Far to the east there lies a small town called Wickoran. It is nestled away within the woods and groves of the Eastlands and hides itself away from the world very well. There is a path out to the wider world but it is seldom travelled for the inhabitants of Wickoran have all they need.
There is the Carrock family who hunt in the forest for the great beasts that grow there, beasts that are slower and fatter than any others in the Eastland. Easy to catch and easier to eat, some of the great red elk capable of feeding the whole town.
Also travelling through the forest are the Merwin family who gather all the wild mushrooms and potatoes and carrots that grow all through the woods. Years of gathering has taught them all the best spots to look and they regularly bring back great baskets of foods and flowers for the town.
Within the town itself there are families for building, for brewing, for tailoring, for tanning, for cooking, for cobbling, for carving, and for healing. And so the people of Wickoran are at peace with their little world and reap the great rewards of their blessed land.
For, although the Eastlands are a wild and dangerous place, none of the great war clans or mercenary armies ever march down the road to Wickoran to take the bountiful forests or enslave the peaceful people, for Wickoran is watched. Watched by a creature that dwells high on a wooded hill in a cave. The creature has been there for as long as anyone in the town has known, they say it was there before the town was built and will be there long after it fades away. It has not left the cave for many years now but in the old stories of the town it left to ward off invaders and its wrath was terrible. So there have not been any invaders since. The creature is the Withrika and from it the town gets its name, this is its story.
Lisa Nathien lay dying in her bed surrounded by her family. She had been a beloved doctor for the town and her cures and medicines would be missed. Her manner would be missed as well, she was able to make children smile and laugh even while sick or injured, she could keep talking happily away even in the face of horrific wounds, making her patients feel safe and reassured. She was a prominent member of the town council and regularly helped arrange the festivals and holy days the town so enjoyed. She would be missed, especially by her daughter Laura.
It had been the talk of the town when Lisa and her husband had saved up enough money to send Laura to a proper medical school out in the Hallowed Realm. She had been sent off, guarded by Wesley Carrock and Song Merwin, through the Eastlands and to the Hallowed Realm. She had grown up there, far away from her home and family and had learned much in the ways of medicine and science. For though Lisa had been an excellent doctor she knew there was a lot of knowledge she lacked, and she hoped Laura could learn it all to become a far better doctor than she had.
Then Laura had returned and found herself back among her family and her old friends, but while she had grown up in the city they had all grown up as well and she found that she no longer fitted in. She had helped her mother of course but she had never been able to connect quite as easily to the townsfolk as she could. They were distrustful of her and her strange techniques learned out in the city not handed down through generations. She fixed them as best she could and she knew she was helping more of them than her mother had been able to before but still they distrusted her and whispered away behind her back.
She watched her mother lying in bed, slowly dying and dreaded when she’d have to perform all of her duties herself. Slowly her mother slipped away and the family dispersed. Far away the Withrika watched.
Wesley Carrock climbed through the woods. In one hand he held a great walking staff which he prodded away at the ground with, with the other he pushed aside the branches and leaves around him. Slung across his back was a great bow and a quiver of arrows but he knew he wouldn’t need it. The woods around Wickoran were full of life and bounty but right here it was always silent, no animals came to this hilltop.
As he climbed he began to tread more carefully, for now battering aside the leaves and branches could be dangerous. There were thorns now, twisted tangled black thorns, and the thorns were strong and would not move if he tried to brush past them. Many a person or animal had wound up tangled up in those thorns unable to get out. Wesley had no intention of being one of those.
He climbed and climbed, carefully brushing aside any branches and leaves with his staff, ensuring that wherever he stepped was free of the twisted thorns. Up and up he went, following the path of the thorns until he reached the cave at the top of the hill.
It was a dark cave, cast into shadow by great trees overhead, and it didn’t have a very good view of anything through all the foliage but it was where the watcher lived. Spiralling and twisting out of the cave, snaking in every direction were the black tangling thorns, all originating from here.
Wesley almost lost his nerve looking up at the dark thorny cave but he continued on anyway. He was a hunter so he didn’t scare easily and he knew in his heart that this creature was the guardian of Wickoran, no matter how outwardly terrifying it might appear.
He entered the dark cave and the thorns began to move. Slowly, very very slowly they twisted and writhed as the creature at the back of the cave moved toward him. It was almost the shape of a person but much much bigger and made entirely of twisting writhing tangling thorns. In its head there were gaps in the vines that almost looked like eyes and it fixed those on Wesley.
Wesley swallowed his fear and spoke. “Oh great Withrika,” he began. He had never spoken to it before but it seemed like the right type of thing to say. “I come to you begging for your help with my son.”
The Withrika did not respond but it moved closer, thorns sliding and scratching along the walls of the cave. Wesley’s hands squeezed around his staff.
“He is sick, very sick and I have taken him to see Laura Nathien but...” he faltered but the gaze of the Withrika drew more words out of him. “She is not the same Laura she used to be. The Laura I helped take to the city many years ago, she was nice then, friendly and happy like her mother. But now she is cold and distant, she seems to think she is better than us because she has lived in the city, because she has learned things, seen things we haven’t. She doesn’t know what it’s like to live in Wickoran anymore.”
The Withrika was still looking at him so he kept stumbling on. “I don’t trust her, no one does, they say that she poisoned her mother so she could take her job. I don’t want her working on my son, who knows what she’ll do to him. She said she wanted to try leeches, horrible, demonic things, but we refused. I don’t know if she’ll do it anyway though, or perhaps she’ll come up with something even more horrible. Please, I don’t know what to do, can you tell me how to heal my son without her help?”
The Withrika twisted slowly, its thorns slithering about. None came too close to Wesley fortunately. It thought for a time, considering all that had been said. It knew that there were lies in what it was told, it knew Laura had not killed her mother. But it didn’t care about the lies, it only cared about the question.
It answered, its voice coming from all throughout the cave at the same time, the thorns hissing and scraping along with the words. “Take your son to the river at night, the ford by the old willow tree. Hold his body beneath the water until he stops shivering, then hold him for a few seconds longer. Take him out and warm him again until he returns to life once more. Then your son will be healed without the help of Laura Nathien.”
The Withrika turned and slid slowly to the back of the cave.
“Thank you oh great Withrika,” Wesley called out. “I will do as you have said.” He walked slowly out of the cave, picking his way through the thorns, then climbed back down the hill and returned to the town. He dreaded what he had to do, he dreaded it with all his mind. But in his heart he trusted the Withrika.
Laura left her house early to check on her patient while the sun was still rising. Little Ester Carrock had a dangerous sickness of the blood. Leeches could remove enough of that blood to let his body deal with the rest she knew but his family had not been willing to try that. She could cut him open and drain out blood manually but she didn’t think they’d like that idea either. They wanted some potion or concoction that would magically fix everything but there were none for these kinds of sicknesses. She could delay it though, perhaps she could delay it long enough for his body to deal with it on its own, sometimes that happened. Sometimes.
She walked up to the Carrock’s house and knocked on their door. Trying to compose something to say that would convince them to let her cut open their son. It was so much harder than in the city where people had actually trusted her. How long would it be before they realised that she knew what she was doing?
Wesley Carrock opened the door and looked terrible. He had huge bags under red eyes and his face was stricken with grief and guilt. Her heart dropped, she had seen that look before.
“What happened?” she asked. “Is he okay?” She rushed past into Ester’s room despite Wesley’s half hearted attempts to stop her. She tried to think of what could have happened, Ester still had weeks to live before the sickness worsened enough to kill him and she was confident she could prolong that. She threw open the door and was hit by a blast of heat, there was a brazier on the floor and Ester was wrapped up in rugs and furs and blankets on his bed.
She rushed past the brazier and felt his forehead, it was cold, she couldn’t tell if he was breathing. Wesley came in behind her.
“What did you do?!” she shouted at him. This wouldn’t happen from the sickness, that would only make him hotter, not colder.
“I...” Wesley began but she’d already figured it out. It was a desperate gamble, a last resort she hadn’t ever considered necessary. There were so many other ways that didn’t involve potentially killing the patient.
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“You froze him didn’t you? Cooled him down enough to kill the sickness?”
“I... yes...”
“Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? Is he even still alive?”
“I... I don’t know...” Wesley looked heartbroken and sheepishly looked at the floor. Laura ignored him and frantically listened at Ester’s chest for signs of life. Was he breathing? Was that a heartbeat?
“I... I’m sorry I just...”
Laura shushed him. She listened, and listened some more. There it was, just barely there. The boy’s heart had been strong yesterday despite his sickness, strong enough that he might just pull through.
“He’s alive,” she said and Wesley sagged with relief. “I can save him and the sickness is most likely gone.”
“Th- thank you... I-”
“Never, do this again,” she told him firmly. Then went to work on bringing Ester back to life.
It was many months later that Ayla Merwin slowly climbed up the hill with her walking stick and her bag. Where Wesley had batted aside branches and leaves with ease she moved them gradually aside, her old gnarled arms unable to simply throw them away as Wesley did.
It took her a long time but eventually she reached the thorns and slowly wove her way through them to the cave. This wasn’t the first time she’d been to the Withrika, she’d been once when she was a young girl and had been in love with Glen Merwin. Glen and another girl, Jane, had been madly in love and Ayla had been jealous. She’d spoken to the Withrika and it had told her to introduce Jane to another boy, Beven. Sure enough Jane and Beven had grown happily together and Glen had wound up with her. They’d married and she’d changed her name to become the old matriarch of the Merwin family. That was all a long time ago of course and she sometimes regretted her younger self’s actions, getting involved like that. But it had all worked out in the end and everyone had been happy.
So she kept her secret to herself and thanked the Withrika for getting her what she wanted. Now she was here to do it again.
She entered the cave and the Withrika emerged, fixing her with those thorny holes that it had for eyes. She’d forgotten just how terrified she’d been back then, just how menacing it really was. But she was not a lovesick little girl anymore. She’d been digging in the ground for mushrooms and potatoes her whole life since then, dealing with whatever horrible bugs or worms had crawled up at her. Venturing through the forest and fending off whatever creatures and shadows menaced her and her family. She wasn’t scared of the Withrika, in her heart she trusted it.
“Oh noble Withrika,” she began, as she had all those years ago. “My granddaughter has fallen in love with another woman,” she said. She didn’t wait for the Withrika to respond, she knew it wouldn’t. “While this doesn’t sit quite right with me I maybe would have been willing to overlook it except that it is that terrible doctor, Laura Nathien, with her leeches and her knives. She hasn’t been the same ever since she got back from the city and I don’t like it. I know nobody can prove she killed her mother but I know she did it. I hoped my granddaughter would see what I have seen once she got to know the doctor but she hasn’t. They are getting married in a month’s time and I cannot let it happen. I come to you oh noble Withrika seeking aid as I once did in the past. Can you help me stop this wedding? Can you help me ensure my granddaughter marries someone else and not this doctor?”
The Withrika twisted slowly, its thorns slithering about. It thought for a time, considering what Ayla had said to it. It had watched her grow up and it remembered all those years ago when she had come to it for the first time. It knew she was expecting an answer much the same as then, but it didn’t care about her expectations, it only cared about the question.
“Take a white mountain flower,” it said in its hissing voice. Ayla had forgotten how eerie that was. “There is one growing right now beneath the cliffs of the Turtle Grove, it is white and shaped like a lotus. Do not touch it. Wear gloves, put it in a pouch then take it home to your family. Cook it into a meal and serve it to everyone, your granddaughter, yourself, the doctor if she is there, everyone. That will ensure your granddaughter does not marry Laura Nathien.”
The Withrika turned and slid slowly to the back of the cave.
“Thank you oh noble Withrika,” Ayla said nervously. This was nothing like what she’d had to do last time, this sounded very suspicious. Was she poisoning the doctor, was she poisoning her granddaughter. “Is this flower poison?” she called out as the Withrika disappeared into the shadows.
It stopped and turned slowly to face her, she felt panic now, everyone knew you were only supposed to ask one thing at a time.
“No,” it said, then disappeared. The thorns stopped sliding and hissing and Ayla sagged in relief. She picked her way back out of the cave and set off to find the flower, taking gloves out of her bag on the way.
That night Laura smiled happily to herself as she went to the Merwin’s house. It had been a hard few months trying to fit in, trying to help the various distrustful townsfolk. But Melody had made it all possible. She knew their relationship had just made some people even angrier but it was all worth it. It made her so much happier.
She arrived and was let in to sit at the table with Melody and the rest of her family. She knew much of the family didn’t like her but they were growing warmer, all except Melody’s grandmother of course, she was cold and distrustful through and through. Laura had long since given up trying to win her over.
They chatted and talked about the goings on in the town, Laura had learned long ago that discussing any of her work with these people was a bad idea so she mostly kept quiet. Eventually Ayla Merwin brought out dinner and served it, she seemed happy about something, or at least as happy as she could be, so distrustful all the time. They all began to eat their meal and Laura had to admit it was good, a mushroom stew made from the wild mushrooms the Merwins were so adept at gathering. And despite her dislike of Laura, Ayla was still an excellent cook.
They ate and chatted and the meal moved on but Ayla began to grow quiet. Normally she would talk with her husband or her children but she was quiet this time. Laura didn’t pay her much attention, she usually didn’t, which was a shame, for then she might have recognised the symptoms.
Ayla threw up mushroom soup all over the floor and staggered backwards, tumbling out of her chair. The family rushed to help her but she was twisting and seizing all over the ground. They instinctively went to help which meant Laura had to shove past them, they didn’t look to her for help instinctively which slowed her down. Eventually they remembered who she was and she got to Ayla, lying on the ground.
She began shouting instructions and got some of the stronger men to help her hold her down. She rattled off a list to Melody of things she needed from her place, she didn’t think much about it, she knew what was happening. Only poison acted this fast, she didn’t know who’d poisoned Ayla and she didn’t care but she knew what she had to do.
She had no idea what the poison was so she had to help Ayla fight against it by bolstering her body’s own defenses with strongroot’s leaf, then she’d hopefully have time to make antitoxins for all the common poisons, or at least the fast acting ones.
Melody came back and Laura poured as much strongroot’s leaf down the old woman’s throat as she dared before turning away to begin grinding out the first antitoxin, there were only a few poisons that could do this so she should be able to run through them all relatively quickly.
She poured out a powder into her mortar and pestle and then heard a shout behind her. She spun around to see Ayla’s body convulsing ever more, much worse than she had been before. How had that happened?
She clearly couldn’t breathe so Laura reached for a knife to cut into her windpipe. She reached for her throat but one of the men holding Ayla down, Laura didn’t know his name, batted her aside.
“What are you doing?!” he shouted at her.
“I need to cut into her windpipe so she can breathe! I-”
“You were going to cut her neck open?!”
“Yes it-”
“Lisa never cut people’s necks open?!” the man had tears streaming down his face but he wasn’t backing down.
“Lisa wasn’t trained to do it! Please let me! It’s the only way to-”
“You just made her worse!” someone else said. “Do you even know what you’re doing?!”
“I... I...” Laura tried to stammer out a response but everyone was shouting no one could hear her. She didn’t know what was happening, she didn’t know why the strongroot’s leaf had made things worse, all she knew was that her patient couldn’t breathe and if she couldn’t fix that there wasn’t anything else to be done. She’d thought the family had been growing to trust her a bit more but it seemed like they hadn’t. It seemed no one was going to trust her.
Ayla died of asphyxiation in minutes, she was an old lady and there was no way she could survive the ordeal very long. Laura trudged dejectedly back to her house, all of her supplies gathered up in her arms. As she left she looked at Melody who refused to look at her. They’d all seen it, she’d made Ayla much worse and then tried to cut her throat open. She had ruined everything.
Less than a week later Laura Nathien trudged up the hill. She’d worked it out now but no one would listen to her anyway. Ayla had had an incredible allergic reaction, like nothing she’d ever seen before, and to what she had no idea. It hadn’t made sense considering that mushroom stew was the same as every other mushroom stew the old woman had made, stew she’d been eating her whole life. But it explained why strongroot’s leaf had made things worse, and why no one else had been affected.
So she trudged up the hill to the cave. In the city she’d learned a little about monsters like the Withrika and she’d vowed to never seek its aid. But she had nowhere else to turn to now, so here she was.
She picked her way through the thorns and entered into the darkness. There it was, emerging to meet her.
“Withrika,” she said, she didn’t give it an epithet, she didn’t think it deserved one. “The town shuns me now, my engagement has been broken off, and no one will trust me to help them. You have helped this town before, you’ve protected it from mercenaries and brigands, I ask you now to protect it from itself. Please, can you help me calm their anger? Can you make them tolerate me again?”
The Withrika thought about this before answering in its hissing voice. “Go to the market in the middle of the day, when everyone is there. Climb up on a stage or a box or something tall and address them. Explain yourself, tell them what happened. That will calm their anger, that will make them tolerate you again.”
Laura swallowed her fear, she didn’t want to do that. She wasn’t very good at talking to individual members of the town, never mind crowds, but the Withrika had spoken and everyone knew it was never wrong.
She went back down the hill and into the market. The Withrika watched as she found a crate and then waited until most people were there to trade with each other. They hated her, it saw, they shunned her and some of them threw things at her, but to her credit she climbed up on the crate anyway.
The Withrika watched as it had watched all those years ago when it had been asked to deal with the mercenaries and brigands. It had saved the town as it had been asked. It had saved Ester Carrock as it had been asked. It had stopped the marriage as it had been asked.
It watched as Laura tried desperately to get the crowd to listen to her but they kept shouting over her. It watched as she fought through tears and fear to make herself heard to no avail. It watched as a particularly angry member of the Merwin family picked up a rock and threw it. She hadn’t been trying to hit her, just to scare her. But she hit her anyway.
The Withrika watched as the rock smashed into Laura’s skull and killed her. It watched the horror and grief that spread through the town and it watched as their anger drained out of them. As they regretted everything they’d done and not only tolerated her but wished she were still alive. It didn’t care about the people, it only cared about the question.