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Chapter 8 - Infection
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Under Luke's orders, the Silverborn made it out of Darni.
Not for the first time, Tayne thanked whatever deity it'd been that'd given him his second-in-command. When Tayne was struggling to stay above the shock of nearly getting Jesse killed, needing a moment without the burden of leader clinging to him, Luke had picked up his slack without question, organising and herding the Silverborn out through Darni's gates in Alguarde's direction.
They didn't stop as the twilight shroud gave way to nightfall, pausing only for a brief respite an hour before the dawn. None of the Silverborn complained, eager to be as far away from Darni as possible when the Master realised what they'd done. Other than Jesse, they'd taken no injuries, and it was a record Tayne was eager to keep for this cycle's series.
However as nightfall was upon them once more, Tayne knew they had to stop. They might be Silverborn, but even they couldn't push themselves three days without some kind of substantial rest.
Tayne's decision was further encouraged when Callum pulled his horse up beside Wing and held out a silver sphere. As Tayne took it, he could already feel the Whisper embedded into it.
Callum's pre-recorded voice floated inside his mind. It'd be appreciated if we could stop soon. I'd like to examine the elf again, see if her condition has changed. What little I did at Darni won't tide her over until we reach Alguarde.
Tayne focused his energy on the sphere, imprinting his own Whisper into it before passing it back. Can do. He paused a second, considering where they were. There should be an area up ahead we can stop for the night, next to the river. Fresh water for everyone, including your patient.
He passed the sphere back. Callum nodded his understanding a second after and drifted back into the main group of Silverborn.
The sound of the Deity's river soon came into range. It was an odd name, but Wrain claimed it was because the river was the first and largest, the water deity's original life-giving gift to the mortal realm. However, he'd also said that it'd once been pristine, kept pure by the deity's influence when in truth, Tayne wouldn't touch it before putting it through their filters.
Tayne drew the horn from its pouch on his saddle and lifted it to his lips, blowing out two clear, staccato notes. The Silverborn gave their acknowledgement around him by raising an arm twice in quick succession.
Satisfied, Tayne replaced the horn. A few minutes later, the Silverborn were milling around the partially cleared area setting up camp for the night with the river at their back and a thinly sparsed forest around them.
As everyone knew their tasks without him telling them specifically, Tayne assisted a few Silverborn with their set up before making his way over to where Callum had unpacked the elf. The grey mare they'd chosen for her calm, sturdy nature remained perfectly still while Jesse and Luke set about undoing the ropes used to lash the elf to the mare's back.
With the ropes off, Luke cradled the elf's upper body and Jesse took her legs. The elf didn't resist, still as unconscious as she'd been when they'd left Darni nearly two days ago now. Her body stayed exactly where they placed it on the bedroll, moved only by her shallow breathing.
Callum glanced up from his medical bag as Tayne approached before going back to the various vials it contained. His face was grim.
"How she's survived, I don't know," Callum muttered as he selected a green liquid. "Whatever she is, Sentinel or not, she's strong. I'll give her that."
The Silverborn looked at her, noticing the same things as Tayne, if their expressions were anything to go by.
The girl's skin was covered in varying lengths of cuts, some Tayne guessed were as old as two weeks, if not more. Bruises marked the otherwise pale skin and more than a little dried blood clung to the strands of brown hair. One of her teal streaks was nearly invisible under it.
The injuries were substantial, but by no means the worst. That was the large, dark purple-black mark the size of a hand spanning across her shoulder, discovered by its edge after they confirmed her Sentinel mark. Compared to the flowered image that shifted like it was breathing on her skin, the melted-then-hardened surface of her skin reminded Tayne of the uninhabitable wasteland of Lerelia. If Tayne looked for it, he could sense the corrupted essence smouldering within the purple mark, still emitting heat.
There was only one person who could have made such a mark, and Tayne didn't want to know how she'd come into contact with the Master.
Callum set to work, stripping back parts of the elf's hunting tunic for better access to her injuries, which gave Tayne a thought.
"Jess," he said. The young Silverborn's head snapped up, eager to help. "Go talk to Nissa or Verdrana, see if they have anything that'd fit the elf."
Jesse bounced up, wincing a moment later. The elf might have saved his life with her magic, but it hadn't been a complete healing. "Okay!"
As he bounced off, Tayne left Callum to his work and went off to find Luke.
He found him standing in the middle of a group at the opposite end of the Advisor's tent, wearing an expression that let Tayne know he was stirring trouble.
"Nath," said Luke, gently punching the other man's shoulder. "C'mon, we all want to know. Did you actually declare war on Wrain the other day, or did that all get made up?"
Nathaniel aka the bandit who'd 'attacked' Wrain to give them a way around the Advisor's protocols, grinned. "Well, he did tie the ropes rather tight, and I couldn't let that go unpunished. Let him know exactly how I felt about it with precisely chosen words!"
Luke made a dramatic face. "Oh no, who would have guessed!" he said, throwing his hands up. "Our stoic Silverborn Wrain had his feelings hurt!"
"Luke," said Tayne as he approached. "What would you be doing, exactly?"
Luke gave him a sheepish grin. "Nothing, nothing at all. Just poking a little fun, lightening the mood, clarifying what counts as a declaration of war in these parts. The usual."
"Of course you are," said Tayne, resisting the urge to laugh. "C'mon, need to talk to you about something."
Luke turned back to the ground and gave a gracious bow. "My friends, our esteemed leader wishes to have a word with me."
Tayne raised an eyebrow at that as they walked away. "I'll wish to have a duel with you in a minute if you keep that up."
"Even though I'd win," said Luke with a grin.
"Even though you'd win," admitted Tayne.
They walked past the other Silverborn trading jibes. When they reached the spot where Blaze and Wing grazed nearby, Luke turned to look at him, somehow still managing to look casual while doing it.
"What did you need to talk about?" asked Luke. "I know that tone. You're worried about something."
What aren't I worried about? thought Tayne, but he stuck with the obvious one. "What do you make of the elf?"
Luke considered his answer before replying. "If she is a Sentinel, she has the power to change our situation, although I'm not sure if it's for better or worse. At best, she's trained, she can fight the Master. At worst..." A look of guilt passed over his face. "...that mark could cause a lot of problems.
Tayne caught the hint. "You sensed it too, then."
Luke nodded. "Hard not to." He sighed. "I'm wondering how she was captured in the first place, why the Master hasn't already taken her to the Citadel. He obviously knows about her, so doesn't he care?"
"Not much point in wondering about that we can't know until she wakes up," said Tayne. "Which is going to be a problem if she doesn't. Callum wants to stop at least every two days so he has a chance to treat her, and we can't really deny him. I think we--"
A shout of alarm cut his sentence short.
Tayne and Luke took one look at eachother and started running back into the camp.
Babbling reached Tayne's ears as they drew closer, back towards the site Callum had placed the elf. That fact alone sent a shot of fear through Tayne, and his imagination--the mark on her shoulder had awoken, was transitioning her into a demon, a second shadow Sentinel was being born--didn't help soothe it.
The scene they found was slightly less chaotic.
The girl still appeared to be an elf, but she no longer lay still. She thrashed around blindly, legs kicking and scraping the dirt with squeezed shut eyes that refused to see anything, refused to hear anything the Silverborn were trying to tell her as Callum and Nissa held her down.
Jesse knelt to one side, one of Nissa's tunics clutched in his hands, begging for the elf to stop.
"Oh please, no no no, stop, please, it's okay we're not trying to hurt you--" Jesse's wild eyes scanned the crowd and landed on Tayne. "Tayne! Tayne, you have to help! Callum did something and then she just started doing this!"
"It was not something I did," said Callum through clenched teeth. "It's that mark on her shoulder. Whatever it is, it's growing." He met Tayne's eyes. "We do something now or it takes over, but I don't know how many options we have. She didn't respond to anything I tried."
Everyone was looking at Tayne, asking him silently what their next move was as Tayne tried to figure it out himself. He knew what Callum was suggesting. Wait it out, or end it now before the corruption could claim her entirely, for that was surely what it was. Evil radiated out of the grasping mark beyond doubt.
"Tayne," whispered Jesse. "What do we do? We... we can't..."
Jesse's pleading tone was enough to snap Tayne back to his senses. A deep breath grounded him, the cold air pulling him back to a logical mindset that wasn't panicked by the elf's behaviour, their impossible chance against the Master's tyranny over Lerelia.
He'd frozen up in the rebel camp and almost cost Jesse his life. He wouldn't do so now.
Tayne studied the ground and let himself think.
The elf. The elven girl was affected by some kind of magic, most likely corrupted with a root in the shadow element. Judging by the tendrils snaking out under her skin, it was spreading from her shoulder. She stretched her head as far away from it as her neck would allow, never touching it. Her breathing was increased and unsteady, like that of a frightened animal. Rational thought had fled her mind, else Tayne imagined she would have tried her magic.
Shadow has the power to create illusions, thought Tayne, studying her before reaching a decision. Shadow magic is showing her something, causing her to panic. Either way, magic is the problem here.
"Luke, keep the perimetre secure," said Tayne, taking Callum's place by the elf's head. "I'm going to see if I can get fix this."
Sweat coated her limbs by the time Tayne was ready. He slipped his hand under her neck, ignoring the lacerations his fingers found on the skin there, ignoring the tears that stained her face and rubbing against his wrists, focusing on nothing but the small root of power within himself.
Throughout history, not many Silverborn were gifted with the Skirinai, or the Breath of Life as the old Sentinel texts called it. It was the thing that had convinced Wrain that Tayne was destined to lead them so many years ago, and a thing he'd never wanted to begin with. It relied on purity of soul, and there were words... words he had to remember to call upon it.
Tayne remembered them, burned into his mind from the small blue book in the Silverborn's library. He could visualise the words easily, and they slipped out with his next breath.
"Ski'dor, Ash, Nai. Zul, Gia. Infuse."
He lifted her head towards his own, minimising the distance between them without actually touching. With a gentle breath, Tayne blew the silvery dust his own enchantment had created onto the elf's lips, watching as it sank in and swirled through her own intake of air, absorbing through her system and helping to, from what Tayne understood of it, heal the soul with a burst of his own energy...if his intent had been pure.
He just hoped that this time, it'd been pure enough. The fact that he possessed the Breath of Life had been a little known fact among the Silverborn, but judging by the faces and whispering going on now, it was a secret no longer.
Tayne wouldn't have minded--much--had it not been for the Advisor's face skulking through the edges of the group, poking his nose in to see what the commotion was about.
"Good thinking," murmured Callum. "She seems to have calmed."
The tendrils recoiled back into the elf's shoulder burn, the blackened colour receeding to its previous state of dark violet. Tayne breathed a sigh of relief, but remained with the elf's head in his lap, gently stroking her head for several more minutes as her breathing returned to normal. The Silverborn around him seemed relieved, but none more so than Jesse.
"I knew you could do it," he said in barely more than a squeak. "I knew it!"
Tayne gave him a small smile. "That makes one of us."
*+*+*+*
When the lamplight shifted off the bodies of the mortals, the worm-like tendril made its move.
In the midst of the happy moment, the relieved Silverborn didn't notice as it squirmed from its place on the shoulder of the elf, using the cover of shadow to sneak unnoticed, half in, half out of both realms. It had only seconds to find a new host, but it couldn't find a place to enter the minds of these accursed celestial knights. Their mental armour was too strong, too resilient for it to--
No, there was one. One that was weaker than the others, one who did not have the defences of the rest.
The tendril slipped inside, forcing itself into the weakened soul and latching on like the parasite it was. Safely out of sight, it manifested itself as deep as it could go, wriggling with delight at what it found.
This soul was pure. Pure what, the tendril did not know, but it could grow here.
There were doubts. Fears. Regrets. It wouldn't take long before it could make contact with the rest of the corruption and siphon additional energy from it to infect the soul, but not yet. Not until it was inside Alguarde's walls, smuggled through the wards that usually prevented it from crossing the threshold.
There, it could wreak havoc upon the people that believed themselves to be protected from the very thing that had been corrupting them for centuries.
*+*+*+*
Most Silverborn had returned to their activities when the elf's eyes flickered open.
Her lids opened slowly, revealing brilliant flashes of emerald irises rarely seen in humans. It took a moment, but her gaze steadied out of the confusion clouding them and they immediately locked on Tayne, recognising that he wasn't like her, that she had no idea who he was.
Tayne sensed it as the instinct of flight welled up in her, screaming at her to run from this race that was responsible for her living nightmare the last few weeks. He put a hand on her shoulder to try and reassure her. She flinched violently at the touch and broke the contact, her angular face with the pointed ears running through a marathon of emotions he couldn't read.
He was about to attempt another gesture of peace, when without a twitch or anything to betray her, she moved.
In one swift movement, the elf grabbed Tayne's arm and twisted him over her body in a graceful arc. He landed on his back before she lightly sprang on top of him, perched like an owl with its prey in her talons, knee digging into his sternum. Somewhere in the movement, she'd managed to draw his sword and now held it pressed against his own throat.
She didn't speak. Her posture was message enough.
Move and he dies.
The Silverborn swarmed back. Some lingered at the edges, holding the lanterns high to survey the scene while others had drawn their swords with a steady gaze, ready to remove the threat. By unspoken consent, they closed the circle in a wall of bodies around Tayne and his attacker, trying to predict the elf's next move.
Tayne felt vulnerable. He had a feeling that this girl, capable of fighting or not, had been pushed to her limit during captivity. By her wild eyes, she lingered on that razor edge of sanity, imminently close to severing herself from its grip.
The green eyes assessed the Silverborn that surrounded her, their swords pointed at her face. Somehow, she managed to play it off with a confidence, like she truly believed she could take a few of them down before they got her. That either meant that she believed herself to outclass Silverborn, or she had no idea who they were.
Tayne shifted as she pressed the sword further into his neck.
He grimaced. He didn't want her hurt further, but if she attacked, the Silverborn would have no choice to restrain her until she saw sense...though he had the feeling that if they moved, she wouldn't hesitate to make good on her threat.
While trying to figure out what next in this stalemate, a ripple of fear ran through him. He wasn't sure where it came from. He wasn't scared so much as nervous for what injuries she might cause herself if she acted out.
Why aren't they attacking? Are they holding off, waiting for something? An image of a tall man garbed entirely of black he'd never seen before flashed through Tayne's mind. Is he coming back for me, does he know?
Tayne twisted his head around, trying to figure out where the voice had come from. The movement earned him a shallow cut across his skin, and no one seemed to have spoken. He didn't recognise the voice and the elf's lips hadn't moved.
He caught Wrain's eye, who was silently asking him for permission.
Tayne shook his head slightly, another cut where the blade rested. He hoped Wrain would wait--he doubted the elf would stand for such violence meekly.
The corner of the big Silverborns mouth pulled down.
He understood, but he didn't like it. Not while his friend was lying on the ground, restrained by some wild girl with a glint in her eye that would scare most grown men.
The elf caught the exchange, throwing a brief glance in Wrain's direction.
They're communicating? The green eyes snapped back to Tayne, her lips curving ever so slightly. Oh. I've got their leader, and they don't want to do anything placing him in danger.
Understanding hit Tayne.
He was hearing her thoughts.
Emotions, words, senses--everything was rolled into one huge wave of feeling. They all came through in an overwhelming sense of...her.
He could use that. Using a similar technique to imprinting a Whisper, Tayne pushed his thoughts to the forefront of his mind and focused on the place where her skin touched his.
Name, he said, pressing the idea. What's your name? We're friends, we don't want to hurt you. Friends.
The elf nearly fell over. She leapt off Tayne's chest, thought the sword remained at his throat and the skin contact steady. A trickle of warm blood ran down Tayne's neck, but it was a low priority. He had to get through to her. The Silverborn were getting frustrated, it wouldn't be long before someone interpreted an action from the elf the wrong way.
The elven eyes locked him down. The melody of her mind whispered through him, and he felt her reaching out, cautiously, carefully, before recoiling at the touch. She bit her lip, and once more, he felt her mind as she extended herself towards him, a coil of thought ready to flee at a moment's notice.
...Skye.
If not for the blade holding him down, Tayne could have danced for joy. He saw her wary smile and figured she knew it, too. The curiosity peaked again, getting the best of her apprehension.
Your mind doesn't feel like his, thought Skye. It feels like hers. She slowly removed the blade, though it stayed in her hand. "Who are you?"
Tayne sat up slowly, to prevent any unwanted reactions.
"We're the Silverborn," he said. "We fight the corruption, try to hold it back from claiming what's left of Lerelia. The Celestial guides us, grants us the power to do as we must. We fight along the Sentinels, alongside you."
Skye remained still as she listened, doubt still growing on her face. At the word 'Sentinel', her gaze drifted down to her arm, fingers brushing over where the Sentinel mark flourished on her bicep.
"It's true," she said, voice barely more than a whisper. "I didn't think so, even after..." Her eyes found Jesse's, who nearly exploded on the spot from the attention. "Did I heal you?"
Tayne half expected Jesse's head to fall off the way he was nodding it. "Yea! Saved my life, uh, thanks for that!"
Skye gave him a nervous frown and took a step towards Tayne. Upright, she stood just under a head shorter than him, a little below the average height for most elves if Wrain was to be believed.
"I fear I may be placing you all in danger," Skye murmured, fingers tracing the hilt of Tayne's sword, still reluctant to return it. A hand absentmindedly went to her shoulder. "The Master may follow me, and I'm not sure how much use I'll be against him."
"We'll get you to Alguarde," said Tayne. "We'll be safe when the shadow cycle hits there."
"If we make it back, thanks to your antics in Darni," said the Advisor with a sniff. "By my count, we're running two days behind."
"Not if we take the old highway," said Wrain from the edge of the group. "It'll be tougher, but we'll make it back to Alguarde before the cycle arrives."
Tayne nodded. They hadn't used the old highway in a while, but it was a valid option.
"We'll discuss it later," he said, deciding to get his sword back later. Skye seemed comfortable with it. "For tonight, we're resting. Get the watches organised and then everyone can get some sleep. We move at dawn."
*+*+*+*