The Endless Solvent

Her condition worsened. The pain was the same as it was managed by the woman traveling with Camaz; Aris could only assume she was a runist by trade. She finally caught the woman’s name in conversation as Laell. It seemed that this Laell constantly made improvements to the runes helping her pain relief, but it wasn’t enough.

She didn’t need to hear the bits of conversation between the new healer they found in some Part-forsaken part of the forest, nor did she need to feel the dismay in Verne’s voice every time he kept her company. She could feel herself grow weaker by the day.

“She needs something to help her keep food down,” she heard someone say. “That’s all I can tell. Let me see…”

The voices swam in and out of focus. Aris just wanted to sleep forever. There would be no pain if she did. No memories.

“…sit up. Yes, and wait…”

Her world tilted violently and she felt something against her back. She grudgingly realized someone had sat her up against something again. They were going to try to feed her. Moon’s mercy she wanted to die.

A gentle hand held her head up and a spoonful of something bitter trickled into her mouth. It was revolting and her esophagus violently ejected it.

“You need to drink this.” Camaz’s voice.

“No,” she rasped out. She wasn’t sure she formed the world properly, but in her moment of desperation she forced the sound from her throat. “Please.”

“Aris, you have to live.”

She reached out with the last of her strength to grasp the hand at her head. There was a surprised inhale and realized it was Verne there. “Please,” she said with barely a whisper. “Please… stop…”

“I’m so sorry, Aris,” Camaz said, his voice cracking. More hands at her head, firmer now to hold her steady as the bitter liquid poured into her mouth. Helplessly, she drank as much as she could and braced herself for the vomiting. Camaz kept apologizing and for once Aris thought he was serious.

She must have slipped unconscious after that as she started dreaming again. Dreams were the only place she could see again. Except now they became increasingly strange and mixed between her own memories and Doran’s. Nilda would often morph into that Kuvan woman from Doran’s past. Tassik would turn into Camaz or vice versa. She would dream of her childhood home filled with servants who were Yscian.

Then at that moment, she had a disturbing dream of a child whose small back was bleeding profusely and runes were etched into their flesh. They were crying for their mother. Aris knew, somehow, this was a child who knew pain like her. She instinctively reached out for the child and held them to comfort them. When she looked up in the next moment, she was being held by Nilda.

Close your eyes, little moon.

That child was Nilda. Doran, or the Being in Smoke, did that do her back then. Her hands clenched in the fabric of Nilda’s dress, the familiar starched fabric stiff between her small fingers. She had dressed like a servant and acted as their governess, but she had always been so much more to her. How could something so cruel happen to an innocent child? What tortures would tomorrow bring?

Nilda tightened her arms around her. Aris found herself as a child again, small, weak and helpless. She so wanted to make things right again, for herself, her brother, and for everyone she lost. But all she could do right now was lie down in pain and hope for death.

Close your eyes, little moon, for it will be better soon.

Camaz was right, damn him. She had to live. Nilda patted her head and Aris awoke to fresh pain, fresh tortures. She woke up to start the cycle all over again.

Aris lost track how many times they forced her to drink the bitter liquid. Every time it was nauseating and throwing it up made her chest burn and the pain in her eyes sent her into unconsciousness. But each time she tried to keep it down. It felt like eternity until she felt like she was making any progress.

“You drank most of it,” Verne said at one point, moments after feeding her. Aris also noted she could hold her head up too. “Would you like to try real food?”

Real food, meaning broth and gruel someone made over a campfire, turned out to be a whole other affair. They learned that she could only take one or two mouthfuls at a time. Verne patiently raised the amount of food incrementally along with medicine until she no longer felt nauseous upon actually eating. Aris had no idea how long it took. Her perception of time was increasingly skewed. Her feedings were at the mercy of Verne, it seemed.

Soon she was looking forward to bites of real food. The broth was upgraded to bits of mashed vegetables and boiled grain. Gruel had something sweet mashed into it, perhaps fruit? The bitter medicine was then mixed with some sweet drink to make it more palatable. Aris found she no longer felt helplessly weak and she could actually move her arms slightly, although movements still made her dizzy.

“Why are you… here?” This was the first question she asked Verne during one of her meals when she knew it was Verne feeding her. Her tongue felt strange with misuse, voice raw. It wasn’t surprising as she had the impression she did a lot of screaming just days ago.

There was a pause, an expression probably crossing Verne’s face which she couldn’t see. She still had to be careful not to focus or try to ‘look’ at anything. “Laell and Professor Camaz are trying to find ways to cure you,” he finally said. “Laell is a runeology student, a specialist. And the professor is good at… convincing townspeople when we need supplies. It is best if I watch over you as I am not good with runes or people.”

“You’re… stuck with me…,” Aris rasped.

“On the contrary, ma’am, you’re stuck with me,” he said. She thought she could hear a smile in his voice again. To distract herself from trying to ‘look’ at him, she tried to recall what he looked like. That ridiculous Sekrelli armor he wore everywhere. The short cropped dark hair. She seemed to remember an air of rigidity about him, like he was too good to be at the Academy. She couldn’t imagine the same young man cleaning up her vomit.

But yet here he was, feeding her soup. Do people really change that much? Aris lifted a hand to weakly feel the hard crusty ridges around her eyes. “You’re here… in case I… do something,” she said with difficulty. “Because… you’re manus…”

“Yes, you can say that,” Verne replied softly.

Aris gave a cold smile. “Of… course.”

He was Camaz’s safeguard against her leaving or hurting anyone. It just so happens that he was also there to keep her alive. Perhaps it was his sense of duty; the Sekrelli were into that, right? Nothing will surprise her or hurt her anymore as she’s bore enough pain to last a lifetime. She survived and she will keep surviving.

“More food… please…”

Things will be better soon. This time, she believed it.