Firebrand

“Thank you,” she said, with a quaver in her voice.

“I would not leave you and the Galadheon to face this alone,” he replied, “nor would my prince wish it of me.”

“Nor my queen of me,” Nari said, “were she still of this Earth. She showed the Galadheon favor.”

Laurelyn the Moondreamer, Estral thought with a thrill, despite the circumstances.

“We must deliberate,” Enver said. “Make a plan.”

“Not without me!” Karigan cried from the tent.

Enver raised his eyebrows, said something in Eltish, then added in consternation, “She was asleep when I left her.”

“It is Karigan,” Estral said. “Too stubborn for her own good.”

“Yes. I see that very clearly.”

“I’ll crawl back out there if I have to,” Karigan said.

Deciding that it was better to accede to her demand rather than risk her reopening her wounds, Estral, Enver, and Nari filed into the tent, followed by Mister Whiskers and Midnight, so they could plan in Karigan’s presence. The tent seemed to expand to accommodate them all as they sat beside her.

“The question is,” Estral said, “does Second Empire know who they’ve got? And if so, do they realize we know, too?”

“When I saw them,” Karigan murmured tiredly, “they were not in immediate duress. Neither of them. If Second Empire had known who either of them were, they’d have been treating them much differently.”

“But what if they do know?” Estral said. “They would expect a rescue attempt.”

“We should err on the side of caution,” Enver said, “and assume they are expecting our return.”

“Yes,” Karigan agreed, “on guard. Hunting us.”

“Even if they do not expect us,” Enver continued, “they will not be pleased someone got through their defenses and successfully effected a rescue. They will have already bolstered their guard.”

“So what do we do?” Estral asked. “Fly in on winged cats?” Mister Whiskers and Midnight gazed at her with big eyes. “I’m kidding,” she told them.

“I go,” Karigan said.

They all glanced at her.

“What—?” Estral began.

“My ability.”

“Galadheon,” Enver said, “your condition.”

“You have a better idea?” she demanded.

“What is the Galadheon’s ability?” Nari asked.

When Enver did not answer immediately, Karigan said, “I can fade out, sneak in there, in the dark.”

“You cannot even walk,” Enver said.

“Not today,” she conceded. “Tomorrow.”

Enver once again raised his eyebrows.

“Stubborn, remember?” Estral said.

“Even if you can walk tomorrow,” Enver said, “your strength and stamina will be depleted from the fever alone. Your wounds could reopen. We must consider another way.”

“The king is more important than me, than my . . . comfort,” Karigan replied. “What Second Empire would do to him if they found out who he was . . . ?” She shuddered.

“It is not just your comfort,” Enver replied, “but your ability to do this thing.”

“I will do what I have to. The king in Second Empire’s hands would be devastating to the realm. We need him. We could be defeated without him.”

“I understand that, Galadheon, but I think you fail to understand your own importance.”

“Not important.” Her voice sounded as though she was beginning to drift off.

Estral gazed down at her friend, not at the raw wounds on her back, but at her flushed face, the one long tendril of hair trailing down her cheek. Karigan had spoken of what the king meant to the realm, but how much of it was what he meant to her? No, Estral was sure she would be thinking mostly of the realm, and in that regard, she was absolutely right. If Second Empire knew what it had, it would thoroughly capitalize on it to demoralize its enemy and further its chances of defeating Sacoridia. Estral, more than anything, wanted to rescue her father, but Karigan was in no condition to stand, much less go on such a mission.

“Karigan,” she said, “under normal circumstances, when you are well, your ability drains you. I don’t mean to be cruel, but right now, you’d be a liability to any rescue attempt.”

A ponderous silence fell over them once again. There was only the rustle of the tent walls as a breeze caressed them, and the anxious purr of Mister Whiskers. She thought, perhaps, Karigan had finally fallen asleep. When Karigan spoke, it startled her.

“Then you had better come up with a way to help me recover. And fast.”

Enver and Nari glanced at one another, and Midnight walked up to Karigan’s face and swatted her head.

She cracked her eye open at the cat. “What was that for?”

“I believe,” Enver said, “that Midnight has spoken for us all.”

Karigan sighed. “Please, just help me.”

“We are doing our best,” Enver said, “both Nari and me. Neither of us are what you would call a true healer like your Rider Ben, or even my father. The etherea does not work in that way for us.”

“Please . . .” Karigan said softly, and this time she did seem to drift off for real, her breaths deepening, her muscles relaxing.

Estral, Enver, and Nari retreated from the tent and stood by the campfire.