A Record of Ash & Ruin: The Grieving Lands

Book 3: Chapter 21: Intervention

Book 3: Chapter 21: Intervention

The greatest of rivers is formed from the smallest of streams.

- A Quassian Aphorism.

Gelgor's eyes narrowed briefly, losing their cordiality before he skillfully masked it again. He likely mistook my response for hesitation, assuming I was a charlatan trying to salvage dignity before my deceptions were exposed as mere lies. I couldn't help but think with a touch of sarcasm, Oh ye of little faith.

I now realized that common human ailments like disease, injury, and frailty no longer concerned me. Why fear broken bones, shattered limbs, or deadly poisons when I could heal with spells? As long as I had enough Mana, I was immune to these troubles. Such mortal concerns of the human condition were beyond me now. It felt liberating and, were it not for the fact that I was trapped on a barbaric world filled with uncultured savages, most welcome. As matters stood, it seemed to be just the bare minimum required for a man such as myself to get by.

No matter, I would use what I was given. If this world had taught me anything, it was that there is no use in bemoaning ones lot.

Rising with a clear sense of purpose, I approached Gelgor. Zariyah, his attendant, glanced at me, her lovely features tensing as she reached behind her back, only to seem confused moments later. Gelgor, with a dismissive wave of his plump hand, commanded her to be at ease. He adjusted his hefty frame into a semblance of a seated posture as I knelt beside him.

There was a look to him as this fateful moment grew close. Like the first few licks of the flame at a campfire, a desperate need began to grow steadily across his face, eating away at his mask of control. Fear not Gelgor, salvation is at hand.

What must I do? he questioned, his voice tight and controlled.

Believe, I commanded simply as I gathered the mystical energy of this world, forming it into the shape of my magic.

Not wanting to be stingy, I elected to go all out with my Greater Heal spell. The familiar song of angels thrummed to a holy cadence, its glory only matched by its divine mystery, threading its golden way through the wagons interior. I took a moment to regard the pairs awestruck faces before I focused completely on Gelgor and laid my hands upon him.

Like a conductor of a most exquisite symphony, I guided the course of the energy through me into him. It filled the man, infusing his very being with the ardent light of the Divine. There was more to its auric majesty now, flecks of silver sparkled here and there among the golds, flashing like fish just beneath the rivers surface. Something resisted me, a stubborn error or flaw within the man that needed to be corrected. I poured more of the energy in, redirecting the flow with a more singular purpose against this aberration.

It dawned on a jealous part of me, the dark part of me, that this magic was doing more than just simply healing Gelgor. How I would have killed for a fraction of this power in my old world. To touch the face of something that was more. For the tiniest sliver of a moment, I could feel the magic remaking him, bringing him closer to the realm of the sublime.

Zariyah could only look on, her exotic features frozen in wonder as the light of a false dawn shone. Her features looked rapt as she bore witness, like a prophet having a rapturous revelation.

But even the light of the gods will fade eventually, and faster still when channeled by mortal and imperfect hands. The light of Gelgors salvation subsided, bringing with it the echo of divine epiphany and leaving behind a lingering regret. The natural light of the soft afternoon sun began to filter through

It was welcome, if not a little anticlimactic, that a notification appeared across my minds eye. Acknowledging the boon, I looked to see what my magic had wrought.

The caravan masters rotund form was wracked by the seizures from the touch of the Divine. It would be almost comical, except that this was the first time my healing had produced such a response. Worrying, indeed.

Zariyah snapped out of it and simply clenched her fists by her side in worry and frustration. Good, she knew better than to intervene. There was, after all, nothing that she could do. The man was quivering like jelly, but on his bed of soft feather pillows, he was no danger to himself. Now, all we could do was wait for his episode to pass.

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I mused to myself that even the mighty magics of the gods couldn't cure his severe obesity. There really is no substitute for human effort and discipline.

Once his shaking ceased, Zariyah quickly dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a damp cloth, her concern unmistakable. As the man regained consciousness, she offered him a small cup of a deep red liquid, which I initially mistook for wine. He declined it, gathering himself with a deep breath.

"No more alchemics, my dear," he declared, his voice quivering with newfound emotion. "No more, I think."

His attendant silently returned to her position beside him. Gelgor thumped his chest expectantly, but no cough followed.

"By the Gods, I've never felt so invigorated," he exclaimed with unbridled joy. "Everything seems so vibrant and alive. I feel as though I could run for miles without fatigue. What did you do?" he exclaimed, more a statement of wonder than a real question.

We both know what happened here and now, I said as solemnly as I could, trying to draw an air of mysticism around me.

Gelgor looked troubled, his irreverent and incorrigible expression gave way to something rather new, humility. There was a heavy, pregnant pause filled with the weight of the moment and I could almost see the cogs in his mind whirl away as he began to do a mental account. For now came the matter of reciprocation and the question of the worth of a godly miracle.

Finally he drew himself up, like a walrus about to bark a challenge. I am saved. By the grace of the gods I am saved. This is no mummers trick, but a deep magic only found in the great temples, and then only reserved for the highborn, he stated simply, his voice coarse with emotion. I was not worthy, and I can not give you an offering of even near like value to what I have just been blessed with. For if the words of scripture are true, then I have witnessed the healing light of Her mercy, he continued, jowls quivering with religious rapture.

I hid a flash of irritation. hoping that I masked it well. You fool, of course you can not, but at the very least you can hand over a bit of gold that you must have saved up over the years. Moreover, this was worrying, was the man trying weasel out on paying me? Had I been too clever for my own good?

"The servants of the gods do not demand payment," I decided to add, keeping my voice even and doing my best not to grit my teeth. "But they cherish gratitude and offerings within ones own means.

My honey rose, be a dear and get theHerald the he commanded the girl, finishing his sentence with a meaningful look and a nod of his head toward one of the corners of the interior. She simply nodded once, my eyes following her form as she rose and went off to fulfill his wish.

He turned to me. By Her light, forgive me, for my offering is but a trivial thing, he said with no small amount of reverence as Zariyah returned with a small case. Glancing hesitantly at me, she opened and presented the contents to me.

I had been expecting a small number of gold coins, but inside, of all things, was a small stack of paper. Upon the surface of the paper was the image of the sun rising behind the petals of an otherworldly bloom, printed in painstaking detail. The tendrils of the alien plant unfurled across the edges of the paper, their running lines framing the captured vision art. At the top corner of each piece were concentric circles, a watermark if I was not mistaken. Intriguing, I thought to myself. These were most certainly the promissory notes of the famed Al-Lazar, for what other use was a watermark than to prevent counterfeiting? Still, I did myself credit by performing my due diligence.

Durability 13/13

Still focused on Gelgor, my magic nonetheless returned to me the information I sought for the measly cost of one Mana. Intent and clear focus, I was slowly learning, was one of the cornerstones of performing the mystical arts correctly, at least for the NPCs of the world. This was a small mental trick I had taught myself, to focus with my minds eye on whom I wanted my spell to target. Or perhaps this was simply the result of upgrading the spell? It didnt matter in the slightest, it just meant I just had to picture something in my mind that I had recently seen.

Recently, of course, being the operative word. The spell failed when cast on something that I had seen only an hour away but was no longer in my line of sight. Perhaps, it was because the clarity of a mental image, as with all things, faded with time? I would need to engage in further experimentation.

More to the point, the sum before me represented a considerable sum of, at my estimation, ten gold pieces. Almost three years of dangerous caravan work.

Gelgor cast his eyes downward, a fleeting discomfort crossing his countenance. "I understand that it may seem crass to offer mere worldly scraps of paper, to place a value on the grace of the Goddess," he began anew, his gaze shifting to Zariyah. "But perhaps, since you have managed to fulfill one of my most cherished desires, then I may in turn fulfill one of yours," he insisted, glancing once more in the direction of his attendant.

The mask of the oily merchant returned, any semblance of the humility I had witnessed evaporating like spit on a hot stone in the desert. It was almost refreshing to see human nature in its purest form.