The Fires of Cerran

Chapter Twenty-One

There was a quiet, unnerving sense around the corridors which led to the incapacitated Astriel of Mair’s rooms. Whispers of dark magic, sorcery and even dealings with Eastern satanic worship, had begun to spread across the chambermaids and ladies in waiting that sat in quiet, judgemental circles around the various upper palace rooms. Of course, The Queen was all too aware of these fanciful rumours and vicious suggestions, and upon hearing them she made quick work of ensuring that those had circulated such vulgar tittle-tattle were kept well away from the bed-bound girl. A close group of maids, along with Neriel herself, were the only ones allowed to enter the room thereafter. Nevertheless, it was a shock indeed to all who entered the room on that morning, as the King held his High Council in the chambers below them, to see Astriel lying peacefully asleep with not a single bead of sweat about her brow.

 

Neriel examined the girl that morning and was astonished. Her cheeks were returning, like ripe apples in Summer, to a rosy glow. Her ashen face returning to a sun-kissed colour and her palms were warm to the touch. A miracle, Neriel thought to herself. No, she would not allow herself to fall into such traps. This was magic, though what kind she did not know. There were no signs of it, no roots or herbs about the floor or strange vial with the remnants of some potion. But the feeling within her stomach was one she had learned over time to never let slip by unnoticed. No, this was magic.

 

She clasped Astriel’s hand tightly, and after a few moments she felt the embrace of her friend’s fingers as they wrapped around her knuckles. A smile came over the girl’s face, and her eyes slowly opened onto the room.

 ‘Good morning.’ Neriel whispered, joyful tears in her eyes.

 ‘Ju’Rai, heavens…how long has it been?’ Astriel croaked, her dry throat caught every word viciously. A maid opened the windows around the room and bright golden light erupted into the room and this was followed by a light welcomed breeze.

 ‘Days and days my Lai.’ Neriel replied, rubbing the girl’s hands in her own as if she were holding a long-lost daughter of her own.

 ‘Ramon.... Is he alright? The rebels in the market!’ Astriel stirred, shaking her head violently. Neriel leaned in and pushed the girl’s shoulders down into the pillows again before resting a hand onto her face and rubbing it gently.

 ‘Ser Ramon is fine, as are all the archers. You were hit…poison.’ Neriel’s voice trailed off in sorrowful thought. Astriel’s gaze turned from the Queen to her own wounded leg, the bandaging fresh and only hours old at most.

 ‘Thanks to the Gods.’ The archer returned as she let out a long, thankful sigh. She looked out into the pale blue skies beyond the windows and wondered how she was still alive. Who had saved her? And by the look at the small vails at her bedside it had seemed that the medicines she had been prescribed had not been too effective. She felt for blades, they were safe at her side, sheathed and protected. She fought for recent memories, and only vague words and visions came to her, almost like reflections on a stream. None were complete and few had meaning to her now. She was glad to be alive, but she was lucky.

 

 ‘Where are the boys?’ She asked.

 ‘The King is holding a council of the High Lords.’ Neriel replied softly, a warm smile came to her face but Astriel saw something beyond it.