Brightly Rising
Book 2 of the legendary story of Lavan Firestorm
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or this world that they are in and I am making no money out of this. I just want to write a sequel to a really good book that I wish had one.
Chapter 1
Tanea Kierr was watering her herb garden, it was of course the middle of winter. The sky was grey and clouded over, her bones ached a little with the cold.
But that didn't stop her plants from growing under her tender care. She was an old lady, with brown hair closer to grey, adventure in her eyes and a posture that spoke of kindness. She lived out here in the mountains and no one knew she was there, other than her goats for whom she grew her medicinal herbs.
She was forced to live on the mountains of White Foal Pass due to her gifts, which she liked to refer to as her curses, she had the gift of empathy along with a hint of mind speech, not enough to be useful just enough to sense the presence of people. Although it had been useful in avoiding the Valdemaran forces as they passed.
She knew about the war with the Karsites that was going on in the south and she wasn't all too pleased that they would be passing within 3 leagues of her, it might after all set her curses off.
No Healers or Heralds had gotten to her in time before the emotional burden of all the people around her forced her to become a hermit. And as far as she knew they still did not know she existed.
She was just watering her Camomile when she felt a mix of anguish, pain, rage and despair that was so strong that she fell to her knees, gasping for air.
And then suddenly there was a blinding light in the distance; coming from what appeared to be a huge fireball that was pulsing and growing, it looked like the air itself was on fire, and the rage that came rolling in waves was not that of the sane. It lasted for what seemed like hours but was more likely to be seconds, and then as suddenly as it had started it stopped. And mercifully her curses started to settle down.
But as she was steadying her breathing, she sensed the panic of the retreating Valdemarans and blackness closed around her, and she toppled over sideways.
Tanea opened her eyes with a start to find two goats staring at her, one was missing a horn and the other had a black streak in the shape of a lance on its forehead, these were her favorite goats, Lance and Merta.
She sat up with a start and saw the dissipating smoke, she remembered the fire, and thought that she had passed out for a few minutes from the intensity of the emotions that her curses had detected, then she remembered that terrible heartbroken rage that she had felt.
She decided she should go and see if anyone had survived and needed her help, so she called to Lance and Merta and went to the house to get a sling she had for her goats usually used for firewood but would also do as a stretcher.
She slung a pack over her shoulder and grabbed her walking cane, called to her goats and then set off toward the site of the fire to look for survivors.
It was a few candle marks before she reached the edge of where the fire was and as she looked around in disbelief and utter horror, she started to feel a sinking feeling in her gut as she studied the barren soil and rock.
There were no trees, bushes or even birds left. Only ashes.
Her first thought was that no one could have survived this, yet something told her she had to go on, that someone had survived and needed her help, and so she carried on, her goats helping her navigate the unstable paths and slopes.
After candle marks of travelling the barren land made up of cracked rock and scorched earth, the eerie silence the lack of life created sent occasional shivers down her spine, she reached what appeared to be the centre of the fires, and lying in the centre was a boy with hair a mix of chestnut brown and fiery red and freckles on his face. He was a bit lanky but appeared to be around sixteen? Seventeen? Certainly not old enough to be in the Guard "unless they have needed to lower the age limit for recruitment due to the war".
He was unconscious, dehydrated and badly burned.
"Though how he survived is beyond me" she thought to herself.
She reached out to touch his arm and felt the same mind that had been behind the terrible fire, from what she could sense he had been driven insane.
She gasped and stumbled backwards, but then remembered he was unconscious.
She reached out again to get a better idea of his state of mind.
She thought that she could sense some kind of severed link that created a despair so deep his he had gone into a coma so deep that he might not come back. But by some miracle the severed link kept his mind anchored to the world.
His mind might by a miracle, be able to heal but it would take time, she could sense his mind barely working but dimming, his lungs from what she could tell were burned the boy was dying.
She could probably save his body and if she could keep him asleep his mind might heal or it might not and he might die even with her help, leaving a hollow shell behind.
"But even so, I have to try!"
Squaring her shoulders she whistled to her goats, a sharp piercing whistle, and brought out the sling that she had packed, carefully she slid it under the boy and attached it to her goats.
She started to walked back in the direction of her cottage, it was a little bit easier; as she had traveled the rout to the boy, and had roamed these mountains for most of her life.
It was just after sundown she finally reached her cottage. It was partially inside the rock, the kitchen and entrance were built out of wood extending out of the cave. She had erected walls inside as well to add a bedroom and a sitting room for in the evenings when she ate her dinner, along with a workstation for her herbs.
She settled the boy into the bed, and she went around lighting the fire and the precious few oil lamps she owned.
Then started to make some soup, it would help with the boys dehydration and also to give his body some of the the energy it would need to heal.
She then got up leaving the broth to cook and reached up to one of the shelves on the wall and grabbed a jar of salve she normally kept for burns.
When she started to apply the salve to his arms he began to moan and she paused, when he settled down she continued, and then applied some bandages.
She then sat down on her chair and started to think.
I can heal he's body but his mind is another matter, from what I can tell he is so deep in his insanity that he might as well be dead.
She paused in her thinking as something occurred to her.
How did he survive the fire.
That could be answered later but now she needed to heal his body because while she could heal his body she couldn't heal his mind. He would have to do that himself, or she would have to get him to Healers Collegium. Such a trip was not recommended for her due to her wizened age, and her curses, but maybe she thought, "maybe I have spent enough time away from people that my curses might be able to handle it."
She pondered the options she had until the broth was ready. After she was satisfied with the amount she had been able to get down his throat, she went to bed wondering who he was and as sleep claimed her she wondered if the Healers at the Valdemaren's army camp could help.
Something to think about in the morning. She thought as she drifted off to sleep.
Authors note: This is my first fanfic, but I am aiming to do 1,000 words per chapter at a minimum, also please don't expect the updates to be regular as it can sometimes take a while for me to get inspired. Also the next chapter will be from Lavan's POV I am going to keep switching between the two.