The fever was devastating.
Weyloran tried to get him to drink, stroking his throat to try to trigger the swallow reflex, but the other Warlock simply coughed up the water weakly. Weyloran sighed, and soaked a rag in the cool liquid before pressing it to Timur's lips, hoping that at least a little of it would find it's way into his fever-racked body. The Stormcaller's hair was matted to his head, sweat glistened on his forehead, and he was could barely manage to breath. Weyloran stood up, looking around himself helplessly. Timur was the worst, but Perun was coming a close second.
He rushed to Skorri's side as she cried out deliriously. Nearby, Silimar was laying down, eyes closed, but panting as if he'd run a marathon. Ashraven watched him dully as she helped Deidris back to her bed; the Huntress, in her delirium, had developed a habit of wandering around when she was hallucinating. Ashraven looked worse for wear, and he could see signs that she, too, was coming down with this sickness.
He wondered how long it would be until he came down with it. He was starting to feel a slight burning sensation in the back of his throat. There was a knock at the door.
"Who is it?" he called.
"River-12. Radegast's just cleared me to come in. Thought you could use some more help. Can't be healthy, you and Ash doing all the work on your own." came the feminine response.
"Come in." he called tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose. She was right; he didn't feel healthy. He wondered if it was the fever, or the fact he hadn't slept in three days?
It had started with Timur. 'Just a cough', he'd called it. 'A tickle, nothing more.'
Then Perun had come in his room the next morning to get him up for a mission, and had found him on the floor, covered in sweat, with a raging temperature of a hundred and two. He'd been put back in bed, and Skorri had tended to him while Perun took Deidris instead. That had been, now, almost a week and a half ago.
River came in, holding the door open with her foot, and closing it the same. She had several supplies in her arms.
"Finally." Weyloran exclaimed dryly, spreading his arms to indicate his suffering friends. "They send me someone who can't get sick!"
Timur let out a frightful rasp, and he spun, standing, and rushed to his side. He pressed his hand on the Warlock's chest, channeling his fire. Oh, if there was one thing he could wish for right now and have come true, it was that Sunsinger fire could cure sickness! He put all he could into trying to help the Stormcaller breath easier, but it was all for naught. Timur's struggles ceased, and his heart stopped. Weyloran looked sadly up at his Ghost.
Shell drooping with despair, he revived his chosen. If things got too bad, they may come to leaving Timur dead until his body decayed naturally. Then, when his Ghost next revived him, he wouldn't be sick anymore. That... could take months. Perhaps years.
Weyloran hoped it wouldn't come to that. He didn't think his Ghost would be able to take that.
A small fist knocked on the doors to the Iron Lord's base. She took a deep, nervous breath. She'd been waiting three years to do this. She'd trained tirelessly; she would be an Iron Lord, if it killed her. Which was alright, because she could die as much as she wanted(it unsettled her grandmother when she pointed this out, though). She heard locks being undone, and she took a deep breath, excitement bursting through her chest.
She opened her mouth, ready to speak, as the doors were opened. But her voice died in her throat at the sight of the face that greeted her.
It was a Titan. He looked like he hadn't been sleeping well, and he looked sad. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair messy, and his face was slightly dirty.
"What is it you want?" he asked. She lifted her hand, and let her Ghost out.
"I want to be an Iron Lord." she told him simply, hopefully. He looked her up and down.
"How old are you?" he asked.
"Technically, I'm twenty." she chirped. "But my Ghost revived me first when I was seventeen. It would have been really good to know I wouldn't age, because then my Grandmother wouldn't insist on me 'growing up' before I came here."
He shook his head tiredly. "Come back later. In the spring."
She reached out a hand, stopping him from closing the door. "Oh, no you don't, mister! Do you have any idea how much trouble I went through to find this place? For such a big group, you're certainly hard to find. I've done my waiting. Three years of it. I'm ready."
"And I'm not asking." he growled, suddenly hostile, before his features drooped once more. "We've... been ill of health lately. Come back in the spring. By then, the sickness will have passed."
"What kind of sickness?" she inquired, still holding the door open. He glared at her in a half-hearted kind of way.
"Fever, weakness, coughing. To my knowledge, Lord Timur keeps dying, and he isn't getting any better." the Titan explained. "This illness is deep in their lungs. We've tried everything, and Lord Weyloran is working himself to the breaking point trying to keep everyone alive."
Efrideet tipped her head, thinking. "I've heard of that before. I got it once, when I was ten. The whole village was sick. Marina came up with a really good remedy though, and we were all better in days."
His head snapped around in her direction from where he'd been staring blankly at the floor. Hope kindled in his gaze.
"A cure? Do you remember how to make it?" he asked hopefully.
"I was ten and delirious." she told him dryly. "I could go back to the village and ask Marina, though."
He opened the door fully, ushering her in before shutting it. She grinned at her Ghost. She wasn't even accepted yet, and she was already doing good! Maybe this is a good sign? That I'll do well here?
"Haakon!" the Titan called in a booming voice, sounding excited. "Bretomart!"
The sounds of pounding footsteps and squabbling.
"Git 'yer fat armor outta my way!"
"Get your freaking cloak off the stairs!"
It ended with a loud crashing, and a Hunter and a Titan falling to a stop at the bottom of the stairs in a tangle of limbs. The Hunter came out on top, nose to nose with the female Titan. He grinned.
"Hello." he said smoothly. She shoved him off of her violently with a sound of disgust. He jumped to attention, looking at the summoner eagerly while his companion picked herself up, brushing her armor off angrily.
"As I've said before, dear Radesgast; one must simply call, and I shall simply fall... right into your lap." he added, looking at the female Titan flirtatiously. She glared daggers at him, and Efrideet giggled.
"Haakon, Bretomart, take one of the ships, listen to... what's you name?" Radegast asked her.
"Oh, Efrideet." she replied.
"Listen to Efrideet's instructions; she knows of a cure to the fever." at this both of their heads perked up, hope beaming on their faces. "Ready one of the ships, get there as soon as possible."
"Right!" Bretomart agreed, rushing out of the room, while Haakon did a bit of a mini salute before casting Efrideet a sly look. Radegast gave him a look.
"Don't even think about it, Haakon. You can flirt with the new blood later; get that cure!"
It took almost a week of brutal but effective force feeding techniques on Weyloran's part, and several more deaths, before Timur started to show signs of recovering, in that he could finally swallow without help. Perun was treated similarly, as she was nearly as bad as the Warlock was, but everyone else was feeling better, as Efrideet had promised, in days.
The cloths they'd worn while they were sick were burned, and several very tired but happy-to-be-cured Iron Lords returned to their normal lives.
At some point a week and a half after Efrideet's arrival, Timur was quietly moved back to his own room, and Perun was back on her feet, albeit needing some time to recover. Efrideet couldn't be prouder-looking at having been able to help, and Marina was given special thanks for her services. She was sent home with a large load of supplies that the village had been scarce of, and a moonstone bracelet from Jolder as thanks.
At first, nobody noticed the nearly skeletal figure that came into the mess hall a few weeks after the cure had been administered. But everyone knew and noticed when Skorri ran into Timur full-force with an embrace that nearly knocked the half-starved Warlock over. But he hugged her back all the same, and pretty soon, he was staggering under the weight of the group hug surrounding him.
Happier than all of them, though, was the young Huntress who sat sharpening her knife in a room within the base she could proudly call her own.
Bash Timur; check.
Make you feel sorry for Timur; check.
Bash Timur some more; ... ongoing operation.
I got the Mantle of Gheleon today, and it just SO completes my look with the Dawncaller and Celestes shaders. But yeah, there is definitely going to be some Timur guilt-feels when we finally get around to SIVA killing everybody. Also, look up Destiny: Rise of Iron Parody song (Sound of silence), by Ravens of the Realm. It is golden. Blazing. Frabjous. A must-see.
Read and REVEIW!