The Novel's Sidekick

As midnight approached, the icy wind rose to a new height, bringing misery to the frosty land. Even inside the camp, with the heater working, Yeriel felt uncomfortable as she prepared the ingredients.

'I couldn't even smell the ingredients with this cold,' she mumbled. 'Will I be able to brew the potion currently with this state?'

She had not caught a cold, but her head felt dizzy and heavy, and even keeping her eyelids open became a challenge. Before even brewing the meds for others, she had to take the meds for herself, though it was merely of any use. She could only manage it through the slightly soothing feeling the swirling spirit force brought her, though it was far more difficult for her to even revolve spirit force now.

She didn’t know if she had caught the decay too, though it could be her relentless working with no rest. She thought not. It was not like she had never worked this hard without resting, however, this time it was different. She’d never worked this hard in such an extreme environment.

'The blizzard is on its way, and my channelling path has already started to freeze,' she thought in her head. With such a situation, even a confident alchemist and chemist like her found it hard to do her job. Who could have thought the small, simple mission she took turned into something like this?

Unconsciously, her eyes drifted off towards the sick lady sleeping on the small bed, wrapped in thick blankets, still shaking occasionally. Looking at that, she forced her stubbornness. I will complete this brewing, she told herself.

"Is something the matter, Lady Yeriel?" Lord Kirien asked, standing up from the bed where his wife was sleeping. A worry hit his face instantly when he looked at the situation with the healer. Yeriel might’ve not noticed it, but her face was pale red, moisture wailed up on her cheeks. However, she didn’t feel hot. The cold was just as unbearable. "What happened? Are you feeling alright?"

"It's alright," Yeriel lied. Lord Kirien was already worried sick about his wife. Her troubles will only worry him further, though it would mostly be because she was the healer, the one who would brew the medication and heal his wife. "The cold is just a little unbearable, that is."

Lord Kirien's brows were still knitted together. Certainly, the cold was terrible even for him, a citizen of Victoria, but it appeared there was something more. With his experience, it did not take him long to find it was not just the unbearable cold. He never felt like this before, even when he went to expeditation deeper into Frostlands. He feared it was something similar to Winter’s decay, the same which his wife and child had caught, however, he was not ready to acknowledge it with his wife on the deathbed.

Besides, he’s a veteran knight. He could keep up with this terrible disease for longer, however, it wasn’t the same for the Healer. Yeriel's face was haggard, shaking uncomfortably now and then, eyes weary with unrest. Still, she has work to do. He felt guilty overworking this lass. She’s just a couple of years older than his son, so young, yet so capable. He had taken half a dozen apothecaries and doctors before her, however, none of them could even get to the root of the disease. Such talented healers like her were extremely rare, and it was not just among pupils of the academy. He wouldn’t want anything to happen to her, not after how she overworked since last night to heal his son and keep his wife alive.

"Let me raise the level on the heater," he said and walked towards the heater installed in the far corner of the small room. Though he knew little good it would do. The coldness already infected his channels, and so it seemed for her as well. The heater would do as good as a blind man could do when showing direction.

Yeriel continued in her job. She had already crushed the ingredients, only the brewing was needed now—the toughest thing to do with her current state. She was igniting the burner to get ready for brewing when she felt a blanket wrapping around her.

It was Lord Kirien who collected the blanket from the adjacent room. Indeed, the others were not available now in the camp, so their stuff could be of use. "Thank you," she said curtly.

“The cold is unbearable," Lord Kirien muttered under his breath and went back near the bed again to look after his sick wife. Even he had to use his spirit energy, which was a lot hard to push, to keep himself warm.

"I wondered, what's taking them so long?" Yeriel mumbled. Oscar went to look for something, and that was hours ago. While she asked William, the young, talkative sorcerer to find him, had not come back as well. 'Did something happen with their mission?' she thought. 'It was supposedly a dangerous mission, but Oscar said this region is far safer. Still . . .’

Lord Kirien had no certain answer either. He could have gone to look, but with the situation with his wife, everything else comes later. "They are probably on their way," he mumbled, though there was not much assurance in his voice. "I heard some nasty rumours about the lad of Emberheart, but he certainly did not look bad. A little timid than the others of the same blood I have seen, but certainly a kid with a good head. You need not worry."

Yeriel was about to nod when they heard a hard knock on the wooden door.

"Perhaps they are back," Lord Kirien said and stood up. "I'll check." The elderly knight had brought his sword with him, unsheathing before the door. Gripping the hilt hard, he asked, "Who is it?"

"It's me, cough! . . ." A familiar voice came from outside. "Cough! . . . William. The blizzard is here, open it quickly."

Lord Kirien's grip on the sword softened, hearing the familiar voice, though he was still far more vigilant than he usually was. This was how the bad the time was. He checked the outside from the side hole, and finding nothing wrong or no one else, he slowly opened the door.

The familiar face greeted him, and though the wind was blowing far worse with the snowfall, the youth still had the indistinguishable smile on his pale face. Moreover, he seemed to be in a terrible state, barely keeping himself straight.

"Sorry for the delay," Lord Kirien said as the stormy, icy wind entered the camp. "Get in quickly."

"I searched everywhere." William took slow steps to get in, working hard on his legs. "But . . . Cough! . . ."

"What happened to you?" the elderly knight asked, and even Yeriel peeked at the newcomer with worried glances. Evidently, it was not just her or Lord Kirien who was bothered by the cold.

"Just a slight fever," William said with a fit of coughing. He finally entered, but his legs slipped and, with the terrible state he was in, he was about to knock down headfirst on the ground.

Fortunately, there was Lord Kirien to catch him before he could knock himself down. "This doesn't look like a small fever, lad."

"Because it isn't." A twisted smile appeared on William's lips and a sudden force loomed out of him, crushing towards the elderly knight.

In the blink of moment, everything changed. The elderly knight was trampled instantly, and even with his experience, he could not accommodate the berserk dark force.

Lord Kirien flung away instantly, the dark force invading his body like the most potent poison. His body crashed against the sidewall, damaging the fine wood. The camp shook a little, and Lord Kirien tried to stand up, however, all his effort was futile as he fell over again. Blood gushed out from his nostrils, ears, and mouth. Not the usual scarlet blood, but pitch dark-scarlet.

Yeriel screamed from the sides, still thinking of the dizziness playing tricks on her mind. "Why?" she screamed, trying to prepare for any spells. She had to push her spiritual energy to even budge a little. "Why are you doing this?"

"My lady." William looked at her with a gentleman's smile. The icy wind kept on coming, bringing the temperate further down. "I really did not want to do this—especially to you, but you know, we all have to do things we did not want to do."

"You are a warlock," Yeriel said, finding the unnatural state Lord Kirien was in. She pushed harder, freeing her channel a little to shoot a beam of water—everything she could manage with her current state.

Unfortunately, William did not even put a barrier, only stepped sideways to ignore her attack. "I'm impressed," he said with a startled eye. "You actually managed to cast a spell even after taking in the dose of Spirit Numbing drug."

"Spirit Numbing Poison," Yeriel repeated. “How did you?"

Everything kind of makes sense now. So the numbing in her channelling system was not because of the cold, but because of the poison. What makes little sense is she had taken nothing from this guy, so how could he poison her?

“Well, of course, I didn’t give you anything.“ William only smiled as if he had played a masterstroke. “You’ve to ask our mutual friend Oscar for that answer.”

Yeriel’s mind numbed with how forcefully she cast that useless spell, however, those words broke her even more. ‘No, he’s playing tricks,’ she told herself. "Oscar would never do that."

"Usually, I would love to talk, but I have an assignment to follow," the warlock said, approaching her. "How about I take you with me? We can talk all the way."

Yeriel glared at him, preparing for another spell, but it was almost impossible. The last one she cast was barely possible, and now William caught her arm before she could even try anything.

"Well, looks like we have to delay our conversation for a while," William said, and his dark spirit force invaded her system, crumbling her down.

"You . . ." Yeriel was barely able to mutter. "You sealed my . . . channel."

"It's the only thing I can do, my lady," William then put his arms on her narrow waist before carrying her on his back. "You are certainly not just a helpless healer. Don't worry though, I will take good care of you."

Yeriel did not even have the strength to struggle and after her spirit force was sealed, she found all her mental fortitude was crumbling. There was nothing for her to stop the Spirit numbing poison now.

"That went just as planned," William muttered and turned to see Lord Kiren standing, blood all over his nostrils, lips and ears, however, the veteran Knight was standing.

"Let her go," the elderly knight said, unsheathing his sword. It needed not to mention he was not far away from dying, and doing troublesome things like standing up will only spur his death. "My wife needs her."

"Old fool, I think it's you who needs her more."

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