Things My Mother Never Told Me by Patrick S. Smith

Things My Mother Never Told Me by Patrick S. Smith

     In the course of a lifetime, a person will make countless decisions. From the mundane to the critical, and it is those decisions that define us and help shape those around us…

–Miljan, Sage of Elhrub
Year 213

Deragel hung her soaked boots across a bush to dry, close to the stream she had just crossed. She then looked back to the west towards the forest of Aran and Mount Imneral. She could no longer see any sign of the trees or mountains of the home of her mother’s friends, the elves, much less the place where her mother, Amber, now rested.

She closed her eyes and remembered her excitement about finally seeing Aran, the place where her mother’s journey started. Her older sister, Xemera, always spoke of Aran fondly, but when her mother spoke of her years of hiding there, there always seemed to be a shadow over it, as if something tragic happened to her there.

Now, for Deragel, Aran held a shadow. The place where her mother died.

“What am I supposed to do?” Deragel asked.

“You will know when the time comes. I will help you,” something said back to her in a whisper.

Just a whisper, but hauntingly familiar.

Deragel looked around but saw no one. Her whole life, she’d had visions of things that would happen or were happening elsewhere. But in the few months since her mother’s death, they had become stronger, jumbled, and harder to control. She struggled to keep her sight focused.

And now the voice.

She closed her eyes for a moment to clear her mind and to concentrate on her vision. Using her clairvoyance, she saw where she currently stood. She examined the bushes and trees to find what food was available and if the area was safe from danger. When done, she opened her eyes and nodded before walking over to a tree with a low-hanging branch.

Using the branch, Deragel spent the rest of the day making a shelter and bedding. That evening, she caught a groundhog that she roasted on a fire while she tended to her feet. She had picked up a few scrapes and splinters walking around barefoot while preparing her camp. Using the point of her knife, she removed the splinters before washing her feet in the stream and putting her boots back on.

Two days later, she broke camp and headed east. “I think I’ll go to Ilgan. I’d like to see the Cerulean Sea. Maybe even see if some ship will take me out on it,” she said to the air.

“If things permit it.”

Deragel stopped and looked around. The grass and leaves were unmoving. She saw nothing that could make a sound. She shook her head as she lowered it, saying, “Mother, I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“You are fine. Your power is growing, my daughter.”

Looking up with bulging eyes, Deragel said, “Mother?”

“Yes. I am here to help and guide you.”

“But how?”

For a moment, Deragel envisioned her mother smiling at her as she explained something to her or her sisters. “I don’t know fully. What I know is you have my power of sight and my spirit is with you.”

Deragel felt the warmth of tears as they ran down her face. “Is that why I’m struggling to see? Why everything is so chaotic?”

“Yes, but don’t worry. You are learning to control it,” Amber said. “Already you have made great strides in focusing on what you want to see. What you have to see.”

Lowering her head, Deragel began crying freely. “I’m scared, Mother. I don’t know if I can handle this.”

“I know. After my accident, I was scared of how my power of sight changed. But I am with you and you can do this,” Amber said in a warm tone that reassured her daughter.

Looking up, Deragel wiped her eyes. She took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

She walked east for several days, stopping at night to rest. During those days of travel, Amber’s presence in Deragel’s mind ebbed and flowed like the tides. At times, Deragel felt like she was all alone, while at others, it felt like her mother was walking beside her.

One day, Deragel came across an abandoned farm. Most of the thatched roof and part of a wall of the old house had collapsed, creating an opening for her to go inside. As she entered, debris shifted suddenly, startling a rat that squealed and scurried off. The suddenness of the event caused both Amber and Deragel to scream in surprise.

When Deragel regained her composure, she started laughing. “What is so funny?” Amber asked.

“Us. Both of us can see the future and a rat scares us half to death.”

Amber chuckled before she burst out into her own laughter. “I see what you mean. Since you now have my power of sight, you need to learn to be more careful. I can’t protect you the way I used to.”

“I will,” Deragel said with a smile.

Deragel used the remains of the house as a shelter for the next couple of days while she foraged and trapped to replenish her supplies. In the evenings, Amber worked with her to control her sight so she could see what she wanted and needed to see.

On the morning of the fourth day, Deragel was preparing to leave and continue east. As she was putting the last of her things in her pack, her clairvoyant sight raced across the land to a village being attacked. The attacker’s armor and the crests on their shields proved these were not mere bandits, but soldiers and slavers from Neria.

The Nerian soldiers, with their skill and weapons, swept aside the men of the village armed only with farm implements.

Tears ran down Deragel’s cheeks. She snatched her pack and strode out of the house directly towards the town.

“Deragel, wait. You won’t reach them in time to warn them. The Nerians will be gone by the time you get there. There is nothing you can do to prevent this.”

“But I can try to prevent some of those people from dying. And why didn’t I see this coming?”

Dejectedly, Amber said, “I didn’t always see everything before it happened. Sometimes, I had to wait for it to happen to see it.”

“Then at least I saw it. I would hate to think I was this close and did nothing.”

Deragel set a brisk pace to cover the miles to the village she had seen. Periodically, she would stop to make sure she was still heading directly for the village.

Periodically during the journey, her mother would urge her to slow down. “You can’t help them if you are exhausted when you get there,” Amber kept telling her.

Late in the morning, she reached the village. It appeared just as it had in her vision. A collection of mud brick and wood homes with thatched roofs, inter-spaced with some buildings constructed of timbers or stone.

The buildings that the Nerians had set ablaze were mostly piles of smoldering timbers. What men she saw were exhausted, and their normally red woolen pants and shirts were stained black with soot. Women and children, whose tear-streaked olive hued faces showed their Nerian descent, knelt in the street over the bodies of the men who had tried to defend the village.

“Be careful of what you say,” Amber said. “Use Imneralian if you need to talk to me.”

Deragel rushed from body to body, confirming what the evidence already suggested, that they were dead or soon would be. Those she found who still clung to life and had a chance, she treated their wounds and summoned others to take them to where other wounded were being treated.

The last victim Deragel went to was a man about her age. He had a gash on his right side where blood ushered out. Cradling his head and mourning was a middle-aged woman whose black hair showed hints of gray, knelt on the ground.

“What are you doing to my son? Do you have no respect for the dead? Who are you?” the woman asked as Deragel examined the wound. Her brown, rough woolen dress, typical of the other women Deragel had seen, showed stains from her son’s blood.

Deragel took the mother’s hand in her blood-stained hands. Her fair skin contrasted with the woman’s darker tone. “My name is Deragel. I am a healer from Kamarastro, a city far to the south. Give me a chance and I might be able to save your son.”

The woman pulled her hands free and lunged at Deragel, wrapping her arms around and burying her head into Deragel’s shoulder. Sobs rendered the woman’s words incoherent.

Holding the woman at arm’s length, Deragel said, “If it is possible, I will save him, but you must let me work.”

The woman leaned back and nodded. Her red, swollen eyes still poured tears as Deragel attempted to clean and pack the man’s wound using herbs from her satchel. Using strips of the man’s shirt she tore off, she bandaged the wound as best as she could there in the street. She signaled to a pair of older men with a cart to come over.

When they arrived, she asked, “Are there any more injured out here?”

“No, just the dead. Has Aymer joined them?” one of the two men with the cart asked.

“No,” Deragel snapped back. “He is still among the living. Take him to where the others are being cared for. I will follow you.”

“Who are you?” the other man asked as they picked up Aymer and laid him in the cart.

“Deragel and we need to hurry, as time is of the essence.”

The man looked at Aymer’s mother and said, “Iseult?”

Iseult only nodded in reply.

Deragel helped Iseult up, and they followed the cart to one of the few stone structures in the village. The outside of the building had designs and reliefs on it that Deragel paid little attention to, but gave the impression that this was some sort of temple.

The men carried Aymer’s body inside, with Deragel and Iseult a step behind.

The interior confirmed that this was a temple, as there was a wooden statue of Shidos opposite the entrance. Along the walls flanking the statue were tapestries of various other Nerian gods. Scattered about the floor lay over a dozen men on the floor, three of which were covered with shrouds. Several women and children sobbed as they kneeled next to the men, while a few priests tried to tend to the wounded and chanted prayers.

The two men who carried Aymer in found an empty place on the floor to lay Aymer down. Deragel immediately went to recheck Aymer’s wounds while a priest came over.

“Did I not say Tynsoi had touched Aymer? Why did you bring him here?” a lean priest in a black robe asked the two men who had been pushing the cart. He was nearly a head taller than Deragel, and his salt and pepper beard showed he was old enough to be her father, if she knew who had fathered her.

In response, one man who had carried Aymer in pointed to Deragel and said, “She says he still lives and believes she can help him.”

“Who is she?”

Iseult looked up at the priest and said, “Deragel is a healer from the south.”

“She is a heretic and cannot be in here or Tynsoi will follow her.”

Deragel stood and turned to face the priest. She looked him squarely in the eye and said, “When Shidos’s son was wounded as a mortal, didn’t Shidos tell him to accept help from any who offered, even if they were foreigners? I am offering to help.”

The priest stared hard at Deragel with narrowed eyes. Slowly, he nodded. “And Ades was found by strangers who made him whole again so he could sit beside his father. I apologize. Please, continue.”

“May Shidos continue to bless you with wisdom,” Deragel said and bowed her head to the priest before she returned her attention to Aymer. Once she had repacked his wound, she checked the wounds of the other men, being careful to not to interfere with the priests who were treating them. When done, she went back to the priest who she had spoken with earlier.

“Sir, may I have a word with you?”

The priest led her to an area next to the altar. “Yes, what is it?”

After a quick sigh, she said, “Most of the men here seem well tended to and, given time, will heal. However, Aymer and a few of the others need more care than what they have received. I have some herbs that will help, but I need more. Is there an apothecary or alchemist in this settlement?”

The priest lowered his head, closed his eyes, and pointed. When Deragel’s eyes followed to where the priest pointed and saw the shroud covered bodies, she lowered her head.

Turning back to the priest, she asked, “Can someone take me to where he practiced his trade?”

“Ramiz, come here.”

In response, one of the other priests approached the priest. “Yes, Luvar,” he said with a slight nod.

“Take this woman to Obren’s home and help her gather what she needs.”

Ramiz looked at his fellow priest with wide eyes. “You would allow her to steal from the dead?”

Luvar shook his head and said, “If Obren was among us, he would do the same. We are honoring his wish. Also, check on Leten’s son, Neven, and see how he is coming with his task.”

“Deragel, I have already sent for cots, blankets, bandages and water. Is there anything else we may need?”

“Yes. A simple broth of vegetables. I’ll help with that after I return.”

“I will see to it. Now go,” he said, with a hint of urgency in his voice.

Ramiz led Deragel to a hut on the western edge of the village, opposite from where the raiders had attacked. After a quick prayer, he opened the door for Deragel and followed her inside.

Two tables, a pair of chairs, and a cot dominated the one-room hut. A hearth stood next to a table on which lay several small earthen jars, leather pouches, and a mortar and pestle. Hanging from the roof were several bundles of herbs left to dry.

Deragel examined the hanging herbs and inspected the contents of the various jars and pouches.

Ramiz made a slight cough and said, “Are you finding what you were seeking?”

“Some of it, yes. Help me find some cloth to wrap this up in and a bag or basket to carry it with.”

He joined her to find some shirts of Obren’s and a satchel that had more herbs in it. Deragel ripped up the shirts and used the rags to wrap the herbs in and jars she wanted before putting them in the satchel. Slinging the satchel over her shoulder, she said, “Let’s go.”

Ramiz followed and asked, “Can you find your way back to the temple without me? I need to check on the blacksmith’s son.”

When she nodded, Ramiz said, “Good. Then tell Luvar I will be back shortly.”

As she was walking back to the temple, she noticed a four-year-old boy standing in the doorway of one of the larger homes. By his clothes, his parents had some means compared to the other villagers.

Two visions of his future came to her mind.

In the first, a girl walking from a field. She was dirty, half-starved, dressed in rags, and appeared to be about the same age as Deragel’s second youngest sister, Ilati, who had turned ten shortly before their mother’s death.

When the girl stopped walking to look at something in the distance, Deragel’s vision turned to see what the girl was staring at. She saw a small town surrounded by wooden walls. Within the town, a stone manor house drew Deragel’s attention to it.

As she approached the manor, the town’s people milled about. They, like the girl, looked malnourished and had a fear in their eyes that grew when they glanced towards the manor house.

Entering the manor house, Deragel found the source of the people’s fear. It was the man the boy would grow up to be.

Surrounded by what would be considered opulence in a small town like Graycott, the boy berated a farmer half dressed in rags for questioning him. To punctuate the boy’s statements, three other men took turns hitting the farmer. Forced to watch the spectacle, an ill-dressed woman and two small boys stood near the edge of the room.

Deragel closed her eyes and tried to clear the vision from her mind. When she opened them, the second vision appeared.

It was the boy, again, as a young man dressed as a common soldier, standing by six others in the field outside the village. He collapsed when a spear pierced his chest and his life blood spilled onto the ground.

Then the scene changed back to the girl from before. Though still dirty, she no longer looked starved or wore rags, but a patchwork dress and apron. Deragel’s attention fixed on her as if something was amiss about the girl.

Again, Deragel closed her eyes to clear the vision and to focus on returning to the temple and aid the men injured in the attack. She doubled her pace through the village. When she reentered the temple, two of the men now rested on cots and a cauldron sat over the brazier at the foot of the statue. Three women were cutting vegetables and adding them to the cauldron.

Deragel spied Luvar and made straight for him to pass on Ramiz’s message.

A thin smile creased the priest’s lips. “Good. Hopefully Neven will finish with the brand soon so we can burn these wounds closed.”

Her eyes enlarged when he said this.

“You don’t approve?” he asked.

She closed her eyes and said, “I will not tell you how to care for your people, but I have seen that burning wounds closed can cause greater injuries than it cures. Would you permit me to look at the wounds first?”

Luvar’s smile widened slightly. “Earlier, I saw you look at how we had tended to the wounded and sensed you did not fully approve. When you asked about an apothecary, I guessed you knew more about healing that we did, so please, do what you can. But first, why did you hesitate?”

Deragel relaxed her shoulders. “As I said before, I will not tell you how to care for your people. At least not without your permission. To do so would be an insult to you.”

“Possibly. Or it may have been welcomed,” he said as a smile came to his face. “Your actions so far say you truly wish to help, so any wisdom you could impart would be welcomed. Please, we have much work to do.”

“Let me give instructions to the women making the broth first.” She stood up to her full height.

After talking with the women, Deragel and Luvar then set to work tending to the wounded. With Luvar’s help, Deragel prepared salves and balms to apply to wounds or bandages. Where she thought it was safe to do so, she stitched some of the men’s wounds closed. All the while, Luvar paid close attention to what Deragel did and listened to her explanations.

It was early in the evening when they had completed their rounds. They made their way to a bench that was away from most everyone else and sat together. Luvar leaned back against the wall while Deragel rested her arms on her thighs and slumped forward.

“Are you alright, Deragel? You seem tired,” the priest said as he leaned his head forward slightly.

Deragel sat upright and arched her back. “Exhausted actually. I’ve been on my feet since early this morning and walked miles to get here.”

“When was the last time you ate?” Luvar put his hand on hers.

“Last night. Maybe this morning.” She shook her head. “I don’t remember.”

Luvar stood. He motioned to a woman who had been preparing the broth for the wounded. “Dirina, come here, please.”

One woman stopped talking and walked over to Luvar. Though her face said she was in her early thirties, her hair had started to turn from black to gray and lines showed she had grieved a lot.

“Yes, Luvar,” she said as she bowed before the priest.

“Yes, Dirina, would you feed Deragel and let her stay with you for a few days?” he asked.

Deragel stood and said, “I can’t burden you like that. Your village has endured enough today. Let me know where a stable or barn is and I’ll be fine. Besides, I still have work to do here.”

Dirina looked first at the priest and then at Deragel. “We won’t let you sleep in a barn. Not after what you have done for us today. There is plenty of room in my house, so you won’t be a burden,” she said. “Come home with me and I’ll also see about a bath for you, if you want one.”

As Dirina spoke, Deragel saw a glimpse of Dirina’s life.

Until two years ago, Dirina had been happy with a husband, three boys, a girl, and expecting a fifth. When she gave birth, it was to her fourth son who was sickly and had problems breathing and would often take wheezing fits. It broke her heart when he died after just two weeks. Then Nerian raiders came, taking her husband, their two oldest sons and a daughter. The following winter, her youngest son died of winter fever while she held him.

Then the vision showed Dirina in her home, treating Deragel as an honored guest, trying to take care of her guests’s simple needs. Dirina acted and talked as if her world revolved around Deragel.

Amber said, “Let her. She is alone and feels worthless. It would give her a measure of purpose.”

Deragel leaned back and smiled. “Thank you. That would be nice.” She closed her eyes.

In what felt like a minute, she opened her eyes to Dirina, bent over in front of her, her hand lightly holding Deragel’s. In her other hand, she held a small sack, and a thong tied to a dangling gourd.

“Back already?” Deragel drew out her words as she spoke.

In response, Dirina smiled. “You were asleep, but I’ve brought you some bread, mutton and some figs. Eat and I’ll show you to my home, where you can get some sleep.” She offered the sack and gourd to Deragel.

Deragel took the sack and gourd and set them on the bench beside her. “I can’t sleep yet. At least not until I check on the wounded again. How long was I asleep?”

“Not long, I would say. Long enough to build a fire and warm up the mutton. Eat first and then check on the men. Then I’ll take you home.” A smile came to Dirina’s face.

“Thank you.” Deragel opened the sack and pulled the figs out. Using her knife, she split the figs before eating them and the mutton.

Afterward, she found Luvar and together they checked on the men. Except for Aymer and one other man, all the men were awake, and they complained of pain from their wounds. A couple bemoaned, only having a thin broth to eat.

“Their whining is a good sign,” Deragel said in a whisper to the priest. “Most have some fight left in them, and I think it may be safe to return them home tomorrow.”

“And what of the others?”

She looked over at the men, but only saw a shade over them, causing her to lose her smile. “Aymer and the two others I am not so sure about. They feel like they are becoming feverish.”

Luvar nodded. “I noticed that Bleran’s wound is still seeping. I’m afraid that we will have to burn it closed.”

“Yes, him and Erind’s as well. He’s torn his stitches once and I’m afraid he’ll continue to,” Deragel said as her body slumped. “But I hate to do it. I have seen such wounds not heal right or even rot.”

A heavy sigh escaped the priest. “So have I. I’ll have Ramiz round up some men to hold them, then.”

“Do you mind if I return to the apothecary’s shop? There is a poultice that I would like to make to apply to the burns when we are done.”

Luvar nodded in approval.

Deragel smiled and said, “Thank you. And I’d like Dirina to help me.”

This caused Luvar to raise an eyebrow. “For what reason?”

“She brought me some mutton earlier and I can use the fat in the poultice.”

Deragel and Dirina walked out of the temple and went their separate ways. Deragel briskly made her way to Obren’s hut. The sun had nearly fully set, and the streets were full of shadows as she made her way through the village.

Inside the hut, Deragel located a small brass lamp. Using the flint from her satchel, she generated a spark to light the lamp. Just as she got the lamp lit, Dirina appeared at the doorway carrying an earthen jar.

“Will this be enough?” Dirina asked.

Deragel looked up at the jar Dirina was carrying and smiled. “More than enough. Come, set it on the table along the wall and help me get a fire going so we can melt down what we need.”

Working together, they soon had a fire going and fat melting in a small pot. Deragel went through the various herbs and explained how they would be used in healing.

“I had a son who died of winter fever a few years back. Are there herbs that could have saved him?” Dirina asked as she continued to mince a root.

Deragel stopped chopping for a second and looked up at Dirina. She bit her lower lip for a second before saying, “I’m sorry to hear about your loss. I know of a couple of herbs that might have helped, but I haven’t seen them in Obren’s supplies.”

Dirina stopped her cutting, and her shoulders sagged. “Thank you Deragel. You just seem so confident about this. I couldn’t help but wonder. He was all I had left after my husband and other children were taken.” She dropped her knife and fell to the floor, weeping.

Deragel went to Dirina’s side. She knelt down beside her and pulled Dirina’s head to her chest and gently rocked her. “I can only imagine how you feel, but I grew up in the shadow of such pain,” she said in a whisper. “My mother lost her parents when she was three, and her uncle and aunt who raised her when she was sixteen. A very dear friend of hers was seriously wounded when he tried to save my mother. Somehow, through all that, she went on to try to help people.”

She held Dirina at arm’s length. “Which is what I’m hoping you’ll do.”

Dirina’s crying slowed as she looked up at Deragel. “Help people? But how?”

“I’m a stranger here and except for you and Luvar, the people here don’t trust me. But they know you, so they trust you more. I need your help with what is coming.”

Tilting her head, Dirina asked, “What is it?”

Deragel took a deep breath and let Dirina go. “Bleran and Erind’s wounds won’t stop bleeding, so we’re going to have to burn them closed. One salve we’re making needs to be applied before we burn the wound closed, but it causes great pain. If I apply it, they may resist further treatments. But if you apply it, because they know you, they’ll be willing to endure more. It will help heal their spirits as much as their bodies.”

Dirina wiped her nose on her sleeve and said, “Something like when my mother removed a thorn from my foot rather than someone else.”

“Exactly,” Deragel said as she beamed a smile at Dirina.

“Then I’ll do it.”

Deragel rose, and they finished making the salves and poultices. While they worked, Deragel explained how they had to be applied. They doused the lamp and the fire in the fireplace and hurried back to the temple.

Night had fallen when they left Obren’s and a few lights in homes were visible. Fortunately, the greater moon glowed through the cloudless night to help them see their way to the temple.

Luvar stood at the temple doors, waiting for them. “Do you have everything?” he asked when they reached the doorway.

“Yes. Is everything else ready?” Deragel asked.

Luvar nodded. “Dirina, thank you for your help, but I think you should go home now. You shouldn’t be here when we do what has to be done. I’ll see that Deragel makes it to your home.”

Dirina shook her head. “No. I know what you are about to do and Deragel still needs my help.”

He shot Deragel a stern gaze before finally saying, “Inside.”

Once they entered, eight shrouded bodies now lay on the floor, which sent a shudder through Deragel’s body. She scanned the room and found that the eleven cots were still present and occupied by the men wounded during the raid.

Except for four men milling about with the other priests, no other people were in the temple.

“Aymer woke up shortly after you left,” Luvar said, closing the door behind them. “I let him have some of that tea you made for Bleran and some broth. He is resting now.”

Deragel turned to look at the priest. “How is he?”

“No better, no worse. Said it was hard to breathe.”

“I am glad to hear he took some tea. It might help reduce his fever.”

Luvar’s face darkened. “Bleran’s fever, I fear, is getting worse.”

“Then we do him first. Do you mind handling the brand so I can be free to cover it?”

Luvar nodded. While the men held Bleran steady, Dirina prepped the wound with the poultice. During this, Bleran, half-conscious, gritted his teeth.

Luvar then used a red-hot brand to burn the wound closed. Through the leather thong that Ramiz and another man held in Bleran’s mouth, he made a nightmarish scream as he tried to thrash about. It took the strength of all six men to hold him steady. When Luvar removed the brand, Deragel inspected the wound and applied a salve and bandage.

They then repeated the process on Erind. Though fully aware of what was coming, he fought to stay still through the ordeal.

When they were done, Deragel went back and checked on all the wounded men, stopping at Bleran last. Dirina was with him, wiping his forehead with a wet rag. As Deragel inspected him, his body covered in sweat, and felt hot to the touch. She also saw that he was holding onto Dirina’s skirt.

“She has good instincts. She did well with the salve and helping you bandage the wounds. There is nothing more to do for Bleran right now other than wait, but she is still trying to comfort him,” Amber said.

In a whisper, Deragel said, “Yes, she does.”

When Deragel had completed checking on the men, she went over to where Luvar was talking with the other priests. The men who had helped hold Bleran and Erind had already left.

Deragel smiled and said, “I’m confident most of these men can rest in their own beds tomorrow night. Aymer and Erind should stay here until the danger passes.”

“And Bleran?” Ramiz asked.

“If his fever continues, I doubt he will see tomorrow’s sunset,” she said, looking down and shaking her head.

Luvar and Ramiz both reached out and put their hands on her shoulders. “Regardless of the outcome, we appreciate what you have done for us,” Ramiz said.

“Yes. Some are even saying you are a blessing from Shidos.”

“But what if Bleran or someone else dies?” She asked, looking up at the priests. Her eyes had started to redden.

Luvar’s full lips stretched into a smile. “Then we are thankful for the few hours you gave them. Now, it is time for you and Dirina to go and rest. We’ll watch over these men and come get you if necessary.”

“Come Deragel, you are dead on your feet,” Dirina said, gently pulling on Deragel’s arm. After a slight hesitation, Deragel relented and followed to Dirina’s home.

“You can use my daughter’s bed,” Dirina said as her voice trailed off. “Let me know if you need another blanket.”

“I will. Thank you for your hospitality,” Deragel said as she sat on the bed. Dirina pulled the curtain closed and Deragel could see light from the candle seep through the cracks and fade, then go out completely as Dirina made her way to her bed.

As Deragel took her boots off, she asked in a whisper, “What was that vision about that boy? It was so clear, but only those two visions of him.”

“You are tired. We will talk about it later,” Amber said with hesitation in her voice. “You did good today.”

“You taught us well, Mother.” Deragel finished stripping down to her cotton undershirt and climbed into the bed. It only took a second for her to fall asleep.

As sunlight slipped through the cracks of the shuttered window and struck Deragel in the face, she tried, in vain, to use her arm to shield herself from the sun and go back to sleep. However, the sun had done its job.

As she lay there, she could hear Dirina was already up and trying to quietly make breakfast for the two of them.

“I should get up,” Deragel thought as she stretched. A knock at the door and a man’s voice caused Deragel to sit upright. If it wasn’t for her power of sight, she would not have known it was Ramiz with news from the temple.

“Luvar would like Deragel to come to the temple quickly. Bleran’s fever is worse,” he said to Dirina. His voice, though lowered, was rushed.

“Please, let her rest some more. You saw how hard she worked yesterday. And how far did she travel to get here? Hmm? She owes us nothing, and still she is trying to help. We can at least afford her some rest.” Dirina’s words put a smile on Deragel’s face.

“I’m awake. Give me a moment,” Deragel said loud enough for the two to hear. She rolled out of bed and put her pants and boots on, not bothering to tuck in her shirt or lace pants and boots.

When she pulled back the curtain, she said, “So, Bleran’s fever is worse. How is his wound?”

Ramiz’s eyes widened at Deragel’s remark as he nodded slowly at her. “We have not removed the bandages, so we don’t know. The skin around it is red, hot and swollen. As for the bandage, it is seeping a foul liquid.”

Deragel closed her eyes as she nodded her head at Ramiz. “Tell Luvar that Dirina and I will be there as soon as I finish getting dressed and we get some buckets of water. Also, remove the bandage, but don’t touch the wound.”

Ramiz bowed to Deragel in acknowledgement before he turned and left.

As soon as Deragel finished getting dressed, she and Dirina grabbed a bucket and went to a well near the temple. While walking there, Deragel asked, “How often do the slavers come here?”

“Every few years. They might come again next year or it might be five. There are a few other villages scattered within a day’s travel of Neria. They attack one or two of us every year.”

Deragel was hauling up a bucket from the well to fill theirs when she said, “I know there are a couple of larger towns to the west of here. Has anyone tried to recruit soldiers to defend against the Nerians or see if a patrol could come by?”

“I don’t think so,” said Dirina as they finished filling their bucket.

“When I get a chance, I’ll mention it to Luvar. He might take some persuading, but he may be receptive to the idea.”

Deragel turned and saw the boy. She barely registered the woman standing beside the boy, holding his hand. In her mind, she saw the vision of him sitting on a chair in his manor house fade, only to be replaced by the one of the boy laying in the field. For a moment, she tried to focus her sight back to the manor house, but couldn’t do it.

“I’m sorry, Deragel,” her mother said, sounding like she was on the verge of tears. “I should have warned you. I’m so sorry.”

Dirina touched Deragel’s arm and said, “Is something wrong? We need to get to the temple.”

Deragel shook her head. She now clearly saw the woman holding the boy’s hand as she patiently waited to use the well. “I…I need to see if Obren had something. You go to the temple and I’ll meet you there shortly.” She set off towards the apothecary’s hut without waiting for a response.

As she walked off, she heard the woman say, “Now Balahki, don’t wander off.”

When she was sure no one could hear her, she whispered, “What is happening? What is it about that boy?”

In a voice that sounded like she was crying, Amber said, “He only had two fates. Either be a tyrant or a soldier.”

“Why can I only see one now?”

“Because now he is going to become a soldier. You made that choice for him,” Amber said sullenly.

Deragel entered Obren’s hut and closed the door behind her. Her eyes were wide when she said, “I did what? How?”

“I never told you. Told any of you. Some people have limited destinies. When you saw them before, I lied to you and said other destinies existed, just hidden.”

“With people like that boy, it can only take a word to seal their fate. I had hoped to warn you or steer you away from him until I could prepare you. You have to tread lightly around people like that boy.”

As Amber spoke, Deragel leaned up against the closed door and slowly slid down it. Tears were forming in her eyes as she said, “How do I change Balahki’s fate? How do I keep him from being killed?”

“You can’t, Deragel. It’s done and not even Fate will alter it now. I’m so sorry I never told you.”

Deragel clenched her fists as she stood up. “So by hiding all this from me and my sisters, you made me kill Balahki,” she said through clenched teeth.

“I didn’t want you to be burdened…”

“Shut up. It’s bad enough I’ve already seen I can’t save Bleran, but now I have to live with the fact I killed that boy.”

Deragel walked over to Obren’s herb collection and began looking through the jars. All the while, Amber kept trying to talk to her. Finally, Deragel found a bottle of spice and pocketed it. She then wiped her eyes and made her way to the temple.

Bleran’s condition was as she had seen in her vision. She cleaned his wound before repacking it with the herb she found at Obren’s. She then dressed it again with a salve and bandage.

Dirina and Deragel tended to the men at the temple. When they were done and the temple had settled down, Deragel sought out Luvar.

“How are they?” he asked.

“Most have regained enough strength that I think they can go home and spend a few days resting. Unless he pulls his stitches again, I think Erind should be able to go home tomorrow with Aymer. His fever broke during the night. Dirina should look in on them for the next couple of days.”

“And Bleran?”

Hearing the question, Deragel closed her eyes and lowered her head. “You should let his family be with him.”

When she felt the priest’s hand on her shoulder, she looked up at him. Luvar looked at her like a father does when trying to console a child.

“Bleran has no family of his own, and his brother already waits for him in the next life. Still, I will let his sister-in-law, Tomore, know. Thank you for all you’ve done. Only Shidos knows how many more would be joining Bleran if you hadn’t helped. Are you feeling well? You don’t seem as you did yesterday.”

Deragel forced a smile to her lips. “Just trying to accept the inevitable.”

Deragel continued to tend to Bleran. Just before mid-day, his fever seemed to break as he was no longer sweating. But an hour later, his skin became cool to the touch, and he shivered violently. In the evening, Deragel excused herself from Tomore and stepped outside of the temple. She found a place where she could sit and wait for the wail that was to come, and felt sorry for those who couldn’t escape it.

Shortly after Bleran’s demise, Deragel returned to the temple. When she entered, Tomore shot her with an icy glare with her bloodshot eyes as Ramiz tried to console her and help her out of the temple. Once Tomore was out of the temple, Deragel checked on Erind and Aymer. She was pleased to see Erind resting comfortably and had not pulled his stitches out.

Aymer was still awake when she looked in on him. “I hear I have you to thank for saving me,” he said.

Deragel smirked and said, “I may have had a hand in it. Now you get some rest.”

“Tell me, are you married or looking for a husband?”

“No, no and no,” Deragel said, rolling her eyes at Aymer. “Now, if you would just get some rest, I’ll go see your mother and have her send you something to eat in the morning. If not, I’ll make you something, and I’m a lousy cook.”

“Fine,” he said as he settled into his cot and Deragel fixed his blanket so he was properly covered.

Afterward, she looked around the temple. Except for Aymer and Erind, she was alone with Luvar and went over to speak to him.

“Where is Dirina?” she asked.

“She went home to make the both of you something to eat. Why?”

“I promised Aymer I’d speak with his mother about bringing him something to eat in the morning. If he and Erind can handle something more than broth tomorrow, then I think they should go home to finish healing.”

The priest looked down at her. “In just two days? You truly are heaven sent.”

“Not heaven sent, it is just that they would be more comfortable and heal faster in their own homes.”

“Yes, one’s home has that effect on a person.” Luvar laughed and said, “I’ll talk with Iseult. You can go on to Dirina’s.”

“I don’t mind going to tell Iseult. I think…”

“No, I’ll tell her. I need to apologize for being so…hasty about Aymer.”

“Then I wish you the best. You may be walking into the den of an enraged animal.”

The priest sighed. “And one I must enter alone. If Shidos permits, I will see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, I will be here.”

Luvar gestured towards the temple door and said, “Then come.”

When Deragel reached Dirina’s home, she found the door open and Dirina tending to something on the fire. “Come in, Deragel,” she said when Deragel called to her. “I have dinner for us. How are you? You seemed off since you came from Obren’s this morning.”

Deragel entered Dirina’s home and put her pack down on her bed. “Trying to cope with the fact I cannot change everything,” she said as she walked over to the table and sat down.

“I heard the cries from the temple. I assume Bleran has passed.”

“Yes. I did all I could for him, but it wasn’t enough,” Deragel said, lowering her head.

Dirina turned to face Deragel at the table. “But Aymer still lives. You’ve given his mother another day with him. I am glad you managed that. One old, childless widow in Graycott is enough.”

Deragel looked up at Dirina. Though the grief of the last two years had taken its toll on her, Deragel saw Dirina could not be much older than her own sister, Xemera. “I wouldn’t call you old.”

She smiled and said, “Might as well be. No man has any interest in a woman who has had five kids and the last one was so sickly he didn’t survive. No, I have to accept I’m just an old maid now, even if a stranger says I’m not old.” She stood and fetched a couple of bowls. “So tell me, does a woman have to be a priestess to do what you do? Heal people?”

Deragel burst out laughing at the question. When she caught her breath, she said, “I’m no priestess or anything like that. I just learned about various herbs and roots from my mother.”

“But Luvar and Ramiz said you are a priestess from Kamarastro. One skilled in healing.”

“Yes, I was born in Kamarastro, but my mother traveled the lands helping people. Now that she’s gone, I’ve taken up her work. Why? Do you wish to learn more?”

Dirina stopped preparing their bowls and looked at Deragel and bit her lower lip.

Looking up at Deragel, Dirina bit her lower lip. “Yes. Yes, I would. You may think I’m mad, but I felt different when I helped you. Like I had a purpose.”

“You’re not mad, or worthless. Just feeling lost, and I have shown you one possible direction,” Deragel said. “I’ll teach you what I can while I’m still here.”

“So you won’t stay?”

Deragel shook her head in response.

“Then when are you leaving?”

“That depends on Aymer and Erind,” Deragel said.

After dinner, Deragel spent the rest of the evening teaching Dirina about various herbs, what they could do, and how to prepare and apply them. When Deragel went to bed that night, she looked for a way to find a new destiny for Balahki and save his life. All the while, she ignored Amber’s calls to talk.

The next day, Deragel and Dirina found Iseult feeding her son. He was protesting fiercely at being treated like a small child.

“Aymer,” Dirina said when she saw his behavior. “I think Deragel wanted to see how well you can eat before she would tell Luvar you could go home.”

Aymer looked at Dirina and started to protest. “That, and how well you listen to those who are trying to care for you,” Deragel said before Aymer could speak. This had the effect of causing Aymer to sink into his cot while his mother fed him.

Erind, who had no one to feed him, was more compliant and ate quietly.

“Good morning,” Luvar said as he approached. “I hope you two are well.”

“We are. I had hoped to tend to Aymer and Erind before they ate, but I am too late for that,” Deragel said. “Dirina and I will go check on the others and return.”

Luvar nodded. “Would you check on Naresta? Her sister was taken, and she now has two more little ones to take care of.”

Dirina let out a gasp as she covered her mouth. “Does Erind know?”

“Not yet. When I went to Iseult’s last night, I stopped to see Naresta and told her she could bring Erind something to eat today. I don’t think she has slept much since the attack, if at all,” Luvar said as his voice trailed off.

“We’ll check in on her, Luvar,” Dirina said. “As soon as we have visited the others who were wounded and come back for Erind and Aymer.”

Luvar again nodded and said, “Thank you Deragel. Dirina.”

“Come, let’s go,” Dirina said, gently pulling on Deragel’s sleeve.

Once outside the temple, Dirina said, “Erind is Naresta’s husband. They already have three children and don’t wish for more. The youngest was born about two weeks ago. Now, with Naresta’s sister gone and her brother-in-law dead, they’ll have two more to care for.”

“How old are her sister’s kids?” Deragel asked.

“The oldest is three and his sister is only two months old.”

“Then let’s hurry. The sooner we make our rounds, the sooner we can get to her.”

They quickly made their way to the first of the homes they needed to visit. Deragel had Dirina clean the men’s wounds and apply new bandages. Initially, Dirina tried to protest, but Deragel insisted Dirina do the work.

“Besides you and me, who else has the skill to tend to them?” Deragel asked. “And what about after I leave? Best you start now while I’m here to teach.”

This caused Dirina to sigh and roll her eyes, but she tended to each man without prompting. As they were leaving one home where Dirina had redone the man’s stitches, Deragel said, “Either you learn quick, or have some talent for this.”

Dirina stopped, cocked her head, and asked, “What do you mean?”

“Gojar’s wound. You restitched.”

“It looked like he had pulled them out some, so I just redid them,” Dirina said.

“And I would have done the same,” Deragel said as she looked back at Dirina with a smirk. “You go on to Naresta’s and I’ll take care of Erind and Aymer.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, and see if she will bring the kids to the temple. It might do all of them some good.”

“I will try.”

Deragel returned to the temple. As she walked, she turned her sight to slip across Graycott. In her mind, she saw the men she had treated the last few days regain their strength and return to their tasks. What she saw filled her with a measure of hope as the village tried to deal with the damage caused by the Nerians. “It is time for me to go,” she said to herself. “I’m no longer needed here.”

When she turned a corner, her vision was shattered.

Playing in front of his home was Balahki. A chill ran through Deragel. Her vision suddenly shifted to him lying in that field.

“Stop it. Stop it!” she muttered to herself as she hurried along. “I know what I’ve done to him, so stop tormenting me.”

“You’re tormenting yourself, Deragel,” her mother said.

In a whisper, Deragel said, “Shut up, mother.”

When she reached the temple, she closed the doors behind her and leaned back against them. After a few deep breaths, she stood up straight and walked over to Aymer and Erind, not noticing the bodies of the dead were no longer present.

When Deragel completed redressing their wounds, she called out for Luvar. A moment later, Ramiz appeared from behind a curtain to the back of the temple. “Luvar is beginning the death rites. Is there something I can do for you?”

“I just wanted to let you know that, unless something changes, Erind and Aymer can go home this evening. I don’t recommend they try to walk home though,” she said.

He clapped his hands together in a joyous expression. “I will make sure they get home then. Even if I have to carry them on my back.” Then, without warning, he reached out and hugged Deragel.

“Ramiz, please.”

“Oh, sorry. I just got excited about the good news,” he said, releasing her. “Have you told them?”

“Not yet. It would be better if they rest for now and find out later. When Dirina returns, let her know I’ve gone to her home to rest and to make preparations to leave tomorrow.”

“I will.”

She returned to Dirina’s home. Once there, she emptied her pack on her bed and took stock of what she had, and made a list of things she might need. She had enough food for two, maybe three days, long enough to get her to one of the border towns in Rastdad.

After changing her clothes and putting her old ones in her sack, she picked up Obren’s herb pouch. She looked at it as she turned it over in her hand. “Not much is left,” she thought, “But it would do some good here.” She set the pouch down and finished repacking.

After lifting the herb pack up again, she walked over to the table and laid it down before she sat down to wait on Dirina. While she waited, she searched for a new future for Balahki.

She snapped back to the present, sensing Dirina approaching her home. “So, how did it go with Naresta?”

Dirina made a soft smile as she shook her head. “She is getting worn thin quickly. I don’t think she has slept more than a few hours in the last couple of days. But she took the kids to see Erind, and that went well. He was even adamant that they would take in her sister’s kids. I would have been back sooner, but I helped her get the kids asleep so she could nap.”

“Good. We’ll check on them in a little while. Then this evening, if Ramiz can get the help, Erind and Aymer can go home.”

Dirina’s face beamed a smile upon hearing this. “I’m sure they were glad to hear that.”

“I haven’t told them yet. I didn’t want them to get excited. But if all is well, it will do their spirits good if they get to have dinner in their own homes.”

“True. Ramiz said you are leaving tomorrow?”

Deragel closed her eyes and said, “Yes. With Erind and Aymer going home, I’m not needed here anymore. It is time for me to move on. It was my mother’s way and since I took up her journey, it is now mine.”

“But we need you. Who will look after these men until they are fully healed? Who can tend to the sick now that Obren is gone?” Dirina walked over to where Deragel was sitting and knelt in front of her as she grabbed Deragel’s hand.

Freeing her hands from Dirina, Deragel put them on Dirina’s face. “You will. You’ve already shown some talent for it. Some of which I can’t teach. And you are a quick learner. I noticed some books in Obren’s shop. Have Luvar or Ramiz teach you to read if you can’t read already. Plus, this will help.” She released Dirina’s head and then patted Obren’s satchel.

Looking at the satchel, Dirina said, “No, I can’t. You’ll need it for the next person you help.”

Deragel shook her head. “You take it. I have one of my own. Now, let me show you some other herbs and their uses.”

They spent the next couple of hours going over the herbs in Obren’s satchel. As Deragel explained each one, Dirina sat and listened intently. A couple times, Deragel would contradict herself about the properties or preparation of an herb and Dirina would catch her immediately. While they continued, Dirina said, “Many of these I have never heard of. Can I find them here?”

“Most herbs have multiple names. Obren had them in his shop, so he must have found them near here. Have you ever heard of a plant called ‘common balm’ or ‘bee herb?’”

“Yes, I’ve heard of bee herb. I like the smell of it.”

Deragel’s eyes lit up and said, “I learned it as ‘lemon balm’ and most apothecaries know it by that name.”

It was early evening when Deragel said, “I think it’s time we get to the temple and help Aymer and Erind back to their homes.” When they arrived, they found that Luvar still had not returned, but two acolytes had.

“Good evening Dirina and Deragel. Here to check on Erind and Aymer?” Ramiz asked when he saw them.

“Yes. How have they been?” Deragel asked.

“Rather quiet and sullen. Especially Erind after his wife and children left. He wants to return home to help her with the children.”

“Then he may be getting his wish.” Deragel said, “That is, if there is anyone to help him home.”

“I spoke to Luvar earlier and told him it was a possibility. He had two acolytes stay behind to help. Is Aymer going home also?”

“Yes,” Deragel said. “They both are.”

Ramiz clapped his hands together and said, “That is truly blessed news. Come, let us get them back to their homes.”

They were aided by the two acolytes. Using a litter, they carried Erind to the door of his home. When they arrived, the two acolytes helped Erind walk inside to a joyous pandemonium as Naresta and her children created a small mob that engulfed Erind and the two acolytes. After much persuasion, Naresta and the children released Erind, and the acolytes got him to his bed. Once they had him settled and Dirina redressed his wound, the scene repeated itself.

While this went on, Deragel watched a three-year-old boy hide in a corner. His eyes darted around, as if looking for something familiar. As she watched him, a knot formed in her chest as she remembered being that way.

Dirina quietly ushered the acolytes and Deragel out of the house. As she left, she told Naresta she would be by the next day to help with the children.

They went back to the temple and took Aymer home. When they first arrived, Iseult’s reception was far more restrained than that had been the one at Erind’s. Once Dirina inspected Aymer’s wound and got him settled, Iseult made far more commotion than had been at Erind’s.

While Iseult was fussing over her son, the group took it upon themselves to slip outside.

Deragel, along with Dirina, then parted company with the priests so they could check the other men before retiring to Dirina’s for dinner that evening.

Again, Deragel spent part of the night trying to save Balahki, but to no avail.

The next morning, as Deragel was saying goodbye to Dirina and Luvar, she saw the boy again standing outside his home. All she could see was him lying in a field with a spear in his chest, which caused her insides to knot.

She turned her eyes to Luvar and Dirina when Luvar said, “I wish you would reconsider and stay with us in Graycott. Your knowledge of herbs and healing would be most welcome here.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t. The world outside this village is calling me and I have to answer it,” Deragel said. “Dirina has the knowledge to handle Graycott’s immediate concerns, and with Obren’s books, she can learn to do more.”

Dirina lowered her head to hide her reddening eyes. “I will miss you, Deragel. It felt good to have someone in my home again. And I will try to put what you taught me to use.”

Deragel reached out and hugged Dirina. “I wish when I arrived it would have been in better circumstances. Still, I’m glad I met you and that you are helping me carry on my mother’s work.” She released Dirina and stepped back, saying, “May Shidos grant you both wisdom.”

“And may your gods watch and protect you,” Luvar said with a nod of his head as Deragel turned and walked out of the village.

Not long after she had left the village and was out of earshot of everyone, Amber said, “Deragel, we need to talk.”

“No,” Deragel said through clenched teeth.

 “Talk to me, please. I know you are angry, but you can’t go on this way.”

“You and Fate can go to the hells.”

Amber said in a stern tone, “Deragel!”

“Shut up, mother!” Deragel quickened her pace.

She trudged on until that afternoon, when she reached a crossroads next to a stand of trees. Marching over to the stand, Deragel found a secluded area that had a few rocks that could serve as a shelter. She threw her pack down, collapsed on it, and cried herself to sleep.

While she slept, she dreamed she was a child again, resting her head in her mother’s lap. Her mother stroked Deragel’s hair. Amber’s face looked like Deragel knew as a child, except that there was a dark look on her face. A look she had never seen on her mother.

Amber looked as if she had been hurt or saddened by something. Her eyes were red, and the corners of her mouth were turned down.

“Mommy, what is wrong?” Deragel asked.

Amber turned her head and reached up to her face as if she was putting on a mask. Afterwards, she turned back to Deragel and said, “Nothing, my dear. Go back to sleep.” Amber’s face had changed to the same concerned, but loving expression that Deragel always remembered.

It was mid-evening when Deragel awoke. The shade provided by the trees had deepened and the shadows had lengthened.

Deragel picked herself up and foraged for wood and materials to make a fire and improvised a shelter for the night. As she did so, she kept an eye out for berries and mushrooms that might be edible.

The sun was half hidden on the horizon when she finished preparing her shelter and had eaten. “Mother, I’m sorry about this morning,” she said as she stretched out to relax. She waited for her mother to respond, but didn’t hear anything.

“I had a dream this afternoon. I was a kid, laying in your lap and you were stroking my hair. Only, it was you as I had never seen you before. You looked sad. Troubled. As if you were thinking about something terrible. And when I asked you about it, you acted like you were hiding something.”

Again, there was silence until finally Amber sighed. “Ever since Uncle Talal’s death and my accident, I have been troubled. So many people have died and suffered because of me, even when I tried to help. I thought being able to see the future meant I could help people. Save them.”

“It wasn’t until after Ilati came that I learned otherwise. Sometimes, helping one person meant hurting someone else. Or saving one meant another had to die.”

Amber’s voice cracked. “I hid that fact from you and your sisters. Not wanting you to know what I dealt with. Now you have had your first experience. I’m sorry I didn’t warn you.”

Deragel pulled her knees up and rested her chin on them. She sat that way in silence for several minutes and listened to her mother cry. “Mother, you always taught us to look at the possibilities we could see and do what we thought was right, but I wish you had warned us about this. I’m worried if something like this happens to Xemera,” she said in a relaxed tone.

Deragel let out a deep sigh. “I understand that the boy’s fate is now set. As much as I want to change that, I don’t see a way and I spent much of the last few nights looking. But I can’t just let him die like that. I will find a way so he lives and the people don’t have to live in fear of him.”

“I know you will. And I will try to help you, if you will let me.”

Deragel picked up a stick and adjusted the fire before putting a few more pieces of wood on it. She laid down, saying, “I’ll think about it. Right now, I need to sleep.”

The eastern sky was turning red, and the stand was just brightening when Deragel awoke and packed her things. Once she had everything stowed, she ensured her fire was out, shouldered her pack and resumed her trek eastwards towards Ilgan.

“I had a strange sensation when we took Erind home. I saw a little boy sitting in the corner, looking confused and it was as if I knew exactly what he felt because it had happened to me,” Deragel said, stepping out onto the road.

“You did run off and get lost a few times when you were little.”

“No, it was as if I was remembering being in a large house. And there was this man with a mole on his left cheek and a braided ponytail. He sat in the middle of the floor, telling me things about herbs and showing me pictures of flowers. On the wall was a crest of a horse with a quill on its nose.”

Amber gasped. “That sounds like Uncle Talal right after he took me in. I was so scared and confused. I wanted my parents and Uncle Talal kept trying to explain to me they were dead. How did you know this?”

“I don’t know. Maybe as your powers become mine, your memories will be mine too?”

She walked in silence most of the day until she encountered a man heading west. He was of a lean build, but of below average height. His olive skin tone, dark hair showed he may be a native to the region. The dark pants and tunic he wore marked him as an academic from Rastdad.

His accent confirmed he was Rastdadian when he stopped to say, “Excuse me, madam. I am Miljan Moldovan. Does this road lead to Stathmore?”

Deragel stopped to eye him over and let her sight look at him. “Are you a sage, by chance? You look like you might be part of the Sage of Elhrub.”

Miljan stood with his back straight when Deragel asked about him. “Yes, I specialize in herbalism. How did you know?”

Deragel smiled at Miljan and said, “You just had a look about you. This road won’t take you to Stathmore, but it will lead you to the road that will. You’ll find a fork in the road near a stand of trees about a half day’s walk from here. Take the north fork to Stathmore.”

The sage bowed his head to Deragel and said, “Thank you. And you may want to hurry to make the Bordan River by nightfall. I’ve heard slavers sometimes operate out here at night, but they won’t cross the river into Rastdad.”

“Then you be safe in your travels and thank you.”

Deragel resumed her walk east as Miljan went west.

It was an hour later when Amber asked, “Why did you lie to that man? Why did you send him to Graycott?”

“Something I saw made me do it,” Deragel said as a smirk came to her face.

“What was it?”

“He would have been unhappy in Stathmore and alone. Within a year, he would have yearned to be elsewhere, so I tried to help.”

“But why Graycott?”

“That girl I saw when I had visions of Balahki. I saw her again when I looked at Miljan. He was watching her and her friends. They all seemed to be happy. And I think there is some healing he is best suited to do,” Deragel said, now smiling ear to ear.

“My clever daughter,” Amber said in a teasing tone. Turning more serious, she said, “This won’t save Balahki from his destiny.”

The smile slipped from Deragel’s face and she stopped walking. Her shoulders slumped as she lowered her head. “I know it won’t. But by sending Miljan to Graycott, Balahki might survive his wound. I can at least hope for that.”

“That we can, my daughter. And if there is a way to save Balahki, I know you will find it.”

…Had I not listened to that woman all those years ago, I would have not come to Graycott…

When I first arrived in Graycott, it was recovering from a raid by Nerians, which left nine dead. A woman from the south had tended to the wounded survivors and taught the woman who would become my wife, Dirina, how to continue their care…

…When the raiders appeared today, Balahki and six other young men attempted to defend the town. Though none of them survived, their sacrifice was not in vain. Their stand allowed the other men of Graycott to organize a defense so that, fortunately, no others were lost.

…As my family and I tend to the wounded, I keep hearing one word used to describe Balahki: hero…

…I can only wonder, what led Balahki to make that decision?

–Miljan, Sage of Elhrub
Year 213

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Copyright Patrick S. Smith 2025