To Call Our Own (6/36)

[amberfocus]

Chapter Six:  Blood Serum

Vandarian stood above the sleeping form of his five-year-old daughter Neralta. She had been in the first stage of the plague for six days, which should have been biologically impossible. He wasn’t good at science, not nearly as good as his son, but he knew this wasn’t right. First stage only lasted for two days. And yet, there she lay; her tiny face covered with lesions that did not fill, did not burst. She burned with the fever, far higher than any other reported case he knew of, her white hair clinging to her with sweat. But she did not progress, she did not die.

The fever alone should have been enough to kill her. He was grateful for her life, but he did not understand. It was Jeswyn, picking at a scab on her arm that brought it to his attention. He had noticed similar scabs on Davin and Neralta. “Jeswyn,” he said, catching the attention of his eldest daughter. “What is that?” His fingers gently fingered the injury.

Jeswyn looked frightened for a moment, her amber eyes lit with panic. Her fingers stole up to twist a strand of white hair nervously. “You must tell me,” he said careful to keep his voice gentle.

“It was Davin,” she said. “He thought that if the vaccine was in his blood, that maybe if he mixed his blood with mine, it would give me immunity.”

“The mixing of blood cannot do that,” he said.

Jeswyn looked at her father, trying to explain what exactly it was that her brother had done. “Take your time. Explain,” her father said.

Jeswyn sought words that were above her nine years of age. “He took his blood, removed it into a jar and he spun it. He said it was…centrifal,” she paused looking up at her father.

“Centrifugal?” he questioned.

“Yes, centrifugal force. It separated the blood into layers and on the top layer was a clear fluid. He called it blood serum. He put a tube in my arm and let it drip into me four days ago. Neralta, too.” Jeswyn bit her lip.

“Where is Davin now?” he asked his tone suddenly urgent as his eyes returned to Neralta.

“With Galian,” she said not meeting her father’s eyes. She moved over to the bed and lifted a cloth out of a bowl of cold water, then began running it over her sister’s skin.

“Stay with your sister,” he ordered and without a second look at his eldest daughter he strode from the room.

When he found Davin the boy looked up at him with alarm on his face. “What did you do to your sisters?” he asked. He kept his voice from being harsh, but the tone still purveyed his need to know right now.

Davin stood up to his full height. At fourteen he did not quite reach his father’s shoulder, though it was evident in his body structure that he one day would be even taller than his father’s impressive height. “I introduced plague antibodies into their systems.”

“Antibodies?” his father asked.

Davin twisted his mouth thinking of how to explain something technical to his father who was not a man of science. “I had been given the vaccine. A vaccine is basically a weakened version of a disease introduced to the body to create antibodies. Because it is weak the body fights it quickly and develops a reserve of…of blood warriors that will respond should a more deadly version of the disease be introduced to the system.”

Vandarian nodded his head and indicated his son should continue. “I took a blood sample from Mother before she died and I tested the serum on that. It seemed to be working. So I tried it on Jeswyn and Neralta. I don’t know if I got to Neralta in time, but Jeswyn has antibodies in her blood and shows no sign of sickness.”

“What gave you this idea?” Vandarian asked his eyes sharply focused on his son’s face.

“Galian let me search the old records. There have been incidents of plague before our people migrated to this planet. When medical facilities have been inadequate, when medication cannot be found, blood serum from survivors has been used as a last ditch effort. It acts as vaccine. From what I have read, it is effective up to the beginning of the third stage, reducing all symptoms.”

“Where is Galian?” Davin bit his lip and looked away from his father. “Where is he, Davin?”

“We’ve been distributing the serum amongst the villagers. The results have been encouraging. But you cannot tell your father. He refused to sanction this. Said a child did not have the intelligence to know what was happening,” and Davin’s amber eyes narrowed in a way that almost reminded him of King Travenn.

“The king is not aware of your level of intelligence,” Vandarian said slowly. “He does not like people who are cleverer than he is. He does not admit that anyone could be. And if anyone appears to be, they have a habit of disappearing. I have kept your intelligence hidden from him for this very reason. I wish for all of my children to live.”

“The king does not care if the villagers die. He said they were of no import.” The words were spoken quietly and from behind him.

Vandarian turned around. “Galian? How is the blood serum working?”

“It burns a very high fever, high enough to kill the plague, but nearly too high. If they survive the fever, they will survive the plague. I’ve had three stage two victims achieve full recovery. And Neralta is close. I tested her blood this morning.”

“You should not have kept this from me,” Vandarian said.

Galian lowered his head then raised his eyes back up again, his voice surprisingly strong as he took his stand. “My first loyalty is to my medical oath. I cannot do anything that supersedes that. Not for your father. Not for you.”

Vandarian nodded curtly. “In this you are right. I will take care of it. The serum, can it be mass produced without raising suspicion?”

“Yes. We’ve been working at it,” Davin said.

“Continue. By this evening King Travenn will no longer be a hindrance.”



“It’s what must be done,” Vandarian said to Tiron when he’d slipped away to the Dirsan prince’s hiding place. “But he is my own blood and it seems a betrayal, no matter how deserving.”

Tiron looked up from the cooking pot where the death fungi had been boiled down to a potent syrup. His lips narrowed to a flat line as he poured it into a container to cool. “You are the only one he will not suspect of subterfuge. There is no one to do this for you. As long as the mad king lives, your people will die. And so will mine.”

Vandarian paced the clearing. “I know this!”

“When you become king, will you not preside over the high court? Will you not be the final decider on guilt or innocence. Will it not be your choice to execute or grant immunity?” Tiron asked him rubbing a hand through his copper colored hair.

“It will.”

“And is your father guilty of murdering the innocent?”

“Many times over.”

“Than be a king, Vandarian. Allow for his execution by your own hand,” Tiron told him.

“Could you execute your own father?” Vandarian said.

“If he did what yours has done, I would be first in line.” Vandarian studied Tiron’s face and saw no evasion there. Tiron spoke the truth. “The Charter made upon arrival of this planet states that any king found to be in deliberate violation of Charter laws upon more than three occasions can be assassinated without consequence to the executioner.”

Vandarian nodded. “And he has not been in compliance for well over a decade. Very well. Give me the poison.”

Ch. 7:  http://amberfocus.livejournal.com/66612.html