The Crow King's Wife(3)

“Who?” Shade asked again. It wasn’t his business, but the pain in the man’s voice had stirred even his lethargic mind to curiosity.

“Onvalla, Micah’s wife. Though I promise you he didn’t know what she was when he married her. I spent months around the woman and never realized she was Blight, and now she leads them. With luck the knowledge will die with us. I don’t want my Lord’s reputation tarnished by his choice in love, and it would be. After all, we set out to extinguish the Blights, not bed them.” Caleb’s voice grew bitter and he fell silent once more.

Shade digested the news in silence. It explained perfectly why Caleb was still alive and sounded in better health than he was. Onvalla had known him personally, and it was doubtful that Caleb had offered any more of a fight than he had when captured. The bitter irony of the entire situation made him want to vomit. Both of them had been sent to help the Blights in one form or another, and both of them were rotting in the dark because of it. Of course Caleb hadn’t actually known he was charged with helping a Blight, which made his story even more depressing. Both of them had walked blindly into their situation, and both of them would likely die from it.

“Fate you cruel fickle bitch.” Shade muttered as his eye closed once more. His mind slowly released its last attempts at thought and everything began to fade to an empty fog. The pain was finally fading away as well. The agonizing pounding of his pulse was becoming a faint echo that was gradually slowing. Rationally he knew he was dying, but it was blissful none the less.

“God damn you fight! Don’t surrender!” The voice broke through his thoughts once more and Shade smiled faintly in response. Once again as he had done so often lately Shade quietly ignored the voice of reason. He was too far gone to argue or fight and he knew it, there was nothing else to do but ignore it.





*





Pain tore through his body like daggers and a sob broke from his throat. The dead are not supposed to hurt Shade’s mind screamed as another wave of agony washed over him.

“Easy I’ve got you.” Caleb’s voice whispered somewhere near his ear. “You are a tough little bastard Morcaillo.” He added in a strained voice.

“He looks dead to me, not tough.” A woman observed dryly from somewhere to his left.

“After what you have put him through he should be. He is Morcaillo, Onvalla. A Delvay or Shifter could live through this kind of treatment, even a Firym might be able to pull through, but not one of the more fragile houses. Their strengths do not lie in endurance.” Caleb scolded in a cold voice.

“He is Morcaillo as you say. So why should I care if he dies?” Onvalla snapped back in a tone that held very little patience.

“Because this particular Morcaillo was Micah’s friend and he isn’t like the rest. This is Christian the Shade. I know you heard Micah speak of him before. I know you remember that name, Onvalla.” Caleb growled.

“The one Micah said could change House Morcaillo if he led it?” Onvalla replied in a quieter tone. “Why didn’t you tell me before now? It’s too late now. He is practically dead.” Her voice held a note of regret and Shade wanted to slap her for it. It was taking everything he had to focus on their words rather than the jostling pain of his body, and every moment of suffering he had endured was her fault.

“I tried to tell you Onvalla. I tried several times to tell you or get him a healer, but your lackeys ignore my words.” Caleb explained in frustration. “They would have continued to ignore me if I hadn’t thrown such a bloody fit this time.” He added in clipped tones.

“Be grateful they fetched me rather than killing you for that.” Onvalla replied in a harsher voice. “I fail to see what we can do for him regardless. He is too far gone now and I have no healers. Blights have no need of healers.” Her words echoed with superiority and Shade could hear the smile in her voice.

“Slap her for that.” Shade mumbled hoping Caleb could decipher his words despite the weakness of his voice.

Caleb snorted back laughter as he gently lowered Shade to the dirty straw covered floor. “I doubt that would help either of us at this point.” He murmured quietly. “He wouldn’t need a healer either if your people hadn’t been feeding him Tevrae daily to keep him in this state. Give him the antidote and his regeneration will do the rest of the work. I doubt he will get his eye back or much of his strength, but he will live.” Caleb said in a louder voice.