XI - An Evening Around the Campfire

  “I must admit,” Vlad said, “that I am abundantly curious to learn the process of concocting such a potent elixir.”

  Their conversation had veered into other topics, but Vlad repeatedly did his best to discreetly move it back toward talking about Blight Bane. This cycle repeated itself a handful of times before he decided to blatantly make his interest in the specifics of the remedy known. He still had much he wanted to learn about the potion, even if Dr. Frost was not too keen on discussing it.

  “Unfortunately my technique is very old and complex,” she explained. “It was passed down to me from my mentor, who has long-since left this life. It took me several years to properly learn all that I needed to in order to perform it.”

  “I believe you will find that I am a rather swift learner.”

  Frost raised an eyebrow at this. “So swift that you could condense years of study into at most a handful of weeks?”

  “Of course not,” he said, shaking his head, “and I apologize if I implied anything that would trivialize your efforts.”

  She smiled. “I tease you, Mr. Albescu. No, I do not doubt your ability to learn the procedure for concocting the elixir—I doubt my ability to teach it to you.”

  He looked at her curiously, an expression she would be unable to see from behind his mask. “Come now, Doctor. I am sure you deserve more credit than you give yourself.”

  “No, actually, I do not. I have not even been able to teach my own apprentice how to make the Bane, and she has been with me for quite some time. It is a very complicated and precise process, and I lack the ability to pass on such knowledge. All of my attempts to educate Felice on the subject have failed. And so, unfortunately, the ability to concoct Blight Bane will likely die with me, whenever that day comes—which is why I need to do what I can to eradicate the Plague now, while I am still alive.” She sighed. “Alas, I hold so much knowledge of aged medicine that is almost extinct from this world, and yet I lack the talent to pass that knowledge on to others. Truly this is my curse, Mr. Albescu: a mind filled with knowledge that will one day expire from this world due to my own incompetence.”

  “There is hope for you yet, Dr. Frost,” Vlad said, “for you are still in the prime of your practice. Once you begin your tenure at the University of Ardvent, you will surely develop a method for passing your knowledge on to your students.”

  “I can only hope so, Mr. Albescu,” the doctor said. “But as it stands now, and at the very least for the duration of this journey, the task of producing Blight Bane shall remain my burden—and shall be my burden alone.”

  ___

  “You should have seen her, Mr. Albescu.”

  Sybil spoke these words as she and Vlad both sat aboard their coach. Vlad held the reins, which he used to gently urge Elpis forward as the caravan continued on its path along the Ardenti River. Their journey had resumed only a short while after the two of them had reconveined at Dr. Frost’s wagon and then made their way back to their waiting coach.

  “I have never seen a woman who was once so close to death looking so… vibrant,” Sybil went on. “It was as if she had never been ill a day in her life.”

  “And you’re certain she truly had the Plague?” Vlad asked. He had taken off his mask upon returning to their carriage, and was grateful to feel the midday breeze against his warm face. Sybil, following his lead, had pulled down her cloth.

  “As certain as I can be, considering I never actually saw her when she was sick. By the time I met her, she was already healthy again.” Sybil paused, looking askance at her mentor. “Why? Do you believe that Dr. Frost and Mrs. Guthrie are lying? That they somehow fabricated her entire illness and recovery?”

  “I would consider the possibility were it not for Frost’s lack of compensation. If what you tell me is true, and she truly does not make a single silver on the production of the Bane, then she would have no reason to falsify her remedy. She is set to begin her tenure at the University of Ardvent, but beginning her time there on a fraudulent pretense would not spell well for her future. Sooner or later, her deception would be found out.”

  “And besides that,” Sybil said, “Mrs. Guthrie is not her only patient. I doubt she would be able to convince so many people to lie on her behalf.”

  “Another excellent point, Night Owl,” Vlad said. “So we know that she is somehow actually treating her patients—at least to some extent. And we know that she would be wise not to lie about her miracle elixir, whether that be regarding the results of ingesting the Bane, or the process of creating it. But then why would she refuse to speak on how the elixir is made? One would think she would be eager to spread her miracle remedy as far and wide as she can, but she keeps its secrets locked tightly away within her own mind.”

  “Perhaps the Bane is dangerous if mixed incorrectly,” Sybil suggested. “It could be that she only trusts herself to make it, and fears the ramifications if somebody were to produce a putrid batch.”

  “Perhaps,” Vlad said, but the explanation did not sit right with him. He remained silent for some time, contemplating what they had discussed and listening to the sound of Elpis’ hooves walking through the unkept growth of the forest. At length, Sybil offered him another strange look.

  “There is something you are not telling me, isn’t there?” she said.

  Her words snapped him away from his thoughts. Vlad turned to look at his apprentice, meeting her gaze. “Whatever gave you that idea, Night Owl?”

  “Your inner reservations are not as difficult to detect as you might think, Mr. Albescu.”

  Vlad smirked at this. “They are to most. You must be the exception, my apprentice. Our short time together has given you a greater window into my mind than I would have thought.” He turned his eyes back to the path ahead. “You need not worry about my inner machinations for now. I make great efforts to not speak my thoughts until I am certain that they warrant being spoken.”

  “But you do already have some thoughts on the matter, then.”

  Vlad nodded. “Indeed I do.” When she did not pry, he went on. “For now, I will tell you this: Dr. Frost is hiding something from us; this much is certain. What that is, I cannot say…” He briefly glanced at Elpis, who snorted from her position in front of them. “... but I have every intention of learning the truth.”

  ___

  The day went on. They rode for several unremarkable hours until the sun began its descent from the sky. Only when the final vestige of daylight grasped desperately onto the horizon did the caravan come to a stop for the night. The Plague doctor and his apprentice spent the following hours of darkness camped out next to their coach, the small fire crackling between them a minuscule stitch in the tapestry of flame that dotted the length of the caravan like a glowing orange spine. After a quick meal and a short spell tending to Elpis, they fell into a tenuous sleep. Vlad slept with one eye open; the other rested fitfully, dipping into brief periods of semi-consciousness that he struggled to define as slumber.

  Most of the next day passed in much the same way. During a brief halt in their journey, Vlad and Sybil dawned their respective mask and face covering and returned to Dr. Frost’s wagon. Sybil and Felice departed with a few doses of Blight Bane to distribute to some of Dr. Frost’s patients, leaving Vlad and Frost alone to discuss Frost’s medical experience in more detail. Vlad could not help but notice that she remained vague about things such as dates and specific names involved, and any time he tried to subtly shift the discussion toward the concoction of Blight Bane, Frost would firmly change the subject. Vlad, not wanting to irritate Dr. Frost any more than he potentially already had, allowed the point to drop, and moved on to other topics at hand.

  “I was actually hoping to ask you about something,” Vlad said during a pause in their conversation. “If you do not mind yet another query from an overly-curious mind, that is.”

  She looked askance at him, as if she expected the discussion to veer toward Blight Bane once more. “Of course, Mr. Albescu. Whatever can I assist with?”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “It’s about my apprentice,” he explained. “I can tell that the girl has been very melancholy as of late, and I think it would do her well to spend some time with a friend that is near to her in age. It is for this reason that I would like to ask if you would allow us to enjoy supper with you and Felice this evening. Normally I do not like to impose myself upon others, especially those whom I have only just met, but for Sybil’s sake, I am willing to make an exception.”

  Frost smiled. She looked almost relieved by the request, likely because it did not involve Blight Bane. “Of course you can join us,” she said. “We would be more than happy to sup with our new friends. Though are you certain you will be comfortable with venturing away from your own coach for a second time today with Plague about?”

  “As comfortable as we can be,” he said. “I recognize that we expose ourselves to an inherent degree of risk simply by choosing to travel with this caravan, but that does not mean that Sybil should be prevented from socializing with somebody her age while the chance presents itself—as long as it can be done safely, of course. We will not be with this caravan forever, and I am not certain when she will have another opportunity to spend time with a fellow youth such as Felice.”

  “I warn you that Felice and I typically keep to a vegetarian diet, and as such you may not necessarily enjoy whatever meal we would prepare.”

  “Not to worry,” Vlad said. “I was fully prepared to bring our own food. This request is solely so that Sybil can dine with company that is not a graying old man.”

  “You do not give yourself enough credit. Surely you are exceptional company to dine with.”

  He smiled knowingly behind his mask. “I suppose you shall know for certain come this evening, no?”

  Dr. Frost nodded. She offered an almost imperceptible smirk. “Yes, I suppose I shall.”

  And so the rest of the day went on, until evening cast its shadow over the caravan once more, and their journey came to its nightly respite.

  Vlad and Sybil disembarked from their coach. After a short while, they found themselves sitting in front of a warm campfire with Dr. Frost and Felice under the cover of the verdant canopy outside of the doctor’s carriage. Other such campsites dotted the caravan much as they had before, creating sporadic pockets of light which cast energetic shadows onto the surrounding transports. Eventually most of those fires would be put out for the night, and the forest would be plunged into the darkness which waited just beyond the trees, but for now the oppressive certainty of night would be kept at bay.

  The Plague doctor and his apprentice sat on a downed tree in front of the fire, while Flice sat atop a flat stone on the opposite side of the blaze. Dr. Frost stood in the shadows near her wagon, feeding oats to her four horses, all of which she kept hooked into their harness. Very few words passed between their little party before Vlad finally spoke.

  “Many thanks to you for inviting us to your campfire,” he said, looking toward Frost. “Night Owl and I have spent so many nights on our own that spending one with company is a pleasant change of pace.”

  “Thank you for joining us,” the doctor said while she kept her attention on the horse that she was currently feeding by hand. “And to even see you with your mask off—that is quite the privilege indeed.”

  “Hearing Night Owl’s story of Mrs. Guthrie’s recovery, as well as the remarkable health of the patients that she visited today, has greatly eased my mind,” he said. “Seeing as the two of you regularly consume the same elixir that has brought so many souls back from the brink, I realize now that we have no need to fear catching the Plague from you.”

  “I told you that you didn’t need to cover your face,” Felice said to Sybil playfully. She had a plate of roasted vegetables on her lap.

  Sybil looked across the fire to the other girl and smiled awkwardly. “Yes, I suppose you were right.”

  “An abundance of caution is no terrible thing,” Frost said. “You were correct to protect yourselves while you still perceived the threat of becoming ill. And besides, contracting Plague is still a very real possibility in this caravan—a possibility that will never truly disappear, despite our greatest efforts.”

  “If you caught it, we’d just give you Blight Bane,” Felice said casually as she munched on a carrot.

  Sybil frowned. “It would not feel proper to waste any of the Bane simply because we did not properly protect ourselves.”

  “I have to agree with my apprentice,” Vlad said. “Until this point we have avoided the Plague thanks to that same abundance of caution. We shall continue to act within the bounds of that caution, and shall behave as if the Bane does not exist. Its existence provides a certain degree of comfort, surely, but it would do us no good to take it for granted.”

  It was Felice’s turn to frown. “So you would prefer to grow sick and die rather than accept Dr. Frost’s Bane? I must admit I find that terribly foolish.”

  “That’s enough, Felice,” Dr. Frost said sternly. “Mr. Albescu, I admire your noble stance on this matter. To give up a remedy like Blight Bane so that somebody else can take it in your stead is a very selfless act.”

  Vlad smiled. “We can only hope to reach your level of selflessness one day, Doctor, but for the time being, we certainly do what we can.”

  Their conversation lapsed into silence. Dr. Frost took her time feeding the horses, while Felice slowly ate the last of her meal. Sybil absentmindedly picked at a handful of nuts, swallowing the ones that she deemed the most appetizing. After some time, she sighed. “What I would not give for some fresh meat right now. Mr. Albescu and I ate the last of ours for supper last night.”

  “I would offer you some if we had any,” Frost said, “but as I told Mr. Albescu, Felice and I rarely eat meat. You could attempt to trade with other parties in the caravan, but that might not be wise with Plague as prevalent as it is.”

  “Well, you are a trained hunter,” Vlad said, looking at his apprentice. “What do you say you go out into the forest and put your skills to the test?”

  Sybil frowned at him. “You know as well as I do how poorly that will go.”

  “Come, now. Even if you do not manage to take any game, a walk through the forest could serve you well. You could even take Felice along and show her a thing or two about firing a crossbow.”

  She looked unconvinced. “Well, I suppose I could…”

  “Mr. Albescu has it right, Sybil,” Felice said. “I can only stare into this fire for so long before my eyes melt away from the boredom.”

  “Then it is settled,” Vlad said. He looked at Dr. Frost. “Have you any objections, Doctor?”

  Frost shook her head. “You will get none from me.”

  “Well, alright, then,” Sybil said. She looked at Felice. “Just be sure not to bring any expectations along with you, alright?”

  The other girl smiled. “Consider them tempered.”

  Vlad watched as Sybil and Felice rose from their spots by the fire and struck off into the night. When they were properly swallowed by the darkness, he heard Dr. Frost speak. “I must say, such a weapon ill befits a girl as gentle as Sybil.” He turned to see the doctor standing in the shadows, just outside of the fire’s glow. “She is much better-suited to the practice of medicine, in my humble opinion. It is a good thing that she has fallen into the apprenticeship of a Plague doctor.”

  “Night Owl may not look the part, but she is quite experienced with that crossbow of hers. Her precision during her training is remarkable.”

  Frost raised an eyebrow at that. “You actively train her in combat?”

  “To the extent that I find necessary,” he said. “When not under the protection of a caravan, the wilderness can be a very dangerous place.”

  “It most certainly can be. And do you think her properly suited to survive on her own, should she need to?”

  Vlad nodded. “I do, even if she does not see it yet. I must say that her father, before he passed, taught her exceptionally well. It is a shame that he will never see her grow into the woman that he knew she would one day become.”

  “I was informed by Felice that the girl lost her parents to Plague.” Frost sat on a tree stump just beyond the edge of the fire’s domain. “What a terrible shame. Had they only gotten a few doses of Blight Bane into their bodies, they may yet live.”

  “I admit, I would not have believed as much when I first learned of your remedy,” Vlad said, “but after hearing Sybil speak of Mrs. Guthrie, I must say that my opinion has very much been swayed. That Bane of yours truly is a miracle elixir.”

  “Miracle is not the word I would use, Mr. Ablescu. Were it a miracle, it would have already rid this world of the blight. Alas, as it stands, my elixir is only a sword in the fight against the menace that is the Plague—a deadly sword, perhaps, but at the end of the day, it is still only a single weapon in the midst of an ever-raging battle.”

  “Do you believe it to be a battle that we can ever win?”

  “I would like to hope so,” she said. “But I admit that my hope fades more with the passing of each poor soul that I am unable to save.”

  Vlad frowned. He meant to offer the doctor some more encouraging words, but was stopped when a sudden commotion stole his attention. He and Frost looked toward the caravan, where they saw Brant accompanied by two of his subordinates. Brant carried a burning torch, while the two sentries clumsily hefted what Vlad recognized to be a corpse. The lead sentry barked frustrated orders at his men as they stumbled their way through the inky night with the corpse suspended between them.

  Vlad looked back at Dr. Frost. “They will have to show more caution than that if they hope to bury another body at this hour without tripping over themselves in the dark.”

  “Oh, I doubt they are burying that body right now, Mr. Albescu. They are most certainly carrying it to the cadaver carriage, where it will be stored for later.”

  “Cadaver carriage?” The name caught his attention. “That is quite the morbid moniker.”

  “It is,” she said, “but it is a necessary designation in a caravan that sees as much death as ours does. Bodies are stored in the cadaver carriage until the time comes when we can put them to rest. Sometimes we are able to bury them frequently enough, but often the task is not completed until the carriage is nearly full. When you and Sybil found us, it had just about reached its capacity.”

  Vlad shook his head. “The sheer frequency of death in this caravan rivals that of some towns and smaller cities. I shudder to think of what would become of these people without your Bane here to protect them.” He again glanced at the three sentries, then turned his eyes back to Dr. Frost. “In any event, with your leave, I would go offer my assistance to Mr Brant and his men.”

  Dr. Frost looked askance at him. “By all means,” she said, “although I am surprised to see you so eager to assist with such ghastly work.”

  “Mr. Osmond was kind enough to grant Night Owl and me a place in this caravan,” Vlad said, turning to look at Brant and his subordinates once more. “A bit of ghastly work is the least I can do to repay him.”