Chapter 3: Just another wound

Karigan knew she was in big trouble. Condor had been galloping for what felt like an eternity and she had long ago lost track of their location, trusting in her horse to find the way home whilst she clung to him, hovering on the edge of her consciousness. The pain had become a throbbing fire that seemed to consume her entire body and she dripped perspiration from a raging fever. Karigan knew that she must reach the castle healers within the next candle mark or so, or they would not be able to help her. Her remaining strength began to dwindle and moaning, she gripped tighter as she felt her body begin to slip off Condor.

Condor raced up a never-ending, bone jarring hill and suddenly, she gasped. There stood the castle! Condor somehow managed to gallop even faster than when they had begun their journey only a little while earlier. She wrapped his reins around her wrists, knowing that weakness would most likely find her before they had reached the castle gates. Condon pushed his way through the thronging night crowd, which was not that difficult considering he was all muscle and fiercely protective of his rider. Shouts were heard all round as they warned those up ahead to move out of the path of the crazed horse. Karigan felt her vision dimming just as they reached the castle gates. A smaller door next to the castle gates was quickly opened when the guards recognized which horse it was, but with shouts of surprise they leapt out of the way as Condor continued his run straight through the castle doors. Much later, Karigan would remember thinking that this was not normal behaviour even for her horse and vaguely recall a mass of dim, green, ghostly shapes urging Condor on…

Noble ladies screamed and fainted and the men cried in indignation at the sight of Condor flying through the halls to the audience room. Karigan felt her horse tremble to a stop and not a moment too soon; she lost her battle with the fever and moaning, felt the last vestiges of reality collapse around her.

* * * * *

Laren stifled a yawn at the thought of the long day that had past, speaking to citizen after citizen in the audience chamber. At one point she had taken pride in her place by the kings side during these sessions; now, most of the complaints they heard were not about land disputes or pig numbers, but magic happenings throughout the kingdom. These were not questions the king and his councilors could answer because they were, simply, out of their depth. It was frustrating to turn so many people away with little more than 'Thank you for bringing us your concerns, we are doing everything we can'. She could tell it strained Zachary even more than herself, as his face became stonier with each petitioner he could not help.

Suddenly, her attention refocused sharply. There were cries in the halls and Weapons instantly surrounded their king, whilst others headed in the direction of the disturbance. A horse raced through the doors at a blurring speed and stopped instantly in front of the king, as if he had hit an invisible wall. With a cry of recognition, Laren raced past the weapons even before they realized who it was.

'Karigan!' she cried. She saw Karigan moan and fall off Condor, her tied wrists making her hang off his side like a tortured prisoner. The king shouted orders for Destrion and ran to join Laren in her assessment.

'She's burning up,' Laren whispered as they quickly worked to untie Karigan and gently rest her on the floor. 'Groundmite blood,' she hissed in horror, as part of Karigans' leg became visible through the ruined bandages. One of the weapons tried to lead the trembling Condor away, but he would not budge from his position next to his rider. 'It's ok, boy,' she reassured him. He allowed himself to be moved to a more suitable location.

Destrion arrived promptly and took one look at Karigan. 'Get her into the healing quarters, now!' he ordered, and six weapons picked her up and swiftly followed him. Laren and Zachary were not far behind.

Laren was struck with the look on her monarchs face; she had never seen him so worried before and when he looked down at her, the anguish in his expression shocked her to the core. She had conjectured but never actually believed her intuition about the King and rider. But that did not matter now.

'It looks like she had a brush with a ground mite,' Destrion called back to them. 'The blood from its belly, where she undoubtedly cut it, has fallen onto her skin. It is toxic in the human blood and by the state of her legs she has had quite a significant exposure. Now, I must ask you to wait outside Sire; if I am unable to work quickly within the next candle-mark or so then I'm afraid there will be little hope for her.'