my answer: point one, she gave up being a knight because tortall was screwed to hell and they couldn't spend time for training anymore. i dont know why shes so out of character now, maybe she feels her hubby is under stress and is being extra nice right now. who cares, im not rewriting it.
yes, im tired while im writing these comments.
Fall of Tortall: Chaos Plague
~*~CHAPTER ONE~*~
Kel rolled over. Raising her hand, she touched the cheek of the boy next to her. Curling closer to Neal, she snuggled under the woolen blanket.
He yawned and twisted around. "Not morning yet, is it?" he murmered.
Standing slowly, Kel nodded sadly. "Yes, Neal, it is. And we have to wake up."
Unhappily, he rose up. Staggering to the window, he gasped as the cold wind hit his face. Turning, he playfully gathered his wife of two days in his arms. "I promised Father i would be there today, but what are you planning to do?" He kissed her nose.
Groaning at his amiability, Kel replied tartly, "Teaching staff and Yamani weapons to the young boys and girls. We need a working guard eventually, and not just the older generation needs to be prepared in combat!" Kissing him back, she combed his hair and propelled him towards the Infirmiry.
~*~
"Morning!" Neal caroled cheerfully.
Cleon looked up from his making of ointments. "Why, hello Neal." He smiled mischieviously. "Why so cheerful?"
"I don't know," Neal replied waspishly, "why so tired, Cleon?" He gestured to the dark rings under his friends eyes.
Cleon sighed. "I have to warn you, don't make Kel pregnant right away. It's not the healthiest thing for a sixteen year old girl. Besides," he teased, "You would like her for yourself, at least for a while. I was up til moonfall with that boy of ours."
Neal grinned. "Anyway, where's Father? He asked me here for a case of skin mottling." Cleon pointed tiredly at the other hut.
"Thanks," Neal said and walked to the other structure. "Hello, Father, Joren," he greeted.
The former squire had much changed. From his old, cocky attitude had blossomed a quiet, rather serious young man. However, he now had a purpley orangish aqua mark spread across his arms.
"And what's this?" Duke Baird asked, eyebrows raised. "I can't reach it with my magic, whatever it happens to be."
Examining the blot, Neal poked it to the immediate discomfort of Joren. "Sorry." Peering at it closely, he inquired, "Did you do anything with this arm that might make it discolor so...vividly?"
Joren shook his head. "Only planting, and irrigation ditches." He shrugged. "This came up a couple of days ago." He ran his fingers through his blonde hair. "Hurts like all get out, though."
Speaking slowly, Neal saw a familiar pulse in the blob of color. He stared out the window at the glowing rainbow sky, pausing in thought. "Reminds you of Chaos, doesn't it?" he observed, before realizing what he might be hitting upon.
"Chaos?" they gasped, horrified. "Chaos could be doing this?" Everyone stared at the colorful blot.
~*~CHAPTER TWO~*~
Neal sat at the rough wooden table, burying his head in his hands. "Gods, why is this happening?" Turning to the other end of the room, he stared at the still body of Joren, mottled blots of color marring his chest, arms, and legs.
Duke Baird flipped through books of notes and medical documents, all that had been salvaged from the ruined palace. "I have never seen," he concluded slowly, "such a quick death, with such unique markings." Picking up the limp wrist, he examined the affected areas once more. "I have no idea what this is."
"Could it be an after-effect of Chaos?" Neal asked bluntly. The question had been rattling in his head for the three days after Joren's first visit to the Healer's hut. "A kind of curse or sickness caused by the vindictive Queen?"
His father shook his head. "Alanna has assured us, from the Goddess, that the Chaos Queen was consumed by Mother Flame, and though she continues to exist, she cannot possibly escape that force."
"Then what is it?" Both men turned to stare at the body, which had been vibrant and full of life a mere three days ago.
~*~
That night at the bonfire, Duke Baird stood and clapped his hands. "Citizens! There is a terrible problem." He paused as the small crowd murmered and stirred. "Joren of Stone Mountain was found dead today, in his home, with strange colorful markings of disease on his body. I want every one of you to watch for anything wrong, even just a mere trifle, and report it to me or my son Neal."
Kel, watching at Neal's side, shivered and clung to his arm. "Neal, is it truly that bad?" she whispered.
Sadly, he nodded. "Love, Joren died in three days. If this is epidemic, or even just a small problem..." he trailed off. Neal's face saddened suddenly. "It was not an easy death, but judging by his facial expression, quite painful."
His sixteen-year-old wife stifled a sob. "I hated him before," she said, wiping her tears on her sleeve, "but he changed so dramatically that i couldn't help but like him!"
Many others around her agreed, and so many faces were solemn and weeping that it was a tribute to the formerly unkind young man.
~*~
The next morning, a woman was found with colorful dabs covering her wrist. Running screamning into the center of the village, she pounded on the doors of Duke Baird's abode. "Your Grace, please!" she cried, "you have to help me, sir!"
Opening the door and seeing the blot, the healer's face paled and he drew her into the mud house.
~*~CHAPTER THREE~*~
"I said, i don't know what it is!" Neal exploded as yet another patient rudely barged into his workroom.
"What?" the man asked, his rainbow splotched face paled. "All this time, and you lot haven't cured it yet?" He shuddered, recollecting the fate of those who had passed through the doors before him. "And we die shortly?"
"I'm sorry!" Neal said, desperate. "Both me and my father are working as fast as we can..."
"What-what is it?" the man demanded.
Neal hung his head, dejected. Any young man, even ones more frivolous than the previously carefree Nealan of Queenscove, would be troubled deeply by a situation like this. "It's god-cursed," he explained. "Alanna, she has talked to the Goddess, and it seems the Chaos Queen's last move before dissolving into Mother Flame was to strike out at Tortall."
Duke Baird appeared behind his son. "Good man, I am afraid there is not much we can do, unless there's a miracle..." His voice trailed off as all three men stopped to stare at the Chaos painted sky.
~*~
Kel sat across from her husband at the table. "So those colors," she began, her hazel eyes thoughtful, "when we breathe the air, we are drinking in the very poison that kills us?"
Neal nodded, his eyes dreadfully sorrowful. "It's contained to Tortall, and only long exposure can cause it to be deadly."
Her eyes lit up. "If we create a mass exodus..."
Shaking his head, Neal replied, "If there are ten cases here already, it's too late. We can only hope that a cure or antidote can be found in time before we're wiped out."
Standing, Kel got up out of her chair and went to lean on her husband. "Neal, i'm so sorry," she whispered. "Is it too late, lovey?"
He nodded mutely, feeling his throat constrict as he gazed on his beautiful Kel, only his for a two months. "Kel, I love you," he murmured, feeling gratified as she smiled slightly. "I suppose it would be silly to think about the inevitable."
She touched her finger to his lips, closing them against his morose words. "Not inevitable," she reminded. "There is still hope! If we work hard...perhaps there is a cure?" Kissing him soundly, she patted his hand and sent him back to the Healer's hut in much better spirits.
~*~CHAPTER FOUR~*~
Neal banged his head on his table. "Damn!" he cried, staring at the papers. After three months, and fourteen deaths, there was still no answer. "Every time we touch it with magic, it simply repels it and continues!" he yelled in frustration. "Even seems to suck the magic in..."
His mild father raised his eyebrows. "Temper, Neal." But then he too sighed. "There is still no answer," he commented, "but that doesn't mean that we cannot find one." He looked outside at the moon. "Its near midnight. You had better go home to Kel."
"You sure?" the young man asked.
His father nodded. "I'm sure. She's probably worried." Neal nodded and left quietly, his footsteps slowly thudding down the walk. Duke Baird sat there silently for a moment before continuing his research into the hours of morning.
~*~
"Neal?" Kel's voice rang out softly. "Is everything all right?" she asked, her voice concerned. Her husband shook his head, running his fingers through his uncombed hair.
"We still have no clue."
She made a small noise. "That's okay, hon." Kissing him on the cheek, she poured him a mug of hot tea. "Someday..." she promised. Clearing the table, she stored her glaive and sword in the corner.
He tried to snap out of his morose attitude, but failed miserably. "I don't think we have until someday." Neal was only slightly comforted by his wife's hug as she worriedly peered into his face.
"Everything's going to be fine," she said anxiously, hazel eyes wide.
~*~
But everything was not fine. The next morning, Solane's scream woke both of them at dawn. Her and Cleon's son, Dehlyliahm, had a blue-orange spot under his chin.
~*~CHAPTER FIVE~*~
Solane lay sobbing on the ground, a large blotch already marring her harp-calloused arms. Cleon lifted his mate from the dirt where their baby was buried, hugging her tightly when she simply collapsed back onto the soft soil.
"Deli!" she wept.
Shushing her, the redheaded man sat both of them on the ground. "Shh, Solane. It's all right," he told her as his eyes filled with tears. "We'll all be together soon." She fingered first the rainbow spot on her arm, then the pale orange smear that spread slowly across his left cheek.
The group dispersed, many with their own Chaos spots, marking them for a painful death. Solane and Cleon sat there on the dirt for hours, until they slowly trudged back to their empty hut.
"Neal, wake up," a soft voice brought him out of his dream. Neal opened his eyes, surprised to fined them tear-filled.
"Kel?" He yawned and sat up at his desk in the Healer's Hut, staring at the papers. "It's too late," he said regretfully.
Her hazel eyes were sad, yet strangely calm. "I know, lovey. But no one blames you, Neal. Both you and your father tried so very hard." Her voice broke on the last word as her gaze landed on the empty desk across from her husband's.
"Who did we lose today?" he whispered. So many in so little time.
Kel paused. "Amber and her baby, Lewner, Jesse, Serna, Perln's entire family, and..." she hesitated- "Roald."
"Great Gods. It means to wipe us out in less than a month." Neal's eyes spilled over. "How is Thayet?"
"She's too far gone herself to even realize her son is dead, Neal. She wont be more than a day or two." Kel sighed, her Yamani face long worn out by grief and fatigue. "How are you doing?"
"I think I'm fine yet. You?" Checking each other for the tell-tale marks, they came up with none. "Good," he breathed. "We have a bit more time."
Kel, watching his face, burst into tears.
"Kel?" Shifting tiredly, he put his arm around her shoulders. "Are you okay?"
"No! Neal, I'm not!" she cried. "I'm going to have a baby!" Sobbing, she completely fell apart from the normally calm and rational Kel she usually was. "It's going to die, and we won't ever...ever raise children, even see it, and grow old, or even grow up ..." She buried her face in his shoulder.
"It's all right," he chanted into her ear. "We have each other," he told himself, as his own tears slowly slid into her hair.
~*~
By the end of the week, there was a single hut of infected people left in the entire colony. The raving were attended by Faleron, Kel, and Neal, the only three unmarked left to nurse the sick.
Thayet was dead, Alanna and George right behind her within minutes. Eyes dry, the three squires managed to bury the three before fatigue forced them to create one mass grave.
A handful of people lay in the emptied room, raving and sweating themselves to death. And on all, the marks of Chaos exposure mottled their twitching limbs.
Neal wiped his face on his sleeve. "We lost this one, Kel."
With a grunt, both she and Faleron heaved the body out of the cot and into the shallow ditch their remaining energy. Settling the child with the most tenderness they could muster, the two trudged back to the Healer's Hut.
But they didn't go four steps before the boy gasped and fell to his knees. "Gods, Kel!"
"What? Faleron?"
His breath came in ragged gasps. "Its...my hand." On his skin, a green-bluey mark spread between the webbing of his index finger and his thumb.
Tears pricked her eyes. "C'mon, friend. Let's get you back home."
~*~
It was over, Neal thought to himself. This is it.
Two days after Faleron died, quietly in his sleep, Kel lay in the same cot as he had. A few marks stretched over her arms, legs, and belly, but sweat dotted her forehead liberally.
"Kel?"
"What, lovey?"
His voice cracked on the last note. "Are you okay, yet?"
"Fine." Her light alto was a breathy whisper, weak in its lack of energy and supressed pain. Just the effort of keeping the agony out of her voice, for Neal's sake, made her head spin and the world darken. Managing a smile, she asked, "Is there anyone else you need to help right now?"
Neal shook his head, tears running down his face. "No." In truth, there was no one else left to tend. "You're all mine, Kel."
"All right then. I'm glad, love." She sighed and turned her head to the pillow, the last words she would speak. Neal felt her hand squeeze his own once, before it relaxed and her eyes closed gently.
And the healer was left alone, holding her limp hand in his own rainbow marred palm.
~*~
THIS IS NOT THE END! I REPEAT THIS IS NOT THE END!