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She saw the smoke first. It appeared as a specter on the
horizon, tainting the clear blue sky Tanja had enjoyed as the caravan
rode towards Gromhaven. “Perhaps it is for the better,” she thought out
loud. “What right have I to be happy when so many are sick and dying?”
Then, in a louder voice, she cried, “Smoke ahead!”
Eledan, one of the escorts sent to accompany the rag-tag band of
healers on their mercy mission, pulled his horse up alongside of her.
“It is most likely from a mass pyre, m’lady. It is not uncommon, in a
village such as Gromhaven where a disease has struck, for the citizens
to burn the bodies of the dead. Thus they hope to destroy the foul
contagion which has ravaged them.”
“Of course, I should’ve thought of that,” Tanja apologized.
“That is quite alright, we are better safe than sorry.” He
paused for a moment to study the healer now riding alongside of him. Her
face was drawn and creased with more lines than it should have been, for
one as young as she. Although not tall, she carried herself stiffly,
giving the appearance of height. Following the shape of her body
downwards from her face, framed in golden curls, to her shoulders,
draped in a plain cotton robe, Eledan began to recognize her type. The
knuckles gripping the horse’s reins tighter, growing whiter, as they
approached the village, gave her away. “This is you first expedition,
m’lady?”
Tanja blushed. “Is it that obvious?”
“For one who knows what to look for, and has seen those eager
eyes on the faces of a hundred before you.”
“You speak like a battle-hardened veteran, reliving days of
grandeur from behind an ale mug. Yet you are still a young man.” Indeed
he was. Eledan could not have been more than 25, and by his build a
stranger would expect younger. Though large, muscle was just beginning
to grace his young arms, and the light armor he wore seemed almost too
much of a strain for such a body.
“Young in years, but wise beyond mine. In fact, this is one of
the least dangerous missions I’ve undertaken recently. Out here the
worst we could run into are highway bandits or wild animals. Neither
particuarly frightens me.” His words more than his actions drew Tanja’s
gaze to his large sword. It hung from his waist in a beaten scabbard,
made of leather long ago cracked and pitted. The handle itself, however,
was well cared for. Some signs of age showed through, but the metal
gleamed and the handle looked comfortable enough, perfectly matched to
the warrior’s large hands.
“Out here, perhaps. But within the town are horrors far more
unspeakable. This may be my first mercy mission, but I’ve seen the
devestation of disease before, and it is much more difficult to fight
than drunken thieves or hungry wolves.”
“In that way you are correct, and that is why I leave the
diseases to the healers. I am here to protect you from that which your
herbs cannot.”
Tanja was a bit put out by this. A scowl creased her beautiful
features as she rebuked him. “Just because I am a healer does not mean I
am weak. And I have alot more than herbs to protect myself AND to heal
the sick. My magic is considerably stronger than yours, no doubt.”
“Of course, m’lady, I meant no offense.” Eledan rode ahead of
her again, and left Tanja wondering if that was what she wanted.
It was several hours more before they reached the first houses.
Tanja rode near the back of the group, watching to see how the more
experienced healers would handle the situation. From the looks of it,
the village contained maybe fifty buildings, not all of which would
contain people. Figuring on four to five people who would live in the
small shacks, she expected to see a population of just over 200 people.
Of course, if the dreaded Pestilence had really come to the town, that
number could be much lower. By comparison, there were nine healers, four
bodyguards, and three servants. Of the healers, Tanja and a man she had
not yet met were the only ones to be experiencing their first mission of
mercy, but many of the others were very inexperienced.
As Tanja analyzed the situation, she saw a young man approach
Vera, the leader of the healers. His hair was long and matted, falling
in dirty strands across his gaunt face. What little clothes he wore were
dirty and torn. His face was smeared with mud and streaked by tears. He
looked like he had been to hell and back, and if he had the Pestilence
that would not be too far off the mark. Vera did not seem put off by his
appearance, and made no move to avoid coming in contact with him.
Instead, she asked, “How many left alive?”
“Six.” The word pierced Tanja’s heart. Only six survivors? Not
even the Pestilence was known to be that deadly, if proper measures were
taken. If, on the other hand, they were not, then this man was probably
afflicted himself. Why wasn’t Vera being more cautious?
The response seemed to surprise Vera as well, but she made an
effort not to show it. “How many left alive afflicted?”
“All but me. It has been hard, but I have made no effort to help them, and have thus avoided the disease.”
“Then who has burnt the bodies in the pyre? We saw your smoke
miles away.”
“Another man still left alive. His body is strong enough in
magic that he had fought off the crippling until last night. During a
trip to the pyre, he simply collapsed, and cannot stand. So now there is
no one to carry the bodies to and from the pyre, or bring water and food
to the sick. My sole job is to be sure none enter the village and thus
contract this foul contagion.” As an afterthought, he added, “I must
thank you for coming. We hope you will be able to help those who are
left.”
“We will do what we can. I will need to speak with you about the disease in a moment. Do not worry, my men will stand guard over the
village in your stead. First, though, we must bring these healers to the
sickhouse, if you will lead the way.”
The man’s face fell even further, although Tanja hadn’t imagined
that to be possible. “There is no sickhouse. I only know that Dioren,
the mage I spoke of earlier, felt the aura of life around only four
others besides ourselves. None of us are sure which are alive, or where
they are. I can take you to Dioren’s body, but in his current state he
will be of little use to you.”
With a sigh, Vera turned to face those who had accompanied her.
“Okay, here’s the situation. Whatever has come through here is worse
than the Pestilence.” Several healers who hadn’t already deduced this
gasped. “We’ve got six survivors from a town with a population that was
once almost 300, and we’re about to lose another one. I am going to
speak to this man here and try to determine what has happened. In the
meantime, I want Tanja, Galian, and Forde to administer aid to Dioren.
The rest of you search the streets and huts for survivors. The disease
is not carried by the breath, or this man would be showing sings of it
by now, so you will be safe if you refrain from touching them with your
bare skin. Good luck, everybody.”
During the speech, the healers had dismounted and now stood
ready to carry out their orders. Tanja met Galian, the other
inexperienced member of the expedition, and Forde, who had seen more
diseased bodies than he cared to, along with Vera and the man from the
village. Together, they followed him through the filthy streets.
The first few homes they had passed were shacks, but at least
had an entire roof, and were clean enough inside. As they carried on
deeper into the village, however, the squalor of its inhabitants became
apparent. The streets were wet with mud, so deep in some places as to
steal the boot of an unwary traveller. Homes were filthy, in some cases
bloody, and many had large holes in their structure. Here and there a
body lay strewn by the side of the road, its skin pocked and blackened
by disease, and scarred beyond recognition. Without realizing it, Tanja
found she had become surrounded by the stench of death.
It had permeated her clothes and skin clinging to her like a
child at its mother’s breast. Greedy for more, it threatened to suck the
very life from her soul, and absorb it into the air around her.
Shivering, Tanja tried to banish such dark thoughts, but this proved to
be a difficult undertaking. There was nothing happy to focus on, her
senses were bombarded. Smoke from the pyre they must be nearing blotted
out what rays of sunlight the clouds had missed. All around her, in the
streets, in their homes, were bodies in various stages of decay. The air
itslef was thick with death, leaving its terrible aftertaste in her
mouth, leaving her skin cold and clammy.
The villager (Why hadn’t Vera asked his name?), stopped at abody
which looked more dead than some of those Tanja had passed. Were his
head not coated in sweat, she would have taken him for dead. As it was,
though, a sheen of sweat graced his brow and accentuated the receding
hair line she hadn’t expected to see on one as young as he. Much like a
cadaver, this sick man’s cheek bones showed clearly through the nearly
translucent layer of skin which wrapped his thin frame. His skin was
intermittently assailed by blotchy patches of black, like bubbles in a
hot vat of oil. The only movement Tanja could recognize was the slight
rising and falling of his stomach, bloated by hunger and over-exertion.
Patches of blood outlined his body, where boils had exploded and
deposited their fluids in the mud-mixed-with-sewage which flowed through
the streets of Gromhaven. “This is Dioren,” stated their guide, although
Tanja had already gathered as much.
Vera turned to her associateds. “Give him what help you can, and
try to bring him to consciousness. I must speak to our guide for a
moment. Remember, do not touch his bare skin to yours, and avoid the
fluids in the street as well. Tanja had every intention of doing so
before she was warned.
As the healers turned to assess the the sick mage’s condition,
Tanja asked the question which had been bothering her for a while. “Why
hasn’t Vera asked for this man’s name yet?”
Forde answered her, “It is doubtful he will survive. It is
harder to lose them when they have a name.” With that, he solemnly
turned to his work. “Galian, wet this cloth, we must fight his fever.
No, don’t use water from the well,” he cautioned as the young healer
began to stand. “It may contain the disease. Use your canteen. Tanja,
what kind of feeling are you getting from him. How sick do you think he
is?”
She bowed her head for a moment, allowing her magic to assess
the mage’s condition. “His life force is very strong, but it has been
over-exerted. His body will be able to fight the disease if he gets the
rest he needs. However, he will not in his current state.”
Galian placed the cool, damp cloth on the sick man’s searing
forehead. At this, his finger’s twitched. “He moved!” cried the healer
excitedly.
“That is good,” began Forde. “Now, cast the Healing Salve.”
Galian paused, gathering the mana he would need, then placed his
hands slightly above the patient’s chest. A blinding white light flared
from them, and surrounded the body with a warm glow. The eyelids
fluttered and opened slowly, breaking the salty crust of sweat and tears
which had formed around them. At the sight of the smiling healers
gathered around him, Dioren smiled weakly. “Thank you,” he rasped from a
throat sore and parched from the disease, and dehydration.
“You are thirsty?” asked Galian, reaching for his canteen.
Forde, seized his wrist as he did so. “You forget he has some
form of the Pestilence. Wet a fresh rag, and squeeze the water into his
mouth. That’s it, slowly. Too much will make his stomach sick.”
Dioren’s face relaxed sonsiderably as he felt the cool liquid
moisten his pasty tongue and parched throat. “You will be all right,”
Forde assured him, “Your body is strong in magic. You need only get some
rest. Soon, you will be able to walk to your home, and then your
recovery can truly begin.”
The young mage parted his cracked lips to speak, but the elder
healer stopped him. “You must not, it will waste your energy and sap
your strength. We will wait and attend to you until you are able to
reach your home.”
“That won’t be an option.” The three healers turned to see Vera
standing behind them. “His home may be ridden with disease. We will
carry him to our wagon.”
Tanja started at this revelation. ”Will that not contaminate our
camp with the Pestilence?”
“If he had the Pestilence, it would. However, from speaking with
Rold here,” she gestured to the man who had greeted them earlier, “I
have determined he does not. Whatever he has is worse, but it is not
contagious.”
“Not contagious?” Tanja wondered aloud. “Then how did it wipe
out 300 people?”
“We aren’t sure yet. Hopefully, if we look at the other
survivors, it will provide some clue as to the cause of this foul
disease, and how it is being spread. I assure you, however, that it will
be perfectly safe to carry the mage here back to our camp and care for
him there. We will do the same with the other survivors as they are
located. We will wait here with Dioren until Rold returns with one of
the bodyguards.