A/N:Christmas present especially dedicated to my three reviewers, CheeseInACan67, SmartKitty314, and smileyfacer. Speaking of whom..
Smartkitty : You know too much. Though I won't say how much. But for now on I shall have to be a tad more vague...enjoy anyways!
I wake up to find I'm drowning in a desert.
I cant breath, I'm choking, doubled up on my bed, sheets entagled all over me. I'm so hot, burning all over, and it feels like my lungs are full of sand. I'm trying to pull off the covers but they grab at my legs. I arch my body back and suck in a deep breath of air which lasts a second before my picky lungs toss it back out. I try to suck in another gasp and my throat makes a horrible noise that sounds and feels like sandpaper.
I cough and cough and finally free my self from the bed sheets. I stumble onto the floor and walk - no it's too urgent to be called a walk but it's certainly no run- to the balcony glass doors, whip them open and fling myself into the chilly night, gripping onto the lifelessly cold metal railing as I vomit air.
Finally, though, after half a minute I'm alright. My breathing stabilizes. Almost completely normal. Almost.
I stand there, surrounded by darkness. The cold starts to get to me, and I wonder that if I were to stand out here how long would it take for my sweat to freeze? A fluffy snowflake falls across my view. I look up.
A soft lilting army gently descends behind it. White dots on black. I hold out my hand and watch as a tiny delicate flake falls into my hands and melts quickly, its little crystallized form collapsing as the particles move away from each other.
Every night for the whole past week has been the same. Well, actually, they haven't been the same. Every night has been worse. The medicine I've been taking isn't helping. The cough is beginning to intervene with my daily work. And that cannot be allowed.
A few more snowflakes land in my outstretched hand. I crush them in my palm.
***
I change out of my sweat-drenched clothes and into some fresher ones. I grab my black cloak and wrap it lightly over my shoulders before grabbing my staff. Instead of hobbling over to the door, where the guards will be standing, I walk over to the large full length mirror by wardrobe. The mirror is a work of art. The frame is detailed, knobbly metal full of shapes and figures. The emblem of Cyclonia sits at the top. I touch a small vine like knob at the lower right side of the frame. The knob slides, clicks, and the whole mirror seems to pop. I pull on the knob and the mirror swings open revealing a dark hallway.
What can I say? I'm the inconspicuous type.
***
"Fix it."
I'm sitting in the pale white crystal light of a doctor's office. The room is so sterilized and clean. The marble floor is white. The walls are white, the cupboards are white and so is Renald's hair.
"Is the great Cyclonis broken?" he jokes washing his hands at the sink.
Renald T. Polytmus is one of my private doctors, and of all of them, he's the one I trust the most.
"I'm not broken," I reply. Broken has such a negative connation. "But something inside me is."
He turns round and looks me over. "I'm a doctor. I heal; not fix."
"Then heal me." I say.
He pushes his round glasses up his nose. "Alright. Let see what's wrong."
We run tests. He takes blood and saliva samples, measures my heart rate and my breathing. Checks my eyes, ears, reflexes. By the end of it all I'm sitting on the black leather of the doctor's bench, shirtless, with a thermometer sitting in my mouth like a lollipop, making me feel like a five year old.
Renald is making notes in his file case.
When he's done he comes back over and takes the thermometer out of my mouth and records my temperature in my file.
"So," I say. "What is it?"
"Well," he says. "It appears to be the Dry Flu, but I'll have to run a couple more tests and process the samples to make sure. Probably have results in by the end of the week. Till then, take this-" he hands me a packet of some ground up leaves. "Take about two spoons and boil it with 4 cups of water and breathe in the fumes. Do that twice a day."
"Any effects? " I ask.
He laughs. "Yes. You'll feel better. If Dry Flu isn't the case, then this will have no effect on you. It's safe."
I look down at the tea bags.
Renald walks over to the counter and shuffles the papers together. I watch as he traces his hand along the bottom of the cupboards and clicks a hidden button. There is a very quiet pop heard. Renald bends down and opens the cupboards that are under the sink. At the back of the cup board he pulls down the plain wall paper that looks like paint to reveal an open square hole. He puts the files in there and, instead of rolling back up the wall paper, stands, and clicks the button under the top cupboards again. A door slides shut over the square opening. Renald then finishes sealing everything up.
You thought my health records were just kept in a locked drawer? I'm King of Cyclonia. You don't have the most intimate information about you just lying around.
"So what's the story?" Renald asks in a more serious tone.
"I'm going to go to my other doctors," I say, "And give them the most water downed version. A light cough that pops every once in a while. I'll make it seem like it's a cold. They'll know I'm sick by now- I had an attack during a General meeting yesterday. Couldn't hold it in. I had to call of the whole thing off. First an assaination attempt on my life now this. I've made certain that the papers won't publish anything, but news always gets out. There's too many rats up top."
"That's what you always say." says Renald.
"Yes, but it's true. My spies are reporting less. Some are disappearing. They're being bought over. Someone had to have lowered security so that girl could get in. Someone gave her information. We've already locked up her so-called squadron, but I know they had help. I've already got my sights on some of my officials."
"Ahh, that's right. The girl, the one who calls herself a SkyKnight. She bit Punt yesterday."
I can't help but smile. "Heard he deserved it." Punt has a bit of a reputation of a soldier.. "Did she say anything to you?"
Renald shakes his head. "She almost didn't let me clean up her wounds-Punt shouldn't be allowed to hold weapons if he's going to beat prisoners. She said I seemed nice- nicer than most Cyclonians. She doesn't have a very nice opinion of the empire."
"I can't help but wonder why," I say standing up and putting my shirt back on. "Suppose I'll just have to ask he myself."
"You're going to see her? At this hour? " he asks raising an eyebrow.
"Of course," I reply throwing on my cloak. "I can only rely on second hand interrogations so much. Besides," I add turning my back to him and picking up my staff, "I'm curious."
"You usually are, Corvus,"
I frown at him. "You know you're not suppose to call me that, Renald."
He closes his eyes and smiles. "Can't help it sometimes. I helped deliver you."
I roll my eyes. "Spare me the diaper stories."
He laughs aloud, and wrinkles fill up his old face. Shouldn't he be retiring soon? I can't imagine who'll be my doctor when that time comes.
"If you insist," he replies.
I half smile and head for the door.
"And by the way-"
I turn around. His face is serious, and yet , strangely amused.
"Rumours are going around. People are wondering when you're going to secure the lineage."
I cringe internally. "Already? It's a tad early I'd say. I'm only nineteen."
"They're just anxious that's all. Your mother waited late, thirty isn't a good child bearing age."
"I wouldn't worry," I say casually. "Old men can still have children."
"Just a warning," he says. "I've heard they're already match making."
I can't help but give a sigh of disgust, and I turn to go.
"Oh and Corvus-" I turn again. Why can't the old goat just tell me everything at once?
A pair of gloves come flying through the air and I catch them with my free hand.
"You might need those," he says. "She's got quite a set of jaws on her."
I grin.
