Chapter 5-Meetings

(AN: If anyone actually cares about this story, this is chapter 5. Chapter 6 soon and, I am going back and editing/revising all my old chapters. I suggest anyone who really cares should go back and check as some things have been added, and others changed, thanks for those of you who take the time to review, it makes me happier than you know.)

Darius slammed the door shut, and leaned back against it weakly. Horas was not following, the man had clearly given up; he was heading down to the dungeon to converse with his new pet elf. Darius would have protested this new game of Horas' if he hadn't felt as if a thousand pox-ridden commoners were prancing in his gut. He couldn't move, or dared not to. The moment stretched, becoming an eternity of agonizing torment. If only death could be willed…

A soft knocking broke echoed, followed by a serene voice. "Excuse me, your highness. My name is Wish, may I come in?" Darius swallowed painfully, and pulled the door open slightly. It was the woman in blue. A worry line appeared on her tan brow, but she didn't move forward.

"Come in." Darius said quickly, not trusting to speak longer. She slid through the partially open door, and closed it behind her. He saw her eyes curiously dart about the room before she turned her attention back to her patient.

"Unusual, very peculiar." She said aloud, as she studied her patient. "This is certainly not normal." "How long have you been feeling this way?" She asked solemnly. "No. This is definitely not normal progression." Wish answered her own question. "Earlier you seemed absolutely fine. This must be magic induced, your highness. Do you think you will be alright while I brew a potion?" Darius nodded hesitantly, unwilling to relinquish the soothing voice. "Are you certain, my apologies your highness, but you look positively wretched."

"Yes." He snarled, regretting his answer instantly, as a hurt expression crossed her features. Darius winced, wondering why he cared what a healer felt. Wish bowed swiftly and darted out of the chamber. He stared after her through the open door. She was sprinting down the hall, all ceremony forgotten. The woman was truly worried; she didn't seem the type to ignore etiquette easily. "Who are you?" He asked aloud, and instantly regretted it as the nausea became even more unbearable.

Wish rushed through the halls to her chamber. She hadn't wanted to alarm the prince, and the gods willing he hadn't heard her slip. Magic was loathed in Tristannia, the word nearly forbidden. The thought of the first time she had encountered the illness haunted her thoughts. It had been her first and only experience with it; and that man was now dead. Wish had deduced that it was caused by slowly bursting the life force of an individual. The other man had been mostly dead when she had arrived; it had been far too late. She didn't want to, but it seemed as if magic would be the only way to reverse it, though a few herbs could contribute somewhat.

She skidded around a corner, in the middle of the hall was a saffron rug. Jack had not known exactly what he spoke of. The rug was more than just a respite from the color scheme. Whoever had placed it there knew it was woven with several protection spells. She didn't think Jack would mind her borrowing it for Darius.

With the rug in hand, she dashed to her room. Archer's Foot, and Teliona. She thought, searching through her herbs. Scarlet Morning, normally used for dying soldiers. She gathered the three herbs and raced through the secret door to the laboratory Hallivar had given her. She fixed the cauldron over the fire, and tossed in the Archer's Foot and Teliona. While the herbs slowly came to a boil, she ground the dark red flower, and placed the powder in a small cloth bag. After a few moments, the herbs released a stream of cerulean smoke. Deftly, she poured the mixture into a flask, and shook it lightly. Hurriedly, she doused the fire, and closed the laboratory door. I am running out of time. The thought quickened her pace as she ran back to Darius' chamber.

"A dark elf? You seem like a decent person, so I'll tell you a secret about myself. My name is Rath, and I'm half demon. I think I can trust you with this, Darius doesn't often talk to elves." The guard outside called. Dalanth smothered a grin, images of Megami coming to mind. Though Rath seemed to be a moral person, trust broken is not easily given again.

"Yes, I am Dalanth of Lyartha. But if I may ask, why is a Royal Guard of Tristannia speaking to a rebel from Lyartha?" He asked suspiciously. Dalanth's breath caught in his throat as Rath appeared in his cell. The blond guard grinned cheerily.

"Boredom. The only other person in this city who will even speak to me is Horas. He really is a nice man, if somewhat dull." Rath answered shrugging. "And, if you were trying to assassinate Darius, that makes you an immediate ally." "I am only kidding." He said quickly, and disappeared from the cell.

"Captain Horas, is there anything wrong?" Rath asked conversationally. The captain laughed goodheartedly, as Rath opened the door. The half demon winked, and closed the door behind Horas. Horas chuckled, the turned his attention to Dalanth.

"King Hallivar wishes to speak with you. Please answer the questions asked of you, the king does not often converse with elves or Lyarthan's." He said earnestly. Dalanth watched his weather beaten face for a vestige of ulterior motives. He found none; his eyes were locked on his own, unwaveringly. Dalanth nodded cautiously, shrinking back from the man out of habit.

Rath opened the door on cue, still grinning. Horas led the way down the dim, silent halls. Dalanth peered into the cells, and was surprised to see they were all empty. He opened his mouth to ask why, but quickly shut it.

"What were you going to ask?" Rath asked curiously.

Dalanth glanced sideways at him, and finally inquired, "Why are all the cells empty?"

Rath looked at him incredulously, raising a thin black eyebrow. "You don't know? Oh, I forgot, you're an elf from Lyartha. Usually, there is no one down here. Horas doesn't want criminals in his home, I am sure you understand." He explained readily. Dalanth half-smiled, and nodded.

The grand doors of the Royal Chamber opened before him. Dalanth could hardly believe a Lyarthan rebel would ever enter the king's presence. Horas and Rath bowed, and Dalanth felt compelled to do likewise. Hearty laughter startled him, and he straightened immediately. King Hallivar was chuckling, his dark brown eyes filled with merriment.

"A rebel bowing to a king, this is quite a sight. Rath, have you been threatening people again?" He asked affably. Rath shrugged innocently.

"I didn't do anything, your highness." "If I may be so bold, your majesty, I think that this elf wasn't doing anything." Dalanth frowned at the guard suspiciously. King Hallivar adjusted his crown absently.

"What are your thoughts, Horas?" He asked gazing passively at his old friend. Dalanth shot a worried glance at the captain.

"I think that Dalanth could help us, as a former rebel. He would swear allegiance to Tristannia and yourself, Hal." Horas said slowly, allowing Hallivar to consider his proposal. Dalanth looked at each man, lingering on Horas. Why was Horas so convinced Dalanth would renounce his home and people, or was he?

"Very well, I put this matter in your hands Horas. I trust your judgement completely." King Hallivar waved his hand, dismissing them. The men and the elf bowed deeply and exited the Royal Chamber.

(AN2: What do you think? Chapter ending too abrupt, should have switched the two scenes around? Feedback much appreciated. Thanks.)