In which Pyralis loses some vitality

Chapter 8 of The Time-Teller

Chapter 8
In which Pyralis loses some vitality

 

“Who’s Helia?” Jonah asked.

 

“I don’t know. He’s never mentioned her before,” Megan said.

 

“I always thought he was born blind,” Jonah said.

 

“He acts as though he were,” Megan shrugged.

 

“We’d better get some sleep,” Jonah suggested. “We’ll have another busy day tomorrow unless those soldiers attacking the castle start trying. It’s like they want to cause a load anxious suffering before they wipe us out.”

 

“That’s terrible,” Megan sighed.

 

Then, a young nurse led Megan to the women’s sleeping quarters, where she fell asleep the minute she hit the bed.
Megan looked around in her dream. It was dark, and the silvery blue curtains drawn over her small window rippled lightly in the wind. Random objects lay scattered across the floor, but she couldn’t quite make out what they were.

 

“Mom!” She called and slowly rose from her bed and walked across the room to the little blue door. Opening it, she found herself  in a long, narrow hallway.

 

“I don’t know!” a rather familiar voice said as if in annoyance. Then, a tall man burst into the hall from a black door. Megan looked up in alarm. Pyralis looked down at her angrily.

 

“What are you doing here?” he asked in annoyance. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

 

“I… I just fell asleep,” Megan said. Then, she woke up. She couldn’t quite place it, but something about the Pyralis in her dream seemed different from the one that lay only a few corridors away. She shook her head trying to figure it out.

 

“Are you alright?” one of the nurses was standing over her in her bluish nightgown. “You almost rolled off the bed you were moving around so much, and you were talking in your sleep.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Megan said. “Weird dream.” Megan didn’t get back to sleep until just two hours before she had to wake up to help the wounded. There were even more wounded than there had been the day before, and they kept needing more and more rooms to attend to the sick. They only let the more experienced nurses and doctors in the room where they kept the diseased patients because the disease spreading throughout the castle had proven to be highly contagious and the cause of headaches, fever, and severe memory loss. They had discovered the disease in Pyralis in the night before Megan woke up, and he had been moved to one of their rooms for people with the disease. They kept them in different rooms from each other in case one happened to get over the disease. They didn’t want those people to catch it from someone else.

 

Megan was hurried about for hours unwrapping bandages to put clean ones on, applying disinfectants, and accomplishing many other small tasks that the nurses set her to. Megan had once heard that wizards could enter peoples’ dreams. Perhaps, Pyralis had accidentally stepped into hers, or perhaps she had stepped into Pyralis’ dream. This was a scary thought to Megan, and she pushed it out of her mind. She did not want to be anything like the strange man, who had taken her from her home and loved ones into this strange world with wizards, trolls, castles, and sorcery. She talked to Jonah when she passed him. She could tell that he was upset about something, so she tried to keep him distracted with idle conversation. Megan found that trying to cheer others made her feel slightly better about her whole situation.

 

At one point, Megan was helping Jonah to bandage the wounds of a tall soldier when a chubby little nurse came rushing into the room.

 

“I’ve been searching everywhere for you,” she gasped.

 

“What is it?” Megan asked.

 

“It’s Pyralis,” she said, breathlessly clutching her stomach. “He’s dead.” Megan let go of the bandages.

 

“No he isn’t,” the words came out of her mouth, but she wasn’t sure why she had said them.

 

 

“I’m afraid he is,” the nurse shook her head. “I’m so sorry. They felt that you should be able to see him one last time before he is taken to be buried.” Megan shook her head. She didn’t understand why she felt so strongly that he was alive. After all, she hadn’t known him long and had despised him since their first meeting. Still wondering, she followed the nurse down many corridors and into a small room. In the middle of the room was a long wooden box on a table, the lid leaning against its side. The nurses made Megan put on gloves and a mask, so that she would not catch the germs of the disease from the dead body in the middle of the room. Megan breathed deeply, then walked forward to peer inside the box. Pyralis lay there, his arms folded across his chest and his eyes closed. Megan reached out a gloved finger. She could feel Pyralis cold body through the glove. Her breath came short, realizing that she had just touched a dead body, and she jumped back a little.

 

“Pyralis?” she whispered. Although, she knew he could not respond, she still felt compelled to say his name. Suddenly, Megan felt a great sadness swoop over her. She did not know where it came from, but it lingered above her, making her feel as though she were in a strange semi-conscious state. She didn’t know why she did it, why she took off her glove and placed one of her warm hands on Pyralis deathly cold one. She still felt as though she was in a state of semi-consciousness. The images around her seemed to be changing, melting away until she stood in a great white nothingness. Her hand was no longer on Pyralis’ but fell limply to her side. Gazing ahead, she noticed a tall man with greasy black hair at his waist. He was walking slowly away.

 

“Pyralis!” Megan called, running to catch up with him, but her feet felt as if they were moving through water.

 

“Pyralis!” He turned. Megan was now about ten feet from him. She noticed that behind Pyralis, a woman was standing with her back turned. She was wearing a white robe, the same as Pyralis’, and her brown hair fell like a water fall in great waves and ripples down to her knees. She did not turn, but simply stood there, her hair blowing in the non-existent wind.

 

“Megan?” Pyralis asked, gazing in her direction with his blank eyes. “How are you here?” He seemed to be in some sort of daze and talked slowly and strangely.

 

“Pyralis,” Megan spoke again. “I can’t face my mother’s murderer without you. I don’t know anything about this place.”

 

“My time has come,” Pyralis said softly. “I must go.”

 

“Your time has not yet come,” a voice spoke from behind Pyralis. “You want it to come so badly, but it is not time. You are yet needed, and you may be surprised what remnants remain.” The woman turned, but before she had turned enough for Megan to see her face, Megan woke up. She was lying on top of Pyralis’ body and his overturned, makeshift coffin.  She rolled over, frightened that she had fallen on top a Pyralis’ corpse. As much as she tried though, she couldn’t stand up. She felt weak and sick. She only vaguely remembered seeing him in that strange white place. When she looked around, she noticed that there were about six nurses looking down at her. Megan looked again at Pyralis’ cold body. His hand moved slightly. Megan screamed and was unconscious.
 

 

“What happened?” Megan heard Jonah’s voice as if coming from far away.

 

“It was very strange,” she heard a gruff, rusty sounding voice reply. “The little girl came down to see Pyralis before he was taken for burial. She took off her glove, but before I could tell her not to, she had touched him with her ungloved hand. She seemed to shimmer and sway with the light. Then, she closed her eyes and crashed into Pyralis’ coffin, knocking it over the table and onto the floor. We all ran over to see if she was all right. After she had opened her eyes, Pyralis’ hand moved. She screamed and fainted, so we brought her here. I just don’t understand it. Pyralis was dead.”

 

“Hmmm…” was Jonah’s only response.

 

“Most of Pyralis’ wounds are healed now, and his disease is gone. I’m surprised Megan here didn’t catch it.”

 

“I’m not,” A slow drawl drifted into the room. Megan heard a door open and knew that Pyralis had entered whatever room it was she was being kept. “I’ve never seen anything like that before. It is as though she put some of her vitality into me.” Megan suddenly wished she had not done whatever it was she did to bring Pyralis back. She had forgotten how very annoying his drawl was.

 

“Nothing,” Pyralis continued. “Would surprise me about Megan anymore. There is obviously something different about her and for the first time since… I… I just can’t figure it out.”

 

“Pyralis, do stop putting on a show. We all know you’re not a wizard, and that’s why you’re as baffled as any of us,” the gruff voice told Pyralis impatiently. It was all Megan could do to hold back her laughter. She didn’t want to appear awake because she knew that when she got up she would be flooded with questions. She wasn’t ready for that yet.

 

“A good wizard does not use his powers to prove to others that he is a wizard,” Pyralis said calmly. “That would be a waste of energy, and sometimes, all that one little bit of energy could be the difference between living or dying.”

 

“Nonsense,” Megan heard Pyralis, Jonah and the gruff-voiced man leave the room. She sat up slowly. Her stomach and back ached where she had fallen over Pyralis and onto the floor. Carefully, Megan stood up. She felt very weak as if she drank too much coffee and its caffeine had worn off.  She took one step and fell over onto the stone floor, scraping her hands.

 

“Ow,” she muttered and tried to stand up, managing just barely to get back onto the bed. A few minutes later, Pyralis came into the room. He seemed well. All the cuts and bruises had now vanished other than the scar on his face.

 

“Hello, Megan,” Pyralis said, apparently aware that she was awake. Megan had the feeling that he was talking to her with less indifference and his drawl sounded a little less lazy.

 

“Are you feeling any better?” he asked.

 

“Not really,” Megan said. Her voice sounded dry and thick.

 

“What you did for me was truly amazing,” Pyralis said. “Tempus was right. You do possess some strange magic.”

 

“I don’t even know what I did,” Megan said. “I just sort of did it… as if I’d always known how to do it.” Megan looked at the man she hated. She had saved him twice and all he had ever done was heal injuries he had caused whether directly or indirectly.

 

“I am in your debt,” Pyralis said with a low bow, almost hitting his head off the bed. Pyralis looked lazy and condescending even when showing gratitude. Megan couldn’t help being surprised. She had imagined that Pyralis would ignore the fact that she had rescued him. She never even considered the possibility that he would thank her, and Megan was taken aback.

 

“Y... you’re welcome, I guess,” she said awkwardly. Pyralis smiled.

 

“Now,” he said. “Shall we see what we can do about saving this castle.  Then, I will do everything in my power to help you fight Gethin. I must warn you that he is a very powerful wizard, perhaps more powerful than I. It will take much careful planning, and if he escapes from this battle, there will be even more hardships that you would have to endure. Are you fully prepared for what is to come?”

 

“Yes,” Megan replied firmly, but she was mistaken.