Sword of the Healer: Chapter 2

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

Booksie was giving me grief so I am uploading this story in parts.

 

Ash looked over his shoulder at the pile of fur that I was laying on, unconscious. He turned back and urged the mules to go faster than he knew they were capable of. The world was grey; the sky was dull and the snow was gritty, even the colourful fabric was monochrome. He was in shock; he wasn’t prepared for this, he was just a merchant with a small mule drawn cart travelling to the capital. A bird wailed mournfully in the distance and Ash shivered but did nothing; he didn’t want to waste time. I was dead, Ash was certain of it. He had tried to heal me using his meagre powers; his family had been known for their healing skill, but as the generations went on the power of their magic had waned and they were left with little. The magic did little to help. Rounding a bend in the road, the cart came across the outskirts of a medium sized village. Thank the Gods. There has to be a healer somewhere. There was the clip clopping of hooves coming from behind us.
  “See, Fyn, you’ll be fine,” Ash whispered while trying to hold back tears. He quickly jumped out of the cart and ran in front of the horse, frantically waving his hands. The horse reared and came to a halt.
  “You trying to kill us? Why’d you run out like that? Gave Lettie and me a real fright,” the man squinted at Ash, his face darkening as he noticed the relatively fresh blood on his hands.
“Please! I need to use your horse. My friend is going to die if we can’t get to a healer immediately!” Ash pleaded with the stranger, not noticing the short knife at his side. The man went over to the cart, hurried by Ash. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Ash thanked the man in his head, believing fully that I would be saved. However, it seemed this was not to be so. The stranger looked concerned enough when he first glimpsed my lifeless form on the furs, but his frown transformed into a snarl upon further investigation.
“Filthy elf. There’s no way I’d help one of those creatures; only fit for whore-houses and arrow fodder. In fact, I’d be more than happy to, ah, put him out of his misery,” He reached for the wicked looking knife at his side, fingers twitching eagerly.
“Be damned to oblivion,” Ash snarled through gritted teeth. He had snuck over to me while the man had fingered his knife eagerly and hastily scooped me up into his arms. He staggered a little, ran to the man’s horse and galloped off; leaving the man to look on in disbelieve that turned into glee as he noticed the cart full of trade goods and Ash’s two mules.
Ash could feel fresh blood soaking through the bandages on my chest. Don’t give up on me now.
“Hang on Fyn. Just a little bit more to go. We’ll get you there in time, don’t worry,” He knew he was trying to convince himself more than anything else; there was no way I could hear him. The fields that had surrounded the road disappeared and were replaced by the village itself.
 “Tell me where the healer is!” Ash insisted to a group of women gathered near a well, his voice cracking with frustration and worry. A woman near the front pointed to a building to the north and Ash urged the horse over. He slung me over one shoulder and barged into the door with the other.
  “Let me in! Someone is going to die,” When no-one came he slumped down against the wall and buried his face in my hair, convinced it was over. I’m so sorry, Fynael. I failed you.­­ Ash sobbed openly; not caring that I was an Elven male who had absolutely no rights whatsoever.
  “Quickly, child. This one hasn’t got long,” A wizened old women helped Ash to his feet and nodded to her assistant who quietly chanted something under her breath that made my form float up gently into the building. The woman guided Ash to a chair by the hearth and waited till he had composed himself.
  “T-thank you. He isn’t going to die now, is he?” Ash stared into the crackling fire, imagining how things could have been. The elderly woman drew a deep breath.
“We shall see, child. Your friend is teetering on the very edge of life,”
“But you will save him, right? C-can I go and see him?”
“Our healers are doing their best, child, but it is going to be very hard to convince the Black One to let him go. It is best not to create distractions, but do not worry, you will be able to see him once the God gives him up.” Ash looked as if he needed some time alone, so the woman got up, put a thick wool blanket over his shoulders and left. He slept restlessly; having the same dream over and over about a group of moths landing on my head and turning into a crown of leaves that slowly died as I transformed into an effigy of the Black God. Ash woke and shuddered, feeling as if he was emerging from a pool of tar.  Seeing that the young healer who had found him with the old woman was beckoning for him to come over, Ash flung the blanket off him and followed her. She led him to a heavy door marked with some red paint. There was a bed near the fire and a small chair next to that. Ash went over to the bed and saw me lying there, wrapped in bandages and painted with symbols that he recognized as appeasement signs. He sat in the chair and put his head in his hands. It was only a matter of waiting. Ash waited for weeks. It was lucky that he was able to read as he spent most of his time by my side with various books of healing spells in his hands; desperately trying to learn stronger magic so he could prevent something like this happening again.
“Child,” Ash looked up from his current book, eyelids heavy, “You may want to put that down.”
“Matron?”
“We will be taking the bandages off of your friend soon,”
“That’s wonderful, but you already told me,”
“I told you again, child, because you must know that his skin will be crossed by scars; whoever did this has taken great pleasure in maiming this elf with a blade coated in a particularly cruel poison that makes it very hard for the wounds to heal. I wish that you don’t tell him what is written on his back until he is completely recovered. It would not be a nice thing for him to see.”
  “I’ve wanted to know something for a while, Matron. Why is it that you helped him, even though he is an elf?” Ash waited for the elderly woman to answer, but she just smiled and brushed her white hair from her ears. They were pointed.


Submitted: May 21, 2012

© Copyright 2022 Sairahiniel. All rights reserved.

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AshenhartKrie

wait wait wait. Fyn's a guy?!
OHHH THAT MAKES SO MUCH MORE SENSE NOW!
-__- i still say GO CHARIZARD!

Mon, May 21st, 2012 3:24am

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Lol. Squirtle's better.

Sun, May 20th, 2012 8:24pm

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