Chapter Two: The Orb of Fire
A healer does not refrain from the sight of blood! Her father's words came into her mind as she winced at the sight of bubbling, crimison liquid came out of the man's leg. Slowly, she looked at it. The cut was deep and infectious. Any quack would have immediately suggested cutting it away to prevent the infection from spreading, but a healer did not. Their magic was to used heal people, not take a body part away.
She crumpled some of the akas leaves, and stuffed them hastily in her mouth, chewing them. The man, a wood-cutter, moaned softly, delirious. His two companions looked on, worried.
The young healer took the akas out of her mouth, and applied with a firmness on the wound. The woodsman let out one last gasp, and then fell into unconscious state.
"What are you doing?" One of the woodmens roared, his axe by his side. Aki, the healer, ignored it.
"Where was he wounded?"
The men took a deep breath simultaneously. "In the forest. By Imps," one of the men said, as if one of the Alatari was listening.
Imps were now as common as the trees in the Black Forest now, northwest of the the city of Coneria. It was here, Aki, daughter of the late healer, lived, the closest village to the ruins of the Temple of Fiends. Once, Conerian Knights had cleared the area of the Imps, but now, Coneria could hardly defend itself against Imps, much less her subjects.
"Hmm...Imps?" Aki said, fingering a dark orb under the folds of her cloak. Small as a marble, it was a stress reliever, as any time she felt for it she brought both the emotions of happiness and fear into the depths of her soul.
The wounded man had stopped moaning, but the wound continued to fester. Slowly, she looked at it, concentrating the powers of her magic. Annon wund. Annon suppe wund. She whispered the words into the air, absentmindedly, then slowly concentrating, as she looked at the wound. And slowly, it stopped, blood drying and as the wound scabbed. It was healed.
Slowly, she sighed, in relief, collasping on her cot in her small abode. It was a complicated bit of magic her father had told her to learn, that tired a person, draining them of energy. Someday, when you are healer, you will have to use these spells too, passed down from generations of the Arkyas. Images of her father came back. Amidi Arkya would tell his daughter the stories of his younger days, when he had been a mage-surgeon in the Coneria Army. Treating men, whose faces drained at the sight of the shadow creatures that they fought to honor and protect their kingdom.
The two men stared at each other, and then gasped their thanks. One of the men, a heavily built, salt and pepper man who face spawned a number of cuts and scars, smiled. "Your father would be proud, Aki. He was...a good man. His passing was tragic for all of us."
"Thank you, Twar. Here-" she gave him a bag of the akas leaves. "-pound this up and apply on the wound when he awakes because of pain. It will be fully healed in a few days."
"My thanks, to you, village healer," Twar said, shouldering his axe. He turned to his companion. "Come, let us take Sean back to the village. Aki has done enough for us."
Aki smiled as they went out, carrying the man. Softly, she closed the door of her house, nearby the village of Dylser. Enough for one night! she thought. "Maybe a bit of tea would do me some good," she said, watching as the night grew in intensity. She started the fire, looking again, absentmindedly in the flames, bright and vivid to match her red hair. She felt something hot grow inside the folds of her white cloak, a gift from her father. A white mage's cloak. Hastily, she grabbed the orb out of her the pocket, and winced at its heat grew. Inside, flames leapt up and down, encompassing everything. What is this? No remembrance of where she found or received the orb came into mind. The only thing she knew was that one day, it was hers, and she came to have it close to her side.
The door thumped, urgently. Once. Twice. A third time. She gave a gasp, put the orb inside her cloak, and grabbed her trustworthy hammer. The only weapon she knew how to use. No injured man would come this late into the night.
Slowly, she inched towards the door. The knocks grew in their intensity. What is out there?
"Please," a man's voice, urgent and strong, yelled, muffled by the wooden door, "please, we were told that the village healer lived here. Our man is sick."
Letting out a small sigh, Aki put away the hammer, and opened the door. Another gasp escaped her: A Conerian Knight. Here, in the village of Dysler! The man looked equally shocked at Aki: Here is a woman, nay, a young lady, whose features are those that are so lovely that all the men of the village should be wooing her. Yet, she is their village healer, respected and aged with knowledge. Is this the Warrior we look for?
"Good evening, sir," Aki said, looking up at the man. "What may I help you with?"
The soldier moved, knowing he was obstructing her view. Aki looked past him, and saw three other men, two holding the other in a movable splint. His face was drained of blood, bandage on his arm bloody and dripping red.
Firmly, she moved aside. "Come, come quickly. These parts are not safe from the shadows of night."
The men moved into the small adobe as Aki readied herself for another grueling round for being the doctor. 'Tis odd that four men, from the Kingdom of Coneria, come to these parts.
"Here, lay him on this cot," she said, pointing to the bed. Gingerly, the knights put him down. A massive gash under the bandage started to bleed slowly again, as his comrades removed his armor and helmet. Turning around the soldiers waited intently for Arkya to heal him.
"My name is Commander Gregory Vesigh of the King's Guards," the soldier who had knocked on the door said.
"And mine is Aki Arkya," she said, turning around to look at their wounded companion. "An Imp attacked him?"
Vesigh nodded grimly. "We were ambushed by a score of them." Aki nodded.
Like she had done with the woodsman, she tiredly performed the magic her father had entrusted her with. The soldiers looked on, their helmets by their sides, nodding in an oddly satisfied way, like they had arrived at the right house. Aki turned around.
"He will be alright. It is not the first time Imps have attacked a man...nor the last. Mayhaps you can answer a question for me?"
"Of course, Healer Arkya," Vesigh said, nodding.
"What are men, of the Coneria Guard, traveling into a village as small and far away as mine. You are the honor guard of the King."
Vesigh smiled. "And we do the King's bidding. They say a girl, nay a young lady, lives in this village where the wild roses grows. And 'tis true that the wild roses that grew by your yard, outside. We have found the right person. Can you leave tonight? A journey to Coneria is only two days from here."
"Leave? My duty is to heal and help the sick and wounded of our village! I cannot leave!" Aki said, half surprised. Leave to Coneria! On whose orders!
"On the orders of the King," Vesigh said, reading her mind. "Your village will be taken care of, and you must do your duty as a citizen of to thy King's bidding."
Flabbergasted, Aki dropped the small bag of herbs she was carrying, and the small orb, the size of a large marble, rolled out from under her cloak.
The Commander of Coneria froze, watching the orb intently, as if it was an object of both great desire and distaste. Slowly, he turned around to the young healer. "Do you not know who your are? You are one of the Light Warriors, destined to saved our world from destruction."