Chapter 2: Horror on the Hill
(special thanks to Douglas Niles)
2.1 To Heal or not to Heal..:
Drachenhold - Duchy of Pellham
400 AC (Spring) - Westwood Barony
Nora looked in wonder as the holy lady entered their humble abode and kneeled -
kneeled! - on the dirt floor next to her mother’s bed. Her long white robe was as pristine as the first snow in winter. The girl was almost afraid to come near it. By contrast, her own clothes.. nay, her whole house looked dirty and impure. Yet, the lady didn’t seem to mind. Her attention was entirely focused on the body that moaned on the straw mattress.
Gently, she removed the blood-soaked bandages from the arm and examined the injury. She turned to her and spoke. “Kindly bring me some water, child.”
Nora hastened to comply. She rushed out, grabbed a wooden bucket, filled it with water from the rain-barrel and brought it back inside. Taking it from her hands, the priestess’ face was marred by a frown for an instant.
The girl’s morale sank. The bucket had been dirty, of course. She hadn’t thought to clean it first. Red-faced, she was about to mumble an apology when she realized that the lady was whispering a prayer while holding her hand above the container. A soft blue light appeared around that hand, grew in intensity till it became almost painful to look at and then suffused the water, leaving it crystal clear a mere second later.
Magic..
true magic!
With mouth agape, Nora watched the priestess clean the gash carefully before putting her hands over it and start praying again. The lady’s head bent in concentration and a few stray chestnut hairs escaped her coronet, framing her face.
Shadows gathered in every corner of the room, as if the sunlight itself had decided to hide for a time, lest it disturbed what was to come. The priestess now glowed with a light of her own as her voice rose, clear and melodious. The words she uttered, half-song and half-prayer, were in a language the peasant girl had never heard before. Yet, part of her - the part containing the divine spark that is the birthright of all Children of the Tree - understood the message behind the words. This woman was a servant of the gods, and now she was humbly requesting their help.
The brightness emanating from her suddenly increased tenfold. The gods had heard and used her as a living conduit for their divine might. Born of the heavens and the earth, it was the true power.. the true good.
The light collected around her hands, silvery this time. It pulsated around the wound, searching and probing like a bloodhound till - apparently - it found what it was looking for. The radiance then ‘rushed’ inside, seemingly absorbed by the bleeding flesh.. and a miracle happened!
Blood stopped flowing from the lesion as the torn flesh began to mend itself, slowly closing until but a red welt remained.. and not even that moments later.
In awe, Nora could only gasp as her mother opened her eyes and regained consciousness for the first time in 3 days. The wound she had sustained when she fell from the barn now but a painful memory.
Till the end of her days, the 11 years old girl would never forget what she had seen and would bear witness to all who would care to listen that the gods truly existed and - sometimes - cared enough about their mortal worshippers to not only listen to their pleas but also answer them (1). For now though, all she could manage was to grab the hem of the priestess’ robe, bury her face in it, and cry tears of joy and relief.
She felt delicate hands on her head, soothingly stroking her hair. Timidly, she looked up and found herself gazing at the most perfect face she had ever seen. Alabaster skin, untouched by disease or time, prominent cheekbones, an elegant nose, eyes of different colors, and a smile that could have been carved in marble.
This must be what a goddess looks like she thought.
“There will be time enough for you to shed tears later, child. For now, methink there is someone here in serious need of a hug.”
The girl nodded, trying to bring her sobs under control, and went to embrace her mother.
Siubhan smiled and silently thanked Morwyn.
“Sister?”
She turned towards the doorway. A tall silhouette stood there, framed by the setting sun, but even with his back to the light, she easily recognized Kalveig. After what they had been through in the Vault, she didn’t think she would ever be able to forget any of her companions. It had been her very first adventure and, somehow, she felt a bit disappointed by the fact that it would probably be her last as well.
“The meeting should begin shortly, and you asked me to remind you to tend to Pelrind’s wound first. Shall I escort you to the manor?”
“In a minute, Brother. Let me gather my belongings and I will join you outside.”
“By your leave.” Kalveig bowed and left.
As the priestess was putting back her healer’s kit in her pack, the girl came to stand to her left and, looking at her curiously, asked “Is it on account o' he is an e'f?”
The mother reacted directly, fearful that her child might antagonize the woman to whom she was now indebted. “Hush No'a! Don’t bother th' lady witcher silly quesshuns!”
“Nay, t’is quite alright. Curiosity is the mother of knowledge, and knowledge breeds wisdom. Let her ask her question. Tell me, child, what did you mean by that?”
The girl gave her mother a questioning look and, when the latter answered by a nod, formulated her query anew. “Yo' an' yer friends haf been in th' village a few days. Ah knows some were woun'ed but yo' cared fo' them. An' yet, th' e'f is still injured. Today, yo' healed mah Mammy in less than an hour, so ah was wonnerin' whuffo' th' e'f wasn’t completely healed yet.”
Siubhan chuckled. “That is a very good question, child. Very astute of you, I might add.”
Nora blushed.
“You see, the White Lady’s gift to the Children of the Tree was the ability to heal naturally.”
Noticing that the girl was blinking questioningly, she elaborated. “Suppose you cut your finger. Your mother would bind the wound and, after a while, your finger would be as good as new. That is what we call ‘natural healing’. However, that process takes time and the Lady understood that there would be instances which required a more.. ah.. ‘potent’ approach, shall we say?”
Nora nodded, serious-looking as only a child can be when she tries to impress an adult. Siubhan grinned before continuing.
“As an example, let us take my companions. They fought many wicked monsters and were hurt during the battle. If one of them was hurt so bad that he could die, or if he was deeply wounded but still had to fight in order to win the day, he would require ‘instant healing’. In such a case, I would have to beg the Lady for Her assistance, just as I did for your mother, and - assuming She found me worthy - She would transfer a tiny portion of Her power to me for that express purpose.
Now, when we came back to your village a few days ago, some of my friends were still wounded but none of them was at death’s door, nor was there any pressing need for their health to improve. So, I decided to let time and nature follow their course. Pelrind - the elf - is a special case because the wound he sustained to his leg was both deep and infected, thus I have to monitor his condition daily and - when necessary - invoke the Lady to help him recover.
As you must know, the White Lady has to use much of Her power to heal the other gods and their servants when they are wounded while fighting the forces of the Evil One. Each spell we cast drains a little part of that power, thus weakening Her. That is the reason why, we - her priestesses - try to avoid ‘wasting’ it. Hence, we only use our spells when the circumstances truly call for it.. such as in your mother’s case.”(2)
Nora nodded again, visibly impressed by the fact that her mother’s wound had been grievous enough to warrant a goddess’ attention.
“And now, if you will excuse me, I have other tasks to attend.” The priestess stood up and left the house. She joined up with Kalveig outside and they both departed for the manor.
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(1) Remember that, in this world, healing magic is rare and far from available to everyone. Peasants in particular, unless they happen to know one of the last few clerics of Rontra, are unlikely to see (or benefit from) it at all. Thus, to most of them, such spells are the stuff of legends. And, given they don’t have many hit points to begin with, even a ‘simple’
cure light wounds is more than enough to impress them.
(2) This was an episode I needed to include because I had a good laugh out of it. At the time, Siubhan’s player had been complaining that she was fast turning into a ‘cure factory’ and so, had decided
not to ‘waste’ her spells on the other players as long as her Heal skill was equal to the task. Of course, the others were furious and some even argued that she wasn’t acting properly (according to the tenet of Morwyn’s clergy, that is).
To solve the problem, I tricked her into healing a critically-wounded peasant woman and used the woman’s child to try to ferret out the truth. I’ve got to admit that her answer was so perfect I found myself unable to do anything but laugh for 5 minutes. Trust a powergamer to come up with an ingenious excuse!
The others weren’t happy, of course, but even they had to acknowledge it was plausible
EDIT: To clarify, Morwyn's priestesses cannot deny their help to anyone asking for it, except if the wounded is a creature so evil that its redemption is deemed impossible (i.e. fiends or undeads). That said, there are no definition of what constitutes proper 'help'. Siubhan's player used that to her advantage as the basis of her argument. I didn't prevent her from doing so because, though borderline, it wasn't heretical. Had she tried something along the line of "I am required to help you, so here is a glass of water", I wouldn't have been as lenient...
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![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
