A Blossom of Flames

Icy sleet drove the students into the buildings, where they huddled around fireplaces and stoves, freezing.

"Appropriate weather for these gloomy times," Vyxara murmured in Valentina's mind.

Valentina pulled her coat tighter around her as she hurried through the cold corridors. Everywhere, students huddled in small groups, seeking warmth in the community. Their muffled conversations echoed off the stone walls.

"Did you hear that?" a student whispered to her friend. "Twenty people died of the fever in Millbrook last week."

"The plague is spreading," her companion replied. "My cousin from Southwatch writes that whole streets are affected there."

Valentina slowed her steps to hear more. The epidemic ravaging southern Sommerland was no longer just a distant rumor. Professor Baldewin Greycloak had been absent this morning – for the first time in twenty years of teaching, it was rumored. His students reported coughing fits and fever in his last lecture.

In the entrance hall, she met Innogen, whose otherwise immaculate golden hair had been affected by the damp weather.

"Two of the poorer first-year students are already in bed with high fevers," her friend reported in a hushed voice. "Professor Whitehall is looking after them, but..." She left the sentence unfinished.

"But what?"

"She says it's worse than ordinary winter fever. The lungs are filling up with fluid. One of them can hardly breathe."

An Emberwarden strode past them. The two friends fell silent until his footsteps had faded.

Back in her attic room, Valentina found a letter at her door that made it through the Illuminations controls – the seal bore the coat of arms of House Greystone. Her heart leapt when she recognized Lorenzo's familiar handwriting.

She broke the seal with clammy fingers. The letter was matter-of-fact, reporting on the situation in Dusktown. The epidemic had reached the city earlier, but thanks to her modification of Greystone Cascade, there was not a single infection in the hospital. The healers had withdrawn completely to the hospital, where they could care for the sick without risk of infection.

Between the lines, she sensed his unspoken concern, the restrained warmth of his words. "Everyone is well and misses you," he wrote at the end. "Take care of yourself, Valentina."

"An extremely useful letter," commented Vyxara. "His description of protective measures could save lives here. If they could actually be implemented."

"The Illuminator would never allow such a thing," Valentina thought bitterly. "He sees the plague as a punishment."

A blow shook the window. The sleet became heavier, there was probably even some hail.

The muffled sound of hurried footsteps caught her attention. Moments later, there was a heavy knock on her door.

"Valentina!" It was Innogen's voice, breathless and full of worry. "Quick, come! It's Crispin – I think he's ill."

Valentina immediately followed her friend anxiously through the cold corridors to Crispin's room. As they passed, they heard muffled conversations behind closed doors and the coughing of sick students.

When they reached Crispin's door, Valentina knocked several times. No answer. But they heard a low moan from his room.

"He missed Professor Veilford's lecture," Innogen whispered. "He never misses a lecture."

Using her tried-and-tested Essence pattern for this purpose, Valentina opened the lock. The sight that greeted them made her shudder. Crispin's otherwise tidy room was a mess. The window was open and it was bitterly cold, books lay scattered on the floor as if he had thrown them down in a feverish frenzy. His slender body lay curled up on the unmade bed, his light golden hair wet with sweat despite the cold.

"Crispin!" Valentina rushed to him. His skin glowed under her hand, his breathing was raspy and shallow.

"Pneumonia," Vyxara diagnosed matter-of-factly. "And a pretty severe fever."

"We have to get him out of here," said Innogen firmly. "My room is bigger and warmer. And I have a fireplace."

Valentina hesitated. "The Emberwardens..."

"Fuck the Emberwardens," Innogen hissed with unaccustomed sharpness. "Let them come. I'm an Ashbourne – they won't dare push me too hard."

A weak cough from Crispin interrupted their discussion. His eyes opened glassily.

"Val...? Innogen...?" His voice was little more than a croak.

"Shhhh," Valentina said, gently stroking his hair. "We'll take you somewhere warmer. Can you get up?"

He tried, but his legs gave way. Innogen caught him.

"Edgar!" she called softly through the half-open door. The lanky student who was about to walk past stopped. "Help us."

The three of them – Edgar carried Crispin's feet while Valentina and Innogen supported his upper body – dragged him through the dark corridors.

Innogen's room was actually much more spacious and the fireplace was already lit. They joined forces to lay Crispin on Innogen's wide bed. Innogen's maid brought extra blankets and a jug of fresh water.

"Thank you," Valentina whispered to her. "Can you bring us some more water? And maybe some broth?"

She nodded eagerly. "Of course. I'll say in the kitchen it's for Lady Innogen."

After Edgar and Innogen's maid had left, Valentina immediately set to work. She examined Crispin's chest with practiced movements, listening to his rattling breath.

"The lungs are full of fluid," she murmured. "We need to bring the fever down and ease his breathing."

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

She pulled a vial of Distilled Essence from her pocket and carefully began to weave healing patterns – not that it helped much with an infection, but she tried to support his body's natural self-healing powers as best she could. Innogen helped her, cooling Crispin's forehead with damp cloths and wrapping his calves.

The night grew long. Shivers of fever shook Crispin's slender body again and again. In his feverish dreams, he mumbled confused formulas from Professor Veilford's lectures, mixed with prayers to the Martyr, and asked again and again for Valentina.

Valentina and Innogen took turns – one looked after Crispin while the other rested briefly. Later they slept on the floor in Innogen's dressing room, snuggled up together against the cold.

"What if we lose him?" Innogen whispered in the darkest hour of the night. Her voice trembled.

Valentina squeezed her hand. "We won't. I've seen worse in Dusktown. We'll get him through."

"You sound very confident," Vyxara remarked. "But I can sense your fear."

"Shut up," Valentina thought grimly. She couldn't afford to doubt now.

As the morning dawned, Crispin's condition remained critical. His breathing was still labored and his fever would not go down. Valentina knew they needed stronger medicine. Willow bark or even willow bark extract and valerian. But where to get it from?

She knew from Professor Whitehall that her supplies had already dwindled drastically due to the many cases of illness. The only other option she could see was perhaps Barnaby's store in town... Or Mara.

Though Valentina definitely didn't want to bring Illumination's attention to the old herbwife. She would try Barnaby, though she had little desire to ever see him again.

She exchanged a glance with Innogen. "I'll get some medicine. Take care of him. He needs to drink a lot."

"Be careful," warned Innogen. "The Emberwardens are particularly vigilant in the morning."

The town seemed deserted, with only the occasional hooded figure scurrying through the cold streets. Unfortunately, Barnaby's store was much busier.

A crowd had gathered outside the store. There was shouting from the door and the clatter of overturned furniture. Then two Emberwardens dragged a struggling man outside – Barnaby, his face bloody, his clothes torn.

"Heretic!" someone shouted from the crowd. "Demon servant!"

"Look what the Illumination has found!" an Emberwarden announced, holding up a book bound in dark leather. "Forbidden writings! Demonic texts!"

Illuminator Eastwald stepped out of the store, his gaunt figure towering over the crowd. "This is a day of justice," he proclaimed in his carrying voice. "This man has not only trafficked in forbidden knowledge – he has actively contributed to the spread of demonic corruption."

"That could be a problem," Vyxara muttered. "He doesn't know much about you, but what he does know is enough to earn you a day in the pillory."

Valentina pressed herself deeper into the shadow of a doorway.

"Take him to the cells," Eastwald ordered. "We'll see what else he has to tell us under closer interrogation."

The Emberwardens dragged the writhing merchant away. Some of the crowd jeered, others turned away silently. An old woman spat hatefully on the ground.

"You need another way to get the medicine," Vyxara stated.

Valentina nodded grimly. She had hoped to avoid it, but now she had no choice. She had to see Mara.

The Herbwife lived on the outskirts of the city in a dilapidated hut surrounded by an overgrown herb garden. The way there led through narrow alleyways where the wind howled as it blew garbage and withered leaves before it.

Valentina knocked three times on the crooked door. After a long wait, Mara opened a narrow crack.

"Ah, the girl from the university." The old woman scrutinized her with sharp eyes. "Come in, quickly. No one should be outside in this weather."

The only room in the hut was filled with the scent of dried herbs. Bunches hung from the ceiling, shelves on the walls were crammed with jars and bottles. A small stove provided cozy warmth.

"You need willow bark, don't you?" asked Mara as she busily worked among her supplies. "And valerian. Lime blossom too, perhaps? The plague, isn't it?"

"How...?"

"You still have enough of the other herbs." Mara smiled thinly. "And the illness is spreading. Worse than ordinary winter fever."

She began to pack various herbs into a bag. "Willow bark for fever. Valerian for peaceful sleep. Thyme for the respiratory tract. And here..." She pulled out a small vial. "A special extract. Dose carefully."

"Thank you," said Valentina, reaching into a fold of her dress where her money rested in a small pocket.

Mara waved her hand. "Not necessary. I know you appreciate the knowledge. Others rely too much on Essence Weaving. But sometimes the simple ways are the best."

"It's the combination that makes it work," Valentina replied. "Essence and herbs work best together."

"They do." Mara nodded appreciatively. "Now go. Better no one sees you here. Can do without that Illuminator showing up here and messing up my whole cabin. And be careful."

Getting back to the university was actually the most unpleasant part. Four freezing Emberwardens stood guard at the gate, their burgundy robes soaked from the sleet.

"Stop!" one of them barked as Valentina approached. "What are you carrying?"

"Medicine," she explained calmly and showed the bag. "For the sick. That's all."

The Emberwarden, a hulking man with a scar over his eye, grinned hideously. "We'll see about that."

He grabbed her roughly by the arm and pulled her towards him. Valentina shivered under his touch, disgust rising in her. But she had to hold out for Crispin.

The Emberwarden began to search her roughly. His rough hands felt every inch of her body, squeezing and kneading her breasts through the fabric of her dress. Valentina bit her tongue to keep from snapping at him.

"It seems that this religious fanatic here has finally found an outlet for his repressed lust. Groping female students all day long," Vyxara snorted in her thoughts.

Suddenly she felt his cold hand under her skirts, feeling his way up between her legs. She froze as his finger touched her most sensitive spot. A shiver of revulsion ran through her body. Then, without warning, he pushed his finger into her butthole.

Valentina gasped in shock. The humiliation was almost unbearable and seething anger flared up inside her. But she gritted her teeth. She couldn't lose her temper now. Crispin needed this medicine.

Finally, the Emberwarden withdrew his hand and let go of her. "You can go," he growled. "Don't get any ideas about smuggling anything else in."

Her cheeks burned with shame, but she had what she needed.

In Innogen's room, Crispin's condition had worsened. His breathing was even shallower and his fever had risen. Valentina immediately set to work, preparing a strong infusion from the herbs.

"Will he..." Innogen whispered in a trembling voice.

"He'll live," Valentina said firmly and carefully poured Crispin his first sip. "We won't let him die."