Chapter 07

Over the weekend I took a day to visit the library situated at Owl’s Ridge. The path up the mountain was dark, yet serene and enthralling. It had to be imbued with mana. Calm and peace infused into my being.

I was content to take my time and enjoy the abundance of blooming flowers and the leaping trellises that supported themselves and formed arches along the way. Massive trees variegated the trail. I found myself putting a hand to some of the biggest ones along the path.

The bark reminded me of the trees back home. They were rough and deeply cracked. The trees I grew up around weren’t nearly as large as these though. Memories popped up as I climbed the steep path. Memories of home and simple times. Like the day we had too many oranges one season, and the family was sticky from head to toe from managing all of them. Hmm, perhaps I should write a letter home while I was at the library.

I came upon the building suddenly. Though it was one floor, it was massive. Grayed lumber was layered in a multitude of cantilevered angles. By design it resembled a large bird’s nest. The entrance was deceptive, nearly hidden between overlapping layers.

The interior was even more astonishing. Wrought iron sconces held floating globs of silver and gold light that cast beautiful pastel prisms across the space. The entrance was small, perhaps the size of my room, with mosaic tilework that formed a circle. The mosaic presented a legendary hero with wings and a flag whose pole was bent to fit the dimensions of the circle. A small heavy wooden desk sat just beyond the circle with stacks of books upon it, a lantern, quills, and a large vial of ink. Ink that was darker than black. Beyond the desk were rows and rows of shelves that climbed all the way to the ceiling and cascaded with books as far as the eye could see. More sconces dotted the ceiling between the rows.

“A visitor,” said a voice without a face.

“Hello?” I said.

“Yes, yes, I see you. Just a moment. I’m up here.”

Up near the ceiling of the last row on the right was a robed man. He descended as though stepping down invisible steps. Arriving at ground level, he straightened his robes, tucked a thin leafy book beneath an arm, and offered me a smile as he approached.

“Why are you here?” he said. It was a simple honest question.

“I’m looking for something I suppose.”

“Are you looking for a book, or are you looking for an answer?”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I’m not sure what it was I was looking for. I just wanted to learn more, but something nagged at me in the back of my mind. It wasn’t an answer I was looking for. It was more of a question that I was looking for. Now, what was that question? Beats me.

“Let’s try a different tactic shall we? I’m Meeloe by the way.”

“Tosin.”

“Enchanted to meet you Tosin. Let’s start with a topic.”

“Well I’m a healer,” I said.

“Let’s start with legends of old then. No better place to start than the beginning aye?”

We walked soundlessly through the library. Rather, Meeloe walked silently while my footsteps brushed a scraping noise on the stone floor. I tried to pick up my feet but I ended up ambling awkwardly past a group of students bent over heaps of books. They looked up and cast raised eyebrows at my odd gait. Awesome.

At last we arrived at a section labeled: Heal, Healing, & Healers. I’m glad the library was well lit and I could vaguely see the sun coming in, down the rows in the distance. Didn’t seem so lonely and cavernous that way, with the lack of windows and all.

“Have you a favorite hero?” Meeloe gestured with a straight bony finger at a row of books. “They begin here. Healers tools and items begin there, and more information and history are chronicled here. There’s a table and chair just over there. Come find me if you need anything else.”

I gave my thanks and perused the titles after Meeloe left me. I took my time and eventually settled on a tome titled: Axthose: Healer Gourd Master.

“One of the greats,” I whispered. “A legendary healer.”

In the next hour I was transported through the literature chronicling the legendary hero. Axthose was a son of the desert, reared by a pit of mammoth snakes. Throughout his life he refused to speak of his time prior to living with the snakes.

“They salvaged me and swept me in with kindness. They saved some portion of my self from slipping slowly into sudden despair,” Axthose was quoted as saying.

The pit of snakes abandoned him in the city of Roffiy that wavers mirage-like on great red dunes. There, he was taken in by Amelithe, another legendary healer. Under her eyes born of cold gold light, Axthose was reintroduced to humankind. Entranced and awed by his mentor’s skills, Axthose followed in her footsteps, entering the guild and traveling the healer’s path.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

He lost two members of his party on a particularly grueling dungeon run and never forgave himself for failing his comrades.

“Search some sovereign forsaken state of sand for signs of said failure: Axthose. As my associates have succumbed to their passing rest, the same I shall suffer. That is my demise,” he was said to have shouted to angry skies that were filled with leaping green auroras.

The world had moved on without trouble. Those who doubted Axthose were not surprised at his disappearance. Those who loved him were left heartbroken.

“Amelithe,” the author alleged, “Went on to speak less and less. She was burdened with the sadness from losing Axthose. He was wounded, she said. A wound even she could not heal. When pressed, she spoke on matters of the heart, where the most insidious wounds fester long enough to tarnish the soul.”

Amelithe soon suffered too much of a broken heart and she took flight on silver wings, bearing her mother’s flag called Aniita Heartroot: a reg flag bordered with red and silver blessings.

Axthose returned soon after her departure with Amelithe dead in his arms. “She was such a breath past my healing’s salvation,” he is said to have muttered, more heartbroken on returning than having suffered when he left.

The author then went on to list several rumors circulating Amelithe’s death: She was overcome by exhaustion from sweeping the desert, and fell into a den of giant worms that attacked her; she was struck by a strike of lightning and plummeted just beyond Axthose’s reach, and he could not arrive in time; she perished without food and water and Axthose could not heal that suffering; and many more. They were all rumors.

Axthose would never speak again and he dedicated the rest of his days to learning and developing items that could deliver grand amounts of healing in a singular instant. Inspired by the gourd laden Ficurbita trees of the desert, he invented the Gourd of Healing. The master Gourd--the original healing Gourd from which all others were descended--is estimated to have cost him nearly 700,000 permanent mana points. Axthose and his master Gourd of Healing went missing nearly two decades after Amelithe’s death. On that fateful anniversary, from the midst of hundreds of thousands of people who visited Amelithe’s final resting place, Axthose was never seen again.

For the remainder of the day I couldn’t get Axthose and his heartbreak out of my head. I wasn’t able to borrow the book, so I planned on returning next weekend to pursue my own curiosities. Even well into lessons the next day, my mind was still preoccupied with the legend of Axthose.

“Everything alright?” Pelle asked with a hand on my arm.

“Yea, just daydreaming I guess.”

“Well pay attention, we’re about to go over some important stuff!”

“Does everyone have a scroll?” Garmar said, rubbing his hands together in excitement. He carefully surveyed the students until he was satisfied.

“This scroll is called Healing Lens. It offers a permanent modification to your mana bar. I’d like you all to fulfill the mana cost to cast the scroll spell please.”

I unrolled the scroll and a large pair of runes decorated the bottom half of the scroll. One rune had a numer 5 below it, and the other had a 10 below it. I expanded my mana until it formed into a ring. Flashes of perpetual blue from all the mana bars cast the chamber in underwater colors. The crinkling of scrolls under duress filled the space. I watched the runes glow fiercely until the mana cost was fulfilled. The scrolls erupted in slow moving invisible fire. Then they evaporated into ash. The ash evaporated into wrinkles of air. The wrinkles of air fizzled out in fathomless sparks.

“Continue to maintain your mana bar!” Garmar said.

The ring of mana had substantially decreased, leaving less than half a circle floating in the air. My mana was now down to 9 points. Everyone else’s mana bar was in the same state as well: only a fraction left. Then a small circular red bar the size of a fist showed up on the bottom left of the ring.

“There we are!” our trainer said. “That is your health bar! Now you can see how you are faring. To see what your comrades' health is at, simply put them in the sight at the center of your mana bar. A second, third--and so forth--number of rings will show up.”

As we turned to regard each other, red circle’s began to pop up indicating people’s health bars. Pelle and I dissolved into laughter as we put each other in the sights of our mana bars.

“Alright, please end your flow of mana,” Garmar said. “We don’t have much time! You will be assigned a new healer’s tool to acquaint yourself with for the next dungeon run! Are you ready to hear what it is?”

Before we could respond, Garmar was overwhelmed with excitement and he thrust a red potion out in front of him. The deeply red liquid sloshed about inside.

“Pyrrhon’s Healing Potions! These delicious potions have a long history of use among adventurers. It was first termed: The Pocket Healer, and has since been called by the simple moniker: potion; also health potion, or healing potion.”

“Are we doing duos again,” someone asked. “I think we should do trios at least. I was literally bored last time!”

“Not duos this time, no. You will in fact be teaming up in trios.”

Pelle was thrilled, as was everyone else. I had to admit I was excited too. However, part of me was nervous. I didn’t have that much Dust of Life left, and I had no idea how we would incorporate potions into the adventure. Healers now had one extra person to account for. Dust of Life was at least something you could easily cast over the whole party at once. Potions were different.

“How many do we get?” I asked, pointing to the potion still held aloft in front of Garmar.

“You will have a limitless supply for the remainder of the week so you can practice, leading up to the dungeon run,” he said. “For the dungeon run, you will have a maximum of 10 potions. It is up to you how you want to incorporate these items into your party. You’ll have to decide whether to share them beforehand, safeguard them, or trade them for potential loot. All those decisions are tactics that you must navigate with your trio.”

“What happens if we run out in the dungeon?” Pelle said.

“Well, then you better be careful after running out. You could be one of the first students your trainers would have to rescue this year. We don’t like burying young students. It leaves a bad taste in the mouth.”

“Any clues on what to expect in the next dungeon?” A student asked.

“Maybe a thousand Kefvolo, like the boss you all faced last week! No, I’m joking. That’s for you to decipher on your own. That’s enough for today. Good luck on your training for the rest of the week. We’ll meet again tomorrow and continue with lessons. In the meantime, I’m sure the rogues, warriors, mages, and even anciennes will be in need of healing while they train. I’m sure you’ll be kept quite busy getting to know your new methods of healing.”