Poisoned Soul

Syndi learns of the poisoning of Muld.

20.

Poisoned Soul

 

As they flew northeastward aboard The Ethereal Queen, Syndi, who had paced back and forth in the ship’s cabin like a caged lion, was growing more and more anxious as time passed.

Her companions did not dare ask her why, for there was something terrible, but pitiful in her eyes.    It was a look of helpless panic and sheer desperation mixed with wild determination.

Wringing her hands, she made hundreds of laps around the tiny cabin, staring the whole time out at the landscape as it rushed past.

“She senses something,”   Tadd whispered to Mutt and their girlfriends as they sat across the room watching her.

“Do you think he died?”    Mandy Fellystone asked him, fearing his response.

“No, my dear, I don’t think he has died… yet.    But she feels the danger.”

“Are they dating?”

“No… at least not that I’ve heard.   They share something though.”

“Can we do something to help her?   She looks so tense.”

“I don’t think we can do anything but pray for Muld,”   Tadd told her, patting her hand.

“I don’t see why she’s so anxious,”   Mutt commented, “She put her Autocaster ring on him - wouldn’t that heal him?”

“Yes, and she said that her mother told her that he was awake and fine… but she senses something, Mutt.    You can see it in her eyes.”

“They have a connection,”   The goblin agreed.

“Hopefully she’ll relax when she sees him.    This airship is one of the fastest in the Marksylvania fleet.   We should arrive about sunset, the Captain told me.”

“I hope Syndi can endure that long,”   Mutt answered, turning to smile at his date, who had sat quietly for the longest time.

 

For several more minutes, the Losasidhe girl continued to pace, but abruptly she stopped and rushed across the room to where the ship’s wizard sat.    Something about the look in her eyes told him what she wanted, and he held up his crystal ball to her.

With a nod of thanks, she took it and retreated to a corner of the room and sat down cross-legged on the floor with the scrying device in her lap.     With several quick motions of her hand, a scene appeared and a moment later a surprised Losasidhe wizard monitoring the queen’s own crystal ball jumped up respectfully. 

“What has happened to Muld?”  She asked directly, startling the wizard with her knowledge.

“Princess Synthaeia, I will get Her Majesty-“

“No!   You tell me right now!”  She demanded.    The wizard’s eyes were wide with fear at her command, but he bowed reverently.

“Your Highness… um…. This afternoon, there was an attempt made to poison your parents and Master Muld during afternoon tea.    Your… companion was the only one who took a drink of the poison-“

Syndi let out an involuntary shriek, but fought off panic, “Is he…”

“He’s alive, Your Highness, but the clerics believe he ingested the same Orc poison that was used to try to kill your sister, Queen Eioldth.    This poison is usually used on weapons, for it is a contact poison, but this was placed -in a small quantity- in the afternoon tea.    Your Highness, I must be very frank with you; Zandagnir is known as ‘Elf Bane’ and it is deadly to Elves.    We are all amazed that Master Muld is still alive.   But he is in a coma and very weak.   The clerics and healers have chanted healing spells and poison neutralization spells upon him, yet his condition remains very grave.”

Syndi began trembling, barely able to speak, “Who… who did this?”

“It was the pirate, Hobnail.    He placed in the palace,  a doppelganger spy, who killed the royal cupbearer and then took his shape.   Your father captured the creature and used spells to extract all the details.    It was a plot to kill your parents and Master Muld, for their part in capturing the pirate ships several months ago.     They had knowledge of your companion’s visit this week and were planning to poison them later.   But when Master Muld appeared here today, the assassin decided to act during the confusion caused by his sudden appearance.”

Syndi closed her eyes, her head swaying as she took it all in.

“My parents are alright?”

“Yes, Your Highness, they were not poisoned.”

“You said that… he is… quite seriously sick?”

“Yes, Your Highness, Master Muld’s condition is very serious… the clerics and healers are doing all that they can do.    Your father contacted King Aedric of Tarmard, for he survived poisoning with  Zandagnir.   His survival was due to his partial Sylvan ancestry.    Princess Synthaeia, do you know if Master Muld could be partially Sylvan in heritage?”

Her head pounding and her ears ringing loudly, Syndi had to think for a moment to remember what Muld had told her.

“Yes… his mother was a Sylvan elf!”  She looked hopeful at the wizard, who smiled slightly.

“That is good, Your Highness!   King Aedric told His Majesty that he had inherited a partial resistance to the poison from his mother, who was Sylvan.   It is from a cosmetic that many Sylvan women use; their skin absorbs it and it passes through blood to their children.    The fact that Master Muld is still alive after ingesting the poison is encouraging that he might have this same resistance.”

Syndi nodded, still looking devastated, but with a slight glimmer of hope in her eyes.

“Your Highness, shall I summon your mother for you to speak to?”   The wizard asked after a moment of silence.

“I don’t want to speak to her!”   The Losasidhe princess snapped, “You just tell her to do EVERYTHING in her power to keep Muld alive until I arrive!”

“Your Highness, I assure you, that is exactly what-“

“You TELL her what I said!”  She nearly yelled.

“Yes, Your Highness, I will.”

“We will be there soon.    He WILL still be alive when I arrive… you understand me, wizard?!”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Good; you tell her what I said, and make her understand the exact way that I told it to you!   She is at least partially responsible for this!”

“But-“

“YOU TELL HER!”  Syndi yelled, her voice reverberating in the airship cabin.    She took her hands away from the crystal ball then, stood up and resumed pacing, crying as she walked back and forth, nervously wringing her hands.     No-one looked at her or said a word, though everyone lamented at her suffering.