Unknown Date - Unknown Location
One moment he had been in his manor, the next he awakened on a hard stone floor. There was a definite odor of brimstone about the strange dark cavern he was in. His dark brown eyes, nearly black, couldn’t make out anything. He reached for the possibility that there was light, the action was as instinctual and familiar as breathing.
He reached for it, but it wasn’t there.
His antennae quivered as he took a deep breath through his nose. He could sense the Weave, hell he could almost smell it, but he couldn’t touch it. He focused, trying to see it with eyes that had once seen it as clearly as his own hands. He held up his hands before his face, unable to see even them in the pitch darkness that surrounded him.
There were others out there, he could sense them breathing. He couldn’t tell from the breathing patterns the identity of the bodies surrounding him or even if they were like him. He rose to his feet, stumbling for a moment before he gained his balance. His body felt stiff, as though he had slept an impossibly long time in an uncomfortable position. He tried to use his wings to steady himself, but they didn’t respond, instead pain ripped through his body and he cried out. He heard groans as some of the others began waking. Surely someone would be able to reach the Weave.
28 Harvest, 385 - Grey Woods, Charan
She had hounded the heels of the abominations herding her people northeast toward the Baka Nekru for two days, but the morning of the third she was too feverish to continue. The wound in her leg was infected, hot to the touch, red at the edges, and oozing a foul smelling pus. She watched from the top of the tree she had climbed with agonizing care as the last of her people slipped from sight beneath the canopy. Far below, on the forest floor, the gold horse waited, but he was no more healer than she. In their flight back northeast, the abominations had passed through two other tribal villages, both destroyed and void of any other sylvans.
Alessandra was deep in the Grey Wood, far from anything resembling civilization, wounded and ill. Her eyes ached, though she was unable to tear them away from where she had last seen her people. There had been hope in her, until this moment, that she would somehow come up with an idea, a plan, and save them. Or she would find some hero wandering in the wood and together they would save her people. As she watched the brush they had passed through still, that hope within stilled.
No one was coming. There was no salvation. The Gods would not interfere. Whatever the abominations had planned for the sylvans, they would go about that plan unimpeded. There was a yawning emptiness that opened within Alessandra as she tore her gaze from those still leaves and began to slowly and painfully climb down the tree. Her people, her family was gone. The abominations had burned the spirit hut and destroyed the connection to her ancestors. The Gods hadn’t listened to any of the many prayers she had uttered, or if they had they had made no answer.
That left only Alessandra herself and Nuk. A young woman, barely of age, and a gentle palomino. Her brown eyes burned and she wished she could cry, but tears no longer came. She climbed up onto Nuk’s back, holding on tightly, and was grateful she didn’t have to walk under her own power. If she had, she wouldn’t have even made it this far.
“I think we’ll have to go to the Treeless Plains.” She told the horse in gentle tones. “And quickly.” There would be pain, but there had been pain for days now. She urged the gold horse forward and braced herself against the throb of her leg with every step. Soon, there were dark spots in her vision that seemed to breathe in time with Nuk’s step, brightening and growing bigger every time. She spoke to the horse again, the soft syllables of the words gentle and pleading. He snorted in response and tossed his head.
Nuk wouldn’t fail her, she told herself, she just had to hold on. Alessandra tied herself to the girth netting and leaned against his sturdy neck. Sleep took her almost as soon as she relaxed her guard.
30 Harvest, 385 - Greysdale, Hartlund Plains, Charan
It was the voices that awakened her.
“Oi! What’s this then?” A man, not unfriendly, just startled.
Nuk snorted beneath her and stomped one hoof.
“Whew! Ye smell ‘at?” Another man, younger than the first.
Alessandra groaned and tried to open her eyes. Open or closed, it made no difference, all she saw was darkness.
“Is it injured?” A woman, gentle.
“Th’orse? Na.” The first one again.
“No ya great dolt, the sylvan on its back. Ya blind?” The second one.
“Ah. I couldnae see it in the dark, ye ken?”
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“Blind.” Spat the second man. “Want me to help get it down so we can take it ta Lorelai?”
“The horse likely won’t let you.” The woman said, “I’ll walk him over.”
“On you then, Cord.” The first man said.
Alessandra still couldn’t force her vision clear. She tried to force words from her throat, but all that came out was a groan.
“Rest easy, stranger. I’ll get you to the healer.” The voice was coming closer. “It’s alright, love. You’ve done your best with your friend, I’ll help you from here on. That’s right, love, one hoof in front of the other.”
Beneath her, Nuk was moving unsteadily, his hooves fairly dragging on the ground.
“It’s not far now, precious. We’ll get you there and I’ll help your friend down. Then while Lorelai sees to them, I’ll make sure you get a little water and a bite to eat. It looks like you’ve run yourself near to death. How far did you have to carry your friend to bring them here? Hmm?”
The horse blew out a breath, almost like a sigh.
“Oh, love, it’s just a little further. I know you’re tired. You can put down your burden soon.”
At last, the horse stopped. Alessandra heard a sharp rap on a door then a murmur of low voices. Then the woman was back. “Easy now, love. Let’s get your friend down and into Lorelai’s.”
A much older voice joined, “It looks like she’s strapped to his back. I’ll undo the strapping on this side.” Nuk tossed his head and the older voice spoke soothingly to him. “Such a good friend you are, bringing her all this way. I’ll take care of her now. Cordelia will see to you. There’s a good man.”
The two women lifted Alessandra off the tall horse’s back and carried her into the warmth of Lorelai’s home. She could finally make out some small amount of light. It must be dark outside. She tried again to speak, but she couldn’t form the words.
“Be easy young one.” Lorelai said as Cordelia helped her lay the sylvan down. “See to the horse, young lady.”
Alone in her home with the injured sylvan, she began stripping away the poor woman’s clothes. “What happened that you ended up here, hmmm?” She spoke to her patient though she was fairly certain that the sylvan was unconscious. “Some of the best healers in the land are sylvans, it’s not uncommon for our people to go there for healing. So why is an injured young sylvan coming to old Lorelai.”
The young sylvan groaned and thrashed a bit as the old woman began cleaning her up with soap and warm water. “Maybe you can hear me. It’s alright now, I’ve got you. Let’s just see about your injuries.”
As she washed the dirt away, Lorelai couldn’t help but hiss out a breath. “Oh, dear child, you are absolutely covered in bruises and scrapes. What have you been up to?” The girl was blazing with fever and had two large wounds festering with infection. “Oh, my dear sweet child, t’would be better if you weren’t conscious for this.” She stepped away from the table and began gathering supplies. “This is going to hurt, sweetie. I daren’t give you anything for the pain just yet, you’re in too fragile a state.” She glanced over her shoulder at the restless form of the sylvan.
“Truth be told,” she thought, “there might night be anything I can do for you at all, child.”
She smoothed her apron and took a few deep breaths. She had always wanted to be a healer as a child. It had only taken a single day of training to understand that healing meant causing pain almost as often as it meant curing it. Her rounded shoulders slumped for a moment and she sighed. “Cry out if you need to, I understand.”
She started cleaning the wounds, as gently as she could, first with a clean cloth. Then she flushed it with water first and then a variety of tinctures. It seemed like the sylvan had taken a bath in mud and stuffed grasses in the wounds for good measure. The sylvan whined and struggled against the cleansing.
The wounds were deep, as was the infection. Lorelai worked for what felt like an eternity, eventually getting to a point where she felt comfortable using magic. “The worst of it’s over, my dear.” The sylvan had stopped moaning at some point, but she seemed to still be aware, even if she was too weak to respond. “Let’s get you healed up as good as new, then in the morning we can talk.”
Lorelai reached for the Weave, it was never far, and felt its power course through her. She breathed deeply and pulled on the life-giving forces that were part of the Weave. She could feel the bare earth beneath her bare feet warm and steady her as she drew the very essence of earth into her spirit. Stretching out her hands, the old woman laid one on either side of the grievous leg wound. She breathed steadily as she let the life-giving force flow through her and into the sylvan on her table. Still touching both the weave and the young woman, she reached for the possibilities within the Weave and focused on bringing the young woman’s damaged flesh to match the possibility of healing. A potion would have caused more pain while healing the damage, a lesser healer would have left a permanent scar. Lorelai’s once-brown eyes glowed green as she pulled the very spirit of the earth and the essence of the Weave and forced both to do her bidding.
The magic flowed through Alessandra like exquisite liquor, a welcome warmth that chased the chill of her fever away. She could feel the green-spirit within her, coaxing her body back to health, dragging her from the downward spiral of infection and rot. It was a balm against the agony that the healer had caused before. She could actually feel her wounds closing, the infection dying out, her fever breaking. Blessed, peaceful, sleep overtook her.
When Lorelai released the magic, she breathed another deep sigh, letting herself relax. The sylvan would live. She watched the girl for a long moment as she slept, a soft snore escaping her before she rolled to her side. Lorelai covered the sylvan in a warm blanket, but left her on the table. The old woman smiled as she bustled about her home, putting on a small pot of porridge so that it would be fully cooked and ready in the morning. She was more curious by the moment what had happened to the sylvan girl and how she had ended up in Greysdale. The sylvan settlements were usually deep in the wood, well out of sight of what they called the Treeless Plains.
The old healer checked on her patient one last time before she prepared to go to bed herself. Such weavings always wore Lorelai out and she was no spring chicken anymore. She glanced at herself in the small steel mirror she kept, noting that her face was more wrinkle than not these days. After brushing out her hair she settled in for what she knew would be a restless night. Hopefully she could get some answers in the morning.