A Spoiled Rule

Chapter 16

Once more, Liam woke most regretfully, as he was in a tremendous amount of pain that prevented him from seeing clearly. He hoped he would wake in heaven, but alas, he knew heaven would not bring such pain. His head was pounding and he was sure if anyone were around they'd see it pound. His throat was oddly numb, with pins and needles here and there. His chest was heavy and his ribs were aching as if he hadn't expanded his lungs in a year. His arms and legs were stiff and he did not dare move them. Shapes and shadows moved before him, though none looked familiar. His vision was too blurry. Odd voices weaved through his eardrums, and shivers ran down his spine.
"-any medication here, but in Dínam..."
As if a switch was flipped inside his brain, Liam became alert. His vision cleared and his hearing sharpened, though the pain did not go away. Two men were before him, the shorter one clad in a rocky blue uniform and the taller in dark clothes that were too big for him. Both looked disheveled, with hair awry and dirt smudged everywhere. Both were staring at Liam and startling him.
The shorter man, who appeared to be an age slightly older than Liam, bent down and raised his hand in a peaceful gesture. "Hello." He smiled a friendly smile and spoke in a youthful, calm voice not unlike that which belonged to Stephen. "My name is Coulím, and this is a friend of mine, Rísham. We don't mean to be startling."
A noise sounded from behind Liam, and he craned his head to look but was filled with regret and groaned in pain.
"Do not try to move," winced Coulím. "Rísh, take care of the zombie, please."
Rísh nodded and disappeared beyond view.
Liam understood that he still lie in the tunnels beneath Harksgold, and he grew sick of the same scenery. Yet he supposed the situation would suit him better than one in which he found himself lying in the center of a plagued mob.
"Rísham has been keeping his distance. He thinks you are infected," said Coulím quietly. "But I believe that if you were infected, you would have turned by now."
"How long..." Liam could hardly speak above a whisper. Something was wrong with his throat. "How long have I been..."
"When we found you, you were barely conscious," said Coulím gravely. "You have since been asleep for a few hours. There were zombies near, but luckily Rísham and I were able to put them down before they reached you. That is why I believe you are not infected. You have torn clothes but no scratches. You are from Harksgold, yes?"
"Yes," said Liam weakly. A part of him wondered if any sound was coming from his mouth, but as Coulím responded, he assumed he was making some noise. Unless he was hallucinating. "Are you... from Dínam?"
Coulím nodded. "You must've heard us talking. We're from Dínam. We found ourselves in these tunnels beneath the kingdom."
Rísham returned, slightly disgruntled. He sat by Coulím's side with apparent loyalty.
"How... How have you found yourselves here?" asked Liam.
"Well," huffed Coulím, "We arrived on land a few days ago, attempting to reach the king. But we couldn't make it to the golden palace. We were forced underground."
"How'd you make it down here?" asked Liam.
"The door was open," answered Rísham simply. "He keeps fading," he mumbled toward Coulím. "He is a risk not only to himself but to you."
Coulím glared harshly at his friend. "He can be healed."
"He is too sick to undergo our treatment!" hissed Rísham. "Our kingdom is infected, this kingdom is infected. We can't even obtain the treatment safely."
Coulím stood nearly out of Liam's view. Though he was shorter, he seemed to tower over Rísham. "Why do you speak in such a way?" he hissed. "It is our duty to help, yours and mine alike. Is it the apparel I wear? Have you grown weak to the selfishness and jealousy that accompanies this plague? Would you like me to take it off?"
Rísham stood humbly. "No, please do not do so," he said quickly.
With his jaw set, Coulím gave a stern nod. "Fear is to blame."
Liam's ears perked. "Jackson, do not throw your knife," he said urgently, though he wondered whether the urgency showed in his voice.
"Liam, you are hurt!" said Jackson, coming into view. He was with Harvey, and he was very tense, his eyes lingering on Liam, then darting between the two unknown men. "Will you introduce yourselves?" he said rather harshly.
Harvey dipped his hat. "Oh no, I cannot be aroun' another dead body. Too many bodies in the sea." He shook his head. "Surely I am cursed."
"I am Coulím," he said, panic beneath his voice. "This is Rísham. We haven't harmed Liam. He is sick."
"Liam, shall I inform Stephen? We are less than two hundred feet from them," said Jackson urgently.
Liam gave a weak nod, and with the tip of a hat and another nod Jackson and Harvey disappeared down the tunnels. A warm unsettling feeling sat in Liam's throat and he coughed, blood spurting onto his face.
"We have a medicine," said Coulím quietly, kneeling down before Liam. "I do not know what you are sick with, but the medicine is very effective against many things. However, it will not stop the pain during the healing process and will slow your heart rate significantly." Coulím folded his hands together. "People have died because of this... but people have also lived beyond death's arrival. I can give you this medicine, but only if you say so."
Liam thought only for a moment. Something needed to change, else he'd suffer much more before death comes. "I will take the medicine," he said.
Rísham grabbed Liam's arm abruptly. The man did not move, but stared oddly at Liam's arm. Then with quick movements he pushed away Liam's sleeve, his touch rough against Liam's skin.
Coulím grabbed Rísham's shoulders and forced him away from Liam's arm, where red bruises already sat. "Rísh, look at me!" hissed Coulím.
A small snarl escaped from deep within Rísham's throat and he clamped down on Coulím's arm, though his teeth clanged against armor.
After a moment of biting in vain, Rísham lifted his head. When he did so, a knife slid into Coulím's hand from his sleeve. He sunk it into the top of Rísham's skull. Rísham sank to the floor slowly, as if he knew not that he was dead. Coulím stood there for a moment with his eyes closed, and Liam could hear only the sound of his breaths. Then, Coulím turned and hid his knife. "I overlooked the cut on his leg. Forgive me, Liam." He bent down again and pulled out a folded cloth. He unraveled it and revealed in its center a tube full of a light blue liquid.
"What is that?"
The voice belonged to Stephen, who came into Liam's view a moment later. Stephen knelt to the ground and gathered Liam's pulse, his eyes scanning his body. Then, he looked at Coulím. "What is it that you hold?"
"It is a medicine that may heal your... friend, I presume?" said Coulím.
Stephen nodded. "I am Liam's doctor. Where did you find such medicine? We have none like it in Harksgold."
Coulím hesitated for a split second. He replied wearily, "Dínam."
Stephen turned back to Liam. "We can't trust him, Liam," he spoke quietly. "He comes from the same place that tried to kill you!"
"He is... different," said Liam with great difficulty. Black clouds were forming at the edges of his vision.
Stephen sighed and glanced again at Coulím. "What are the side effects?"
"There are none besides death," replied Coulím grimly. "It slows the heart significantly. Some have died because of this, but more have lived. Liam has already agreed. It is to be drunk, like a potion."
"His eyes are closing," warned Prima.
"What was that?" hissed Gresham. "Prima, ready your knife."
Stephen uncorked the medicine and tipped it into Liam's mouth. A moment later, his eyes closed and he fell into a very dark sleep.