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| The young attendant arrived at the chambers to begin her morning routine, only to discover the royal bedroom unusually dark, the drapes gone undrawn. Throwing back the curtains, she gasped to see the couple laying motionless and pale. They looked, at first glance, to be dead, were it not for the slow rise and fall of their chests. "Summon the Royal Shaman!" Queen Ajit's lady-in-waiting bellowed. Alarm bells sounded around the palace. Dhiramol's head throbbed in agony; in a haze, he leapt out of bed and dressed. Vhiramol, having awoken with the sun, was halfway through her morning's meditations when she heard the frightening peals of warning. The twins raced to the council room, where members had begun to assemble. The Queen's Advisor Narottam approached them, bowed, and spoke of what he knew. "Princess Vhiramol, the queen mother and your father have taken ill by some strange effect. Shaman Urja is presently tending them. We hope to have some conclusive answers shortly. We thought it best to sound the alarm and seal the palace." The advisor could not hide his deep concern. Reading the look on Narottam's face, Vhiramol turned on her heels and shot out of the room. Knowing her brother would never be more than two steps away from her, and sensing his own head was thick from consumption, she asked, "Dhiramol, what happened to you last night? Do you think mother and father could just be feeling the same overindulgence?" "I cannot say, dear one. I think not -- I believe that I consumed their share of wine as well as my own," he said with quiet levity. Urja, the frail and kindly royal shaman, met the worried heirs at the door. "Queen Ajit and your father are under a dark spell that is slowly draining them of life. I know little of the evil curse that has befallen them except rumors. We may be able to slow the leeching process down, but I do not think I alone can cure this. I am sorry, Princess Vhiramol, to be the bearer of such horrible news." That afternoon Vhiramol and Dhiramol met with a gathering of mages, scribes, and visionaries to listen to the instructions of Narottam. "According to the information we have collected from ancient scrolls and hearsay, in order to slow the rapid loss of life, Shaman Urja needs an item not found on the shores of Uttam. The closest land our maps tell us is one called, Cosrin. In their mountains live fierce Ice Dragons. Urja needs to create a paste out of a scale from one of these creatures." "But," the white-eyed, gray haired soothsayer, Yogita, interrupted, "By your own devices you must slay this creature, with your own hands ... as it is written in the stars ... so I have seen it. Do you? Do you see?" she began stuttering, speaking in tongues, then coherently again, "Many layers to this curse, many layers to your lives, young ones" she reached out and caressed Vhiramol's furrowed brow. "We sometimes do not know what we need until we need it ... so you must first bring us the scale, then we will know more ... always more to know ..." she drifted off again. Narottam continued, "We have no doubt Lord Rakesh is behind this spell. Most ingenious for him to to cast a curse with remedies that lie outside our land, and whose cure is so multilayered that it cannot happen all at once." "You dare compliment that warlock's ingenuity!" Dhiramol roared, losing his reserve to rage. Vhiramol placed a calming hand upon his heaving chest. The princess gathered her resolve. Gazing calmly upon the gathering, Vhiramol spoke. "Advisor Narottam, dear Shaman Urja, and Yogita, my mother's trusted visionary, I thank you for your words of council. My brother and I will leave tomorrow for Cosrin and the city of Moorgate. Please make the necessary arrangements." |
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