The Sickness

Okay here's where Cleven's character becomes really interesting. Cleven bottles up his emotions a lot, but they come out here in a blaze of anger and ferocity. It was actually kind of scary to write.

“Really, Cleven, you’re taking this far too seriously.”

Cleven paused mid-pace and turned slowly to face his brother. “You aren’t taking it seriously enough, Zayric. What could Father possibly want with her?”

“Oh please. She’s barely even a lady, and a spectacularly soft-spoken, inconsequential one, at that. He’s probably just asserting his dominance over the family, scaring them a little so they remember who’s in charge. I’ve seen him do it before. You said her father was a merchant, correct? If she has any claim to noble stature at all it’s through marriage, not blood, so why worry about her?” Zayric sprawled out a little more on Cleven’s luxurious couch. “Her friend’s a clever girl, I grant you, but that stupid mourning dove has no more brains in her head than the next mindless lady.”

“Is that all you think about?” Cleven snapped. “Social standing? What’s the point of it of even having rank if you don’t have compassion? It’s not only the nobles that matter, Zayric. I think sometimes you forget that.”

Zayric scoffed. “If I spent all my time thinking about the masses of peons that plough the fields every day and neglected my own court, chaos would descend on everyone. Father knows that. There’s got to be a structure, Cleven. The workers gather resources for the artisans, the artisans make goods for the merchants, the merchants sell the goods to the nobles and everyone pays loyalty the crown. It’s simple. If you’d paid any attention to our political science tutor instead of asking pointless questions about the peasants’ daily life, then maybe you’d remember that.”

“But why bother with structure if your people hate you?” Cleven asked seriously, kneeling next to his brother. “There are more of them than there are of us, Zayric. If there were ever a rebellion…”

“Better to be feared and get things done than loved and unproductive. And there won’t be a rebellion. We don’t overtax them; they’ve got plenty of chances to increase their rank to the middle classes; they don’t complain; we grant them their needs when they ask for them; and on top of all that they have protection.”

“Protection from what Zayric?” Cleven asked seriously, a hint of a growl in his already gruff voice.

            “The fairies, of course. You know better than anyone the damage that they can do.”

“But the fairies haven’t even done anything! Here it is we’re hold their queen, their most powerful asset, hostage and they haven’t even retaliated!” Cleven’s voice shook with emotion as he spoke and his sharp teeth gnashed in conviction. “How can you want protection from a race that doesn’t seek to hurt us?”

Zayric rose from his prone position and stared hard at his brother. “Why don’t you hate them, brother?” he asked in solemn wonder. “After all they’ve done to you, how can you possibly still think that they’re not bent on destroying this kingdom?”

 

 “If they wanted to destroy us they would’ve done it years ago.” Cleven replied, scowling. “She did this to me to teach you a lesson, a lesson you’ve gotten farther and farther from learning every day! How can you blame them for preserving peace in their own land and wanting it in ours?”

 

 

Zayric’s icy eyes narrowed, but his expression flickered momentarily; his brother’s words had cut deeply into his heart, but, as always, he fought against the tide of emotion surging in his chest, converting it to cold, unyielding anger. “What do you know of it?” He spat bitterly. “All you ever do is hide in this castle. You’ve never had to experience the real world, Cleven, and you never will! You don’t know the burden I bear! How dare you accuse me of failing to learn when every day I’m learning more and more about how imperfect and unfit I am to rule this terrible country while you sit here and wallow in pity?!”

“What do you know of pity, Zayric?” Cleven sneered. “I doubt you’ve ever felt compassion, let alone pity, for another human being except yourself!”

Zayric rose swiftly and smoothly, his eyes flashing with indignation. “I’ve shown compassion for you and now all you can do is fault me for failing to care about those who are less important? Why do you insist on protecting them? Why do they matter so much to you? Blood is thicker than water, Cleven! If you dare to put these glorified peasants above your own family I’ll consider it to be treason!”

Cleven’s beastly lips pulled back from his glimmering teeth in a horrible snarl. “Your lack of compassion is what got me here in the first place, as I recall.”

“I was… I was reckless!” Zayric shouted, fumbling to excuse himself. He knew what had happened to Cleven was his fault and his alone, but the more he thought about that, the harder it was for him to cope with dealing with the kingdom, and the kingdom had to come first. Even if it meant war. Even if it meant that his brother would be forced into this terrifying form for one more day. “Cleven, I didn’t know what I was doing. I couldn’t have known that she’d… I… she insulted us!”

“She insulted you. You didn’t know how to deal with it properly and now I’m paying for your debt! It’s a cruel punishment, isn’t it?” Cleven rose slowly with a dangerous, calculated air to his motions. He reached out with a hardened paw and caught a firm hold of Zayric’s collar.  “But don’t you think that you might’ve deserved it? Even a little?”

Zayric used the desperation of the situation to push the answer to these questions out of his mind and struggled against Cleven’s merciless grasp but, to his horror, he found that the claws were much stronger than he had originally thought. He tried to keep his voice even, but the color was draining slowly from his face. “C-cleven you’re not thinking straight.”

“No Zayric. For the first time I’m thinking clearly. Mother and Father gloss over your involvement but it really was all you.” He meandered over to a wall and slammed his brother against it.

Zayric winced, his head spinning as it cracked against the stone wall, softened as it was by the tapestry draped on it. “Cleven you’re going mad!” Zayric gasped urgently. “You’re succumbing to the beast she made you! Don’t give in to it! I’m your brother!”

“Did she create that beast or did you?” Cleven asked, growling dangerously. “Because I seem to recall I look this way because it reflects your failings.”

“Cleven!”

“Perhaps she didn’t teach you well enough that—”

Zayric flinched as the claws came dangerously close to his face, but a sudden, thunderous knocking at the door quelled his fear. He found himself unceremoniously dropped to the floor as Cleven stalked into the great hall to push open the doors.

With more difficulty than expected, Zayric pulled himself to his feet, annoyed at his body’s response to the situation, which was to shiver uncontrollably, though he wasn’t sure whether it was because of fear or emotion. Breathing deeply, he tried to force himself to be calm and to address the situation rationally. His brother, his own beloved Cleven, had almost severely injured him.  It presented a terrible circumstance on many levels, true, but he knew knowledge may be gained from it as well. His brother’s mind had slowly begun to deteriorate a few months after his transformation had become complete, but Zayric had never seen anger this drastic, or this sudden. Why had he been perfectly fine until yesterday? Zayric paid little attention to the indistinct conversation taking place in the great hall and brushed the dust off of his clothes. Approaching cautiously, he glimpsed Cleven turning away from that funny little man of the night before. What was his name? Zayric couldn’t help but think that he looked familiar, but placing him was difficult. As a prince it was his job to know every face and name in his court, though he practiced being sociable so little that the capability generally escaped him.

As Zayric watched, his muscles tensed, half expectant that his brother would maul the little man with his claws, but to his surprise Cleven’s approach revealed that he was holding Ellyra’s limp form in his arms. Cleven mounted the stairs two at a time, followed quickly by the new visitor. Briefly Zayric considered stopping and interrogating him, but his astonishment at the swiftness with which Cleven had regained his composure held him back and he was left, gaping, at the bottom of the stairs.

 

*

 

“What happened?” Cleven asked urgently, flitting down the halls at the top of the stairs.

“She fell off of her horse! One minute she was fine and the next she was tumbling to the ground. I don’t know what caused it.” Fallin puffed and panted, running to keep up.

“Just like Cypress.” Cleven muttered. “I think she caught it from someone who is staying here. Her friend. If it’s contagious then we need to get everyone out of there now before it spreads any farther.” Cleven halted at a door and banged on it with his free hand, Ellyra’s head lolling in its absence.

“What’s going on?” Tam asked incredulously, opening the door and poking his head out. “Cypress is sl— oh God.” Tam’s crystalline eyes widened at the sight of Ellyra. “What happened?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” Cleven responded, pushing past Tam to lay Ellyra gently on the bed next to Cypress’s before turning back to Fallin. “Did anything lead up to this? Coughing, sniffles, anything that you noticed?”

“She had a headache yesterday.” Fallin affirmed thoughtfully. “And I believe some mild nausea too. According to what I hear from the servants, she fainted in Queen Sybil’s arms, but I accredited that to nerves.”

“Clearly that’s not what it was.” Cleven muttered, uncharacteristically bitter. “Someone come and check her temperature. I can’t.”

Tam hurried to the side of her bed and, laying a hand on her forehead, winced. “She’s as warm as Cypress is.” He reported. “And if she’s fainted already, just as Cypress has, then it’s got to be the same condition.”

“But does that mean that it’s contagious?” Fallin asked nervously, eying Cypress.

“If it is, you should get out of there right now.” Zayric said, framed in the doorway.

“What are you doing here?” Cleven asked, a little angrily but not nearly as much as before.

“I came to see what the commotion was about, and what some stranger is doing in your home.”

Fallin sighed lightly and turned to face the crown prince. “My, how your memory evades you, Prince Zayric. You’ve slept through or avoided my teaching you fairy culture for upwards of seven years and you can’t do me the courtesy to remember my name?”

Tam, eyeing the scene, was more than slightly shocked when Zayric actually turned a bit pink.

“Professor Fallin. Forgive me. It’s been quite a while since I’ve last seen you.”

“Almost two years now.” Fallin observed. “But no matter. It’s good to see you well, Prince Zayric. And Prince Cleven,” he turned to him, smiling graciously. “I’m thrilled that you look so well, despite the circumstances.”

“This is all very well and good, but is there any way we can discuss the current crisis?” Tam cut in, annoyed. “Both Ellyra and Cypress are sick now. What are we to do about it? I doubt it’s contagious. If it is, then I certainly had a mild case; I’ve only had sniffles and sneezing, and that subsided within a day or two.”

“But why would it only affect the two of them, and why this strongly?” Cleven wondered aloud. “It doesn’t make a lot of sense. Professor? What do you think?”

Fallin glanced between the two invalids and his brow knit in an expression of concentration. “I believe that I only think this way because it is my field.” He began hesitantly, glancing at Zayric from the corner of his eye, “But the track that this disease is taking is behaving and awful lot like the Sickness.”

Tam shifted uncomfortably. “Professor I really don’t think that—” but he was interrupted before he could finish his weak protest.

“Well of course it’s a sickness, professor. Why would we be here if it—”

“Not a sickness, Zayric. The Sickness. I’m sure we covered this when I tutored you.”

“It’s a symptom of fairy immune deprivation.” Cleven recalled thoughtfully. “Fairies get it if they lose their wings.”

“Fairies? Impossible!” Zayric snarled, his eyes gleaming. “That little girl on the bed is no more a fairy than I am.”

“It may not be as impossible as you think, Zayric.” Fallin said sternly. “This Cypress fellow has the right build for—”

“Professor, I admire your wealth of knowledge, but I can’t let you continue in this vain. Cypress was born in Galandrin, just as I was.” Tam broke in firmly. “Yes, he’s named for the fairy prince because they share the same birthday, but his was a year later. That’s all. It would be a good theory, if there were any evidence to support it. But there isn’t. And what’s more, Ellyra is a pure bred Calassian, is she not? It would make no sense for her to be suffering symptoms of the Sickness as well as Cypress.”

Fallin nodded glumly. “You’re right, of course. It would make no sense, despite the remarkably similar symptoms. Forgive me. As I said, I’m probably just seeing what I want to see, given my field of study. The poor little Dove must be stricken with something else.”

“Dove?” Tam asked, his eyes widening. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, that’s right, you’re foreigners.” Fallin nodded to him apologetically. “Ellyra is known among these parts as the Dove of Calassi. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize her before, in fact; we were talking on the way back to the castle and, oh, forgive me. That’s another story for a less chaotic time. well, Anyway, she used to sing at the kingdom-wide vocal competitions, earning the distinct sobriquet ‘the Dove of Calassi,’ which is what people in this area have been calling her ever since, at least by what she told me.”

Tam gazed, awestruck, at the little blonde-haired girl lying unconscious on the bed. Could she really be the one that Cypress had originally come to watch over and protect? Their intended quest had obviously been forgotten in the panic brought on by Cypress’s sudden illness, although Cypress himself had mentioned it several times in a few of his scattered and random fits of delirium for which, luckily, no one other than Tam had been present. But if, the whole time, the very person whom they sought was residing right under their noses…

 

 “In that case,” Fallin resumed, breaking in to Tam’s dumbfounded string of thought, “I think it would be best to assume, at least for now, that this illness is contagious and that we should remove ourselves from exposure immediately.” Though the professor didn’t look particularly happy about this choice as he moved toward the door, his forceful stride was enough to get the two princes to follow suit.

 

 

Tam, however, remained rooted to the spot, glancing wildly between the two victims. “How can we leave?” he demanded. “Who will take care of them?”

“The ghosts.” Zayric said impatiently, “It can’t hurt them; they’re dead anyway. Now get out here. As stupid as you are, you do know Cypress and you should be part of this conversation.”

“There’s only so much that the ghosts can do!” Tam shot back, ignoring the insult to his intelligence to the best of his ability, though his voice changed in pitch and his eyes flashed with anger.

“Well they can at least look after the invalids for the next few minutes.” Zayric retorted, holding the door open wide. “Now get out here. I command you.”

“What? You can’t do that! You’re not even my prince and you certainly have no right to tell me what to—”

“T-tam?” Cypress’s voice croaked sleepily from under his blankets; the volume of Tam’s voice had finally reached the level at which Cypress’s peaceful sleep shattered.

Though he shot a furious glare at Zayric, he muttered, “You go downstairs and start talking. I’ll catch up with you.”

A gentle touch from Cleven against Zayric’s arm, one very different from the near-maiming action performed earlier, bid Zayric to hold his caustic tongue and though his words dripped with distain, he said only, “Fine. We’ll be in Cleven’s study,” and he grudgingly stalked from the room, slamming the door forcefully behind him.

“I’m sorry Cy.” Tam whispered to his friend when the rest of the party had vacated the room. “They were just debating what’s wrong with you. There was a messenger from the king here last night. Clever man. I didn’t think anything of him except that he was taking Ellyra to the Calassian king’s castle, but now he’s back and he thinks…” Tam trailed off, worry dulling the laugh lines in his face.

“Wh-what does he think?” Cypress asked tensely, barely able to open his deep, dark eyes but able to read Tam’s expression easily in spite of this hindrance.

“He thinks that you have the Sickness.” Tam blurted. “I was able to convince him otherwise, but only because Ellyra…” he paused, grimacing and gazing across the room to look at the pale girl’s still form, lying prone on the bed.

“Wh-what happened to Ellyra?” Cypress asked urgently, his voice cracking with frantic concern and his eyes opening wider, than squeezing tightly shut against his newly acquired photosensitivity.

“She fainted just like you did a few days ago and fell off of her horse on her way back to this castle. I don’t know why he brought her back, but I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.”

“Is… is she all right?” Cypress queried, but then broke into a coughing fit that wracked his enfeebled form with terrible tremors.

“She’s unconscious now.” Tam rubbed Cypress’s back soothingly. “We think she’s as sick as you are.”

 

Cypress

coughed several more times before responding and his eyes cracked open once again too look at Tam questioningly. “But I thought I had the,” he broke off to cough a few times more, managing this time to raise one pale hand to his mouth. “Sickness.”

 

 

Tam shook his head miserably. “It doesn’t make any sense, Cy. I don’t know what to tell you. But here’s something that might cheer you up. I’ve found the Dove of Calassi.”

 

Cypress

gasped sharply, and then winced at the pain it caused him. “You h-have? Wh-where? Who?”

 

 

Tam motioned to the bed on which Ellyra rested. “It’s Ellyra. Long story, Cy. But just know that we’ve found her, all right? We can question her later, when you’re both better.”

A slight stream of air issued rapidly from Cypress’s lips. “I was sup-supposed to p-protect her.” Cypress moaned ruefully, writhing a little as the aches of his body sharpened.

“Don’t think about that, Cy!” Tam pleaded. “I promise we can sort all of this out when you’re both well again. But now it’s your job to regain your health and your strength. You have to. Do it for your kingdom, Cypress. Do it for Ellyra. For Carina. Cypress please...” Tam closed his eyes and bowed his head, his voice fading to a whisper. “Do it for me. I can’t lose you. You’re my best friend.”

“Y-you won’t l-lose me.” Cypress affirmed, slowly raising a hand and brushing it clumsily against Cypress’s shoulder before letting it fall back on to the bed.

 

In Cleven’s study, a large and richly furnished, though quite dark room in the north wing of the castle, the two princes and their tutor discussed what should be done about the new and startling circumstances. Cleven, faithful and true, insisted on writing a letter to Eliza about Ellyra’s sudden decline in health and including an invitation to return to the castle straight away to help with the crisis. Fallin also occupied himself by writing a letter, his to be sent immediately to the king in order to inform him of what had happened and to request permission to stay until Ellyra’s health returned. Zayric spoke very little and sat regally in one of Cleven’s overstuffed chairs with his arms folded over his chest, no doubt contemplating the insolence of “that wretched foreigner” Tamarisk.

“I just don’t know what we’re going to do about that ball.” Fallin said with a sigh. “The king is certainly not going to be happy when he learns that in all likelihood Ellyra will be too sick to attend.”

Zayric’s head shot up at this and he looked in horror at his former professor. “Ball? Which ball? When?”

“The ball that’s being held in your honor. For your birthday.” Fallin said, looking puzzled, then distressed. “Oh God, their majesties didn’t tell you about this, did they?”

“No! Of course not! Why would they?” Zayric shouted, flying from his seat, his annoyance at Tam replaced by blind fury at his parents. “But I’m sure if I’m not back at the palace soon our parents will flay me.”

“They’ll understand.” Cleven told him, though his tone was filled with doubt. Cleven knew as well as Zayric did that their father was notorious for blowing up about minor details, particularly when they were related to the entertainment of his court.

“No they won’t and you know that.” Zayric snapped. “I’m sorry Cleven but I’ll have to take my leave. If I run Regality fast enough I may be able to get back by sundown.”

Cleven nodded and rose. “I’ll show you out.”

“No!” Zayric responded, just a little hastily. “Stay here with Fallin and set that wretched foreigner straight when he comes. I’ll be fine on my own.”

Cleven hesitated, then sat back down. “If you’re sure.”

Zayric nodded curtly. “I’m sure I’ll see you both later. Best of luck to both of the invalids. I’ll finch you soon.”

Just as Zayric was opening the door, however, “that wretched foreigner” burst through it, nearly colliding with the prince.

“What the—!” Zayric began indignantly, but Tam’s white face and wide eyes silenced him.

“It’s

 

Cypress

.” He panted, out of breath from clearly having run down the stairs. “He’s coughing up blood.”  

 

 

 

Author's Note

So I'm trying to make things more exciting and complicated here. Is it working or is it just confusing?