Chapter Five; Visions of death.

Okay just for the record people this IS MEANT TO ALL BE IN ITALICS!!!! In this story, any large passages in italics are set in the past.

"I wont! I don't owe him anything!"

"Alanna you must!" George said calmly. While she was flushed with anger and pacing the room, he leant on the armoire, playing with a hairbrush. She reached over and before he could blink the hairbrush was out of his hands and out the window into the courtyard below. George continued, just as calmly as before.

"He'll die otherwise, and the Conté Duke will be the next King." Alanna threw herself onto the bed, pouting like a little girl.

"Please Alanna." Gary pleaded, "You haven't met him. Don't refuse because he's the Prince. Do it for my friend."

"Very well." Alanna sighed. "But you better think of a good reason why I am there to give to Duke Baird." Raoul nodded,

"We've thought about that. You are my uncle's daughter, from the Copper Isles." Alanna nodded,

"Let me get my stuff." She said. The men left her room and waited downstairs. She followed them a few minutes later, wearing a nondescript dress and cloak, with a brown wig covering her distinctive hair. She looked very different.

Duke Baird greeted them as they escorted Alanna to the healers' quarters.

"Lady Alanna, You grace us with your presence and we thank you for your attempts at curing our Prince." Alanna nodded,

"Your Grace." She dipped into an awkward curtsey he smiled then led her into Jonathon's room, leaving Gary and Raoul in the hallway.

As soon as she stepped into the room she almost choked on the incense thick air. Priests, wailing ladies and nobles clustered around the bed.

"Get out!" She cried, "he isn't dead yet, but you will hurry him on his way if he can't breathe." At a nod from the Duke they all filed from the room, the ladies still weeping and mopping their eyes with lace edged handkerchiefs. Alanna immediately climbed upon a chair and opened a window. Then, as she climbed down, she took off her cloak and wig.

"Your Grace, if we are to work together, then I won't lie to you. I am no relative of Raoul."

"I know." As Alanna looked to the healer of an explanation he continued, "Raoul's mother was an only child." Alanna sank into the chair.

"So why did you let me in here?"

"Every healer in the city is exhausted, and I have yet to find a reason not to trust Gary or Raoul. You are our only hope."

"I will do my best. What have you tried?"

The two spent more than an hour in conference, before Alanna even began to treat the Prince. As she began to sort through her herbs, the Duke took his leave, saying he had other patients to attend to.

Alanna tried many different cures over the next two days, but although some helped, none cured. Eventually, after consulting the exhausted Mistress Cooper she cast vervain leaves into the fire. Slowly the red and yellow flames turned purple. Silently she called on aid from the Gods, she kept the connection for several minutes, pain burning up her arms, but no help came. With a deep breath she dived inside herself, finding her core of magic. Then she walked out of the fire and approached the sick Prince's bed. He was pale and his dark hair was matted with sweat. His full lips were dry and cracked from the high fever. He looked very different to the boy she had robbed in the market place. She sat on the edge of his bed and reached for his hands. She grasped them tightly and slowly slipped from her mind, down her arms and into his mind. Suddenly she realised she could sense his thoughts. There was pain, so much pain, but the purple fire made it dim slightly, and the firm grip on his hands was comforting. Then Alanna felt it. A dark hole yawned in his mind. Carefully she drew near it and looked over the rim. The Prince lay at the bottom of the pit, and the Dark God glided towards him.

With a cry of rage, Alanna flung herself down the well recklessly. She landed safely, however, between the Dark God and his prey.

"You can't have him." She declared fiercely, a mocking laugh came from the grey cowl.

"Come now, let the boy die."

"No. Never!" She cried,

"Never? Not even for your mother?" A figure dressed in white stepped out from behind the God. She had dark blond hair and violet eyes like Alanna's own,

"Ma?"

"Alanna dear. It's me. It is so good to see you at last." Alanna looked at her mother for the first time in her fourteen years. "He says you can only take one of us out of here. Me, or the Prince." Alanna stepped forwards, away from the silent Jon.

"Mother?"

"Yes! Come take my hand. We can leave him here and be gone in seconds." At that, Alanna snapped her hand away and stepped back.

"You're not my mother. She would have done anything for somebody else, even died for them. Especially royalty." The woman turned away, hands over her face, and then spun suddenly, hands falling away from the rotting face of a corpse. The lifeless eyes stared at Alanna, who let out a small scream,

"Stupid child. You could have left easily, but now…"

"And taken a demon into my world?" Alanna retorted, "I think not!" She found and clasped Jon's hand and together they began to rise out of the deep hole. At the last second the demon leapt and grabbed Alanna's ankle, while she kicked to try and shake it off.

"No!" Jonathon was out of the pit and grabbed her other hand as well, hauling her out of the hole. She landed on top of him as the demon suddenly released her.

"Thank you." His voice was deep and soft, that of the king he would be.

"Any time." Her own voice was that of a grown lady.

When she woke, her head was cradled on the Prince's broad chest, his hand tightly clenched around hers. With a gasp she pulled away and hurriedly stuffed her herbs into her bag. The Prince woke up as she swirled her cloak around her body, and hid her face in the deep hood. With a muttered curse she rushed from the room as Jon sat up.

Duke Baird met her as she ran from the healer's wing.

"He's healed," was all she would say. Then as something occurred to her, she faced the older man. "Don't tell him who cured him please. Tell him whatever you like but I want to be left out of it. Tell Raoul and Gary the same." Seeing her panicked and distraught expression the healer nodded.

Without waiting for anything more, she bowed then ran out of the palace.

When she reached the Dove she brushed all questions aside from all but to George to whom she said flatly,

"He's fine. I need to be alone." The Rogue nodded as the girl fled to her room. There she sat for agonising hours as she cried into her pillow, questioning her choice. She was exhausted, both mentally and physically. Silently, when she was all cried out, she slipped backwards onto her pillows and slept.

Wow, angsty chapter. That'll bring some issues up pretty damn soon. Meanwhile… Review me and let me know what you think.