"What?" Ike rose to his feet. 

"You mean the battle has reached the capital?" Jay asked worriedly.

Bloking nodded gravely. "About two days ago they broke through our borders. The men that survived came running back here and gave reports of strange goings-on a few days before they were attacked and the Skilaen army forced them to scatter."

"What kinds of strange goings-on?" Zia demanded. If Daxtor was the overall leader of the Skilaen army, it would be just like him to have some nasty trick up his sleeve.

The general turned to her. "Men disappearing in the night, reports of strange sounds in the Docklin Woods, strange lights. The reports say these things happened about four days before they crossed the border. All utter superstitious nonsense, if you ask me," he said, "but it was enough to unsettle the men. Now all my soldiers are starting to fight one another, accusing one another of trying to play tricks. They're all rather uptight, worried that they will be taken from their cots at night, or that they'll be attacked by someone savage in the woods. I can barely get even my bravest men to go collect firewood!"

"Psychological warfare," Heath said. "Make your enemies destroy themselves from the inside."

"Fear is a powerful weapon," Jay said thoughtfully. "The Skilaens are the ones behind it obviously, but sometimes even the most obvious things can cause doubt and fear. Though it pains me to say it, it is a rather smart move on their part."

General Bloking nodded in agreement. "That it is."

Zia knew that as soldiers and men of war and battle, Jay and General Bloking were prone to respect clever war stratagem, no matter whose it was.

"The question is, however," Heath said, "how are we going to fix it?"

The general raised an eyebrow. "We?"

"Yes, we. I'm sure we can spare a moment or two to help."

Bloking shook his head. "No. If what you say is true and you are indeed on your way to the castle with urgent news, you will need to leave as soon as you can. I'm sure we can figure something out."

"Are you quite sure, sir?" Jay asked. "I'm sure we can help think of something."

The large man turned toward the Captain. "I am always quite sure, Captain Jayson. Now, I think you four should get some rest. The journey ahead of you is not long nor hard, but you will need your strength nonetheless."

"What do you mean? Ike wondered.

The general stared at Ike with solemn eyes. "You shall see, my young friend. You shall see."

Zia winced as she stretched and jostled her leg, sending a jolt of pain through her calf. Obviously whatever fighting she had done yesterday had undone whatever healing her leg had already completed. It was sore and stiff, as a muscle often is following the first time of use after a long period of inactivity.

Moving carefully as to not hurt her leg, Zia drew back her blankets and unwrapped the bandage on her calf to check the wound.  What she saw made all the blood rush from her face.

The wound was swollen and dark red with dried blood. The opening of the wound had a strange, yellow crusty substance around it, but that wasn't what worried her. It was the stream of pink running from her wound down to her foot. 

Blood poisoning.

Zia felt as if a stone had settled itself in the pit of her stomach. Her stomach lurched and the ground seemed to sway below her. She felt as though she might throw up.

Zia couldn't help but think back to a time about seven years ago. Zia had been in the middle of her training at that point, and had not been deemed skilled enough yet to join in the dangers that came with the raids the Thieves went on. The men had always come back in bad shape, but this time it had been worse. They had been attacked on the way to one of their raids by a swarm of bandits. One man had come back in worse shape than the rest. He'd had a sword slash in his side that had become infected in the Thieves' homeward travels, and he had gotten blood poisoning. For days Zia had helped Arch and the Thieves's healer give the man water, feed him, and keep the man's brow cool. But despite their best efforts, the man's fever had gotten hotter and hotter, his mind had started to drift away from him, and eventually he had died. Zia shuddered to think of the same thing happening to her.

Her breathing started to come in shorter gasps and the awful feeling in her gut made her certain that her dinner would make a reappearance.

Calm down, she told herself. Take deep breaths. But try as she might, nothing seemed to help. Instead, her brain was screaming at her, WHY DIDN'T I CHECK IT LAST NIGHT AND CLEAN THE WOUND? to which another part of her brain replied, BECAUSE I WAS TIRED!

Trying to distract herself from her conflicting thoughts, Zia took a look around her tent. General Bloking had insisted that she sleep in her own one-man tent to give her some privacy, which Zia was fine with. It had been quite some time since she had slept in her own personal tent, and it felt kind of cozy. At least, it would have if she weren't starting to hyperventilate. Now, the small tent seemed to close in around her, suffocating her. 

She quickly scrambled over to the tent flaps and opened one of them to let in the fresh, cool morning air. The sun hadn't risen yet, but men were still scrambling everywhere, carrying armor and weapons and other supplies for the oncoming battle.

The cool air seeped into the tent and into Zia's lungs, calming her slightly- but only slightly. What would she do? What could she do? She didn't know how to treat herself for blood poisoning, and while Zia was certain the army healers might, she didn't want to take away any of their time that they could be spending on the men wounded in the war. They had much greater need than her.

So she began to ponder what she could do. Who could she trust to know how to help her? When the answer came to her, it was so clear and obvious that she could have kicked herself. Link! Of course! Who else was skilled enough to treat her properly? And he lived in the village near the capital- in the same village where Zia herself had once lived. She felt confident she could easily sneak away from the others once they had reached the castle to visit the old healer- assuming he still lived there, and assuming he was still alive.

The thought made Zia's heart sink, but she refuged to let the doubt take root. She had to hope that Link was still there, because he was the only hope she had.

"Zia?" Heath's voice called from somewhere outside. 

Heath! If he discovered her blood poisoning, he'd be distraught that his valiant effort in keeping her wound clean of infection had failed. No. She wouldn't let that happen. Heath had done far too much for her to deserve to feel like a failure. 

 Scrambling quickly, Zia wrapped her leg in new bandages and rolled her trousers back down over it.

"I'm coming!" Zia called back. She scrambled for something to do that would make it appear that she was keeping busy and that nothing was wrong. She was in the middle of rolling up her cot when Heath's voice right outside her tent called, 

"May I come in?"

"I suppose." She tried to sound as casual as possible, but there was a slight tremor in her voice. She bit her lip and hoped Heath hadn't heard it.

Heath opened the tent flap and crawled in, blinking a few times to get used to the dimmed light. When his vision finally adjusted he asked Zia, "Are you alright?"

Zia tried to look surprised at his question, as if the idea that she wasn't alright was something foreign to her. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you. What about yourself?" People loved to talk about themselves, Zia knew, so hopefully redirecting the conversation to Heath would keep him from asking uncomfortable questions. 

But Heath had never been one to focus on himself, so it didn't surprise Zia at all when he said, "I'm well. I just came to check on that wound of yours. I know it will be sore today after that little escapade you had yesterday." He glared at her, but it was a gentle glare, like he was teasing her. 

Zia did her best to look innocent. "It is a bit sore, but nothing a little warming up won't fix, and I'll get plenty of that during our walk to the capital."

"That reminds me," Heath said. "Jay told me to tell you that we're not walking."

This was news to her. "We're not?"

He shook his head. "No. Jay and Bloking discussed it last night after we turned in. Bloking is supplying us with horses to ride to the capital." Heath gave a huffy laugh as he said, "That Bloking fellow is either crazy or brilliant. I'm not sure how I would feel in his position."

Zia nodded. She couldn't imagine what she would do if she were the general of an army and some random people showed up in her camp, claiming that they were on their way to the capital with urgent information. She would probably call them mad and have them locked away for questioning.

"Anyway, let's get a look at the wound." Heath's statement sent Zia into a panic. She quickly withdrew her leg from his hand, moved her position behind her rolled sleeping cot, and pretended to be busy straightening the edges.

"It's fine, Heath, just a little sore. I already wrapped it up in new bandages." She tried to look as innocent as possible.

"Really? How did it look? Any sign of infection?"

Zia refused to meet his eyes, so she stared down at her cot instead. "No. None." She was proud of her voice for, beside sounding a little stiff, being confident, like she was absolutely certain there was nothing wrong with the wound.

Even though she wasn't looking at him. Zia could still hear the smile in Heath's voice. "That's great! At this rate, you'll be back to kicking Trodaithe butt in no time."

Zia snorted, but still wouldn't meet his eyes.

"What's wrong, Zia? Did you have a nightmare?" Heath's voice held a gentle tone that made her feel guilty for lying to him. He really was only worried about her. Perhaps she should tell him the truth? No, she decided. He doesn't need more to worry about, and if he knew my life could possibly be in danger, he would most definitely be worried.

Why is that? a small voice said in her head. Why would he worry so much? 

Because, Zia realized, he is kind. Because he is loving, and he wants others to be happy.

"No," she answered. "Just worried." She decided she should stick as close to the truth with her emotions as possible- it would help sell the story.

"About what?"

Zia huffed. "The easier question to answer would be what am I not worried about." Again, that was true.

Heath chuckled. "Yes, I suppose that would be the easier question, wouldn't it? But who wants it easy when you can have it hard?"

Zia smiled at the familiar phrase. Arch often said it to them when they started to complain about the cold, or being hungry, or the unjust things of the world. 

"Well," Heath said, stretching his leg out in front of him, getting the blood flowing. "I think we'd better hurry. Jay wants us to mount up before the soldiers go off to battle."

Zia nodded. "I'll be right there. I just have to return the cot I borrowed and put my blankets back in the bag."

Heath gave her a smile that made his green eyes shine and sent her heart fluttering before he ducked under the tent flap, leaving her alone in her tent with her secret. 

"Are you alright, Zia?" Ike asked as she joined him and Heath around a small group of four horses. "You look a bit pale."

"I always look pale," she said nonchalantly, but on the inside her stomach dropped. She remembered when she was caring for the blood-poisoned man that he was very, very pale. Could her body already be showing symptoms? 

Ike snorted. "Come on, let's get going. I know it's only a day's ride, but I really didn't like what that Bloking fellow said about the journey being hard."

Zia nodded. The general's remark had left her with a sense of foreboding, and the pain in her leg didn't do anything to ease it. 

Zia nearly jumped when she felt a hand land gently on her shoulder, but it was only Heath- though that didn't do anything to slow her pulse.

He gave her a smile as he felt her jolt, and Zia could see he was fighting a fit of laughter. "Come on," he said. "I'll help you mount up." She reached for his offered hand and tried not to think of what had happened the night before last, when he had kissed her cheek.

She felt her face start to burn red at the memory, and she hoped Heath would just think it was out of embarrassment for jumping. 

When they reached a tall, muscular brown and black horse, Heath let go of her hand and placed both of his on her waist. She tensed at the strange gesture, but did not pull away, for she knew if she did she would risk hurting her leg, and that would lead to even more uncomfortable things.

Heath leaned close to her ear and when he spoke his breath tickled her neck. "Jump the best you can on the count of three." She nodded and Heath began to count. "One... Two... Nine!"

Zia jumped the best she could with her right leg as Heath pushed her up, and as she rose in the air she threw her left leg over the horse's neck and let it settle on the other side. From there she was able to sit and get her feet in the stirrups. She was surprised to find that she had a slight shortness of breath from the small movement. 

"One, two, nine?" Zia asked once she was settled. "That's skipping quite a few numbers, isn't it?"

Heath just smiled and said, "Don't question my oddness."

Zia rolled her eyes and smiled. "I've known you for twelve years, Heath. Questioning your odd behavior would be a waste of time."

When he laughed her heart fluttered again in her chest, and Zia found herself smiling back. But then Heath's smile melted away into a frown. "Are you okay, Zia?" he asked. Then, when he saw she didn't understand what he was talking about, he continued, "You're sweating."

Zia touched her hand to her forehead, and it came back wet and smelling of salt. Her gut lurched. Could she be showing symptoms already? The Thief she had treated had been very sweaty in the beginning. 

She tried to put on a look of confusion and wonder, but on the inside she felt terrified. "Huh," she said, playing off her and Heath's concern. "I guess my inactivity has made me a little weak."

Heath scoffed. "I don't believe that. You? Weak? That would be impossible- like the sun turning green, or Ike being smart!"

Ike, who was seated on a big black horse just a few paces away, turned at the sound of his name. "Oi! That's not true! I'm very smart! Remember that time when I saved us from that pack of wolves we ran into? That took some quick thinking."

Zia remembered. They had wandered a bit too far from camp and had come across a pack of wolves, and if she remembered correctly...

"You're the one who antagonized them into chasing us," said Heath. "And your brilliant plan was to climb up a tree and call for help."

"It worked, didn't it?" he said smugly. "Besides, they were going to attack us! One of them opened its mouth at us, remember?"

"He was yawning," Zia told him. "If you didn't have such a bad aim with anything that doesn't have a blade, the poor thing would have choked to death."

"The poor thing?" Ike said indignantly. "The poor thing? We could have been their next meal! If it hadn't been for my brilliant idea to climb that tree and wait them out, we never would have lived to tell the tale!"

"It was your fault we were in danger in the first place," Heath told him.

"Well, sure, it sounds bad if you want to stick to the facts," Ike grumbled.

Zia laughed, but in doing so she jostled her left leg, sending pain shooting through it. Her laugh was cut off short by the pain and she leaned down over her horse's neck to rub the wound gently. When she righted herself and saw the concerned expression on Heath's face, she waved off his worry. "Just a bit sore," she told him. "No reason to worry."

"We should get going." 

Zia turned around at the sound of Jay's voice and found him and General Bloking approaching. She caught the general's eye and he nodded to her. She nodded back, hoping her eyes conveyed her thanks for all of his help. He seemed to get the message, because he gave her a small smile.

Jay and Heath each mounted their horses, looking in the saddlebags to double check their supplies. The general had also been kind enough to part with an extra canteen of water or two, and some dried beef and fresh rolls, courtesy of Ulric, Bloking's nephew. Of course, these gifts came at a great cost for the army. An army marched on its stomach, as everyone knew, and to part ways with any supplies, no matter the number, was no small thing.

"Thank you once more for your generosity, general," Jay said to him. "I hope that after we end this war we will be able to repay you somehow." The others nodded their agreement and Blokingl lifted his hand in farewell. 

"I'll remember that," he said. "Now, you'd best be going. What you will see during your travels... it will not be easy to stomach." Zia couldn't be sure, but she thought she saw the general shudder. At that, Zia's stomach clenched. What could possibly be so bad that it would cause a hardened war hero such as Bloking to cringe?

Jay saluted to the general, who copied the gesture. Captain Holden slapped his reins against his horse's neck, and one by one, they all followed. 

They had ridden for about three hours before they discovered what General Bloking had been talking about the journey being hard to stomach. 

They came across a small village with small houses with a small road that was more of a path running through it. It was a standard town, but something about it sent chills down Zia's back. She couldn't place her finger on it until Heath spoke into the cold air.

"It's empty," he said, his voice echoing off the buildings. And he was right. There was not a soul in sight. No horses or swine. Not even a chicken's soft cluck broke the eerie silence. On a small well in the center of the town was drawn a bucket that was still full of water, as though it had been abandoned before whoever drew it could collect their water.

"They must have been evacuated," Jay said. His voice barely above a whisper, yet it sounded like he had shouted it through the stillness. "Living this closely to a war zone, the King probably had them all moved to the castle so they would be protected."

The wind picked up, whistling through small houses and shops. It gave the town an eerie feeling, as if it were haunted. Zia looked around and saw a few odd things- a dropped blanket here, a forgotten tool there. 

Bloking was right. It was hard. Zia could see in her mind's eye people scrambling to gather their belongings and loved ones, mothers holding their children tight, the children clutching dolls or extra supplies, the older ones helping gather the young ones. And it was all because of this war. This war that had been started in a search for her.

Anger washed over her like a rushing waterfall. There was one man to blame for all of this, one man who mad her blood boil at the very though of him.

Daxtor.

Zia was angry. Angry at Daxtor for the umpteenth time. Angry that he would do such things to innocent people. Angry that he didn't care. Angry that he had dragged her into this awful mess. Angry that he was still alive- still causing harm, pain, and suffering. 

But that was why she was here- to fix all of that. She swore to herself right then and there that she would fix everything- that she would get these people back home. 

"Are you sure you're alright, Zia?" Ike asked for what must have been the fourth time in an hour. "You're shivering."

Zia tried to suppress another shudder, but it shook her anyway. "Fine," she called back, her teeth chattering. "Just a little chilly."

Heath looked at her in a way that Zia was sure meant he didn't believe her lie for one second.

"It's warmer than it has been for a long time," Ike said, thoroughly confused. "How on earth are you shivering so badly?"

Zia tried not to think of the shivering blood-poisoned Thief as she took a deep breath and rubbed her arms through her tunic. She still had on her leather armor, but it was little protection against the cold. She dearly missed her cloak, but she had lost it some time ago. Funny. She couldn't remember how she'd been parted from it. Come to think of it, she couldn't remember a lot of things. Where had she gotten the cloak in the first place? Did she ever really have a cloak? What color was it? Why was she shivering so much? Then she remembered and her stomach lurched.

"Maybe we should stop to rest," Heath suggested hesitantly, but Zia was shaking her head before he could finish.

"I'm fine," she insisted. "Just a bit chilly. We need to keep moving."

"She's right," Jay agreed. "If we're fast, we might be able to make it there by sundown."

So they continued onward. But it was hard. As each minute passed, Zia felt herself getting more and more tired- and more and more cold. The slightest breeze felt like an icy blast from the Arctic Depths. She tried to ignore the worried looks that her companions gave her, especially Heath's, but it was hard to ignore their near-constant stares. 

"Do you think that Daxtor's army has been able to travel far?" Ike asked Jay to fill the silence.

Jay shrugged. "It's hard to say. We were only in the Fox Dens for two days, and in that short time the snow had already stopped and melted significantly. I'd be willing to bet that they've only been able to travel one day's worth since we went underground."

"So they'd be out of the Pass by now," Heath reasoned. "And then they have an additional two and a half days to reach the castle."

"Which means, once we do reach the capitol, we have just a day-and-a-half to gather enough forces to fight them off." The way Ike said it made it sound as though he were talking about something as simple as putting on a boot. 

As they traveled, Zia fought to keep her eyes open. She was exhausted. All the fighting and running of the past weeks had finally taken their toll, and she felt she could not go on much longer. She found it increasingly difficult to keep her eyes open and to sit up straight on her horse. Her leg hurt, and she was finding it hard to breath. The longer they traveled the colder it seemed to get, and Zia's hands were shaking so hard she could barely hold the reins. She looked down at her hands as they shook. Her hands had always been small and dry no matter what she tried to do to moisten them, but now her dry, cracked knuckles were a fine shade of blue. 

Zia's dwindling attention was drawn to Jay when he stopped his horse and pointed up ahead. "There it is, just over the horizon."

Zia forced herself to look up where Jay was pointing, and she saw the giant azure-colored flags posted on the tips of the castle's towers. They were too far away to see the flash of the Silver Dragon that was etched onto the flags, but she could see it in her mind's eye- the silver glinting as the wind blew the flag, giving the dragon the appearance of flying across the bright blue sky. 

The sight of the flags filled Zia with new hope, and new energy, but it didn't last long. After about another half hour of riding onward, Zia's head started to fall to her chest more and more often. Her eyes started to droop, and her muscles so badly wanted to just relax and never move again.

"Alright, we need to stop," Heath insisted after Zia almost fell off her horse for the fifth time.

"No, keeping going," Zia tried to say, but her breath was coming in shorter gasps and she didn't have the energy. 

Heath reined in his horse, dismounted, and made his way over to her. He practically pulled her off her horse and Zia was too weak to resist. He gently layed her down on the ground and felt her forehead. "Zia, you're burning up!"

Zia tried to say she was fine, but now that she was lying down the urge to go to sleep was stronger than ever, and she didn't have the energy or heart to resist it. So she closed her eyes to let her mind drift off to sleep.

She had only just closed her eyes when Heath shook her. Her eyes snapped open, but quickly began to close again. "Zia, stay awake," he ordered. "Ike, come hold her head. Shake her if she starts to drift off again. Jay, get her some water."

Zia heard Jay and Ike rush to her side and felt as Ike's hands gripped her head and sat her up like a rag doll. As he did so, Jay poured cold, sweet water down her throat.

She felt Heath's hand as he roll up the pant leg of her breeches and begin to unwrap the bandages.

Through the fever Zia couldn't remember why it was important that she not let Heath see her wound, but she used the last reserves of her energy trying to kick him away. It was a feeble attempt, and Heath easily pinned her leg to the ground and unwrapped the bandage. When he saw the wound and the red streaking, his mouth hung loose and his eyes opened wide. 

"What?" Ike asked, panic sneaking into his voice. "What is it?"  His view was blocked by the position of Zia's body, and he couldn't see the red streaks running up and down her leg.

Zia fought to keep her eyes open, but she was losing the battle, even with Ike constantly jostling her head. To help herself keep consciousness, she tried to focus on the nearest thing to her eyes would concentrate on, which just so happened to be Heath's face.

Heath's mouth opened and closed like a fish, but no words came out. Finally, tired of waiting for an answer, Jay leaned over to inspect the wound, and when he saw what Heath had seen he let out a small gasp.

"What is it?" Ike was nearly crazy for an answer, and even in her drowsy state Zia knew that if he didn't get an answer soon, he would force everyone out of his way to discover one himself.

"Blood poisoning," Jay finally said, his voice hoarse. "And it's not good."

Not good. Those words echoed in Zia's head over and over again as she drifted off to sleep.

Zia woke up on a horse. The pounding of the horse's hooves on cobblestone and the jostling from its gallop had awakened her. Her head and leg still hurt, and she still felt cold and sluggish, but at least she felt more rested than before.

She suddenly became aware of an arm around her waist and warm breath on her neck. She tried to sit up to get a better look at the person behind her, but she was still too lethargic, and all she managed to do was lift her head a little.

"She's awake," said the one behind her. Zia's brain was still a blur, so it took her a moment to recognize the voice of Heath.

"We're almost there," a new voice said. "As soon as we arrive, Heath, take her to the court physician's room. You'll find it down the first set of stairs, sixth door on your right." That was Jay.

But Zia didn't want the court physician to treat her. She didn't know him and she certainly didn't trust him. The only person she did trust to help her was Link. She raised her head higher, fighting for every inch of elevation she got, and said as loudly as she could, "Link." But it only came out as a whisper, and it couldn't be heard over the thundering of the horse's hooves. "Link," she tried again, but there was no response.

"I think she's trying to say something!" she heard Ike's voice shout over the pounding of hooves on cobblestone.

Now that they were listening to her, Zia tried one last time, using every ounce of energy she had to say, "Link."

"What did she say?" Jay asked Heath, who was nearest to her and could hear her the best.

"She said, 'Link'," he shouted back. "What does that mean?"

"Link is the healer of this town, remember? He's the one Pa took her to when Daxtor was arrested," Ike reminded them.

"Well, we don't have time to track him down," Heath said grimly. "She'll just have to be disappointed."

"Actually, she won't," Jay's voice said. "After seeing the brilliant work he did with Zia before Daxtor's trial, the King instated Link as the new court physician since the old one had recently passed away."

"And why didn't you mention this before?" Ike's voice said, panting slightly and sounding slightly irritated.

"It wasn't important until now," was the reply.

"Well, then, let's just focus on getting her there," Heath said behind Zia. "It won't matter who treats her if we don't get her there before..." Heath left the sentence hanging in the air, and a solemn atmosphere fell upon them.

They rode on in continued silence, the only sound the clop-clopping of the horse's hooves on the cobblestone, and without any distraction to keep her awake Zia slipped once again into sleep.