The Cytokine Storm - Chapter 4
Without waiting for Jarlaxle's reply, Anna peered into the dim interior of the hut. Resting her hand on the rough wooden door frame, she waited until her eyes adjusted to the low light before entering.
The dark elf blinked as the girl turned her back on him and entered the hut. It wasn't often anyone would show their back to a drow. Curious as to her motives, Jarlaxle silently followed her. A slight smiled lifted his lips. She was oblivious to his presence. As he watched, she reached into her apron, and pulled out a small object. The drow moved closer to get a better look. In her hand was a long thin cylinder, about twice the length of his middle finger. It was dark, with a lacy gold casing. Quite beautiful; he had never seen anything like it. He automatically reached for it, and then quickly pulled back his hand. If it was worth acquiring, he could do so at any time. His greedy fingers under control, the drow silently observed her.
Uncapping the pen, Anna put the cap on the bottom, and reached into her apron for a scrap of paper she always kept with her. The nurse in her taking over, Anna slowly studied the body looking for signs of life. This creature looked much older than the one she had seen earlier, though she couldn't be sure. Like the other body, blood was coming out from the eyes, ears, nose and mouth. There was also a puddle of blood beneath the buttocks. Setting the pen and paper on the earthen floor, she grasped the body and rolled it over. It was difficult to move a body, and it had taken her some time to learn the right technique. Scanning the back of the beast, she couldn't see any signs of struggle or injury. Digging into her apron again, she pulled out a small knife, and carefully cut away the clothing exposing his back and buttocks. Anna sat back and stared in surprise. The blood had come from his anus. Leaning closer, she looked for any sign of injury. There was none. Sitting back up, Anna noted the damage on her sheet of paper.
There were a total of three bodies in the hut. The second looked around the same age as the first one, but number three was much younger. Unlike the other two, this one had smooth skin, razor sharp shining tusks, and a far more muscular frame. All three had the same bleeding, but the skin tone differed on each. Dark blotches on one, grayish cast to another, and the third and youngest was completely black.
Standing up, Anna looked down at the bodies, dread slowly uncoiling in her stomach. This looked so similar to the dying soldier; was she in any way connected to this? She was a healer, and the thought of being responsible for this family's death gnawed at her. Turning away, she left the hut and slowly made her way through the village. Bodies were everywhere; it was as if they had died where they stood. Children still grasping toys lay in a small bloody group. An elderly couple lay side by side in the street. Beasts that had been working had fallen while still clutching the tools in their hands. Coldness settled over Anna. This wasn't normal. Nothing that she knew of could cause something like this. Had it been mustard gas, or some other weapon, the injuries would have been much different.
"What did this?" Anna said, verbalizing her thoughts.
"A very good question. What are your thoughts?" Jarlaxle piped up from behind her. Anna screamed, dropped her pen and paper, and spun around to stare at the elf wide eyed. "Where did you come from?" She gasped. Jarlaxle grinned. "I have been here the whole time. You did not know?" He asked innocently. Anna shook her head. This Fae moved like a shadow; she had better be more observant.
Jarlaxle was fascinated. The girl's initial curiosity wasn't a surprise, but the way she carefully examined and documented each body was far from usual. Her expression was what caught his attention the most. There was no shock or horror, only regret and acceptance. She had seen death before. Many times. Most unusual for one so young.
Remembering that she had yet to give him her name, Jarlaxle said. "If we are to travel together it would be much easier if I knew what to call you. I have, after all, given you my name."
"Anna" She answered. Jarlaxle lifted an eyebrow. "Just Anna?" He asked. She hesitated, not wanting to answer. The dark elf watched her silently until she did.
Swallowing nervously, Anna said. "It's Entreri, like your friend."
The dark elf cocked his head. "That shames you?"
Anna started. "No not at all!" she exclaimed. The drow nodded and turned away from her to scan the town. His suspicion that there was more to this girl than met the eye was growing stronger and stronger. The question remained; why was she here? It was no coincidence that she met up with them. The more he learned about her the more of an enigma she became.
"Please, continue your evaluation; I am most interested to hear your theories." The elf said, sweeping his arm out in a grand gesture towards the rest of the village. Anna looked a little uncertain, but much to the drow's amusement, she did exactly as he commanded. As they made their through the village it became clear that there were no survivors. Young and old, male and female, even children; none were spared. All bore the same curious bleeding, but from there the damage varied. One thing was for certain; whatever had done this had struck with amazing speed. The village had been totally unprepared.
"I don't think its poison." Anna remarked once they had reached the last hut. Jarlaxle gave her an encouraging look. Anna cleared her throat and continued. "There are similarities between the victims, including an incredibly fast death, but there are too many differences to fit any poison I have heard of."
"And how is it you know of poisons?" The elf inquired.
"It aids in the treatment. There are many forms of poison that have been used in the war." She answered, placing the pen and paper back in her pocket.
"Tell me." Jarlaxle commanded. Anna glanced over at his demanding tone. "Well, the most common is a gas. There are several different types." She sighed and looked away. "All deadly." The drow's attention was caught once again. "A gas you say? How is it used?" He wanted to know.
Anna shrugged. "It is mixed in canisters and fired at the enemy. Once it lands, the canister releases the gas." She didn't see what he would find so interesting about how the poisonous gas was used.
"These are launched from a catapult of course." Jarlaxle remarked, more to himself than to her.
"Catapult?" Anna's amused, disbelieving voice made the drow jerk towards her. He didn't like to look like a fool. His red eyes narrowing, he demanded. "What other method might be used?"
Oh, he looked angry. What to say? "Um, well there are several, but usually it is fired at the enemy." Anna said, fidgeting under the intense stare. The red gaze went immediately from irritated to curious. "Like a cross-bow?" He asked.
A cross-bow? How behind in technology was Faery? Anna had never thought that her people might be more advanced. "No, a type of gun is used." She wasn't exactly sure how much he would understand, so she tried again. "A gun is like a small cannon." Understanding, followed rapidly by a far less reassuring expression, lit Jarlaxle's eyes.
"Come, let us find Artemis." The drow said, losing interest in the poisoned gas. Anna breathed a sigh of relief and followed after him.
"What type of Fae is Artemis?" Anna asked, falling into step beside the elf.
"Though many may disagree, I can assure you, Artemis Entreri is quite human." Jarlaxle answered, watching her expressive face. Anna digested this disturbing information for a moment, and then asked. "Are there many humans here?"
"That would depend on what you consider to be many." The drow said. Turning towards her slightly as they walked he leaned down a bit and looked into her eyes. "Are there many 'Fae', as you call them, in your land?" He challenged. Anna stared straight back him, deadly serious. "No. Fae don't exist in my land."
Jarlaxle straightened and turned his face away to hide his shock. It was rare for the wily drow to be taken by surprise. "If not Fae, then what manner of beings live in your land?" He enquired. Anna silently watched the elf; it looked like he had been surprised by her answer, but since they were in Faery and not on Earth that didn't make any sense. At her continued silence the elf turned back to face her, waiting for an answer.
"There are only humans." Anna said.
"Only humans?" Jarlaxle asked.
Anna frowned. "Yes. Faery is a separate world from mine." she said. "Ah." The dark elf replied, his expression unreadable.
They didn't speak again until they found Artemis crouching beside one of the bodies. At their approach the assassin looked up. "It's gone." He stated. Jarlaxle pursed his lips. "How unfortunate." He said. "You have found something else perhaps?" The elf prompted. Artemis rose to his feet and extended his hand.
Resting in the assassin's palm were several silver coins. Standing beside Jarlaxle, Anna gasped. She recognized these coins! Her family collected them, but these looked…new. "It can't be." She whispered.
"Ah, you are familiar. How fortunate." Jarlaxle said. Anna didn't answer, just stared in shock at the coins. They shouldn't be here; unless the Fae liked to keep souvenirs. That must be it. Some Fae must have brought them to Faery at some point in the past.
"I also found this." The assassin said, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket. "I found it on our unfortunate friend." He said, nodding his head towards the body.
"It appears our contact had more buyers than ourselves." Jarlaxle noted, scanning the note. "I do believe a visit to Wa'q Che'el would be in our best interest." He told them, pocketing the note. Smiling at Anna, the drow informed her. "I have heard it is quite wondrous." Anna stared back at the drow wondering what the coins had to do with Wa'q Che'el
Their decision made, Jarlaxle pulled out the small onyx statue and set it on the ground. As the demon horse appeared, Anna wryly realized she was no longer afraid of it. When the drow leapt on its back, and offered her a hand, Anna took it without hesitation. When had things changed? Only yesterday, she had been terrified. Of course she had thought that Jarlaxle was a demon sent to drag her into the depths of hell … Still, today she found she was no longer afraid of the dark elf. The thing was; she should be afraid. The Fae were capricious by nature. Just because he was kind to her today didn't mean he might not tire of her by tomorrow. Her grandmother had told her tales of the Fae, and of their cruelty. She needed to stay alert. Her life might depend on it, Anna reminded herself.
It was impossible to guess how long they had ridden, but by the time Jarlaxle pulled their steed to a stop it was getting dark. After dismounting, the dark elf pulled out the small box from the other day and set it on the ground. Within moments the brightly colored tent from yesterday stood in its place.
With a grunt and a shake of his head at the garish tent, Artemis set about making a fire. Anna stood by watching them helplessly. She wasn't used to doing so little. Walking over to the assassin, Anna sat on the opposite side of the fire, and watched as he threw a few small sticks into the flame. He glanced up at her arrival, but didn't speak.
Anna arranged her skirt around herself, wondering how to ask the assassin about the journal she carried. He had an air about him that didn't invite questions, yet she needed to ask him. It had to be more than coincidence that brought her into the company of a man named Artemis Entreri. She wasn't sure if he was her ancestor, but nothing had made any sense so far. The only connection that she could see was this man and the journal.
"Umm … Do you keep a journal?" Anna asked in a rush. The assassin stopped mid-throw, and looked up at her. The look in his dark grey eyes made Anna want to crawl under a rock. Reaching into her apron, she pulled out the ancient leather journal and held it out to him. "It has your name written on the inside cover." She said. The assassin stared at the journal with distaste.
A black hand plucked the journal out of Anna's hand. "Artemis! You never told me you kept a diary." Jarlaxle cried in delight, opening the front cover. The assassin's scowl deepened. "What would make you think I would keep such a ridiculous thing?" Artemis demanded.
Jarlaxle stared at the inside of the front cover for a long moment. "Because, apparently I gave it to you." The drow said in surprise. Artemis snorted, and threw the stick he had been holding into the fire. Jarlaxle sat down beside Anna, and paged through the journal. "How peculiar." He remarked. Artemis glared at him, and then gave in. "What is peculiar?" He asked. The drow answered without looking up. "Though the journal is yours, it is my handwriting that fills these pages." The assassin's dark brows rose. "Peculiar that you gave me a journal, or peculiar that you wrote in it?" He asked dryly.
Jarlaxle flipped through several pages, a frown settling between his white brows. "The entries stop today." He said.
That got the assassin's attention. "Today? Do you sense any magic?" He asked. Jarlaxle nodded, running his finger along the page. "Quite strong magic; we are not meant to see past today." He said.
Anna reached into her pocket, remembering the piece of paper that had fallen out of the journal before her arrival. "I almost forgot. This fell out of the journal right before I was sent here." She said, holding out the paper to Jarlaxle. The drow took the paper, marveling at the impossible smoothness of it. The paper looked much newer than the journal, and the drow found himself wondering where the paper originated from. Stranger yet was the handwriting; it was his, yet there was a slight difference in the shape of the script. Fascinated, the drow studied the paper.
"What does it say?" Anna asked, as Jarlaxle continued to stare at the paper. The drow shook himself, and concentrated on the script. "Beware the Cytokine Storm." He read out loud. It was purposefully cryptic. Now why would he send himself a riddle? The drow smiled broadly, immensely pleased with his decision to keep the girl with him. The longer she was with them, the more interesting things became. What surprises would she unleash tomorrow? He was looking forward to finding out.
"It was you that wrote it, correct?" Artemis asked.
"It would appear so." The drow agreed.
"That would explain why it makes no sense." The assassin's deadpan tone only made the dark elf laugh. Poking at the flames with a long branch, Artemis tried not to think about what the drow had in store for him. All too often, Jarlaxle's antics jeopardized not only his health, but his very life.
Anna quietly watched the exchange between the drow and the assassin. Artemis acted as though he didn't like the dark elf, yet Anna had the feeling the two were closer friends than how it appeared.
The drow offered her food again, but even though she was hungry, she couldn't bring herself to eat. If what her grandmother had said was true, the food would trap her in this world.
Like the previous evening, they slept within the richly decorated tent.
The following morning as the sun peeked through the trees, Anna sat up, and rubbed her eyes. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that it had been nearly two days since she ate. Grimacing, she stood and shook the wrinkles out of her dirty, blood stained uniform as she walked outside. She would have killed for a bath.
"Ah good, you're awake." Jarlaxle said, coming up behind her. He paused, studying her stained clothing. "Once we reach Wa'q Che'el, we will procure you some fresh clothing." He told her. Anna smiled her thanks, suddenly feeling shy. The elf watched her curiously, then dismissed the tent and called up their steed.
The ride to Wa'q Che'el was shorter than Anna would have expected. Their demonic steed covered the ground at an amazing speed. As they approached a river, Anna saw the first of the buildings. She frowned, trying to make out the shape.
Backlit by the rising sun was a large stone structure. Grim and forbidding, its battlements cast long shadows across the water. The chill of the cold stone stole any warmth that might have been provided by the golden rays streaming through the narrow slits in the thick walls. Walls that would imprison kings and noblemen, walls that would hide the kind of atrocities that made Anna's blood run cold. Though still under construction, Anna knew the building immediately.
Cold and majestic as the morning sun washed over it, there stood the Tower of London.
Author's note: Ah, the plot thickens!
Musingsage: Hmmm…good guesses, but can you figure out where I am going? Hehehe
InuDstories: I am so happy you are still with me! Hope I don't disappoint!
Anon: I aim to confuse. Curiosity is a good thing!