You Can't Save Them All
112 th Vhalar 719
The Vhalar 719 Calendar Event "The Cure"
The Vhalar 719 Calendar Event "The Cure"
The chaos that erupted in Fensalir during the 112th Vhalar was a surprise to all citizens and a trauma to many. The Ragnari and the Aesir had kept operation “The Cure” secret. Nobody had expected it.
At first, the reaction was tepid or even approving. The first people the Ragnari captured were immortal marked and mages. Many people felt that it stood to reason to detain those. Immortal worship was only laughable and foolish. But, as it was a religion for outlanders it was suspect! Magic was worse. It was feared and hated. The outbreak of flayings at the beginning of Ymiden had made it even more feared. The people in Fensalir didn’t know anything about the relation between flaying, the fall and rise of Emea and the ether storms that had followed. But, they knew about murders committed by mages who had lost control.
At the beginning of "The Cure", some volunteered to help out as they found it good to rid the city of “vermin”. A map of Fensalir, made by one Brent Forrester, facilitated the operation. It enabled helpful citizens to point out the homes of supposed immortal marked and mages. That made it easy for Ragnari and Aesir to go straight to those targets.
So far, so “good” in the opinion of the average Fensalir citizen.
Thus, the cartographer Brent Forrester became known to some citizens (not all). They only knew him by his name though. People didn’t know how he looked. Time would tell if this fame of his would be for good or for bad. Nobody knew more, as the guide who had helped him charter the city, one Ashling Grayhawk, hadn’t wanted to brag. After what soon would happen Ashling would have even more reason to shut up. She would never reveal her own part in the mapping. Because...
While they caught mages and marked, the Ragnari also found out where stormtouched lived. The next wave of the operation had focused on those. To the horror of families around Fensalir, the Ragnari had abducted their stormtouched. Worse. They had not only taken the stormtouched away to an unknown destination. They had bundled them up with “marked weirdos” and “dangerous mages”. The latter had made people doubt that the goal of the abductions was to keep their relatives “safe”. It was true that the violence against the stormtouched had escalated during Vhalar. Yes, but, nobody believed that there was any better “safety” to have among “the magic-using rabble”.
The operation was surprising, swift and efficient. Despite this, some of the targets had the presence of mind to hide or flee. Fensalir was the second biggest city in Melrath. The city's sprawling layout, integrated into the forest, made it hard to catch all stormtouched. As a consequence, an unknown number of them were now refugees hiding in their own city. Nobody knew where or the exact number. They seemed few, but it was, of course, possible that people who helped them to hide were lying.
It was soon obvious that trying to get information about the taken people would fail. It became a fruitless loop of talking to various representatives without going anywhere. The desperation kept rising and some said they would try to find the captured themselves. Others believed that it was already too late. The taken ones might be in exile or dead, the pessimists said.
The healers in the eastern part of the Aspenglades district were as unprepared as all others. When the Ragnari and Aesir had knocked on the doors of their healing houses they opened. They had no reason to expecting anything bad from Melrath’s own military. But, the Ragnari caught patients they had kept in the healing houses for observation. Those patients were serious cases and the healers’ reactions were strong.
Alas, the healers themselves weren’t strong. They were good unarmed caretakers, not violent warriors. It had been easy for the Ragnari to keep objecting healers at bay or even lock them in if they had gone too troublesome. Ashling’s mother understood that it was pointless with physical resistance. Sol'ange attempted (in vain) to speak to the Ragnari and persuade them to not take her patients away. Ashling was less compliant. She tried to keep the Ragnari out from one of the bigger rooms by standing in their way.
It failed miserably. Ashling’s strength was nothing against the force of the Ragnari who grabbed her. They carried the upset and struggling young healer away and dumped her in a storage room. That was where they kept objecting people “safe”. Helpless, Ashling and other detained people banged on the closed door and ranted. Nobody cared about the noise they had made.
After the end of the operation, the Ragnari let the detained healers out again. Dedicated to their profession the healers had treated injured Ragnari. Some stormtouched had put up violent resistance and tried to fight their way to freedom. A few had succeeded. Citizens who had seen fights in the streets were already spreading stories about it.
Ashling hadn’t felt so friendly toward the Ragnari while she treated them. Most injuries were scratches, as some stormtouched had claws and they had made use of them. A young Ragnari had gained a deep gush in their face. Ashling felt reluctant to stitch it. Her skill at surgery was very limited and it was the same with her skill at needlework. But, her mother and teacher Sol'ange was busy with a worse case.
For a moment Ashling overheard the Ragnari who had carried their stabbed brother in arms there. "... too dark, so we couldn't see anything... a pair of red eyes flashed at us...it pounced on him out of nowhere as from above...Instant stab!...so efficient that you could think they were a soldier...before we knew it Sean was down. The guy who did it ran straight into the pitch-black tunnel and when we came back with lanterns they were gone."
The mention of red eyes and speculation of military competence shook her. Nathon? The man with the eagle-owl traits? Her fierce and difficult former patient had been gone since Saun. Now, this. Was the former Ydalir still alive? Had it been him?
Ashling's patient made a low sound and she turned to her own task again. She cleaned the wound and disinfected it. Then she applied a painkiller solution. After waiting a bit for the painkiller to come into effect she prepared a clean needle and began to stitch. Although she still felt upset about the abductions, her healer ethics made her do her very best. She closed the wound and it was probable that it would heal without complications. To not mess up too bad, she worked at a slow pace. The result was still not so fun, from an appearance point of view. A long scar from the temple to the chin would be a permanent mark on a face that had been handsome before the cut.
“There,” she said and began to put a bandage on the injured part of the soldier’s face. “Don’t remove the bandage. It contains herbs that will support the healing and keep the wound from festering. If something happens and you feel that you want a look at it, go to a doctor and let them do it for you. And keep your hands and your face clean.“
Her patient attempted to laugh to play tough but had to regret that it at once. The laugh turned into a moan of pain.
“And don’t laugh,” Ashling added. “It can destroy the stitches and make the wound open. You don’t want the kind of scar that would lead to.” She paused a bit. “And don’t yell orders, in case you happen to be some kind of officer. No laughing, no yelling, no brawling. No eating food that requires a lot of gnawing and chewing. No drinking alcohol as it can make you forget these rules.”
“You’re kidding me,” the soldier managed. But, he spoke in a whisper like he felt worried about affecting the wound. Then he continued: “How bad is it? How ... do I ... look?”
“It’s too early to know that. In the best case, it will heal well and pale by the time. In the best case, it will add a touch of experience to your face and add to the respect other people will give you.”
Ashling didn’t believe that her work would lead to the best thinkable result. It might even be so bad that he would have to let a more skilled surgeon repair it. But, there was no reason to say it. What happened to the scar in the future wouldn’t be Ashling’s business. “It will not look so nice at first, but many scars pale over time.”
The Ragnari treated and gone, other people began to come to the healing houses. These were the families and friends who felt worried about abducted stormtouched. At first, the healers worked as usual, but soon it became clear that people weren’t in need of medical care. They were looking for comfort and support. They needed somewhere to gather to speak with other worried people. Ashling’s mother Sol’ange made her daughter responsible for a new kind of service.
Ashling gave people warm soup and calming herbal teas. She spoke to them as a compassionate fellowman and listened to their sad stories. It was very basic things to do to make people feel a bit better. Anybody could do it, her mother explained when Ashling worried that she lacked experience. To give empathy was something all people could do and even animals.
“Hold their hands, be with them, listen with compassion and give them food. Their souls aren’t ill, they are only troubled. You wouldn’t be able to treat real illnesses of the mind, that’s true. But, you are able to work at making the healing house be a place of comfort and rest. Let them feel taken care of for a little while. You can do that. It's very basic social support.”
Ashling had done her best. Some people had seemed to take comfort in what she did. But, the lion's part to the people had remained sad and upset so Ashling felt that soup and empathy weren't helping any. She hadn't even suceeded to make all visitors eat. It seemed like a failure, although a nice and goodhearted failure nobody called bad. Ashling had continued all the same. If she helped at least a few people it was better than helping none.
After a couple of trials, people had begun to see the healing houses as unofficial meeting places. A network of people wanted to support the citizens of Fensalir who had lost family and friends. Not only that. They wanted to find and support stormtouched who might still be in Fensalir.
“We can’t sit passive and watch this happen. We must do something!” People repeated those words until it felt like a truth nobody could deny. Something new began to grow from the healers’ initial efforts to comfort people.
On the evening of the 116th of Vhalar, it came to the point where words turned into action. A big group of stormtouched children had returned to Fensalir. Being children, they had sought out family members. Those had taken their children indoors and were hiding them now. But, the bad news was that they had left other children behind in the forest. It seemed like the children who came back had predator traits. But, those who stayed in the wilderness had traits of prey animals. The latter had felt scared of being hunted again if they would return home. Traits of hare and rabbit, small rodents, deer and pheasants were mentioned.
It would soon be Zida and the winter in Melrath was unforgiving. The missing children would die in the wilderness unless people could find them and bring them back to Fensalir. This settled it! The healers of Fensalir agreed to found an informal support organization they named “The Conclave”. There was no hierarchy in this organization. It was a network of cells of volunteers around Fensalir but the core was “the healing houses”. The Conclave’s mission was to “help and comfort the families and friends of abducted people”. Exactly what this meant wasn’t too clear yet, as everything was so new. For a start, The Conclave had provided meeting places, comfort and care. Now, they took part in organizing search parties. This might or might not be all they would do. Time would tell.
All this had been possible as the Ragnari and Aesir hadn’t thought of the Fensalir healers as people to count with. They were nice people (some of them also cute and worth an attempt to flirt). They were also good for treating battle wounds. But, Fensalir medicine was “unscientific”. The healers practised medical treatments of an old-fashioned and sometimes "laughable" kind. Some of them were even considered quacks to Raelia standards. The Ragnari saw them as a bunch of lovely goofs with warm hearts. Let them take care of people and served calming herbal teas and such! It would contribute to calm, law and order!
And so it did, though not the way the Ragnari and other authorities supposed it would be. The calm and the silence that settled over Fensalir meant something else. People who cared about the abductions had stopped weeping, begging and railing. They were going to do something instead. They were busy setting up search teams and equipping them for winter hiking. Volunteers contributed sturdy Melrathi horses who used to pull timber to the mills. They donated sleighs, winter tents, braziers and other necessities. The Conclave kept these preparations as secret as the Ragnari had kept the “The Cure”.
On the 118th of Vhalar, the search teams departed in silence before dawn. Their mission was clear. Find the missing stormtouched children and bring them to Fensalir. Dead or alive ... nobody said it aloud but all knew it. It could be too late. Five trials had passed and it was already winter.
That feared that they couldn’t save them all. But, they would do their utmost.
“Find them,” they said to each other. “Before the winter takes them!”
At first, the reaction was tepid or even approving. The first people the Ragnari captured were immortal marked and mages. Many people felt that it stood to reason to detain those. Immortal worship was only laughable and foolish. But, as it was a religion for outlanders it was suspect! Magic was worse. It was feared and hated. The outbreak of flayings at the beginning of Ymiden had made it even more feared. The people in Fensalir didn’t know anything about the relation between flaying, the fall and rise of Emea and the ether storms that had followed. But, they knew about murders committed by mages who had lost control.
At the beginning of "The Cure", some volunteered to help out as they found it good to rid the city of “vermin”. A map of Fensalir, made by one Brent Forrester, facilitated the operation. It enabled helpful citizens to point out the homes of supposed immortal marked and mages. That made it easy for Ragnari and Aesir to go straight to those targets.
So far, so “good” in the opinion of the average Fensalir citizen.
Thus, the cartographer Brent Forrester became known to some citizens (not all). They only knew him by his name though. People didn’t know how he looked. Time would tell if this fame of his would be for good or for bad. Nobody knew more, as the guide who had helped him charter the city, one Ashling Grayhawk, hadn’t wanted to brag. After what soon would happen Ashling would have even more reason to shut up. She would never reveal her own part in the mapping. Because...
While they caught mages and marked, the Ragnari also found out where stormtouched lived. The next wave of the operation had focused on those. To the horror of families around Fensalir, the Ragnari had abducted their stormtouched. Worse. They had not only taken the stormtouched away to an unknown destination. They had bundled them up with “marked weirdos” and “dangerous mages”. The latter had made people doubt that the goal of the abductions was to keep their relatives “safe”. It was true that the violence against the stormtouched had escalated during Vhalar. Yes, but, nobody believed that there was any better “safety” to have among “the magic-using rabble”.
The operation was surprising, swift and efficient. Despite this, some of the targets had the presence of mind to hide or flee. Fensalir was the second biggest city in Melrath. The city's sprawling layout, integrated into the forest, made it hard to catch all stormtouched. As a consequence, an unknown number of them were now refugees hiding in their own city. Nobody knew where or the exact number. They seemed few, but it was, of course, possible that people who helped them to hide were lying.
It was soon obvious that trying to get information about the taken people would fail. It became a fruitless loop of talking to various representatives without going anywhere. The desperation kept rising and some said they would try to find the captured themselves. Others believed that it was already too late. The taken ones might be in exile or dead, the pessimists said.
The healers in the eastern part of the Aspenglades district were as unprepared as all others. When the Ragnari and Aesir had knocked on the doors of their healing houses they opened. They had no reason to expecting anything bad from Melrath’s own military. But, the Ragnari caught patients they had kept in the healing houses for observation. Those patients were serious cases and the healers’ reactions were strong.
Alas, the healers themselves weren’t strong. They were good unarmed caretakers, not violent warriors. It had been easy for the Ragnari to keep objecting healers at bay or even lock them in if they had gone too troublesome. Ashling’s mother understood that it was pointless with physical resistance. Sol'ange attempted (in vain) to speak to the Ragnari and persuade them to not take her patients away. Ashling was less compliant. She tried to keep the Ragnari out from one of the bigger rooms by standing in their way.
It failed miserably. Ashling’s strength was nothing against the force of the Ragnari who grabbed her. They carried the upset and struggling young healer away and dumped her in a storage room. That was where they kept objecting people “safe”. Helpless, Ashling and other detained people banged on the closed door and ranted. Nobody cared about the noise they had made.
After the end of the operation, the Ragnari let the detained healers out again. Dedicated to their profession the healers had treated injured Ragnari. Some stormtouched had put up violent resistance and tried to fight their way to freedom. A few had succeeded. Citizens who had seen fights in the streets were already spreading stories about it.
Ashling hadn’t felt so friendly toward the Ragnari while she treated them. Most injuries were scratches, as some stormtouched had claws and they had made use of them. A young Ragnari had gained a deep gush in their face. Ashling felt reluctant to stitch it. Her skill at surgery was very limited and it was the same with her skill at needlework. But, her mother and teacher Sol'ange was busy with a worse case.
For a moment Ashling overheard the Ragnari who had carried their stabbed brother in arms there. "... too dark, so we couldn't see anything... a pair of red eyes flashed at us...it pounced on him out of nowhere as from above...Instant stab!...so efficient that you could think they were a soldier...before we knew it Sean was down. The guy who did it ran straight into the pitch-black tunnel and when we came back with lanterns they were gone."
The mention of red eyes and speculation of military competence shook her. Nathon? The man with the eagle-owl traits? Her fierce and difficult former patient had been gone since Saun. Now, this. Was the former Ydalir still alive? Had it been him?
Ashling's patient made a low sound and she turned to her own task again. She cleaned the wound and disinfected it. Then she applied a painkiller solution. After waiting a bit for the painkiller to come into effect she prepared a clean needle and began to stitch. Although she still felt upset about the abductions, her healer ethics made her do her very best. She closed the wound and it was probable that it would heal without complications. To not mess up too bad, she worked at a slow pace. The result was still not so fun, from an appearance point of view. A long scar from the temple to the chin would be a permanent mark on a face that had been handsome before the cut.
“There,” she said and began to put a bandage on the injured part of the soldier’s face. “Don’t remove the bandage. It contains herbs that will support the healing and keep the wound from festering. If something happens and you feel that you want a look at it, go to a doctor and let them do it for you. And keep your hands and your face clean.“
Her patient attempted to laugh to play tough but had to regret that it at once. The laugh turned into a moan of pain.
“And don’t laugh,” Ashling added. “It can destroy the stitches and make the wound open. You don’t want the kind of scar that would lead to.” She paused a bit. “And don’t yell orders, in case you happen to be some kind of officer. No laughing, no yelling, no brawling. No eating food that requires a lot of gnawing and chewing. No drinking alcohol as it can make you forget these rules.”
“You’re kidding me,” the soldier managed. But, he spoke in a whisper like he felt worried about affecting the wound. Then he continued: “How bad is it? How ... do I ... look?”
“It’s too early to know that. In the best case, it will heal well and pale by the time. In the best case, it will add a touch of experience to your face and add to the respect other people will give you.”
Ashling didn’t believe that her work would lead to the best thinkable result. It might even be so bad that he would have to let a more skilled surgeon repair it. But, there was no reason to say it. What happened to the scar in the future wouldn’t be Ashling’s business. “It will not look so nice at first, but many scars pale over time.”
The Ragnari treated and gone, other people began to come to the healing houses. These were the families and friends who felt worried about abducted stormtouched. At first, the healers worked as usual, but soon it became clear that people weren’t in need of medical care. They were looking for comfort and support. They needed somewhere to gather to speak with other worried people. Ashling’s mother Sol’ange made her daughter responsible for a new kind of service.
Ashling gave people warm soup and calming herbal teas. She spoke to them as a compassionate fellowman and listened to their sad stories. It was very basic things to do to make people feel a bit better. Anybody could do it, her mother explained when Ashling worried that she lacked experience. To give empathy was something all people could do and even animals.
“Hold their hands, be with them, listen with compassion and give them food. Their souls aren’t ill, they are only troubled. You wouldn’t be able to treat real illnesses of the mind, that’s true. But, you are able to work at making the healing house be a place of comfort and rest. Let them feel taken care of for a little while. You can do that. It's very basic social support.”
Ashling had done her best. Some people had seemed to take comfort in what she did. But, the lion's part to the people had remained sad and upset so Ashling felt that soup and empathy weren't helping any. She hadn't even suceeded to make all visitors eat. It seemed like a failure, although a nice and goodhearted failure nobody called bad. Ashling had continued all the same. If she helped at least a few people it was better than helping none.
After a couple of trials, people had begun to see the healing houses as unofficial meeting places. A network of people wanted to support the citizens of Fensalir who had lost family and friends. Not only that. They wanted to find and support stormtouched who might still be in Fensalir.
“We can’t sit passive and watch this happen. We must do something!” People repeated those words until it felt like a truth nobody could deny. Something new began to grow from the healers’ initial efforts to comfort people.
On the evening of the 116th of Vhalar, it came to the point where words turned into action. A big group of stormtouched children had returned to Fensalir. Being children, they had sought out family members. Those had taken their children indoors and were hiding them now. But, the bad news was that they had left other children behind in the forest. It seemed like the children who came back had predator traits. But, those who stayed in the wilderness had traits of prey animals. The latter had felt scared of being hunted again if they would return home. Traits of hare and rabbit, small rodents, deer and pheasants were mentioned.
It would soon be Zida and the winter in Melrath was unforgiving. The missing children would die in the wilderness unless people could find them and bring them back to Fensalir. This settled it! The healers of Fensalir agreed to found an informal support organization they named “The Conclave”. There was no hierarchy in this organization. It was a network of cells of volunteers around Fensalir but the core was “the healing houses”. The Conclave’s mission was to “help and comfort the families and friends of abducted people”. Exactly what this meant wasn’t too clear yet, as everything was so new. For a start, The Conclave had provided meeting places, comfort and care. Now, they took part in organizing search parties. This might or might not be all they would do. Time would tell.
All this had been possible as the Ragnari and Aesir hadn’t thought of the Fensalir healers as people to count with. They were nice people (some of them also cute and worth an attempt to flirt). They were also good for treating battle wounds. But, Fensalir medicine was “unscientific”. The healers practised medical treatments of an old-fashioned and sometimes "laughable" kind. Some of them were even considered quacks to Raelia standards. The Ragnari saw them as a bunch of lovely goofs with warm hearts. Let them take care of people and served calming herbal teas and such! It would contribute to calm, law and order!
And so it did, though not the way the Ragnari and other authorities supposed it would be. The calm and the silence that settled over Fensalir meant something else. People who cared about the abductions had stopped weeping, begging and railing. They were going to do something instead. They were busy setting up search teams and equipping them for winter hiking. Volunteers contributed sturdy Melrathi horses who used to pull timber to the mills. They donated sleighs, winter tents, braziers and other necessities. The Conclave kept these preparations as secret as the Ragnari had kept the “The Cure”.
On the 118th of Vhalar, the search teams departed in silence before dawn. Their mission was clear. Find the missing stormtouched children and bring them to Fensalir. Dead or alive ... nobody said it aloud but all knew it. It could be too late. Five trials had passed and it was already winter.
That feared that they couldn’t save them all. But, they would do their utmost.
“Find them,” they said to each other. “Before the winter takes them!”
