as green fire danced in the depths of her eyes.

Her breath came in laboured pants while something moved around us, an invisible tide shifting, pushing me away when she took a step forward.

The healer frowned, looking around in confusion before shaking his head and leaning down to make the first cut, hissing when a red welt appeared on his hand as if a whip had struck it. My ears popped, briefly muffling all sound, but it did nothing to ease the pressure of her magic filling the room.

‘No!’ Her voice echoed around us, hollow and emotionless, freezing us in place.

The sound of steel hitting the stone reverberated in total silence when the healer dropped the knife.

He retreated in haste, eyes wide and filled with terror as she approached the examination table.

Sana took the mangled remnant of the dwarf’s hand in hers, and the scent of lilac and honey overpowered the stench of decay.

The pressure dropped, letting us move. I stepped towards Roksana when the clattering of falling instruments snapped my attention to the old man. The healer pressed his hands to his chest, looking at Roksana as if she were a monster come to devour us, his pale lips whispering a single word.

‘Vivamancer.’