Page 11 of Dark Shaman: The Lost Treasure
The morning sun beat down on Eluheed's back as he knelt in his herb garden, the small patch of cultivated herbs that he had turned into his personal sanctuary within the gilded prison of Navuh's harem.
A wide-brimmed hat protected his head and the back of his neck from direct sunlight, but it didn't do much good in shielding him from the heat and humidity. It was sweltering outside the underground structure that contained the elaborate labyrinth of the harem, and the only thing that made the garden bearable was the breeze coming off the ocean. Still, the neat rows of feverfew and chamomile that he had planted emitted pleasant medicinal scents, mixing with the salt air that drifted over the cliff face, so as imprisonment went, this wasn't half bad.
His freedom was restricted, and there were certain rules he had to follow, but other than that, it wasn't much worse than other places he'd lived in, and in some respects, it was better.
That didn't mean that he could stay, though.
He had to find a way to escape this godforsaken island before Navuh realized that his shaman was not aging and therefore wasn't human. He also needed to return to Mount Ararat and find a way to dig out his treasure.
Eighteen months had passed since Gorchenco had sold him to the warlord, and in that time, Eluheed had used every opportunity to search for gaps in the harem's security so he could one day escape. So far, he hadn't found any, but he'd managed to carve out this small corner of purpose to keep himself from going insane in his otherwise purposeless existence.
Almost two centuries had passed since that fateful day when his sacred treasure had been buried beneath millions of tons of rock, and in all that time, he hadn't amassed the means or even the knowledge of how to dig his cache out.
Living with that failure was a heavy weight he carried in his heart, a burden far worse than the tropical heat or his enslavement to the ruthless warlord who ruled over this island and was the master of this harem.
"Elias!" Sonia called from the servants' entrance. "Mika's fever hasn't broken. Do you have anything more that you can give him?"
The harem's clinic was stocked with every modern medicine anyone could think of, but since the ancient doctor who had been dispensing it had passed away, the staff had been relying on Eluheed's natural remedies.
He'd been treating the boy with willow bark tea and cooling compresses, but since his condition wasn't improving, he shouldbe given proper medicine. The problem was that his mother was stubborn and didn't trust medications that came in capsules and pills.
"I'll prepare something stronger," he said, brushing dirt from his knees as he stood. "But you should put in a request for proper pills from the island's main clinic. Most of what we have here is expired. Besides, I'm not a physician, only a natural healer, and I'm not qualified to dispense antibiotics."
She shook her head. "You are the closest we have to a doctor right now, and I trust you to take care of my Mika."
When she disappeared back inside, Eluheed let out a breath. This was what his existence had been reduced to—playing physician to the trapped souls who, like him, would probably never leave this place alive. At least his herbs gave him a reason to rise each morning that didn't involve staring at the rocks at the bottom of the cliff and contemplating that only available exit point.
The drop was nearly three hundred feet onto jagged rocks and churning waves. His body would shatter on impact, and the ocean would claim whatever remained. Even his remarkable healing abilities had limits. The question that haunted him wasn't whether he'd survive, he knew he wouldn't, but whether he had the right to abandon his duty through this ultimate exit strategy.
Of course, he had no right.
He was the only one who knew where the sacred treasure was buried and, as long as he drew breath, there remained the possibility, however remote, of escape and redemption.
Gathering fresh feverfew leaves and willow bark, Eluheed added them to his leather pouch alongside dried elderflower and ginger root. The garden had been his one successful negotiation with the powers that governed the harem, which were surprisingly reasonable in that regard. The whole place was like an oasis of normalcy, an island within the larger island that was its direct opposite.
Out there, he'd learned, it was all about war and debauchery.
A strange combination, but he had to admit that it made a certain morbid, practical sense. The warlord needed to keep his army satisfied, and he also needed to finance it. Women and drugs were the answer, and the added bonus of the illicit enterprise was the secrets learned and extortion material collected.
Eluheed was about to head toward the servants' quarters when the sound of feminine laughter froze him in place. The musical quality of it, like silver bells in a gentle breeze, could only mean one thing—the warlord's concubines were taking their morning stroll, and he needed to disappear.
The rules were explicit and unforgiving. Servants like him, those who were not granted leave to interact with the ladies in any shape or form, were supposed to make themselves invisible when Navuh's prized possessions ventured out of the building. The penalty for breaking this rule was solitary confinement in a room the size of a coffin, and that was just for the first transgression of any kind. A second transgression meant being taken out and handed over to the guards, and no one knew what happened to them afterward.
Eluheed didn't want to find out.
The problem was that he had nowhere to go. The ladies were approaching from the direction of the main exit of the aboveground pavilion, and they were following their usual path that would take them directly past his garden. The servants' entrance lay on the other side of the pavilion, and the only other escape route led to the cliff's edge.
His only other option was to drop to his knees, press his forehead to the ground, and stay in that position until they passed.
Their voices grew clearer, and despite every instinct screaming at him to cover his head with his hands and block his ears with his arms, he couldn't help but listen.
"I told her that mixing copper oxide with lead would give her the turquoise she wanted, but the proportions were completely wrong." This voice held the casual arrogance of someone who'd never been contradicted. "Now she has a kiln full of muddy green disaster."
"Rolenna is too impatient," another replied. "Like when she tried to create dichroic glass without understanding the metal oxide layers?"
More laughter, and then a third voice. "At least she is trying to learn a new skill and create something beautiful. I wish I had a talent for something other than learning obscure languages. I am so sick of doing the same thing day in and day out for eternity. Immortality is a curse, not a blessing."
Eluheed's breath hitched.
