The War of Odds (10 page)

Nate discovered, to his dismay, that the dwarves were unbelievable quick, painfully strong and quite unfriendly. He was given a small tent in the dwarf encampment, just outside of Sylvan’s village. The first day of training started with being physically snatched out of his pallet by four sturdy young dwarves, hauled out to the fire pit and dumped unceremoniously on the ground.

Two sticks were tossed in his direction and the fierce little general known as Fang growled, “Your training begins now…”

What followed was the worst beating Nate ever received. He had used the sticks as well as he could under the onslaught, but he was no match for the dwarves, who took those same sticks and beat him black and blue. The fact that the dwarven soldiers were not even half his size, made the young man feel both ashamed and furious.

The murder of his dog Mike, however, kept Nate focused. He was determined to do whatever it took to stop evil like that from spreading. He took his beating with a smile, and so much courage that the dwarves couldn’t help but be impressed. Three weeks had passed since that first horrible night of testing by the fire-pit, and now Nate was holding his own in the training field.

He learned to hold his sticks high and to stab downward when attacked, rather than swing wildly and miss his target more often than not. Whenever he did manage to deliver a blow to one of his attackers, cheers and hoots of praise filled the encampment, even as jeers of scorn rained down on his victim.

Sara sometimes spied on Nate and his trainers, when she was granted the rare rest period between physical and mental training. To her eyes, Nate looked like a young prince from a book of fairy tales. His long, dark brown hair fell in sweaty ringlets past his shoulders, and his young body, although covered in scrapes and bruises was lithe and beautiful. His skin was turning dark brown from the sun and his teeth gleamed brightly in either a smile of joy or a grimace of pain.

She was surprised to hear that the dwarves had set upon Nate the second night of his training and removed his braces, claiming that the metal in the boy’s mouth was not only negating their magic, but sapping Nate’s growth as well. Over time, the dwarves had grown fond of the boy, and were determined to bolster his defenses and his ability to win in close battle, even if it killed him.

Well,
Sara sighed softly,
it certainly isn’t killing him.
Looking over her shoulder, she saw Muriel step outside and look around for her missing pupil. Sara sighed again, this time in dread. There were two aspects of her training, the physical and the mental. Of the two methods, the mental was far more painful and emotionally draining.

There were a thousand things to learn about the fae, and a thousand different types of faeries to memorize. She learned about Slyphs (water faeries of all kinds) and pixies, Pookas and gnomes, Kelpies (evil water horses) and the Djin, (belligerent faeries of fire) and much, much more. If she was unable to describe each and every one of her assignments to Muriel’s satisfaction, she would be severely reprimanded. If that wasn’t hard enough, there was her own, personal, training to contend with.

Muriel was teaching her how to be a healer. The nymph showed her how to concentrate her psychic energy and build it up, like water in a dam, before letting it flow through her fingertips to heal the wounds of others. She was ordered to heal rabbits, birds, worms and deer. Sometimes she did very well, earning a smile from Muriel, and an exclamation of gratitude from the creature itself. Other times, however, she would cause more pain than necessary for the patients, and cause herself hurt in the process.

The nymph was not a patient being and whenever Sara messed up, she would lay her stick across the girl’s back as punishment. The thrashing was never prolonged though, as usually the girl was too sick from absorbing her patient’s injury
. A good healer learns to shield herself against the pain of others,
Muriel admonished, time and time again;
a great healer never feels her patient’s pain… NEVER!

Muriel taught Sara how to hold her hands up like nets to catch the pain of others, and how to roll the pain and sickness into a ball and toss the ball of pain away, like rubbish. She asked the girl to envision herself in a long gray cloak, a cloak that was impenetrable against attack and impervious to pain and illness.

Finally, the nymph inflicted pain on Sara, and ordered the girl to heal herself. Muriel stabbed Sara’s hands with long thorns, and burned Sara’s arms and feet with coals from the fire. She grinned maliciously, even as she washed blood and tears away from her student’s face and body
. A good healer never lets injury interfere with her gift!
 
Muriel hissed as Sara sobbed.

At first, Sara could not figure out how to turn her powers inward. The river of healing
 
seemed designed to flow out and into a needy vessel, rather than turn backwards, but eventually she learned to turn her gift to the injury itself, whether it was someone else’s injury, or her own.

After a particularly painful lesson, in which Sara healed each and every painful thorn prick inflicted upon her fingers by the wood nymph, Muriel sat back smiling. “There, finally you understand.”
 
She stood up as Sara wiped blood from her fingertips and dried her tears. Rummaging around in a cupboard by the fireplace for a few moments, the nymph walked back to Sara, handing the girl a twisted stick.

“This is a Weirding stick,” Muriel said with gruff affection. “By granting you this tool, I acknowledge you as a healer.”

Sara stared at the little, polished stick and felt a warm glow of pride. “Thank you, Muriel,” she whispered.

“Oh, don’t thank me yet, child. This tool will give you a place to store the pain you catch, but if you use it unwisely it will rebound that same pain back on you two-fold!” The nymph snorted, adding, “Tomorrow, you shall learn to use the Weirding stick. For now, you are dismissed.”

Sara scrambled up and ran out the door before Muriel reconsidered. It was twilight, and she saw that fires were blazing brightly in many of the encampments, and dinner was being prepared. She saw the sprites returning home from their chores to their village, and that the elves had left Chloe alone as they went about their own business.

She waved at her friend, calling out, “Chloe, over here!” She saw the young woman turn and smile, and then Sara saw something detach itself from a tree trunk and move toward her friend. She cried out in fear as the thing took shape and jumped on Chloe’s back. It was some sort of huge spidery thing, with a fat, bulbous belly and far too many legs. It had a dozen sets of eyes that gleamed hotly in the dusk and as it landed, it chittered with glee. It was a Zxither!

Sara heard Chloe’s cry of surprise and pain, and took off running. She was not the only one who heard the commotion and saw the dark creature pounce. Rondel had returned with a huge silver sword, and slashed at the spider’s legs as it tried to eat its victim alive. Nate was there too, as well as many of the dwarves. They threw rocks and stabbed the monstrosity with their practice sticks.

The spider squealed with rage and agony as green ichor began to ooze from its wounds. Then, with a roar of rage, Rondel took the spiders head off with a mighty swing of his long blade. For a moment or two the spiders legs twitched spasmodically, and then it lay still and ruined upon the ground.

Sara bit her lip in fear as she crouched over her friend. The girl lie gasping on the ground as the spider’s poison coursed through her body. As Sara watched, black tributaries of venom spread over Chloe’s skin, and her lips turned blue. She was dying, and Sara’s heart clenched in fear and denial.

Shaking, she took a deep breath, placed the Weirding stick between her teeth, laid her hands on Chloe’s body and prayed.

Chapter 11

Hissaphat’s eyes gleamed as brightly as two yellow moons when the incandescent glow surrounding the young human witch suddenly bathed the clearing in light. The cat and his soldiers had run as fast as they could from their war games when they heard the Zxither’s deadly chuckle. Their training grounds were far away, though, as Sylvan had confided to Hiss that his warrior’s battle cries were hurtful to everyone’s ears.

Hissaphat closed his eyes against the glare and growled. He loved hunting Zxithers, killing them and eating their chit-nous legs. If he and his soldiers were closer to the village, this monster would never have entered, and the young half-breed would not be injured, or dying.

“Look, Hiss. Sara has found her power!” Pollo exclaimed in awe.

Indeed, the whole village was lit up now with the force of Sara’s healing. Unfortunately, however, Hiss could see that the Xzither’s venom might be too much for her to conquer alone. The girl had scrubbed all the heavy make-up off her face, and combed her yellow hair into manageable braids as soon as she took up training with the nymph witch. Now the cat and sprite watched as her delicate cheeks turned white, and then took on a greenish hue. They saw her beautiful aqua eyes sink into her skull, and could clearly see when the spider’s poison got past her defenses and made its way into her hands and up her arms.

Then, Muriel came running up to where Sara crouched over her friend. She touched her Weirding stick to Sara’s and suddenly the white light in the clearing turned lavender, and then blue. Hiss knew it was the blue light of true healing and he heaved a sigh of relief. Their mission was almost over before it had even begun! The cat decided, immediately, that he would swear his soldiers to silence in the days to come, so they could train closer to the village, and help bolster the defensive wards that were obviously beginning to fail.

He said goodbye to Pollo and left, taking his warriors with him. Pollo crept closer and saw that Sara had fallen to the ground in a swoon. Chloe lay with her eyes open and staring up into the night sky. Tears ran down both sides of her face and her left hand reached for Sara, but the healer was unconscious and deathly pale.

Muriel knelt over her student, muttering, “Come on girl… wake up. The sticks have healed you both. Now, wake up!” The nymph gave Sara a light slap, and the young woman sat up with a gasp. Then she burst into tears and crawled to where Chloe lay holding her arms up for a hug.

Muriel sniffed and walked over to the dead Xzither. Pointing her stick at the creature, she uttered a few words, and then a brilliant red beam of light shot out the end and etched its way over the horny plates and mottled gray flesh of the demon’s body. After a few moments, the spider turned white and then fell into a large pile of ash.

Muriel’s shoulders slumped in exhaustion. The double healing and the light of destruction had sapped her strength, and she wondered now if she was even capable of assisting on a journey that would clearly begin sooner, rather than later. She heard a voice say, “You know what this means, Muri.” Sylvan and Pollo stood next to her and she turned to face them.

“Yes, of course I do!” She snapped. She watched as Nate sat on the ground by Sara and Chloe, taking both girls in his arms. Tears dampened his cheeks and his eyes were huge with fear and the dawning realization of the dangers that faced them all. Glancing down at her cousin and his son, she sighed, “Please forgive me, Sylvan and Pollo. That was close, too close, and I’m old and weary.”

“You were very brave, Muriel, and I am proud to call you kin,” Sylvan stated stoutly.

Muriel gazed down at the little sprite king and smiled fondly. “… and I you, Sylvie,” she whispered.

“Still, it’s time to leave now,” she started walking toward the teenagers, staring at the ground in front of her feet in concentration. “Sylvan, gather your soldiers together tonight, and I will make ready and be sure that the humans are ready to leave as well.” She sighed, adding, “I had hoped for more time, but our wards are failing, which means that the dark powers are building in strength.”

She stopped and said, “Your highness, I would have you send your people deeper into fae territories. The dark has focused its attention here because the veil that separates our world from the world of man is so thin. This war has been declared against human beings, after all. I think that your people will be safe enough, if only you move deeper into the faery realm.”

As much as Sylvan hated the thought of losing everything he had built and held dear, he knew that the nymph was correct. Nodding, he replied, “Consider it done, cousin.”