Shadows: Book One of the Eligia Shala (30 page)

The entire Flight was standing around, ominously armed, when Brogan, Baudoin and Kallan came back into view. Baudoin was leading the black horse, rider-less. The princess lay barely conscious in Kallan’s arms; her face the same ghostly color as Mikhail’s.

“No time to panic, gentlemen.” Graea Menzetti took charge once more. “I think that if we can get to Mirizir quickly, my house will be the best place for them to recover. The Imperial palace will be too full of prying eyes and ears. It shouldn’t take more than a few days if we keep to the roads.”

“Lady Menzetti, do you actually know what’s wrong with them?” Bernardo had arrived at the carriage, and was hovering over the stricken pair.

The Chancellor’s wife laid a hand over his arm. “I have a suspicion of what it might be. It’s not definite; but it may not be over yet. We need to move.”

“Keep them in the carriage.” Brogan instructed. “If you ride with them, my Lady, you’ll let us know if we need to stop? We’ll set as fast a pace as the horses can stand. Laio, you let me know if we need to change or rest the horses.”

As the Flight remounted and set off at a fast pace towards the south-eastern coast of Maressia, Bernardo rode alongside the carriage, ready to respond to anything Lady Menzetti should need.

Graea Menzetti had quickly pushed blankets and cloaks alongside both Jenevra and Mikhail to make sure they couldn’t roll off the seats they were lying on. Mikhail was comatose, his breathing still very shallow. Jenevra’s eyes were flickering open, and Graea sat next to her on the seat, chafing her hands which were icy, and talking to her in a very quiet voice. The princess seemed to be trying to respond, but couldn’t break through, so Graea leaned close in to her, taking hold of the small stone that hung around Jenevra’s neck. “Jenna! Jenna!” She called softly. “You need to call Ki-Nimh. Tell Ki-Nimh that he needs to meet us at Mirizir. Nimh’a, can you hear me? Kian needs to come to Mirizir. Find him and tell him.”

Jenevra’s eyes flickered open as the touch of Lady Menzetti’s hand on the talisman amplified the contact. Pupils shrunk to pin points, she looked dazed and feverish. “Ki-Nimh?” she whispered. “Mirizir?”

Lady Menzetti held Jenevra’s hands within her own, the stone encased tightly within their shared grasp. “Yes, Jenna, that’s right. Bring Ki-Nimh to Mirizir. Good girl.” Her eyes filled with tears as the princess tried to make the gesture of assent with her head. Stroking Jenevra’s hair back from her face as the girl slipped deep into unconsciousness, Graea just prayed that the task hadn’t taken too much of Jenevra’s dwindling strength.

With just short stops to rest the horses, the Flight rode up to the Menzetti estate three days later in the early evening. It had been a nervous ride, none of the men understanding what had happened to Mikhail or Jenevra, who remained unconscious. They had ridden with weapons ready, not knowing whether some attack was imminent. Lady Menzetti gave swift instructions to her servants to have both young people taken to rooms immediately. Asking Bernardo to talk to her steward about arrangements for the Flight, she beckoned to Brogan to follow her. As they entered the room where Mikhail was being placed gently into a large soft bed, she turned to the sergeant. “If we’re lucky, Sergeant Brogan, we may have brought them here quickly enough that they will recover fully.”

Brogan scratched at his beard, a frown creasing his face. “Recover from what, my Lady? I didn’t see anything attack them; and none of the rest of us is sick, so it doesn’t look like any disease I’ve heard of before.”

She laid a reassuring hand on his arm. “I don’t think it’s either of those. I think it’s something the Order needed.”

“What?” Brogan lowered his voice again quickly. “What does this have to do with the Order? And how do you know about the Order, if you don’t mind my asking, Lady Menzetti?”

Checking that everything was settled in this room, Lady Menzetti went along to Jenevra’s. The princess looked lost in the huge bed, a small pale figure lying too still for Brogan’s liking; none of the vitality that usually marked the princess’s presence was visible in the fragile looking child. Bending over her, Lady Menzetti sat on the edge of the bed, holding onto one of Jenevra’s hands. She motioned to Brogan to sit on a chair near them, which he did rather awkwardly, not used to being in this situation. “I know the Order, Sergeant,” she said. “My son was trained by them. I have sent for him because I think he should be able to help us with this.”

“Do you know what it is, exactly?”

Graea nodded her head, eyes still focused on Jenevra’s face, watching for any signs of consciousness. “More or less; I think it’s a task usually only given to three people within the Order. Maybe Kian can explain properly when he arrives.” Her shoulders slumped tiredly. “You will stay here for as long as their recovery takes, Sergeant. Organize your men however you see fit. I’m sure your Captain here will appreciate it if you just keep up the same training pattern she’d started you on. I take it you’ve all been running each morning?”

Brogan stared at her. “How on earth did you know that, my Lady?”

Graea smiled. “She’s in the Order, Sergeant. That’s what they do.”

Sensing that Graea Menzetti was not exactly what he’d thought the Chancellor’s wife would be; Brogan also saw the fatigue etched clearly on her face. She was not a young woman, and everyone at Court knew that she generally stayed in Mirizir because her health was not strong. “I think maybe you need to rest fully too, my Lady,” he said, calling for her servants to attend to her. “If you think it would be alright, Lady Menzetti, I’ll stay and watch the princess for a while.”

“No need, Sergeant. She’ll be well attended by my staff. The whole Flight needs to rest for now. Maybe tomorrow my son will reach here. Then we’ll know more.” She pushed him lightly. “Go on, Sergeant. You’ll be no use to Jenevra if you’re worn out from watching over her. You need to keep the Flight ready. If … when she comes out of this, she’ll want to carry on as usual.” Lady Menzetti indicated the three maids hovering in the room. “If anything changes, I promise you someone will come and find you. The best thing you can all do is to continue with your regular routine until she is back with you. Now go and tell your men that the princess is sleeping, and looks fine. There’s no need for them all to worry about her. ”

“Isn’t there? She doesn’t look fine, my Lady. She looks deathly.”

Lady Menzetti stared at him calmly, hands clasped loosely in front of her.

Unable to meet that clear, unwavering gaze for long, Brogan sketched a rusty bow and left.

The following day the Flight was returning from its training run when a lone figure thundered past them on a heavily lathered horse; a familiar looking gray cloak billowing around the rider. Swinging down from the saddle before the horse had stopped, a tall, lean man bounded up the steps to the large house without a glance at the men jogging up the path behind him. He took the stairs two and three at a time, flinging open the doors of the rooms on the top floor.

“We’re in here, Kian,” Lady Menzetti stood outside Jenevra’s door, watching her son’s impatient progress. “I thought you had learned more control than that.”

Kian Menzetti gave his mother a tight smile and a brief hug. “How are they?” he asked, striding into the room and over to the bed. Holding Jenevra’s wrist he felt for the pulse. “Weak,” he noted sparingly, dropping his cloak onto the end of the bed. “What happened, Mother?”

“You know what happened, Kian. The talisman was activated.” She sat on the chair by the bed. “Do you know why? And stop pacing around like that, it’s highly distracting.”

Fondly exasperated, Kian rubbed his hands over his face. “I know. I have to tell the Nimh’a not to do it all the time. I rode directly here as soon as I heard her call me.”

“Then you did hear her? That’s good.” Lady Menzetti nodded. “I think that last call must have been the one that put her over the edge. She was almost conscious before I asked her to contact you.”

“Really? What about Misha? How’s he doing?”

“He’s awake mostly now. I still haven’t let him out of his room, but at least he’s moving about. It’s Jenevra I’m worried about though.” She looked sternly at her son. “She’s simply not strong enough for this to happen again anytime soon. I can’t imagine what Dai-Nimh was thinking when he selected her for this.”

“You know Dai-Nimh has his reasons for choosing her. She is one of the strongest of us; certainly mentally, and in many cases physically too.”

“It’s still not right, and I’m not sure I agree with that assessment anyway,” she insisted stubbornly. “We women put a lot more of ourselves into our contact with other people than you men do. She may have been trained by the Order, but she’s still a woman. She does things differently. I know. Why was the call sent out, Kian?”

“I’m not entirely sure, Mother. I know Dai-Nimh has recalled the whole Order to the Island, except for the two Talisman bearers; he probably heard Jenna’s call to me so he’ll know why I’m not there. Putting out a call like that is what took all of their strength so quickly, I would think. I don’t know why he called them back, though. It must be something important; he wouldn’t just do that without reason. We’d better get back there too as soon as they’re properly fit. If it’s that urgent, he’ll need them.”

Running his hands through his dark gray hair now, Kian sat on the end of the bed, pulling at Jenevra’s toes through the covers. “She hates that,” he said absently. “It’s a certain way to wake her.” His forehead creased slightly in concern as there was not flicker of movement from the princess. “How long has it been?”

“Four days, Kian. She should be conscious by now.”

“I know,” he conceded. “I’d better go see Misha.”

“Sit,” his mother ordered. “Misha can come in here.”

Mikhail was still looking ill: dark circles shadowing his eyes and his skin dull with a waxy pallor. His thick auburn curls hung lank and lifeless. The customary gray clothing of the Order didn’t help him look any healthier. Sinking tiredly onto the other side of the bed, he gazed at Jenevra in dismay. “She’s not back yet? Why not? Is she going to be alright Ki-Nimh?”

“Calm, Misha.” Kian placed a comforting hand on Mikhail’s shoulder. “We don’t know why she’s taking so long to come out of it.” He looked pensive. “Maybe you could call her?”

“Kian! We’ve only just got him conscious. You can’t possibly risk him again.” Lady Menzetti was outraged. “I won’t allow it. Misha, you’re not to do it, do you hear me? She just needs some more rest.”

“You don’t know that, Mother,” Kian disagreed. “Don’t go the whole way in Misha; just see if you can reach her at all.”

“No!” Lady Menzetti grasped hold of Kian’s arm. “Just let her rest!”

“We have to know,” he said sharply. “Misha’s the only one who can do that.” Nodding at the Prince, Kian took one of Jenevra’s hands into his own, clasping it tightly.

Misha lifted her other hand in his, leaning forward so that he could fold his talisman in their joined hands. Closing his eyes, he called out to her in his mind. The white mists he had wandered in while unconscious came swirling back around the edges of his perception. Pushing through them he called out again and again for her to answer him. No answer came but, as the mist swirled thicker, crowding in on him, he pulled back; opening his eyes, brow beaded with sweat and breathing fast, to see Jenevra’s blue eyes looking into his. Incapable of speech, he took a deep breath and raised her hand to his lips.