Lyfress’s travels throughout Lord Figrehnd’s lands were exhausting, taking her to some three dozen small farming villages where she delivered the same message on each occasion. The High Angel offered the only future for the world and they must turn away the hollow offers of the rebellious angels. Compelling as it was, she lacked the reputation her father had. Her word therefore met fewer ears than it should have.

Cesord, however, was brought low by a variety of ailments that seemed to strike him all at once, confining him to his home in Gulnholn. Upon her return to the village, she visited her father, who lapsed in and out of badly needed rest in his small bed chamber. Her mother, Nelrie, kept bringing fresh water from the nearby brook to keep Cesord fight off a fever.

When her father managed to sleep soundly at last, Lyfress and her mother spoke just outside the house so they wouldn’t wake Cesord. Nelrie’s wrinkled and pudgy face drooped.

“He won’t say it, but I know,” she said.

Lyfress nodded.

“When they all left, he tried to pretend he was happy with the ones who stayed,” Nelrie lamented. “Damned fool. It’s eating him up. He hasn’t slept more than a few winks each night. Constantly tumbling and groaning.”

“I’ll try to talk with him when he’s up again,” Lyfress assured her mother. “Now how about we make some soup?”

“For him or us?” her mother asked with a mischievous lilt.

“For us, of course!” Lyfress laughed.

The following morning, as her mother went out to tend to the garden, Lyfress sat by her father’s bedside waiting for him to awaken. His fever seemed to subside or at least it wasn’t causing him to sweat as much. That was a relief by itself. At last, he slowly woke, his eyes scanning the room as though he were unfamiliar with it for a moment.

“Good morning, father,” Lyfress said happily.

“Is it morning?” he asked, looking out the window at the sun coming in from the north. “I suppose it is. I dreamt of your brother.”

“Which one?”

“Ulford,” he groaned. “I dreamt that I convinced him to stay. I don’t even remember how I did it. He hasn’t come back, has he?”

Lyfress shook her head.

“No, he’s long gone for Zarmand,” she replied. “Not all dreams are visions. Some are just our wishes.”

He frowned at that suggestion and reached for a cup of water Lyfress had left beside him. After a pained gulp, he sat up in bed and folded his hands over his stomach.

“How were your travels?” he asked.

Sighing, she told him all that he needed to know.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Not as many came to hear me as I would have liked, I’m ashamed to say.”

“I don’t know why anyone would come to see me and not you,” he said warmly.

“Whether that makes sense or not, they would,” she laughed.

A brief smile on Cesord’s face collapsed into a grimace as his eyes drifted off from Lyfress to his hands.

“I have a confession to make,” he said softly. “I’ve been having doubts.”

“Doubts?”

“Your mother was right. Your brother and the others leaving, that hurt me more than I realized at the time,” he lamented. “And it all made me wonder if there might be something to what they’re saying. Have I had my faith misplaced all these years? Things that once made sense to me don’t anymore.”

She had braced for her father to confide almost anything but that. Recovering from her immediate surprise, she couldn’t let that stand.

“Surely this is just exhaustion,” she dismissed it.

“I don’t know,” Cesord said with a sigh. “I worry that I’ve been too certain. No argument should feel as easy as I make it seem. If something seems that obvious, isn’t there a chance that it’s because I’m missing some part of the truth? Surely I can’t be so in touch with the truth that I can stand in total certitude while others are equally certain I’m wrong.”

I do wish that he would stop thinking, sometimes. He worries too much about mediation when only one side has any basis for their argument.

“Father, do you remember what you told me when I was a little girl about the truth?” she asked, trying to avoid any sound of irritation.

“I’m an old man now,” he chuckled. “I’ve said a lot of things. Which one was this?”

“You quoted a testament by the High Angel shortly after the world was created. Does that jar a memory loose now?”

“Ah, I think so, but you should say it anyway,” he said, smiling at her.

“I read it just the other day to remind myself of it,” Lyfress said. “Forynda cautioned mortals that our minds would not have the knowledge of the angels and would have to find truth for ourselves. However, the truth is almost always that which is in front of us. It may not be to our liking, but it’s simple to understand. Those are words to remember now at this moment, father.”

Cesord smiled and put his hands out so that he could grasp her hands.

“Whatever would I do without you?” he asked.

“The problem right now, father, is that I can’t do without you,” she said, grasping back harder. “You’ve got the reputation and can command many more ears than I can. I need you out there with me.”

He wearily nodded.

“A couple more days, my dear,” he said.

“Sure. We both’ll need it. We have some hard days ahead of us.”

~~~

Duronaht again sat at his wife’s bedside. Torhess had taken a powerful concoction, brewed by the castle’s apothecaries, that was deemed sufficient to stop her pains for a week. Whether it would do that or not, it had entirely incapacitated her. There were times he could not feel her pulse or breath it was so faint.

If she doesn’t come out of this sleep, I’ll have those apothecaries pulled limb from limb!

To pass the time while Torhess slept, he received his counselors and commanders, including Marshal Vildrious. As Vildrious clumsily explained the mustering of soldiers from the northern provinces, Duronaht wondered why it had been Vildrious, of all people, that the angel Myrvaness had taken such a particular interest in. From everything that Duronaht could determine, Vildrious possessed no unique abilities of any kind. Nothing. Had he not been from a prominent family, he would likely have never ascended beyond captain.

“I never asked you, what did you offer Myrvaness to have her come to your rescue up north?” Duronaht asked after a painful silence.

“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty?” Vildrious asked with a hint of injury at the question.

“You heard the question, Marshal Vildrious.”

“Right. It was nothing, nothing at all. She only wanted me to ask her for assistance and that was all I did,” the marshal replied in a weakened voice.

“Nothing? I rather doubt that.”

“I promise you, Your Majesty, every word I’ve told on this is true.”

Duronaht shook his head.

“But why would she have just offered herself? You see my difficulty here?”

“I can only tell you the honest truth, Your Majesty.”

Duronaht scoffed and looked back at his wife.

“Perhaps you have a point. We don’t know why the angels do what they do. Since they seem to have a liking to you, I want you permanently down here in the South. I’ll send Marshal Refnious to the north since that seems to have, shall we say, quieted down. Any thoughts on that?” Duronaht asked, changing to a friendlier tone.

Vildrious suddenly became far more relaxed and presented a fool’s smile.

“I’d be most honored, Your Majesty,” Vildrious chirped. “When would I take…”

“Immediately. Lord Golious has been instructed to provide you with your commission. I’ve already signed it. You should go see him now.”

“Thank you so much, Your Majesty! I won’t let you down, Your Majesty!” Vildrious continued to chirp as he left the bedchamber.

I certainly hope not, but I’ve got my doubts.

As Vildrious was the last of the appointments for that afternoon, Duronaht took the opportunity to sleep in the chair at the Queen’s bedside, holding her quivering hand as they both slept. His dreams were peaceful, much to his surprise. His mind managed to conjure scenes of placidity with his father and brother, entertaining without tension in the great hall at Solnaht Citadel. He even dreamed of his deceased mother dancing with the Emperor. Those dreams were interrupted with a series of brilliant flashing colors that drowned out the rest of the imagery.

Nethron’s visage greeted Duronaht opened his eyes. The Aura Keeper’s eyes glowed a soft red as he floated over to the opposite side of the Queen’s bed.

“Why are you back here?!” Duronaht shouted, still startled.

“I decided I could not let this fester,” Nethron said, his eyes locking on the King. “I cannot fully heal what ails your wife as of now. I can, however, grant her considerably more time.”

Before Duronaht could react, the Aura Keeper placed his hand over Torhess. Strands of various colors, azure, emerald, ruby, and amber, stretched from the angel’s fingers and danced in the air. Each latched onto a different portion of the Queen’s body and dove deep inside her.

“What are you…?” Duronaht protested.

“Helping her, Your Majesty. Now do not interrupt again, unless you are aiming to harm your wife by distracting me,” Nethron scolded him.

Nethron’s eyes flickered rapidly back and forth from one color to another as the strands from his hands coursed through Torhess’s body. There was an unnatural sound to it all, one that caused Duronaht to boil with anger. He couldn’t accept that the Aura Keeper was being helpful. To him, it appeared as though the angel was harvesting her soul or mangling her body.

“A potion… I see. Well, we shall have to draw that out as well,” Nethron said with an inquisitive lilt. Torhess began coughing horribly as droplets of the dark green fluid came back up through her mouth. Nethron condensed them into a ball before him, staring at the contents with manifest curiosity. “Such a crude concoction. After all of these years, this is what your kind devises?”

“I… Will you just focus on what you’re doing?!” Duronaht barked back.

“Oh, I am finished now. She will wake in a few moments. Suffice it to say, she will be far more comfortable going forward than she was, but this is not a total cure. I do not, at this point, possess the ability to prevent your ultimate demises, including hers. I hope to have put your mind at ease for at least a while, so as to lessen the urgency of my mission here.”

Nethron then flicked his hand and sent the potion ball flying out the window into the courtyard below. He then left the bedchamber, floating past the king to the door. Duronaht couldn’t say anything because, as Nethron left, he saw Torhess’s eyes open.

“Water,” she murmured, blinking her eyes several times.

Duronaht at once poured her a glass and she drank it in several massive gulps.

“And how do you feel?” he asked her happily.

She paused, smiled, and looked at him with the most vibrant eyes he had seen from her in years.

“Much better. What happened?” she asked.

Duronaht smiled, patting her hands.

“A gift,” he said. “A great gift.”