NaNoWriMo 2011, Day 18.

Fairies : Mystica and Merlin

Chapter 18 : Healer

It was the 7th night in a row that Mystica stood by the lake. Watching the images of the wolves, and their increasing boldness, in attacking villages. She was very much disturbed by what she saw. But these were wolves. And she was just a fairy. Even if she was a white mage, what could she do to prevent the wolves from attacking villagers. So, she looked into the water of the lake, and she said, “Tell me what to do.”

Nothing happened. Mystica was not surprised. Whisper flew from his perch on the edge of the clearing, and then landed on Mystica’s shoulder, whispering in her ear, “White magic does not instruct you. You instruct it.”

Mystica nodded her head, “I know. But I had to ask. I really don’t know what to do.”

“Young one,” the ancient owl whispered. “Listen to your heart. It will guide you.”

Mystica looked at Whisper. “But I don’t know what to do. I want to help. There must be a way to help. But I don’t know what that way is.”

“Listen to your heart, young white mage. It will guide you,” Whisper repeated. Then he continued on. “But do not listen to your fear. And your anger. They will be your demise.” With those words, Whisper spread his wings, and he took flight. A mere whisper on the wind as he flew across the lake.

Mystica didn’t know what to do. But she knew she had to try. She couldn’t let people continue to die. She couldn’t let the wolves become more and more bold. That would not be right. So she turned to the lake, and closed her eyes. “Show me the village the wolves struck last.” With those words, the mirror like surface of the lake changed. Revealing the image of a village. A village that was morning the loss of a son, and a daughter. And the father’s of both. A third father lay in his bed, in his home. And no one there believed he would life through the night.

The wolves had come. They’d attacked by surprise. Leaping from their hiding places by the edge of the village. Racing toward the small houses that were people’s homes. Trapping two children in a field. Attacking them. Their families had responded. As had several others. Grabbing pots and pans. Even kitchen knives. Grabbing hammers, and whatever else they had at hand. Running toward the wolves. Screaming at the top of their lungs.

They had attacked the wolves. To no avail. The wolves were very fast. And very bold. The best the villagers could do was strike them glancing blows. But the wolves, on the other hand. Used their teeth and claws. And very soon, the fathers of the children that the wolves had captured, and were dragging away, fell to the ground. Covered in their own blood. A third father had fallen. But he was still alive. The villagers had backed away. There was nothing they could do. And the children, were just gone.

“Where is the one that’s hurt?” Mystica asked the waters of the lake. And as had happened on the day she’d left to stand against the soldiers, and stop them, the white magic took flight, sending a ball of white light to guide her through the night to the village of the father that was dieing. Once again, Mystica rode the magic, and a journey that would have taken better than a day, lasted but an hour. The village was due north of the lake. Located by the river that flowed from the lake. In a little clearing.

Mystica flew over the village, then guided herself down, to just above the river. There she used her wings to fly upright, as if she were standing in the air. She floated, just above surface of the water, until she reached the clearing. And there, she softly landed.

The villagers had seen her as she’d flown over them. They’d watched her as she slowly had approached. Making her presence known. A woman, with great sorrow in her eyes, stepped before her, “Who are you? What do you want?”

“My name is Mystica.”

The woman looked her up and down. “A fairy? Here? In the forest? We haven’t seen a fairy here before.” Then she paused. “Why are you hear, fairy?”

“There is someone here that’s hurt. He fought with wolves. And the wolves have injured him.” She looked around, at the other villagers that had gathered before her. “Unless I find a way to help him, he may not live to see the sun again.”

The woman looked a Mystica. Right into her eyes. Then she started to cry. Tears of pain and loss fell from her eyes. “You’re a healer? You can save him?”

“I can only promise that I’ll try.”

The villagers took Mystica to the home of the injured man. As she approached the front door of his home, she could feel the hurt that he was in. She ran to the door, and opened it. And raced inside. Where she stopped to stand beside the man, who was lying on a bed. That’s when Mystica knew that she had to try again to do what she had failed to do before, when her mother’d died. She had to use white magic to try once more to save a life.

She closed her eyes, and placed her hands on the shoulders of the man. Then the villagers watched, as the man became encased in a pure white flame. A flame that didn’t burn in any way. They watched as the wounds upon his face, and arms and hands, that everyone could see, were burned away by the healing power of that flame. They watched as the man’s breathing grew strong, and deep, and steady once again. They watched as the man returned to life, his body fully healed. Until the flame was gone. And the man was sitting in his bed.

Mystica swayed. And then she staggered a few steps, collapsing to her knees on the floor of the room that she was in. Two women took her by the arms, and helped her up. They all but carried her to a soft chair where they sat her down. “Water! Bring water!” they belted out. And from nowhere, water came. A bucket full of it. And a ladle too. So that Mystica could drink. Then they gave her food to eat. But she was so very tired she could not eat much.

The family of the man that Mystica had healed that night, made a place in their home for Mystica to rest. And it wasn’t long at all before Mystica was sound asleep. She slept through the day, and then into the night.

When she woke up, the people of the village thanked her very much. They wouldn’t let her leave until they knew that she was well. And they made her eat a meal with them. They offered her supplies. Food and cloth and thread. For having done what she had done that previous night. And if she had been heading home, she would have accepted them. “I can’t carry this with me. I have to find a way to stop the wolves. Before they strike again.”

The villagers showed her the direction that the wolves had been headed in, as they’d drug away those two children on that day. “I’m sorry for your loss,” Mystica said to them. “I wish I’d have been here to help you save your children from them.”

The villagers packed a small sack with some bread, dried meat, and fruit. “For your journey. You’ll need them.” Then, before she left, the woman that had stood before her the night before, stood before her once again. “You be careful, now. Those wolves are very dangerous.” Then she hugged Mystica. “If you ever come around this way again, please stop in, and visit us, dear friend.”

Mystica flew above the river for an hour or two. Then she found a place up in a tree, where she knew the wolves would not be. And she settled in for the night. She ate some of the bread, and some of the dried meat. It was very good. It had been very kind of the villagers to provide these things to her.

She looked up at the stars, watching how they glistened in the night, like little flakes of diamond, on a black velvet sheet, reflecting the moonlight. It took her some time, but eventually, she drifted off to sleep.

As she slept, she dreamed. And in her dreams, she heard the words that Whisper had whispered to her two days before, “Listen to your heart. It will guide you.” It seemed to her it had. For she’d saved the life of someone that should have died. And that felt good to her indeed.

But then she heard Whisper’s words once more, “But do not listen to your fear. And your anger. They will be your demise.” She wondered what those words he’d spoken to her really meant. And she wondered to what her heart would guide her to do if she found the wolves on the day that was to come.

As she slept that night, she had that nightmare once again. Where the wolves were chasing her. And she couldn’t fly, for one of her wings was broken. She felt the agony again, of her injured wing. The burning pain that’s left by the vicious bite of a hungry wolf. The pain of her bare feet being cut by the rocks upon the ground as she ran with every ounce of strength she had. The burning of her lungs, as they gasped for breath, needing more air that she could take in. She felt the fear that anyone would feel if a pack of hungry wolves was chasing them.

The nightmare never seemed to end. Until the colors of the world began to come to life again, with the rising of the sun. When Mystica woke up. As she sat there in that tree, high above the ground, Mystica knew it would not be long at all before she found the wolves that she was looking for. It would not be long at all before she confronted them. She was very much afraid. Because she didn’t know at all what she would do. She didn’t know at all how to stop the wolves. All she knew was that she had to stop them. That she had to try to find a way.

She sat there, in the tree. And she ate some of the fruit that the villagers had given her. Once she had, she flexed her wings. Then she took to the sky again. Heading north. Looking for the wolves.


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