Steem Monsters Common Card Fantasy Story Contest! // Week 9 | The Divine Healer

Anlodian was looking out her cottage, seeing the young ones play with sticks and wooden boards as shields.

"I am a Silverknight Paladin oh foul one and prepare to be smite with righteous fury" said one of the kids as he smacks his shield on an unguarded playmate who was looking at the "Peacebringer" to his right. Blood streams down his nose and he begins to cry and the Paladin looked sheepishly as Anlodian walked towards them.

I cradle the young boy's face and dry his tears. "There, there you do not need to cry, this is but a small hurt and Silvershield's are tough! They would get this and strike back at their foes!" Anloadian said with a smile on her face " I should know because I fought alongside them!"

The boy perked up and sat a bit straighter after this. Holding his face, I began to channel the Life Stream, gently coaxing it from the ground and enveloping my hands with light. the cartilage of his nose mending and the wound closing.

"See it was nothing" Anlodian said and she noticed the rest of the boys encircle them and pat the young warrior on the back, giving him courage.

It is a scene that is oh so familiar to her as she flashbacks to when she was younger. A young priestess of the Life Stream, blessing people and healing their aches. She remembers the abbey where she studied the mystical arts and cloistered herself in the library.

She liked being in the abbey with its books and knowledge. She performed each incantation with reference to the Life Stream. Life begins in it and returns to it at some point.

She prided herself with her knowledge of healing. She could mend bones, lift curses and cure poisons with such ease. She achieved the rank of Divine Healer quickly and was the youngest to achieve that.

Many a Peacebringer, Silver Shield Knight and Paladin came to her for healing but more than that they wanted more. She could see it in their eyes as they came to her with the most negligible wounds only so that they can spend a few moments with her.

At first she was flattered but after more came and took time away from her readings she would only treat the most grievous of wounds.

She saw the knights train more and a sliced arm, leg or belly was becoming more prevalant. She would heal them and see the knights gather around the patient and ask how did it go and they would slap the back of the knight giving him courage as he holds his sword again.

The more she became reclusive the more the knights wanted her.

Such was her life in the abbey.

There was nothing note-worthy of a band of pilgrims that entered the abbey that day. People from a far-away land trying to complete their pilgrimage as to get a better life when they return from the Life Stream in another life.

Several adults, some children and their livestock as they made the circuit through several holy sites, bringing their prayers and hope. One of the children was sick as often they do when they do these long pilgrimages.

She could not understand why these pilgrims wanted to bring their children as the roads are full of dangers. Diseases were easily contracted by the children and many had to bury their young by the roadside.

She tried to heal the sick child, probing with the power of the Life Stream, trying to see the symptoms and look for the cure. Diseases were just a part of the natural order and they can be changed from a negative aspect to a positive one.

Yet this one was elusive. It was the first patient and the sickness spread among the other pilgrims. She had her hands full in trying to stop the symptoms from spreading to no avail.

Some of the younger novices caught as well and the abbess declared a quarantine. No one was to go in or out of the abbey.

Invoking the power of the Life Stream was tiring work and so after a day's work she would usually sleep like the dead.

She awoke to blood curdling screams from the other room. She hurriedly dressed and looking in she was horriffied to see the child eating one of the novices. Similar horrific incidents was happening all over the place.

Some of the Silver Shield knights were fending off the mob but those with the sickness outnumbered them.

She saw from the courtyard an eerie green light and she could feel someone channeling. She saw the patriarch of the pilgrims but gone were the brown and tan peasant clothes as he was wearing the purple and red robes of a necromancer!!

"We are under attack!" she screamed as necromancer faced her and behind him rose the undead form of the abbess, her throat neatly cut.

"To arms noble knights!" she said and a Silver Shield Paladin took charge of the offensive as it led a squad down.

Heavily armored and filled with righteous rage. the knights proved more than the animated corpses could handle. Encircled by the knights, she continued refreshing boons of might and endurance as wave after wave fell before them.

The necromancer was flinging unholy magic but she kept shielding them and even able to cast a Turn Undead spell on some of the corpses.

At last the Paladin was face to face with the enemy and he bashed his face in to stun him and stuck his sword in his gut. The necromancer laughed and said " You might have won this round but we will be back for the dead are many and will spill into these lands as the dragons awake" Then he turned into dust.

The abbey was no more and the knights bid me farewell as they needed to report this to the capital. She looked around at the carnage before her and it filled her with too much doubt. She was powerless against the tide of death as she saw everyone she knew slaughtered. She wanted to escape this and so she returned to her mountain village and lived there ever since.

This would not be the last skirmish that the undead would have on their lands and travelling merchants tell of cities laid waste and then recaptured by the knights. Stories of gallant knights and holy paladins made the boys before her want to be like them but she has seen first hand the effects of war. They were losing far too many soldiers.

She saw from a distance a dust storm but was marked with a few glints of light from time to time. These were knights going to her mountain village. Most likely to enlist the young men, even boys that she saw grow up before her eyes.

In the twilight of her years she would no longer hide from death but would go to where the fighting was heaviest to bring her connection to the Life Stream. Every army needs a talented healer, a Divine Healer.

Flavor Text

From the Life Stream we came, to the Life Stream we return.

Everything in its proper time and purpose.

This is my entry to the 9th writing competition for Steem Monsters Steem Monsters Common Card Fantasy Story Contest! // Week 9