To Save the World...

Chapter 2

"Oh, great Messor Vitavi, our defender and our justice, look kindly upon young Lord Arden," Musara prayed loudly as she placed the crown on the youth's head, letting the silver circlet settle into his sandy hair. "You chose him from among his brothers to lead your people. Grant him your wisdom and reasoning, that he may lead them well."

Musara turned and took up the golden coin that rested upon a pillow in the attendant's hand. She returned to the new lord's side and, as she fastened the iron chain around his neck, allowing the golden coin to rest on his chest, she said, "And, as you are the one who chose him, Messor Vitavi, may this coin of fate remind him of his office and your true sovereignty. He serves you and leads your people at your whim."

The people gathered in the dusty square murmured as the coin flashed once, though clouds hid the sun.

"May you rule the people well, Lord Arden," she murmured to him as she stepped away.

Several armored guards came forward and knelt before the newly crowned lord, loudly swearing fealty as Musara turned away from the ceremony and stepped down from the back of the dais.

Musara heard the crowd cheering as she exited the town square. Someone loudly began a chant of the new lord's name, the crowd quickly taking it up, "Arden! Arden! Arden!"

She smiled faintly as she moved through the empty streets. Give them something to cheer about. Between the fires and the plague, there isn't much else going right around here.

A person lay motionless in the dirt ahead of her. She stepped over to them quickly, peering as close as she dared, careful not to touch even the edge of the man's tunic. Not breathing. Must be gone already. She gently prodded him with a toe. The body rocked from the prodding, but settled back into its place. She prodded again with her boot, more firmly this time. The body rocked, then rolled, one arm flopping out to strike the wall of the nearby building.

Musara gasped, holding the edge of her cloak over her face. The man's skin was a sallow, unhealthy yellow and waxy looking; his eyes had almost completely sunk into his head. His nose, mouth, chin, and entire front of his tunic were drenched with a darkness that could only be blood. Plague, her mind whispered. As she quickly stepped away, she made a mental note to send the corpse crew to dispose of the body before it spread the contagion to someone else.

"Milady priestess!" a voice called from down an alley.

Footsteps came closer. "Priestess Musara?"

A flurry of footsteps came then, and a horde of voices demanded, "High Priestess?" "Musara?" "Lady?" "Priestess?"

Musara stopped and turned. A gathering of eight people drew closer, some leaning on each other, their clothing ragged and boots cracked. Others had dusty, bare chapped feet and shaking hands that reached out, fingers open, grasping, begging...

"Please. Priestess Musara. It is New Lord's Day. They say, on the day a new lord is appointed, Messor Vitavi grants a healing miracle to his priestess. Please, pray that this sickness leaves me..."

"I saw her first!" another voice said, elbows pushing through the crowd. "She should heal me."

"Please, Priestess, I've been ill for two weeks. I haven't much time left, unless you pray my healing..."

"You're too old!" another spat. "Healing you wouldn't be worth it! The one to be healed should be me!"

"No, me! I have a wife and a new babe at home! I need to be healed, to take care of them!"

"I've three kids at home. Haven't dared go to them since I got sick... Don't wanna take them to the grave with me..."

"Please, priestess, my baby..." a woman held out a limp child. "My baby's dying... please, save him..."