Judith Mercer, the once First Merchant to the Lord Draycott was walking around the grounds of the monastery that Wayte had brought her to. She couldn’t remember much of the night before, only two things remained strong in her mind; Dmitri telling her that she was infected, and the second was that she had stumbled to the chapel at the monastery and had called upon Uriel. Other than that, everything was fuzzy; she had awoken stiff and sore, parched almost beyond belief. She walked back and forth across the courtyard to relieve the tension and ache she felt, trying to think of a way to rebuild her business, it was best not to dwell on what had happened last night; trying not to think on how no one had heard from Uriel, let alone Wayte or either Claudia or Dmitri. Her train of thought was brought to an abrupt halt as she heard a commotion in another area of the gardens. Rushing in that direction, she arrived to find feathers drifting to the ground and a group of monks huddling around something. Through a gap in the monks, she could make out a part of a cloak that she recognised as Dmitri’s.
“Dmitri!” she cried out and rushed over, pushing past the monks. To her horror, she saw that Dmitri’s chest was covered in blood, an arrow protruding from his chest, and not only that, it appeared that both Wayte and Claudia were wounded as well, Wayte with a slash along his side and Claudia an arrow in her stomach.
Standing over them was a figure so magnificent that Judith was surprised that she hadn’t seen him first. It was Uriel, his golden robes and silver breastplate shining, his face obscured by the hood he wore.
“Abbott”, he spoke, the voice was distant and hollow, yet filled with such power and authority. “I can sustain them indefinitely, but you will have to heal them. Do Claudia first, I have much to discuss with her.”
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The Abbott bowed deeply to Uriel and he and a few other monks carefully carried Claudia apart from Wayte and Dmitri. The monks began to chant, a sound that reverberated throughout Judith’s entire body. A monk seemed to spot her then, and with a gesture that implied that she do as he asked, led her away from the chanting monks. Walking away, she turned back to see that Claudia was enveloped in a large glowing aura.
Claudia opened her eyes to see a gaggle of kindly old men standing over here.
“How do you feel?” asked one of the men in her native tongue.
“I’m fine,” she replied in English and tried to sit up, but some of the men were holding her down.
“Are you sure?” asked the same man as before.
Confused, she began to repeat that she was fine when the old man held up a blood covered arrow, “We removed this,” he said gently without accusation.
In a flash, everything that had happened came crashing back, “Dmitri!” she cried.
The old man put a hand on her shoulder, “Rest child, you cannot exert yourself so soon.”
She ignored his request and began to struggle against the hands holding her down.
“Please,” requested the old man, “calm yourself, your friend Dmitri is fine. You have a great benefactor to thank for that,” he indicated beyond her.
Craning her neck, Claudia was able to see a golden glow, but no more. “If I promise to be calm, will you let me up?” she asked.
His response was to look in askance towards the golden glow. “You may rise Claudia,” came the voice, it was hollow and deep, yet filled with something that Claudia couldn’t put a name to. The hands restraining her withdrew and she sat up and turned towards the golden glow. Her mouth fell open as she took in the figure that was Uriel; his golden robe and silver breastplate, while marred by patches of blood, still glowed with an unearthly light.