Anything you recognise has been taken from Tamora's books :) If it looks warped, I'm sorry, I can't remember the exact wording of some of it, but the basic stuff is there
This is the conclusion to The Sweating Sickness...*suspenseful music*
As always, HAVE FUN!
~MagicalLeaves


"No," I said flatly. "You're wrong."
"I'm not lying," replied Gary, his voice gentle. "Jon really is sick. I'm sorry."
"No," I repeated, "not that. There is another healer."
Gary's eyes widened. "Where?" he demanded. "Mithros knows Jon needs one. Why didn't you tell anybody sooner that you knew one? Who is it?"
I swallowed, then met Gary with a steady gaze. "Me."
Gary stared at me.
"The Gift is passed down through the Conté line," I whispered. "I have it, and so does Jon."
"Mithros and Goddess," sighed Gary, sinking into a chair. He studied me. "Have you any idea what you're saying?"
"Dammit Gary! I can't just sit here and twiddle my thumbs! Jon's sick." My voice dropped. "I have to do something. He's all I've got."
Gary rested his head in his hands. "Have you any idea how your father will react when you tell him?" he asked, his voice muffled. "He won't let you anywhere near Jon, and you know it. Not while you're their only healthy child."
"That's why I'm not going to tell Father," I replied flatly. "I'm going to Jon's room. You can either come with me, or not, I don't care. I should've done something earlier."
Gary got to his feet with a sigh. "I'll walk you. But I won't come in with you."

~oOo~

I paused outside the door to Jon's room, my mouth dry. What I was about to do had only just hit me. I was considering telling Gary that maybe I was crazy and we should go back when someone's voice cut through my panic.
"Your Highness?"
I looked up, startled. Timon, a manservant, had poked his head out the door. He looked alarmed. "Your Highness, you really shouldn't be here. You could become ill."
At those words, strength rushed back into me. "Let me in please, Timon," I said politely.
Timon opened and shut his mouth, looking more alarmed than ever. "Your Highness-"
"Timon, let her in," repeated Gary, his voice gentle but firm.
Timon swallowed, then opened the door wider, ushering me in. "Her Royal Highness, Princess Willow of Tortall," he announced to the suddenly quiet room.

I stared in horror at the place. Courtiers stood crowded around the bed in the middle of the room. There were a few priests of the Black God of death standing around. The heady smell of incense hung in the air, making me feel queasy. How was Jon ever supposed to get better in these conditions?
"Your Highness?"
I looked around. Alan of Trebond handed me some robes which were warded against disease. I pulled them on and nodded my thanks, pushing back the lump that rose in my throat. "It's ok," added Alan of Trebond gently. "I've sent for Sir Myles. He'll sort this all out."
I nodded blindly, having eyes for only my pale sweating brother. He lay on the bed, occasionally muttering lightly.
Timon walked over, muttering to Alan. "Sir Myles is here."
"Good," replied Alan. "I'll be right back," he said to me, then left the room.

A few moments later Timon opened the door. "Sir Myles of Olau!" he announced to the room.
"Have you taken leave of your senses? How is the Prince supposed to get better in this state?" He glared at the inhabitants. I was startled by his anger."Out. All of you. For shame," he added to the Black God's priests, "he isn't dead yet."
The people slowly filed out, murmuring to one another.
Duke Baird, who had until now been standing exhausted in the corner, moved forward. "Thank you Sir Myles," he said, relieved. "How can I help you all?"

Alan quickly explained that he possessed a Gift of healing, and wanted to help.
Duke Baird glanced at me. "And yourself, Your Highness?" he inquired.
I swallowed. "I also have the Gift. From the Conté family line," I explained, mostly for Alan's benefit as he looked surprised. "I want to help. Jon's my brother. I have this right."
"And if you also fall ill, what should happen then?" asked Duke Baird.
I met his gaze. "Should worse come to worse," I gulped, "then our cousin Duke Roger becomes heir. He's in Carthak, he shouldn't be affected by this."
"What about your parents?" demanded Alan. "Surely they can't be letting you take this risk?"
"My parents don't know," I replied, steeling myself. "I won't let them stop me helping. I have to help. I should've done so sooner."
Duke Baird sighed. "Then listen. This illness is not natural. It has drained every healer who has worked to help. I find it very interesting that only after all the healers are drained or dead that the Heir to the kingdom falls ill. That is all I will say on the matter." He paused, looking at each of us in turn. "May Mithros and the Goddess guide and protect you. I hope you do better than I have done." With that he left the room, looking exhausted.

When he was gone I turned to Alan. "What do we do?"
Alan studied me. "What training have you had?" he asked.
"No training, formal or otherwise. Father...disapproved of the Gift, he never said why. I never got training for it. All I know is from the scrolls and books from the Royal Library. Basic things, nothing more."
Alan shrugged. "It's better than nothing."
"I hope so," I replied, gulping.

"Willow? Is that you?" A cracked whisper echoed through the suddenly silent room.
I swallowed, walking over to the bed. "I'm here Jon," I whispered, taking his hand. He was very warm and feverish. His eyes fluttered up to mine as he struggled to sit up. "What are you doing here?" he managed.
"You're my brother," I replied softly. "I had to come."
Jon chuckled weakly. "Stubborn little mule," he muttered.
"Don't insult me Brother dearest," I retorted, somewhat bolstered by his words. "I'm here to help."
Jon squeezed my hand. "I'm glad you're here," he whispered through cracked lips, then sank back down onto the bed.
Alan handed me a cup of water, which I in turn forced Jon to drink, teasing and cajoling him. Then Alan moved forward to take Jon's hand. "Sleep, Jon," he murmured. I found myself yawning as the violet light washed over my brother. When it faded his eyes were closed, and his face peaceful.

"Okay," said Alan. "We'll try the natural remedies first." He sent Timon for wood and Myles for ingredients. We began building up the fire with what we had. Soon we were sweating in the heat. He set me to heating bricks in the blaze before wrapping them and placing them around Jon's body. Meanwhile, Timon returned with the things he'd been set to fetch. Alan quickly brewed up a cough syrup, giving it to Jon when it had cooled sufficiently. "Give this to him every hour," he instructed, handing it to me. I nodded in reply.

The door suddenly swung open. Alan turned, then bowed deeply as Mother and Father entered the room.
"Alan of Trebond," said Father quietly, "How is my son?"
"As well as can be hoped, Your Majesty," replied Alan.
Father then turned his gaze to me. "How long have you been here?" he asked.
I met his gaze steadily. "Since this morning. I had to come. I couldn't tell you-you would only stop me. But I had to help. I should've helped sooner."'
"Mother? Father?" Jon's rasp cut through the air, made into treacle by the intense heat. Alan slipped out of the room to give us some privacy as Mother crossed to Jon's side. She took his hand, whispering to him.
Father sighed. "I'm not angry with you, Willow," he said. "I just wish there was another way. I should never have stopped you. You have always put other people's welfare before our own. It's just your nature. How could you have gone against something that was a very basic part of you? How could I have even asked that of you?" he studied me, looking older than ever before. "I wronged you, and I'm so very sorry."
I stared at him for a long moment, then pulled him into a hug. "It's okay Father," I replied, my voice muffled. "You were only doing what you thought was best."
Having made amends, we walked over to Jon and Mother, spending a few quiet minutes as a family before Alan returned.

~oOo~

Alan and I quickly fell into a comfortable rhythm. We kept a close eye on Jon. Hours passed into days. Occasionally Myles, Coram, or Timon would take over our jobs and banish us to eat or get some rest. Our tireless worked paid off. Two or three days into our work, Jon's cough finally cleared up. It made me smile, hearing him breathe so easily.

~oOo~

Screaming cut through my restless sleep. I bolted upright on my pallet in the bedroom, then staggered over to the door, wrenching it open. The image greeting my eyes was not pleasant. Jon was having another of his hallucinations. Though his cough had cleared up, his temperature had continued to rise. As I stared in dismay, Alan struggled with Jon as he flailed around wildly, his arms flying about.

"Help me!" Alan shouted. He clutched Jon's fever syrup.
Acting instinctively, I froze Jon with a simple spell, even as Timon, Myles and Coram moved forward. They each grabbed a limb, pinning Jon down, before Alan moved in with the medicine. Once he poured it down Jon's throat, he sagged backwards. "Okay, you can let go now."
The three men let go, then glanced at me as I eased up on my magic, swaying. Duke Baird was right, I realised. This Sweating Sickness did drain healers. Once free Jon slumped as if the incident had never happened.
I let out a breath I hadn't realised I had been holding. I had been badly shaken by the sudden turn in Jon's health, and I could tell the others were too.

"Alan, you have to do something," Coram finally said.
"I'm trying!" Alan yelled back. I could tell he was exhausted already.
I opened my mouth to interrupt the pair. After all, both of them were just extremely tired and stressed from Jon's illness.
"Well go inside yourself! Can't you see he's dying?" snapped Coram.
I bit my lip as I struggled to ignore his words. Alan picked up the last packet, looking resigned. "Timon, Coram, you'd better leave," he said dully.
Coram opened his mouth to argue, then, looking at Alan's face, changed his mind. "Let's go," he said to the manservant. "I don't want to be in here when they start fooling with serious magic." Both men left. Only Myles of Olau and I were now in the room with Alan.

"Alan," I said warily, "what is that?"
"Vervain," replied Alan softly. He looked up abruptly, meeting my gaze. "Whatever happens, Your Highness, DO NOT interfere."
"Alan-" I began, startled by his vehemence.
"No. Do not interfere," repeated Alan almost fiercely. "I need your word that you won't intervene if anything happens."
I swallowed, then nodded. "I give you my word," I said, my voice hollow with fear.
Alan nodded, then turned towards the fire. Kneeling before the flames, he threw the contents of the packet in, then held his hands over the heat. I didn't hear the words he said, but the fire began to slowly turn purple.

Suddenly, the purple flames erupted forward up Alan's arms. He screamed as he began to glow a bright purple.
Myles started forward, reaching for the young page. I grabbed his arm. "No! We can't interfere!" I gasped, well aware of the terror on my face.
Alan turned towards Jon, taking his hands. "Jonathan," he called. Myles and I both froze. The voice that we heard was not Alan's, but rather that of a young woman. Confused, we backed slowly away from the bed.

I noticed then a light that began to take the shape of a woman next to Alan's shoulder. She spoke to Alan, but I didn't hear her words. I stared at the appearance of this new character. She had alabaster skin, and full red lips, and was dressed in a full robe that fell to the floor, thus covering her feet. As if she noticed there were others in the room, she glanced up. I was frozen under her gaze. Willow of Tortall. Your love for others will be your biggest strength, but also your greatest weakness. Her voice ripped through my head, sounding like the neighing of horses and the calls of their riders. I clamped my lips shut, biting back a scream, and locked my knees to stop myself falling in agony at her voice. The Lady studied me, her eyes pure emerald, then nodded, perhaps in approval. She smiled suddenly, and then winked out of view, the light collapsing into itself.

"Your Highness, are you alright?"
I looked up stupidly. Myles stared at me in concern.
"I'm fine," I gasped. "Didn't you see her?"
Myles frowned. "See who?"
"That person…standing there…"
Myles touched my shoulder. "I think the exhaustion is getting to your head," he said gently.
I swallowed, then shook my head stubbornly, clearing out the apparent exhaustion. "I'm fine," I repeated.

Alan and Jon began to burn softly at first, then stronger, with a bright purple light. Myles and I both heard a man's and woman's voice coming from the pair. Suddenly the light winked out, leaving the pair there, hand in hand. Alan let go, then turned to us. "He'll be alright," he murmured, then looked up. "Myles?" he gasped, then collapsed.
I snapped into action, catching him as he fell. I gasped with the effort. Though Alan was short, his page training had put more muscle on him than I expected. Myles quickly took the boy from my arms.
"Check him," I ordered Myles, pushing past my fear. After all, I had to take charge now. I crossed swiftly to Jon's side, taking his hand. "Jon?" I whispered, nervous.

I let go of his hand and was about to turn away when he spoke. "Willow?"
I seized his hand again. "Jon," I gasped, relief beginning to filter through me.
Jon smiled tiredly. "So you are here. I thought I'd just dreamed you," he murmured.
I squeezed his hand. "Of course I was here. You're my brother."
"I'm glad for that," replied Jon weakly. "It's good to be back," he sighed, then closed his eyes, sinking back down onto the bed.

As he began to sleep, I leaned over and kissed him on the forehead, tears of relief beginning to slide down my face.


YAY IT'S OVER JON'S OKAY:D (Well that's obvious considering everyone has read the quartet...)
Ooohhh the appearance of the Great Mother Goddess...Isn't that exciting? :D
Maybe the Princess is marked, just not like Alanna. I haven't decided whether to further get the Goddess involved in Willow's life.
Hope you enjoyed it! :)