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Chapter 3

  • Lying on his bed, Llandon watched the spider walk across the polished stone floor. He hated spiders usually, but since being at Wyeton, the insects and occasional vermin had become his only companions. Years he had been there, a prisoner in all but name. He was a miracle as far as The Twelve was concerned. “The cured one”, they called him. Llandon didn’t know how many others they had tried to cure but he knew that he was the first successful case. He was their showpiece - the only one who had been able to survive the transformation from extraordinary to average.
  • Sitting up and throwing his feet to the floor, Llandon wiped the tears that had started to meander down his wrinkled cheeks. “Grown men don’t cry like grieving widows" he scoffed. “It’s gone and isn’t coming back. You know that and you’ve known it long enough.” He knew he should be used to being normal by now, after all these years, but alone in his room he was free to grieve his loss. He hated crying though. It was a sign of weakness and he had always been strong in his mind. They may have stolen my life when they took Orenda but they won’t take my strength. I won’t allow it, he thought, as he made his way to the bathroom to wash his face.
  • The water was cold, as always, and as always, Llandon imagined the water to be warm. Sighing, he splashed the cold water over his face and looked at himself in the mirror. The face looking back at him was old and haggard. Wrinkles covered his cheeks and surrounded his eyes. He hated himself for aging so quickly. It was a side effect of the Cure. The face in the mirror put him in his sixties, at least, but Llandon was only forty five. Small mercies, Hunter had said, when Llandon had commented on his aged appearance. Llandon laughed as he remembered Hunter telling him he should be grateful he was no longer an abomination and to be thankful he still had a life to live. And what a fantastic life I have. Stuck here in this blasted castle, with nothing to look forward to but my studies. Thankful indeed.
  • A knock at the door took him away from his thoughts and he quickly patted his face dry with a towel, before going to open it. He always kept it locked. He had to. He couldn’t risk Hunter discovering his secret. With a quick glance at the window ledge, he removed the strip of leather, which held his room key, from around his neck and unlocked the door. “Good morning Jak. Shall we get to work? You’re late, again, I see.” Jak’s face flushed crimson. “I’m sorry. I had a terrible night’s sleep and have spent most of the morning spilling out my stomach.”
  • “Oh, you poor boy. Lemon tea and dry bread will help settle your stomach. Come on. Simple tasks for my sick assistant today, I think.” Jak nodded and mumbled his thanks as Llandon locked his door and tucked the key under his shirt, with a sly smile. If he is sick, it may be working. I will have to ask him what else is happening and add it to the records later.
  • As they walked through the twisting corridors of Wyeton Keep, on their way to Llandon’s laboratory, he couldn’t keep his eyes off Jak. He didn’t know what he was watching for, but he was sure there was something for him to find. After all, his last assistant hadn’t made it through the night, so right now Jak, was as special as Llandon himself.
  • He never really believed his theory would work but he hoped, with every part of him, that he would succeed. It had become the only reason for his existence and the only thing that had stopped him taking his own life. “I feel a little weak today, Llandon. I’m not sure how much help I will be.” Llandon watched as Jak reached to open the laboratory door. “You do look paler than usual, I have to confess” he said as he placed the back of his hand on Jak’s forehead. “Warm, too. Take a seat on the couch and I’ll grab a damp cloth.”
  • As he made his way to the medical supplies, he made a mental note of Jak’s symptoms - pale skin, clammy to touch, raised body temperature, nausea and bloodshot eyes. “Jak, can you remember eating or drinking anything that may have caused this? There’s a nasty virus floating around, so I heard, but I don’t think it could be that" he asked, running a cloth under the tap.
  • “I’m not sure, to be honest. I ate the same as you yesterday, here in the lab. Last night, I warmed some milk before bed, like usual, and spent the whole night having sweats and chills. Then this morning, my stomach decided it needed to vacate its entire contents and then more for good measure. I honestly thought I was going to spew out my intestines, too.”
  • As Llandon placed the damp cloth over Jak’s forehead, he reminded himself to lower the dosage and check for reactions between milk and the sample. He had confirmed there were no reactions with water, but he hadn’t taken milk into consideration when he laced Jak’s mug. “You get yourself comfortable and rest for a while. There isn’t much for you to do today and it could wait for tomorrow, if you want to take the day off? Although, I’d hate to think of you alone in your room, if you were to take a turn for the worse.” Jak nodded and stretched himself out on the couch, mumbling about not having the energy to walk back to his room and the couch being just fine.
  • Feeling for the little vial in his pocket, Llandon watched as Jak closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. He sighed at the minuscule amount of clear liquid that was left. I need more. I don’t have enough. He had already diluted it as much as he dared and used it as sparingly as he could and with no word of any prisoners, he and no way of collecting another sample.
  • He had gotten carried away with his last attempt and used too much which had resulted in the death of Everett, his last assistant and he knew what he was doing was probably going to cause the death of Jak, too, but it was a risk he was willing to take. He would do anything to counter the Cure and restore Orenda but with his sample almost used and no way to harvest any more, he was at a loss of what to do next.
  • He scolded himself for not taking a larger sample when he had the chance but the process was harder than he thought and had taken longer than he expected. It wasn’t easy trying to get a prisoner to talk of their abilities and obtain a relevant sample from them without Hunter finding out. It had taken Llandon days to get the last prisoner to trust him enough to provide the information he needed and then it had taken him another day to find the trigger.
  • He had never expected that the poor man could only use Orenda when he cried and even then, he was only able to move small objects or warm a small amount of liquid. He had been a pathetic example of a mage, but even so, he was more of a mage than Llandon was at that moment. I will make you pay for what you did to me, Hunter, and every single one of those Twelve, too.
  • His heart ached to be able to heal the sick or have Orenda aid him with his experiments. He missed his teaching days and being in that huge laboratory but deciding that his village needed him more than science, was the best thing he had ever done. They had never treated him differently. Not once, despite knowing how the rest of Leamiya felt about Orenda. They were his people and they had loved him, until Hunter arrived and turned his world upside down.
  • People had started getting sick and Llandon, no matter how much he tried, couldn’t heal them. Buildings would burst into flames, water pipes began to burst and heavy objects would go flying through windows, killing whomever they hit. The village had seen what Llandon could do with Orenda and at first, they thought it was just unfortunate accidents. Then the rumours began – he was losing control, he had become too powerful, he was going to destroy the village.
  • Ten years had passed, since he left his village with Hunter. Bloody lying, manipulative piece of shit. How dare he make me believe he was trying to help. “I know but it wasn’t just you that he manipulated, was it?” Look at what he has turned me into, what I’ve become and all because you’re a gullible, selfish son of a bitch. Having to resort to manipulating and torturing pathetic mages who don’t even deserve to be blessed with that title. And for what? Just to get a tiny dribble of Orenda in the hope that I can be whole again! “That we can be whole again, damn you. It wasn’t my fault and you know it, just as well as I do!” Well, not anymore because this time, it’s going to work. Do it. Do it now before he wakes.
  • Jak, still sleeping deeply, was completely unaware as his mouth was gently opened and the remaining contents of the vial were poured onto his tongue. “The need is greater than the risk, my boy. He’s right. He’s always right. Please forgive me” Llandon whispered as he pushed Jak’s mouth closed.