Imperious Realm: Reign of the North Forest Book 1 Page 2

  Iberis felt a restless arm wriggle against his chest, and he glanced at the infant. Sergen’s eyelashes were fluttering. A tiny fist pushed out through the tight layers of fabric.

  “Babies cry a lot,” Kale continued confidently. “That’s all they do all the time. They eat, poop, sleep, and cry. Erod’s sister is like that. Every time she wants something, she cries.”

  “That’s the only way they know how to communicate. Do you want to come closer? His eyes can’t focus very far.”

  Kale shuffled a few steps closer, then reluctantly reached for Sergen’s hand. Sensing his touch, the baby clamped down hard on Kale’s index finger. Surprised and delighted, Kale looked to Iberis.

  “That’s a reflex babies have. When you touch their palm, their fingers grasp yours in a fist.”

  “He’s so small.” Kale bent closer to the infant.

  “You used to be small like this, too,” Iberis said. “All of us were. His name is Sergen.”

  Kale’s smile disappeared. “Is he sick?”

  “No.”

  “Then why is he here?”

  Iberis had difficulty explaining this to the other healers, let alone a nine-year-old child. Unlike his adult interactions, he couldn’t be defensive with Kale, nor could he couch his motives in medical language. “Sometimes people can’t care for their babies, even though they want to.”

  “Like if they’re sick, too?”

  “Like that, yes.”

  “Oh...so he’s all alone here?”

  “His mother visits daily. And he has me.” Iberis's answer didn’t satisfy, and Kale still seemed perplexed. “If you want, you can visit him, but only if I’m here. We can tend to him together. Otherwise, the healers won’t let you in.”

  “Okay. I think he’s falling asleep. He’s blinking slowly.”

  Iberis could feel the little hand fall as the infant drowsed. “Hmm, you’re right. We should get you back. Your parents are probably wondering where you are.”

  The healer kept Sergen clasped to his chest as Kale followed them through the nursery. Vica had returned and was startled at Kale’s presence. Iberis scanned his retina at the door, then led Kale through the maze of the infirmary’s shortcuts. He prompted Kale to tell him about the things he was learning in school as they walked, and the boy was still talking when a screech rang out in the tiled hall.

  “Kale!” His mother stood before him as Drimys cringed, guilty, at her side. “How many times have I told you not to wander off?” Marie’s strong brow creased with concern. Her manicured nails were glossy, and her embroidered tunic and pants hugged her curves. “Iberis, I’m so sorry.”

  The twins shared a look of collusion. Drimys was naked from the waist up and his stained shirt was bundled in his mother’s hand. A bandage was secured to his neck and below that his collarbone was covered with a dry, flesh coloured bump. With a confident scan, Iberis deemed the injury had missed major blood vessels, but it was serious enough to warrant something stronger than rapid-seal gel. Iberis’s family had owned terquins when he was younger. Despite their claws, the animals were mild by nature. A wound so severe was bizarre; whatever Drimys had been doing with the terquin, the creature had reacted.

  “It’s all right.” Iberis forced his eyes from Drimys. “Kale was with me. He couldn’t find his way back.”

  “These boys, I need two of me to look after them.” Marie brushed her hand against Sergen’s blankets, admiring the sleeping infant. “What I would give to have them this young again.”

  “Children are curious. It’s partly why the security is so high, especially with residents living in the Centre.”

  “With these two, you might want to tighten it even more.” She urged the boys forward with a wave of her hand. “Come on, back home now. We haven’t had dinner yet.”

  Kale stood on his toes and kissed Sergen’s hair, to his mother’s confusion. “Can I see him tomorrow?”

  “Sure. Remember, you have to come see me first, so I can take you in.”

  “I will.”

  Marie and Iberis chatted for a few more minutes, but Iberis’s gaze kept drifting toward Drimys. Kale rejoined his twin.

  Drimys muttered in a low voice, so the adults wouldn’t hear. “You’re using the baby to find the morgue? Why didn’t I think of that? We should have done that before.”

  “No, I’m going to visit him tomorrow.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s so alone. He doesn’t have anyone.”

  Drimys rolled his eyes. “I’ve been waiting here for you forever. You already have a brother. The only people who care about dumb babies are babies.”

  “I’m not a—”

  “You’re not coming tomorrow.”

  “—baby. But Drimys—”

  “Don’t be a debillus.”

  “Language!” Marie reprimanded, shooting the startled twins a sharp glance before returning to her conversation.

  “I thought she was talking,” Drimys complained, frowning. “I said you’re not coming.” He pulled out the arrowhead from his pocket and handed it to Kale. “Here. No one wants your dumb arrowhead anymore.”

  ***

  Hands on his hips, Iberis paced the length of his supervisor’s office. Julian picked his glasses from the clutter on his desk and perched them low on his nose as he examined the files Iberis had loaded on his computer. Images of Kale and Drimys’s blood chemistry, dental records, and x-rays reflected off his rectangular lenses.

  Coming up behind him, Iberis pointed at the screen, at test results for Gonadotropin-Releasing Hormone and Human Growth Hormone. “Kale is the sixth kid in the last two months. This is a problem—”

  A clattering of footsteps passed Julian’s closed door. The commotion was moving toward the emergency rooms of the infirmary and Iberis stood back, expecting Julian to rise and attend to whichever patient had just been rushed in.

  Julian waved dismissively, his gaze on the screen. “Amaranth’s got it.”

  “This is a problem,” Iberis repeated. “Their results are—”

  “Not enough for me to declare a public health emergency.”

  “I have someone else to compare him to. His growth hormone level is lower than his brother’s.”

  “Twins are never exactly twins, you know that.”

  Iberis regarded his colleague with disappointment. “Your assessment leaves something to be desired.”

  The senior healer shot him a sharp look. “I’m going to attribute your insolence to your youthful passion for your field.”

  Iberis fiddled with the fine-linked chain that hung from around his neck. His mind was racing, reviewing the files he had studied, trying to form links and shape diagnoses.

  “You know I’m excellent at my job,” Iberis finally said. “These kids aren’t growing. We’ve seen this before. I think Kale has Pediatric Arrested Sension Development Syndrome—which means the virus is spreading.”

  Julian leaned back in his chair and rested his foot on a small stool. The middle-aged man was due for surgery in a couple weeks, and his ankle pained him. “We already have enough panic in the streets. I have adults infected with ASDS—Prosenents—coming into the infirmary only to end up dying months later. Some Prosenents experience lung failure before they can rapidly age. Now to say that kids aren’t growing when we don’t even know why the virus is causing GnRH to drop their growth hormone level? That we don’t know why the impacts are so severe and why our hormone replacement therapy for both adults and children isn’t working? That we’re not even sure about this next batch of cases? The infirmary would look incompetent.”

  “That’s what you’re afraid of?” Iberis asked. “A public relations nightmare? I’m worried about these kids.”

  “So am I. But a two-month assessment on six children isn’t enough. Have you isolated Kale?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “You can administer him treatment like the other children, but we need more evidence before we announce anything or take formal prec
autions. It’s important for the public to have confidence in the Healing Centre. That includes not prematurely announcing that Pediatric ASDS is in population again.”

  Iberis resumed his pacing. “You sound like a politician.”

  “I sort of am one,” Julian said.

  “We need to go to dweller territory.”

  “Ha! You think I’ll be able to get you permission to go? The only way I can get you there is if you use the forest dwellers as test subjects.”

  Iberis’s face darkened. “You really are a politician. Whatever the cause, this started among the forest dwellers.”

  “If they started it, we’d be putting Mesidisian lives at risk.”

  “They’re as desperate as we are, but they could already be making progress on treatment. We can’t see the dwellers as our enemies here. We need to work with them. Either we go there or they come here. We need to figure out what’s going—"

  Screams erupted from outside. Iberis rushed out of the office and down the hall without saying a word. Julian grabbed his cane and hobbled behind, scanning the healing rooms as he went. Up ahead, Iberis turned and burst into a room on the right.

  The guards at the city gates prohibited dwellers from entering the city, but they must have allowed him entry. This one lay splayed on a cot, one arm hanging limply over the edge. Iberis hardly noticed the unkempt appearance that came with trekking barefoot through the forest, rather his eyes were drawn to the mess of the man’s torso. The patient had a respiratory mask on his face and his eyes were open, but his pupils had rolled back in his head.

  A guard from the Security Division stood over him, breathing heavily and holding a bloodied knife. Red spattered his uniform. A woman healer cowered against the far wall, her arms thrown up to protect herself.

  Iberis automatically raised his hands up and behind his head. Seconds later, two more members of the Security Division burst in from a doorway behind the assailant, tackling him to the ground.

  The danger neutralised, Julian now entered the room and bent over the patient. The woman lowered her hands and Iberis recognised his colleague Amaranth, shaking and fighting back tears.

  He went to her, clasping her by the arms. “Are you hurt? What happened?”

  “He tried to kill me!” the rogue guard shouted, his arms now bound behind his back. The two men from the Security Division jerked him roughly to his feet.

  “He was defenseless!” Amaranth screamed. “He was unarmed!”

  Julian jerked his head at the guards. “Get him the hell out!” The assailant launched into a nonsensical defense, but no one was listening. The Security Division muscled him from the room.

  “Iberis.” Julian now gestured for his colleague to approach.

  The healer in Iberis took over. He pushed his shock aside as he moved to stand by the bed. They initiated chest compressions and attempted to resuscitate the dweller’s breathing as they attempted to save his life. Bracing herself against the wall, Amaranth watched on in horror. Eventually, Julian called the time of death. Iberis held the edge of the bed, adrenalin still coursing through his body.

  Julian swore out loud. “You want to work with the dwellers? This is what happens when populations mix.”

  2 Allies

  456 Years After Arrival

  Sergen was lying on his stomach on the floor of his room. He repositioned his clay panther near its kin, rested his chin on his hands, and scrutinized the beasts. He knew panthers worked better as a pair, and he had pitted the foes in a fair fight, but he couldn’t decide on the fox. While it was venomous, the vulpira lacked the agility and speed to elude the panthers’ strong jaws.

  Sergen was distracted by a flickering of shadows on the floorboards and he leapt to his feet, careful not to knock over the animals. The clouds had dispersed, rays of sunshine signaling clearer skies to come.

  He lived close to the edge of town and while they had neighbours on either side, there was a considerable distance between the back of their house and the next row. He hadn’t used their backyard much, the grass long and tangled near the fence, but now he welcomed the sun, hoping for just an hour or two outside.

  As if deliberately teasing him, the sun just as quickly disappeared. Sergen sighed, feeling alone. He hadn’t seen the woman across the street in weeks and the only other neighbour, a man who was much older than his father, wouldn’t be home for a few hours. A few children ran about in the middle distance. He only rarely caught glimpses of their play, but he was sure he could race and maybe even win against one of them. He tried to visualize how tall the boys would be up close. Sergen’s mother said he was tall for his age, but he had never been able to compare himself to anyone to see how true it was.

  The time was nearing, so he went to the hall window, pressing his face against the rain-streaked glass. Over to the left, he saw the man riding a bike along the road toward their house. Plainly dressed and with a messenger bag slung across his chest, the man was a familiar sight in the area, visiting at the same time twice a week, but still the children stopped their play and stared. Undeterred, the man waved amenably as he passed. Four knocks in succession sounded on their front door, with a slight pause after the first knock, and immediately afterward he heard his mother’s distant voice.

  “Sergen, can you get the door, please?”

  He ran the length of the hall, down the stairs to the front door, and unhinged the three locks, the top one requiring him to stand on his toes to reach it.

  “Sergen, it’s a pleasure to see you.”

  The man took off his shoes and entered. Sergen grinned happily, shutting and locking the door behind him.

  “How are you doing today?” The man used sign language as he voiced his question.

  Sergen shrugged, leading their guest into the living room. The man glanced toward the kitchen, where Sergen’s mother could be seen preparing dinner.

  “I’m a little early,” he called to her. “I hope that’s all right.”

  “It’s fine, Iberis.”

  “Come on, kid. Let’s measure you first.”

  Once Iberis had noted Sergen’s height and weight, he sat across from the boy and extracted a few drops of blood from his finger with an electronic syringe, setting the device to the side as it analysed the sample. Sergen submitted to the exam, but fidgeted in his seat. Iberis examined his eyes, ears, and mouth, which the child obediently opened wide.

  “Still not talking, are we?” He placed a small, metallic square on Sergen’s arm and set the gauge. “I wish I could say that for some of my other patients. All they do is complain. I think it’s your turn now.”

  Iberis chatted as he worked, accompanying his conversation with hand gestures. At the end of the examination, he read the syringe’s findings.

  “You’re as healthy as a veelox, young man.” He raised one eyebrow. “Except you need more vitamin D. I’m going to leave some drops with your mother. Wait—” He put a hand on the child, stopping him from leaving. “You can’t sit still, can you? Just wait, I have something for you.”

  Rummaging in his bag, he took out a clay model of an Akpi, a large arachnid with six legs, a tail, and a stinger at the base of its head. Sergen’s eyes grew large.

  “This will make the battle more interesting, don’t you think?”

  Sergen reached forward but turned to look at his mother.

  “It’s a gift. You can take it.”

  “Will you say ‘thank you’?” Iberis asked when Sergen took the toy in awe. He brushed his hand against the child’s hair, causing him to flinch. “It’s okay. Next time.”

  Sergen went upstairs but didn’t return to his room, sitting on the top step and out of sight of the grownups. While he didn’t necessarily understand what they were saying, he liked their gentle voices. The way Iberis talked to them and brought them gifts was nice. Usually, after his examination, Iberis played with him then taught him and his mother new sign language before his mother sent Sergen upstairs for the rest of the visit. Sergen had sensed t
hat Iberis wanted to speak with his mother in private, so he had gone upstairs quickly. Even though he knew it was wrong to think about, he sometimes wished Iberis were his father instead.

  He admired his new toy, content with the tones floating up to his ears and not listening to the conversation below.

  ***

  After Sergen left the living room, Iberis moved toward the kitchen and regarded Niobe with concern. “How long did you think it would be before I noticed you keeping your head to the side?”

  Niobe set down her knife and faced him, revealing fresh bruises on her eye and an open cut across her cheekbone.

  “Oh, Ni.” Iberis stepped toward her and examined the wound. “What did he do to you?”

  “I did something stupid. At least it wasn’t Sergen this time.”

  “It shouldn’t be—” Iberis stopped himself. “You’re cut. I’m going to treat you with stenovis and yamnaberry extract.”

  He used a green scanner to analyse her injury, closing the wound with gel before spraying it with a petal mist. Like Sergen, she fidgeted as he worked, rubbing her fingers and tucking her hair behind her ears. The resemblance between Niobe and her son was uncanny; they shared the same dark eyes and hair and the same oval face. It was also probably one of the reasons why her husband targeted their son as much as he did his wife.

  “How’s Selene?” she asked.

  “She’s fine.” He added, “She wants children. We argued about it again this morning. But it’s difficult bringing a child into this world, knowing that in a few years they’ll stop aging, or rapidly age over several months then die.”

  Niobe frowned. “You don’t know that.”

  “Look around you.” Catching her displeasure, Iberis tried to correct himself. “I mean, if you went outside, you’d see the streets filled with children. There are barely any adults left. Thank goodness kids are quick learners. They wouldn’t survive otherwise.”