The Mystery of Demarcus by Iris Knight (tharntype novel english txt) 📕

of her dress self-consciously.
“Hi, Arabel,” Mihale smiled back and watched as Arabel’s attention focused on something by the edge of the woods.
Arabel ran towards it and Lyra slowly walked towards it, full of awe. Mihale stayed in his place and watched the girls.
Lyra was shocked to find, a person. “Who is that?”
There weren’t many people in Lynwood, so everyone knew everyone else. The only wealthy families in Lynwood were the Narina’s and the Demara’s, everybody else was a peasant.
“I don’t know!” Arabel replied, her mouth hanging open.
“Mihale! Come over here!”Lyra yelled to Mihale hurriedly, who came running.
“What’s wrong? “ Mihale asked, coming to a stop in front of Lyra and Arabel.
“Look! It’s a person!” Arabel kneeled beside the person.
The person who lay in front of them was a boy, approximately Lyra’s age, with blonde hair. He was unconscious and he looked dead, but when they looked at him closely, they noticed he was breathing shallowly.
“We should bring him back to your house, Arabel,” Lyra said, placing the back of her hand against the boy’s forehead. “He feels feverish.”
“Alright. Mihale, do you think you can carry him to the guest house?” Arabel pointed to a regular-sized cobblestone house not too far away.
“I suppose I could,” Mihale answered as he hoisted up the boy onto his shoulders.
A couple paces past where his body was found, Lyra noticed a backpack and a sword caked in blood next to it. She took the edge of her dress and quickly wiped off the blood and placed the sword into the backpack. She picked up the surprisingly heavy backpack and put it on her shoulder. She followed Mihale and Arabel to the guest house of the Narinas. Arabel held the door open for them and then led them to one of the many bedrooms. Mihale set the boy down in the bed and sighed.
“Arabel, would you go and get me a couple of cloths and a dish of water, please?” Lyra asked as she set down the boy’s bag on the floor and rolled up her sleeves.
She undid the buttons on his shirt and noticed the smattering of tiny cuts on his abdomen. Upon completely removing his shirt, she noticed multiple big gashes on his arms.
“Arabel, hurry please!” Lyra yelled urgently, as the boy’s breathing became even more shallow and strained.
“Mihale, go to the witch and ask her for a healing potion.... and a stew to help his sickness,” Lyra once again placed her hand on the blonde boy’s clammy forehead. It was even colder than before.
Arabel came bustling in with a couple of cloths soaking in a dish. Lyra quickly pulled one out and hastily placed it on the boy’s forehead. She then pulled another out and began to clean his wounds.
“Go get an antiseptic,” Lyra said as she gasped at the blood that stained the cloth. It had managed to soak through onto Lyra’s pale skin.
She kept herself busy until Arabel returned with a glass vial labeled “Antiseptic: For Cuts and Gashes”. She poured a small amount onto a clean cloth and lightly pressed it against the cuts. He groaned in pain and grimaced, still unresponsive, however, to the girl’s calls.
Mihale came running in, holding a bottle of sparkling blue liquid, the potion, and a steaming wooden bowl, the stew. He handed the two objects to Lyra, who then poured the whole potion into the stew. She stirred it with the tiny wooden spoon the witch had placed into the bowl and then took out a spoonful. She sniffed it, it smelled of magic and meat. Not a pleasant combination. She grimaced and then blew on it, to cool it down. Once the concoction had finished steaming, Lyra sat the boy up and poured the odd liquid into his mouth.
“Drink,” she ordered, patting his shoulder before she fed him another spoonful.
Soon after he had finished consuming the potion-stew, Lyra laid the boy back down.
“Sleep now. You must rest to get better,” Lyra whispered to him before getting off the bed and walking towards the door, Arabel and Mihale falling into step behind her.
Lyra shut the door quietly before she walked down the hall towards the sitting room, her steps echoing with a hollow clicking noise. She took a seat and her brother and friend sat down in chairs close to Lyra’s.
“Oh, yes, Lyra! Are you still going to be attending classes tomorrow?” Arabel asked, referring to the daily classes that all the children and young adults attended.
“Yes, this will be my last week before I leave Lynwood to attend the School of Allan,” Lyra was planning on transferring to a school across the world.
Allan lay in Exie, the land which lies across the Ocean of Murn. Lyra was to travel to Allan alone, and she planned on doing just that. She would be leaving her fiance Mihale in Lynwood.
“I think we should check on the boy,” Mihale said.
“I’ll go,” Lyra stood up and began walking out towards the room in which the boy was resting in.
She opened the door and noticed the boy was sitting up and was holding his head in his hands.
“Hello,” she said, standing in the doorway.
He slowly looked over to her. He began to get off the bed, when he nearly collapsed.
“I wouldn’t do that. You suffered multiple cuts, some were serious. I gave you a tonic and healing stew, but you probably won’t be alright for some time.”
“H-hi,” he said, voice strained. “I-I’m Aiden. Aiden Cullen,” his voice getting stronger.
“Lyra. Lyra Demara. Do you know where you are, Aiden Cullen?” Lyra asked, head cocked to the side.
“No... All I remember is going through a forest. I’m from Alf. I set out to come to Lynwood, the country of legend on a dare.”
“Well, you made it. Welcome to Lynwood, Mr. Cullen.”
His eyes widened in shock.
“You will have to stay here for a couple of days, but, if I am correct, which I’m sure I am, Alf is on the way to Allan. I going off to the School of Allan, and I shall accompany you out of Lynwood.”
“Thank you, Ms. Demara,”
“Lyra. I don’t wish to sound like my mother,” Lyra told him, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
“Yes, Lyra.”
“Mihale!” Lyra yelled.
 Mihale immediately entered the room.
“Dear, will you call a carriage? Aiden will be staying with us until I leave for Allan.”
“Right away, Lyra,” he left promptly to fetch the carriage.
Imprint

Publication Date: 10-30-2011

All Rights Reserved