Book One of the Heretic Chronicles: The Awakening

Chapter Thirty Eight

"I'll look in on you a little later," Alma said.  She closed the door after leaving Belding's room.  He was stricken with a fever that seemed to last longer than it should.  Every time he started to get better, the illness deepened.  Alma would not have bothered him with her worries, but she needed to speak with someone she could trust.  Things were getting worse and a decision would have to be reached before it was too late.  Belding did his best to listen, but he kept nodding off.  The tea he drank for the fever, made him sleepy all the time.  At least the kingdom's best healers were caring for him.  They assured her that he would be well in no time.

Alma took a dozen or so steps from the closed door, when she felt overwhelmed by a strange sensation.  Her limbs weakened as a wave of dizziness slammed into her, nearly throwing her to the floor.  She leaned against the cold stone wall for support and tried to focus on the red carpet that ran the length of the corridors while taking a series of deep breaths.  Her thoughts became muddled and her eyes snapped closed.

When she opened her eyes, Alma was sitting on the floor with her skirt bunched up past her knees.  She looked around.  "What happened?"  There was no one around.  Guards were not posted in the servant's corridors.  She checked herself for injuries and found none.  The dizziness passed, so she got to her feet, leaning against the wall, until she was certain that she would not find herself once again on the floor.  She felt her forehead.  No fever.  It's only because I've not been sleeping well.

Alma knew she should see one of the healers, but she had more important concerns and did not have time for an illness, if it were an illness.  Everything felt horribly wrong.  Alma could not explain why things felt that way, they just did.  She tried to speak with Alger about it, but every time she started to broach the subject, her mouth slammed shut as if her body was being controlled by someone else.

Belding had fallen ill around the time Alma started sharing her concerns with him.  That bothered her, too.  That doesn't make sense.  It's just a coincidence.  It's not like someone would make Belding ill, just to keep us apart.

The troublesome premonition nagged at Alma to hurry back to her rooms.  This was something else that became more frequent.  Something kept telling her that leaving the safety of her room was dangerous.  Unfortunately, they were quite a distance away on the other side of the Palace.  She lifted the bottom of her green and cream colored gown to just above her ankles and hurried.  A velvet ribbon of the same green color held her long, sunburst curls from bouncing all over the place.

As Alma left the servant's quarters, she saw Alger turn the far corner at the end of the long corridor that circled the entire Palace.  He was wearing his all too familiar purple and gold coat that hung to just above the soles of his pristine black boots.  The only thing missing was his crown.  She called out to him, but he did not even acknowledge her.  He had to have heard me.  She was the only one that called him by his name.

Reaching the corner, she saw Alger turn another corner at the end of that corridor.  She never realized how much of a maze this place was.

"Alger!  Wait, Alger!  I need to speak with you."  She had shouted.  There was no way he did not hear her.  Why is he ignoring me?

Her husband did not turn back.

Alma followed Alger through a maze of corridors and flights of stairs that she never knew existed.  He continued to ignore her.  Her frustration began to bubble.  Alger had become as elusive as the image of her father, when he came to her in dreams.  Her father never ignored her and always brought a smile to her face.  She missed him terribly.

Her father's visits were usually the same.  He would tell her how proud he was of her and that he loved her.  The sort of things he told her as a child.  Alma thought of the encounters as a way for him to help her through the grieving process.  They had been extremely close.  His death had been sudden and he seemed to be in perfect health.  Even, the local healers were mystified.  He died the week before she married Alger.  She hated that he was not able to walk her down the aisle.  He did not even get to meet her son.  Thirsten was robbed of a truly great experience.