Glow- Chapter Three

Ugh I wrote this when I was thirteen... What was I even thinking?

Haha, so I'm posting it here. Please help me to make this less cliché...

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It was the morning after the wedding.

The crowds were moving swiftly, and Arvind could barely keep up. He clung tightly to his sister's and brother’s hands as they marched up the street. People pressed into his back and his arms, and it was all he could do to keep a hold on his siblings.

Isaura, ten, was his little sister. She tried to move ahead, hanging back when she went too far, giving her brother a look that asked, Aren’t you coming? Namu, age nine, was his little brother. He toddled along, clutching Arvind's hand. Arvind himself was seventeen, and took care of his siblings ever since his mother had died.

The crowd was beginning to get thicker, with more people joining the queue. They were all surging toward the same goal. The castle. As it neared into view, the crowd became heavier, as if one was trying to swim rather than walk. Arvind repressed the urge to push people aside, and got as close as he could to the castle with two children in tow. He adjusted Namu so that he could ride on Arvind’s shoulders and Isaura so she could stand on his knee. It was another few minutes before the event began.

The Queen entered on to the balcony, graceful and poised, to greet her subjects. As she appeared, a roar overtook the people, and their cry went for a whole minute before she raised her hand and it became silent. Arvind rolled his eyes. Theatrics.

“People of Sarojin,” she began, raising her voice, though she needn't for you could hear a pin dropping in that space of people, all silent but for their queen. “today is a momentous occasion. Although the god Aphorel has brought to us death and destruction, I hope to bring peace and prosperity. For today, my son, my life, is to be given the highest honour. Today, he will be crowned as your king.”

Another roar rose. Isaura bent down to her brother and asked, “Why are they shouting?”

“They love their queen.”

She paused for a moment and then looked him square in the eye. “Do you?”

“I suppose,” he said, shrugging. “but she can have her moments.”

The queen continued. “Once he is crowned, our realm and Kunda…” -Here there was a bout of hissing- “…will be reunited once more. We will create peace. We will create order out of chaos.”

More cheers.

“So now, I call my son. My only. My light,” The queen gestured toward the double doors behind her. “Prince Lennox!”

“Long may he live!” The people shouted.

The doors burst open, and out came the prince, followed by his new wife, the princess. He was dressed in the mink robes customarily worn by the soon-to-be-king.

Then the crown was brought forward.

The crown was beautiful, a circlet adorned with rubies and sapphires, the traditional jewels of Sarojin and Kunda, united. The circlet itself was silver and engraved with leaves on the sides. Two were presented, one with mostly rubies and a sapphire pressed in the middle, and the other exactly identical, except the diamond placement was switched around. The two crowns glittered in the sunlight, and the queen gestured to her son. He stepped forward, and with a flourish the sapphire-with-one-ruby crown was settled among the prince’s brown locks. Its twin was set with equal display upon the princess’s raven-black curls.

The queen stepped back and waved her hand towards her son. Clapping, cheering, and whistling ensued. Prince Lennox stepped forward, his smile one of pure joy.

Arvind rolled his eyes at the show, and in doing so looked toward the battlements. What he saw captured his attention, if only for a moment. There appeared to be a dark figure with blonde hair (Much unlike every Sarojinian in existence, all who sported varying shades of brown hair) who held out an object that he withdrew a moment later, but it was enough time to see the crossbow being stowed in the folds of the cloak.

The gasps caught his attention, and he looked back in time to see Lennox teetering over the edge of the balcony railing, an arrow sticking out of his back. He started to tip over the edge.

“Catch him!” Arvind yelled, trying to push through the crowd, letting go of his sister and brother's hands as he dashed forward to the castle, arms outstretched.

The queen was running across the large balcony, trying to reach Lennox. But any fool could see she wouldn't make it in time. And she didn't, for just as she reached for him, he slid over the edge.

The freshly placed crown on the prince’s head slipped off, falling faster than him, shattering on the ground. Arvind was almost there. He lurched forward, the wall of the castle oncoming.

The queen had tried to grab her son as he leaned over, and now she screamed, arm thrown out toward Lennox, hair blowing in the wind. Her lovely face twisted in terror, seemingly mock. Her eyes were widened to show the whites all around. The ring the king had given her when they were married hung from a chain around her neck. It seemed as if she was already mourning her son.

Everything seemed to move almost in slow motion. Arvind ran toward his advisee as he fell, people cleared the area where Lennox was supposed to drop, and the queen's scream pierced the morning air. It was with a blur that Arvind watched the rest of it play out.

He had caught the prince, who was bloodied from the arrow sticking out of his back, and who stared up at his face with glazed-over eyes. People were screaming, some rushing forward to help, some standing in shock. Arvind felt a light brushing on his shoulder and he came back to the normal speed of things.

There was a woman standing next to him, a beautiful woman, with walnut coloured hair and perfect, marble skin. She put a hand on Arvind's shoulder and he looked up at her before she helped him pick the prince up and carry him inside the castle.

*

The Healer (Lavali was her name) wouldn't let anyone into the prince's room while she tended to the serious wound, other than the queen. Arvind was told to guard the princess, and left alone.

“Only for a little while, until I figure it all out,” The Healer, had told him.

“But I don’t even know her name!” He protested.

“You don’t have to bond!” She had snapped, and left.

Now he stood awkwardly, standing. Waiting for a verdict. Judgement. The princess was less concerned with talking. She took to pacing the room from back to front, in straight lines, walking and talking to herself. As not to disturb her, the advisor did not speak. He did not even move. He simply stood still and thought to himself.

Who was the person on the roof? He thought. Surely not a guard of Sarojin, nor one of its people. Were they a guard from one of the other realms? Nore, perhaps, as the Archer had suggested the other night, or even Kunda itself?

There were no easy answers to these questions. Whatever had happened was not just an accident. There was some larger factor put in motion. A decoy, perhaps. Strike when they were on their knees. It was possible- done before with the smaller cities. But this was a big fish, one heck of a job. You had to fry it in pieces, and if you decided to eat it all at once, you’d be bellyaching before you even got the fourth bite in. If there was something going on, it would have to be divided into bits and dealt with accordingly. What those bits were, well, it was beyond Arvind.

The door glided open. Lavali stood there, eyes pointed and mouth curved into a worried frown.

“He wants to see you.”

“Of course!” The princess, Esmeralda, stepped forward hastily. The Healer raised her hand to stop her, and then gestured to Arvind.

“He wants to see you.”

Arvind raised an eyebrow, and followed to Healer out.

The door slammed shut behind them, right in the princess’ face.

The boy entered without a word, edgy. Lavali had explained it to him on the way, and it was still not processing, churning in his skull. A few words to bring out so much unhappiness.

“It’s the Sickness.”

He had heard it before from her lips, when she had declared his mother dead. It was her, too, that proclaimed his littlest sister, Zinia-Tariwen, to have died, moments after his mother. That was in the early stages of the Sickness, when people just dropped off for no known cause. When light was darkened. A spoiled sanctity of a city thought to be impenetrable. But the people rebuilt, as they always do, buying herbs to ward off evil, life returning to its routine. Even now, routine always had a way of stabbing you in the back. The preciousness was broken once again. A prince could be lost- a man to become king.

“Advisor,” Lennox looked at his friend. “I order you to show at least a little emotion.”

Arvind laughed nervously.

“We’re getting somewhere. Now grovel! Grovel, peasant!” Lennox said, his voice a false imitation of the kings, deep and loud and commanding.

He was only kidding, and Arvind knew it, but he got on his knees anyway. It was instinct- and much later did Arvind realise he did it because Lennox sounded like the king.

Lennox looked surprised. “You never do that!”

“You've never been the type to tell someone to grovel."

“True,” the prince sighed. “true.”

“Do you know what ails you?” Arvind asked.

“Yes. I bear the Sickness. I speak its name not to frighten you- If it does, forgive me. I speak it because I am not afraid of it. Strangely, its strains are slowed in my blood by this,” He said, tapping his crown. “Charms of the ancient realms. From Chi, father of the land, himself, they are as potent as the day they were cast. I am lucky.”

“You are royal.”

“It is not a bad thing.”

“In present light, it is not a good thing either.”

“You dislike me.”

“No. Kunda dislikes you.”

Lennox was intrigued. “Go on.”

“I believe you were set to be assassinated. The arrow was purposefully aimed at you."

“Do you have any proof?”

“I saw a man on the balcony, holding a crossbow."

"Might it have been one of our guards?"

"He had blonde hair, and wearing a dark cloak. Only the ones from Nore and Kunda have such a colour. You may have been targeted."

“But what of the Sickness?” Lennox asked. “You cannot feign that.”

“You had the Sickness.” Arvind pointed out. "Death by arrow would have just sped up the process.”

Lennox looked at Arvind, thoughtful. “Then I should keep to my own chambers?”

“I would advise it."

“That is your job.”

“I advise it then."

“And so it is. Oh, and a guard to watch over me, but none of those Kunda scum. I dislike the lot of them.”

“Yes, sir,” Arvind said, turning to leave.

“Wait,” The prince stopped him. Arvind looked over his shoulder at his advisee, and only now did he realise how sickly and pale he looked.

“This Sickness is something I cannot stop. It will rage all over the land. You need to save Sarojin, no matter how much you think it is safe. It is not. You bear news to me, and I understand. This land is not safe.”

Arvind blinked. He wasn't sure if that was the rant of a sickly person or a sane command. Nevertheless, he said, “Yes, sir.”

Lennox sighed. “You’re hopeless.”

Lennox would be in fine hands; The Queen’s, and another Healer, who had come after Lavali had left for her home. Arvind was no longer needed- at least, for the time being.

“Things are only going to get worse,” He said, glancing up at the sky. The sun was starting to turn blue. Soon, it would be the harvest, and after that, the Frost. The realm-wide market day was coming soon, and with it, people from all over the realms, even beyond. Once all the folks were done partying over this year’s harvest, taxes would be collected. Arvind wasn't sure how he would fare this year. Gold coins were getting tight. Bronze and silver coins were almost rare. The closer the Frost came, the more expensive wool was. Fur was precious. Leather was essential. Oilskins were hung up and traded for reindeer hide.

Arvind ambled up to his home, opening the door, and he went inside. But something was wrong. There was no laughing and pounding of tiny feet. He knew one of the horse keepers had found his siblings and taken them home. But no sound came from up the stairs, where their rooms were. There wasn't anything but an empty house and some dust.

“Isaura?” He called out to the emptiness. “Namu?”

Wind answered him.

“Isaura?” He called, louder, beginning to look around the house. “Namu?”

The search was yielded no results.

The boy ran frantically around the house before he realised that no one was home. And then, only then, did he fear the worst.

“Lavali,” He breathed, and set out for the Healer’s abode.

He ran the entire way. The wind blew his arms and legs until they were numb. His heart beat in his chest like a drum, banging and banging. The sun beat down on him cruelly, and he was gasping for air. After what felt like years of running endlessly (Even though it had only been a few miles), he was there. He kicked the door down, literally. And there was Lavali, holding Isaura in her arms, and Namu looking scared nearby. Arvind felt the coldest urge to grab the healer by the neck and demand an explanation. But Isaura caught his attention, and he went to his little sister.

“Saura.”

There was no sound. No movement. No breath. There was nothing- no glow behind her eyes. No mischief boiling in her head. Her eyes were just marbles, cold and unfeeling. His little sister, so full of life, and hope, was dead. People were saying things, things that didn’t make sense to his ear. The coldness in his chest was the feeling of loss. He could not let go, and yet he had to, for Namu’s sake. He was going to cry- he could feel it.

“She was gone before I got there. I was going to warn you,” Lavali placed a hand on his shoulder. “the strain is contagious. But this Sickness in her- it was lying dormant for weeks and weeks. I've never seen anything like it."

He took Lavali aside, and asked her, “What of Namu?”

“I don’t know yet. It could be dormant in him as well. And there’s no known cure. It cropped up once in Nore, but was eliminated before it posed a potential threat. If only we knew what they treated it with!”

“Someone'd need to travel to Nore.”

Lavali sighed. “No one would be willing to risk the journey. I don't know if you knew it, but war has been looming for days.”

“I have an inside source that could help us out.”

“You have to stay and watch out for your brother. He is here- now. Not dead. Alive!” She said, gesturing to Namu, still in the corner. "He needs you after this emotional trauma."

Arvind knew what she was saying. “I understand.”

“Good.”

“But then what do we do?”

“That is not our decision,” Lavali smiled grimly. “it’s up to the Queen and the two lovebirds. If they do manage to figure it out… we’re saved. But I doubt it.”

Arvind stared down at his sister’s body in his arms. There was no time- they couldn't have saved her. Oh, his sister! No, not his sister! Before, it was all so bearable. The prince. His friends. But now, it was personal. As if death had a bone to pick with him, and wouldn’t leave him alone if he didn’t hit back.