Castel has spent the past two years at Fort Mael, setting up a military base in the mountain pass between the Dreadlands and the kingdoms of Erya, throwing himself into the work in the hopes it will help exercise his demons. He's had relative succes...
It was odd to think that the Sorceress Isobel was lying on his bed. The woman who had saved the world lay unconscious in his bedchamber. She was deadly still, the lack of colour in her cheeks a disturbing sight. Had he not seen the slight movement of her chest rising and falling, he wouldn't have known she was alive. Whatever had brought her to Fort Mael, it was nothing good.
With a frustrated groan, he rubbed his neck with one hand while weighing his options. She looked in desperate need of a medic but had made him promise not to tell anyone about her. He didn't want to break his promise to her, but he also did not want to see her suffer. Something was definitely wrong.
The door to his study opened in the adjoining room. Throwing a last glance at the sleeping woman on his bed, he walked through the door between his private bedchamber and his study to find Spymaster Boreas standing by his desk. The Spymaster was short in stature but of keen intellect and always seemed to know more than he ought to.
"Is it her?" he asked, not even bothering to pretend ignorance.
Cas narrowed his eyes. "How did you know?"
The small man shrugged. "I am the Spymaster for a reason. You didn't answer my question."
"It's her, but she's not here to aid us. Truth be told, I'm not entirely sure why she has come. I only know she needs help."
"Help?" Boreas frowned. "Why? Where is she?"
Cas nodded towards the door to his private sleeping quarters. "In there. Asleep. Unconscious. I don't know."
"Only you would choose to have your bed next door to your place of work," Boreas muttered before hurrying into the room, not waiting for an invitation. As he caught sight of the sorceress on the bed, he made a small sound of surprise. "What's wrong with her?"
"She told me she needed somewhere to recuperate, and then she dropped to the floor." Cas looked at the unconscious woman, wishing he knew what to do to help. "I wasn't sure what to do. I wanted to call a medic, but she told me not to tell anyone she's here."
Taking off one of his gloves, Boreas touched the sorceress' cheeks and forehead with the back of his hand. "She's burning up," he said grimly. "There's a fever raging in her. We must do something, medic or no."
The Spymaster quickly divested of his other glove and unclasped the cloak still wrapped around the sorceress. Once it was off, he ran his hands down her body, searching for signs of injury or illness. Cas stood a few steps away, uneasily shifting from one foot to the other. He should have thought to do that. Would have for anyone else. But the idea of touching Sorceress Isobel... He shook his head as a vision from the past briefly resurfaced. No. He had no time for that.
A pained noise from Isobel brought him back to the present. Boreas frowned and brushed against her left side, just above the waist, and she winced but did not wake.
"This spot," Boreas said. "I will have to find out what's wrong."
Pulling a dagger from his belt, he swiftly cut a slit in the sorceress' robe and tore a hole at the side. The moment her pale skin appeared, Cas quickly turned around. It was wrong to ogle her when she was unconscious. No. It was wrong to ogle her at any time. Sorcerers demanded respect, and this was the woman who had defeated the Dark Disciple. He definitely should not be staring at her bare skin.
He heard Boreas move behind him. "This can't be good... That's an ugly wound. Definitely poison. I'll have to take the rest of the robe off to confirm. It looks like..." He trailed off. "Cas?"
"I want to help you," he said. "I just don't know if it's proper.."
There was a smile in his friend's voice. "I don't think it matters much if it's one or two men seeing her. But I will cover her up so as not to offend anyone's modesty. Hers or yours."
Mainly his, he suspected. Isobel was most likely used to undressing around others since her days as an Adept. All the young hopefuls training to be the next sorcerer shared quarters, men and women alike. Cas, on the other hand, was a military man and had spent his life living around other men. Even as a Sentinel at Highglaive, he'd shared his quarters with other men.
He was acting like a fool. It wasn't as if he'd never seen a body unclothed before, and the situation was anything but sexual. It was only because it was Isobel. Things were different where she was concerned.
"Beg your pardon," he murmured as he turned back towards the bed. "I don't know what came over me."
"You're just a prude." Boreas chuckled. "It doesn't surprise me."
Cas smiled wryly. "I don't think anyone has ever called me a prude before."
"Oh, they have. Just not to your face."
Ignoring the dig, he motioned for the Spymaster to continue. Boreas made quick work of the rest of her robe, cutting through the fabric to reveal the pale expanse of Isobel's chest, but taking care to leave enough to preserve her modesty. There was an ugly gash on her left side, just below the ribs. The wound was clearly infected, the area red and swollen, and its inside black as if someone had poured in a pot of ink. Thin, dark lines spread from the wound, covering her abdomen in an intricate web that seemed to creep its way further and further across her body, with branches disappearing below the fabric of her robe in every direction.
A chill travelled down Cas's spine. He had seen this before. Orc's Blood. Two years ago, the Queen of Erya had been sliced by a dagger coated in the poison. She had made it, but they had caught it much sooner. The spread had been nothing close to the patchwork of dark tendrils currently covering Isobel's abdomen.
"Orc's Blood," Boreas said, confirming his thoughts. "By the Gods, I've never seen it this advanced before. How is she still alive?"
"Do we have the antidote?" Cas couldn't quite tear his eyes from the ugly veins showing the poison advancing along the sorceress' skin. How long had she suffered from this? From what he could remember, Orc's Blood killed most within a day.
"No."
The terse answer made him clench his fists. "What then?" he hissed. "We cannot simply let her perish."
Boreas stood. "The antidote is nearly as rare as the poison. The sorcerers would not share their limited stock but were kind enough to give me instructions on how to make it. I've been collecting the ingredients and I'm only missing one. I believe I can get it. Give me a day."
A day? Cas looked from the Spymaster to the still form on the bed. "Do we have a day?"
"Let's pray we do." Boreas reached down to touch Isobel's forehead again. "Considering the spread of the poison, it looks like she has already survived longer than most. No matter the reason, it's in our favour. If we're quick enough, hopefully, we can get the antidote before she succumbs. While we wait, I will have some hot water and herbs delivered to you by one of my most trusted agents. Clean her wound and dress it. If she wakes, let me know immediately."
He nodded grimly as the Spymaster moved towards the door.
Before leaving, the other man turned to him. "Cas, don't let her die. I don't think the world would forgive us."
"I won't," he promised, praying it wasn't one he would have to break.
~~~~~~
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