Foundation's Mistress

30. The Wastes

The Gods have given you Arcadia and the power to provision it. Live in it freely, my children. Fill it with splendour and joy!

- Excerpt: The First Annals of The Mother, Book Two. Date Unknown.

Adya's head was exploding with pain, her stomach wracked with nausea. She lay thrashing on her back in the makeshift tent that Conrad had made for her. She was using a layer of clothing as a mattress - it was hardly comfortable, a tiny layer of softness between her buttocks and what felt like rock. The obdurate ground beneath was grinding into the back of her head, where the worst of the pain resided.

The idea of running into the wilderness had sounded altogether adventurous and exciting three days ago. When they had slipped past the mob and made it over Gap on the causeway bridge, she had felt the romance of the moment, escaping from danger and into a wild land where they would have to rely on wit and wisdom to survive. Her hope and expectation had swelled at the challenge.

But as a woman of privilege, accustomed to certain comforts, even two days of journey had required far, far more grit and determination than she could have thought possible. The heat was oppressive by day, as she had expected, but she hadn't counted on the ghastly wild creatures that stalked them: strange cat-like creatures, gigantic birds, wild dogs and gigantic lizards. To begin with, Conrad had killed those few that came close enough for a taste of his blade, but all that had done was leave a trail of blood behind them, attracting more and more carnivores eager for easy prey. It was then that he decided on avoidance as the better approach, but that too had its difficulties. Initially, they couldn't quite see what was hunting them. Whenever Conrad saw something on the trail, they halted and observed it for a time. It kept them safer, but it made for slow and careful going.

When they weren't in danger of being eaten whole, insects buzzed around their heads, eating them piece by piece. Adya's beautiful skin had taken on a hideous blotchy cast in reaction to the poison, the itching and the scratching. The heat added to the problem, rendering the itching unbearable. At night the insects may have been biting less, but they uttered forth deafening screechy chirps instead, making sleep next to impossible.

Partway through the second day, after they had made scant progress, Conrad decided to change things up. They would travel at night, he told Adya. He was not confident of their direction as it was, and although the darkness could make that aspect a little worse, he thought he could follow the trail adequately enough. He estimated they were likely to make more progress. So he had set up a tent for Adya to rest in, just on the edge of a rock wall, intending to keep watch while she slept.

Which was precisely when Adya's blinding sickness had arrived. She had not had sweetwine for two days, which was the typical arrival interval for withdrawal symptoms from that particular luxury. In Adya's case, she had been consuming sweetwines for years and years without interruption, which made the withdrawal sickness much, much worse than it otherwise would have been.

And so, when evening came, Conrad could not possibly coax her onto her feet. She lay there, shivering, occasionally vomiting, her head throbbing. He nursed her as best he could, but they both knew there was little to be done. She would have to ride it out.

The following day was much the same. Conrad kept watch, not able to sleep, and Adya was only able to catch snatches of drowsy, fever-ridden slumber in the tent when she was not roused by the pain and discomfort. Her body, somehow mistaking the absence of sweetwine as a variety of poison, emptied itself of everything she had begun to digest, and the effort left her with entirely without energy.

Close to the end of the third day, Conrad brought her a tiny draught that he had made. It tasted terrible. Adya swallowed it without question: she did not have the spirit in her to contend with him, and right then, if he had offered her the worst poison imaginable, she would have taken it gladly, if only to end the torment.