The townsfolk spotted the procession of carriages, and the cheers were deafening. Indenuel closed his eyes, trying to push down the dread.

Not here to hurt. Not here to hurt. Not here to hurt.

Indenuel peeked an eye open and saw Martin waving out the window of the carriage. The towns were getting larger. The townsfolk waved handkerchiefs; the air alive with movement. Indenuel took a deep breath in then slowly let it out. He pushed back every anxiety he felt and waved out the other window. The carriages moved through the main street. Derio must have known where to go as they pulled up into an inn.

It's fine. It’s fine. It’s fine.

Martin grabbed Indenuel’s wrist, pulling him out of the carriage. Indenuel tried to twist his face into a sincere smile as he waved at the townsfolk. Martin kept a firm grip as the familiar healing power trickled into him and the anxiety ebb away. He waved, trying to keep his face always smiling. The people needed to see a Warrior who wasn’t terrified.

“Hello! Hello my friends! Thank you for your warm welcome into your town!” Martin called.

“Is it true!” a female voice called out. “Has the Warrior been found?”

“As of now, we cannot confirm his position as the Warrior until all the High Elders agree, but that does not lessen my hope! I am confident in the man I chose!” Martin said.

The cheers rose through the crowd again, and Indenuel’s smile froze on his face as he pushed down the desire to dive back into the carriages and hide. Martin squeezed his wrist, and Indenuel waved. The people quieted almost instantly, waiting for him to speak. Indenuel didn’t expect this at all. He cleared his throat as quietly as he could, still hot and sweaty from exercising.

“Hello, good people. I am Indenuel, son of Lucia. I shall do my best to serve you.”

The cheers returned. It was the first time he had ever given his full title and had this kind of reaction. His mind was trying to believe it was for ill purposes, but his heart told him otherwise. These were good people who did not care that his father was unknown to him.

“The Warrior has come!” he heard someone scream in elation. “He has come to save us!”

One woman clutched at her son who was about thirteen, sobbing with joy. Indenuel’s smile unfroze as he looked around the group. He hadn’t noticed it in Tavi. Maybe he had been too self-absorbed and anxious, but he noticed it here. Women, young children, and old men made up the entire crowd. He searched, but the men were nowhere to be found. A lump came to his throat as a woman collapse to her knees, the joy overtaking her. His brain again made him believe it was because Martin was here. People were never this happy to see him. No one had ever shown such excitement because he was here, but he forced himself to believe otherwise. As much as it terrified him, he needed to see this as what it was. These townsfolk depended on him. Mountain Pass had been mostly untouched by the war, but this moment confirmed it. He was the Warrior. He would bring hope to these people, and he resolved to train as hard as he could in order to bring the sons, husbands, and fathers back home.

Martin took a step forward. “My friends! This is truly a joyous occasion! Now, our party is exhausted and tired. We will take lodging in this fine inn you have, but you are more than welcome to stay should you have any requests of us.”

The entire crowd tried to fit into the inn. Workers and townsfolk alike seemed to help with unloading the carriages. Indenuel entered the inn and was given a plate of dinner.

“Thank you,” Indenuel said.

The worker girl simply bowed, trying to hold back her tears.

Indenuel ate where he stood, as Martin did the same. Martin did most of the talking. Somehow Martin managed to eat his dinner while talking nonstop, and Indenuel could do nothing but marvel at his skills of speaking. Once Indenuel finished his plate of dinner, Nathaniel appeared and handed him another.

“You’re going to need it,” Nathaniel said at Indenuel’s confused face.

Indenuel didn’t complain. After all, hunger pains still gnawed at him after the exercises they did. With this second plate of dinner, he became more aware of how he ate. He noticed Martin taking small bites, and Indenuel tried as well. He tried to stop the impulse to shovel it in his mouth. Tried to remind himself that tomorrow the workers would give him breakfast. In fact, if he really wanted, he could get food any time he wished. The thought mystified him.

Martin finished his meal without anyone realizing it and handed it to a worker. Martin smiled at Indenuel. “Are you alright?” His voice was quiet enough that no one else could hear.

“Is it strange to be afraid of so much praise?” Indenuel asked.

“Not at all, my boy. Not at all.” Martin stood closer to Indenuel, smiling at the crowd while still talking directly to him. “You represent something to them. Something you are struggling to come to terms with yourself.”

“Hope?” Indenuel asked.

Martin smiled. “You are starting to see it, then.”

An old man came to Indenuel and fell to his knees, grabbing both Indenuel and Martin’s hands. Indenuel was overcome by the man’s emotions.

“Thank you,” he said, squeezing their hands. “Thank you.”

Martin placed his hand on top. “God be with you.”

Indenuel liked that. It seemed nice. Indenuel smiled at the man. “God be with you.”

Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

The man nodded, tears streaming down his face as he moved away.

“I just don’t want to fail them,” Indenuel said quietly out of the side of his mouth as he finished his second plate of dinner. “All this hope I’m giving them, I’m afraid they will be disappointed.”

“You were born for this purpose, and God will not let you fail. I had come to this town before about a half a year ago. It is completely renewed by your presence,” Martin said.

A woman came up with a year-old child in her arms. Martin’s eyes lit with delight, and Indenuel sensed the wave of homesickness Martin tried to hide. “Hello young one!” The young child stared at Martin. Martin gave a small bow to the child’s mother. “May God grant you help as you continue to be a mother.”

The woman’s face brightened. “Thank you, High Elder Martin.”

Indenuel didn’t know what to say, so he smiled and gave a small bow.

Martin’s voice dropped. “I guarantee we’ve all felt that we will fail in the noble calling given us. It is what keeps us humble and asking help from the one true power. He is the only way any of us will make it.”

The conversation was again put on hold as Martin greeted the next little family without their father. Indenuel smiled, giving a bow, trying not to look nervous. He had a feeling a lot of his and Martin’s conversations were going to be interspersed between seeing people.

“Do you not go by your titles because you are intimidated by them?” Indenuel asked.

Martin smiled before a little girl came up and gave a perfect curtsey. Indenuel and Martin bowed back. Indenuel let himself smile as his thoughts wandered to Isla and Emilia. What were they doing in Mountain Pass right now?

“In the end, none of us are worthy of our titles.” Martin gave Indenuel another smile as he dropped his voice even further. “If I ever feel too overwhelmed with praise, or worry they will start worshiping me, I always direct their praise toward God. He, in the end, is the real reason we are all here. Why we have our gifts. Why you and I have our positions.”

Indenuel gave a small nod. Deflecting praise was something he could do.

Derio appeared, bowing low. “Sirs, a special request.”

A woman in her thirties approached, holding a bandaged hand. Even with the bandage on, Indenuel noticed some fingers missing. He straightened, glancing in Martin’s direction. Martin did not seem concerned about this. The woman bowed low.

“Forgive me, High Elder Martin and Warrior Indenuel. I do not mean any disrespect, but it would be an honor if you could try to heal my hand. The healers in the town were unable,” the woman said.

A soft smile filled Martin’s face. “What happened?”

“A startled horse trampled it. With my husband gone, I do what I can to provide for my aging parents. But now, with my hand twisted as it is, I have no way to provide for them or myself.”

“You and your parents attend church regularly?” Martin asked.

“Every Sabbath,” the woman said.

“Wonderful. And your night prayers?” Martin asked.

The woman nodded, trying to bite her lip to keep a tear back. “Every night, sir.”

“May I see it?”

The woman paused, glancing at the others around her before undoing the bandage. There were quiet gasps as the bandages fell away. The hand was twisted almost beyond recognition. The middle and pointer fingers were missing, and her palm was crumpled in on itself. Indenuel couldn’t help but wince.

Martin delicately touched the woman’s wrist, bringing her closer to look at it. “Quite the accident indeed. One that still gives you pain, no?” The woman nodded, a tear falling down her cheek. Martin smiled as he turned to Indenuel. “Would you like to heal her?”

Indenuel hadn’t stopped staring at the woman’s hand. It was captivating in its own grotesque way. “I can certainly try.”

Martin smiled. “Do what you can, my boy. Your powers are extraordinary, and this woman does her best to come nearer to God every day. I believe the only way this woman cannot be healed is if God Himself does not wish her to be.”

Indenuel cleared his throat, feeling the anxiety start to build. He approached the woman and gave a small bow of acknowledgement that circumstances were forcing him to touch her hand. The townsfolk gathered closer to witness it, and Indenuel tried not to notice them. He took a deep breath, then slowly let it out. He covered her hand in both of his before closing his eyes and disappearing from the inn.

It was pain. The woman never said how long the injury had been, but he sensed it had been over two months. Indenuel saw the accident in his mind’s eye, the darkness of the night, trying to harvest a few crops with the limited help they had. Saw the horse step on her hand not once but twice. Indenuel let out another wince of sympathy.

Indenuel reached deeper, the mutilated bones whimpering, wishing to go back to being whole. All the female healers did their best to try and mend the bones, but the bones didn’t get clear instructions. This was more than a simple break. This was mutilation.

Deeper still, Indenuel focused on one of the fingers in the hand. He touched it, sensing the other fragments of bones that needed to reconnect, sensing their confusion at not being with those they were meant to be with. He called to them, urging them forward. They started forward, then with a quick snap, they were back.

In the inn, the woman gasped from shock and pain. Martin took the woman’s elbow to keep her standing, giving her healing power to ease the pain. Indenuel moved forward with the next bone, touching it, sensing where the other shards of bone were, and snapping them into place. The woman gasped, but not as loud. Martin continued to numb the pain with his power. The palm was expanding as he snapped the last remaining bone together.

Indenuel delved deeper still into the very matter of the bone. While keeping his eyes shut tight, Indenuel touched the base of the woman’s missing fingers. The bones sensed the loss, trying to do their best. Indenuel fueled power into the bones, helping them recall a time in the womb where the bones did grow. The bones were confused, but Indenuel was confident, and they did seem to remember, long ago, they were once able to grow, and quickly. Indenuel forced power into the middle and pointer finger. The bones start to grow from infant size, and Indenuel pushed more power to speed it up. The fingers grew until they matched the age of the rest of the body.

Indenuel opened his eyes. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but he became aware that he was covered in sweat. Indenuel took a deep breath to orient himself back into the room. The woman had tears running down her cheeks. There might have been some from the pain, but the fresh tears were from the lack of it. Indenuel released her hand and everyone in the room gasped. It was as if the accident never happened. Her fingers were restored, her palm full. She wiggled her fingers before she used them to touch her cheeks, to feel the warm tears spilling over them. Indenuel smiled as the woman began to sob.

“Thank you, Warrior,” the woman said. “Thank you.”

Indenuel was again overcome with the emotion showed in another about something he had done. He squeezed her newly healed hand and gave a smile. “May God be with you as you serve your parents.”

She nodded again, backing into the crowd. “Praise God for this day.” The people in the crowd reached forward, trying to touch the hand, all in awe.

Indenuel’s hand trembled as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. Martin stared at Indenuel. Despite what had transpired, Indenuel was more surprised to see awe in Martin’s face. “You truly are one of the most powerful healers I have ever come across,” Martin said.

Indenuel swallowed, realizing exactly what this meant. Martin the Healer, a High Elder, not only praised him for his healing power, but admitted he was one of the strongest. “It is to God I must direct your praise, sir,” Indenuel whispered.

A smile broke across Martin’s face as he chuckled. “Indeed I must, Indenuel.” Martin faced the crowd. “It is through His miracles that I was able to find you at all.”

Indenuel nodded, though he couldn’t help but wonder why God waited nineteen years before alerting the High Elders to where he was. Or why Lucia kept him hidden in the first place.