NOVEL SIMPLE Chapter 042: Healing
“I lay down, debilitated by my headache. I hear other people around, but I don’t pay any attention to them – my head hurts so much! I want to sleep longer, but the more time passes – the louder their noises become. I fruitlessly try to ignore it for a bit, but enough is enough – I try to slowly open my eyes and attempt to speak; however, not only am I blinded by the sun, my throat is also parched, so all I can muster is a pathetic groan. It, however, is enough to catch their attention – and they cease their incessant thumping. The silence is ominous.
-And so the sinner wakes up -the first, solemn voice belongs to a serious man, who punctuates his statement by hitting the ground 5 times.
-Fittingly blind to her transgressions -the second, amused voice belongs to a jovial man, who punctuates his statement by hitting the ground 5 times.
-It’s the time of judgement, so rise up! -the third, hoarse voice belongs to an authoritative woman, who punctuates her statement by hitting the ground 5 times.
I, still unable to see, try to sit – but I am too weak to even rise my head! I struggle again and again, but the only results are the sneers and derision from the crowd surrounding my bed. I start panicking, in part from realising I cannot move my body and in part from the realisation that there is a large audience seeing all my failures; I have no idea what of those two scares me more. I freeze and a whimper escape my throat.
-So feeble, so pathetic! -the serious man punctuates his exclamation by hitting the ground 5 times.
-Ahahahahahahahaha! -the jovial man laughs, and punctuates his mockery by hitting the ground 5 times.
-To the claims of divinity antithetic -the authoritative woman punctuates her statement by hitting the ground 5 times.
With a titanic flex of will, I finally open my eyes fully, taking in the situation unobstructed. The first thing I see is an ocean of Beastkin, savage, and dangerous. Their faces are twisted in animalistic rage and hunger, which scares me more than my blindness; I wish I could unsee that. The other thing I see are the three people who have been talking to me. On the left stands the serious man, wearing a habit, his face obscured by its hood. In the middle squats the jovial man with rabbit ears, his face contorted by a manic laughter. The last one, the authoritative woman with a horned, rat-like head, stands to the right, her eyes baleful, her face sinister.
A sense of dread washes over me; something ominous is bound to happen, no – it has already happened. I shouldn’t be so weak, should I? Should I?! After all, I’m strong and… but am I? I extort my will and my muscles to their limits to look down at me – and what I see shakes me to the core: not only am I naked and chained to what feels like an altar – I am a Human. I’m in my weak, pathetic, disease-ridden shell I thought I’ve shed a lifetime ago; how? Why?
-The false idol appears surprised -the serious man punctuates says and hits the ground 5 times.
-The usurpers are always slow like that -the jovial man says and hits the ground 5 times.
-That’s why they are despised -the authoritative woman says and hits the ground 5 times.
A cold shiver runs down my spine when the trio suddenly moves closer – and the rest of the spectators after them. I feel their judging, hateful eyes on me and fear what is coming. I struggle, unsuccessfully; the only result is more mockery thrown my way. I try to speak, but my mouth is blocked. I can only cry in fear and pain, as chains that bind me to the pillar – since when I’ve been hanging on it? – dig into my frail muscles. It only pleases my tormentors, who have already reached me and look me straight in the eyes.
-You claim to be of godly blood -the serious man says and spits on the ground under me.
-When you know you were sculpted by the Eldritch Flesh-Maker -the jovial man says and chuckles.
-Yet, you steal the place in their brood -the authoritative woman says. -If you’re truly of their Kin: where have they been? -she continues without break and hits the ground 5 times with her staff.
-Ahahaha! Are they watching? Why so quiet? -the jovial man ask mockingly and hits his belly with the head of his axe 5 times.
-Pray for a miracle, or atone for your sin -the serious man says menacingly and hits his open palm with the flat of his sword 5 times.
I stare at them and struggle, my bound digging deeper; everyone is watching my torment in delight and sneer. I am scared. I cry. I try to beg, but I’m voiceless – and I know that there’s nobody to help me. No one is coming. No one is watching. No one is saving me.
And yet… a miracle happens.
Suddenly, a calming chill spreads from my forehead throughout my whole body. I relax and slip out of the bounds. As I set my feet down, a voice can be heard from the heavens; I cannot hear it clearly, but it is not for me. When it stops, the sky and the ground open and swallow the – now shocked and frightened – crowd. The last ones to disappear are the trio of my accusers: the serious man falls silent, the jovial man winks and laughs maniacally – but it is the reaction of the authoritative woman that puzzles me: she smiles mischievously and winks at me, as if I bested her in some game.
Finally – I am left alone.
…or not. There is still something noise in my head, bugging me; it’s as if someone was calling me. I try to ignore it at first, to celebrate my survival – but I am unable to do it any longer. I take a deep breath and ascend towards the voice calling me. As I move upwards, my body returns to its normal, Hellhound shape.
In the end I reach the veil of reality calm and collected. I’m also in my natural, beautiful Beastkin form. The only thing left to do is to reach behind it – and I do just that.
I open my eyes and take a deep, steadying breath; I feel strangely calm, but it’s good – my head does not hurt me anymore. In fact, I feel much better than in the morning… if it is still the same day. I feel peckish – but not thirsty; there’s even some pleasant herbal aftertaste in my mouth; to be fair – herbal aroma is everywhere here.
I then look where I am – in some sort of hut or tent, it turns out; while it looks simple and temporary, there are some plants hanging from the low ceiling, getting dried. I’m on a primitive bed made from furs and covered by some blankets – also from furs. I feel I’m naked underneath, so I stay put.
More importantly, however, I notice that someone’s hand is on my forehead, spreading some sort of ointment there. I’m surprised I don’t freak out, but feel comforted by it instead; must be someone I know. And indeed – when I look up I see a warm, grandmotherly smile of familiar elderly Beaverwoman; it deepens when our eyes meet. “Feeling better, darling?”
“Yes. Thank you” I say and smile back at the woman – who I now recognise as Baba Tika, Olka’s mentor. “And thank you for your earlier help” that makes her chuckle – but it also reminds me of something and I feel cold sweat breaking on my back. “Wait! What about the Grand Council?! Did I… did I…?”
“Don’t worry about it for now” the Bobala comforts me as I struggle to find correct words. “Just know that nobody is angry with you for what you did” she pets my head carefully… it’s very nice.
“It’s good” I sigh in relief. “So how did it…?” The Witch stops my question by putting a finger on my lips.
“Shhhh. It’s not time for that – we have to talk about something else first” I raise my eyebrow, intrigued, then nod in agreement. She smiles at that, but… it changes slightly soon; there are concerns visible in it. “Your dream – no, nightmare – what was it about?” She takes her finger off and I look at her confused; how is it more important? She seems to notice my doubts and explains. “Dreams can tell a lot about what is lying down on one’s Soul – and if they are so intense, it’s better to share them with someone. Especially someone who can actually gleam some meaning from them” she looks me straight in the eyes. “But it’s your decision in the end.”
I am not fully sure why, but I can feel her honesty. She evokes trust – despite meeting her only today. There is something I cannot pinpoint that makes me willing to open to her. And so I do.
I start by retelling my dream, putting emphasis on how I felt when things were happening in it; at some point I start crying and she hugs me – and it breaks the rest of my barriers. I start talking about everything – my other dreams, my current life, my old life, the Alchemist, Olka, Pola, Nugund… I cannot stop this flood – but I don’t want to. It feels good. It feels refreshing. It feels cathartic. I had no idea how much stress I was bottling up – but now I am finally able to release all of it.
Tika is a great listener. She does not judge me, she does not stop me, she does not dismiss me; most importantly – she does not interrupt me. Sure, she gives me pointers from time to time, but mostly she just… is there. She is there, so I can lean on her when I cry. She is there to reassuringly pat my back when I confess my worries and fears. She is there to give me a casual, physical contact I had no Idea how much I craved. She is there for me.
I don’t know how much time has passed – a lot, I guess – but I told her everything that weighed on my mind this past few days. And even that is enough to lighten my mood. I look at her and… she looks pensive, ruminating over my story. I tilt my head and she smiles warmly at that.
“There has been so much struggle in your life, so much hardship… but it explains a lot, and the dreams make it clearer” she begins and I’m all ears. “First is what worried you the most: how others reacted to your burst of Aura at the Gathering” I tense, dreading the answer; the old Witch just smiles at that. “Contrary to what you are worried about, it caused the Tribe and the others to view you very positively – so much so there have already been women who came to ask you to give them a child” it feels as if all my blood gathered in my face – which makes the elderly woman giggle. “Oh, youth!”
“Why? They don’t know me… and how was my rage attractive? Didn’t I break some sort of sacred oath or something?” I ask questions – in part to occupy my mind with something else.
“Don’t worry about it” she dismisses my concerns. “If anyone is at fault it is old Yaga; and I think I know why she did that” she sighs and shakes her head. “I’m not sure if I approve of her methods, but they were successful in the end, and paid a hefty price.”
“So why did she do that? Why did she invade my mind and told me so many awful things?!” I raise my voice; I definitely disapprove of her methods.
“This way nobody questions your claims of divine origins… even if you disagree with that sentiment yourself. Interestingly, both versions can be truth” I tilt my head, confused, urging her to explain. “You – or rather: you now – were made by who you call ‘the Alchemist’, and who some others call ‘the Eldritch Flesh-Maker’, or ‘the Weaver of Lives’, a very elusive and mysterious being, rarely known to anyone who does not study the deepest secrets of the World. A being who those in the know all assume is older than the Yavea itself – you should talk with Yaga about it, the only reason I know about it is from her. They have some history, after all – and you know it” her face turns serious. “She will have your answers. But know one thing” she raises her finger. “The Gods – whether you believe in their divinity or not – did exist at some point as mortals. At least some of them. And you know that your maker had to give you a Body… and that it had to come from somewhere.”
“Are you… are you suggesting I have a body of a deified mortal?” I ask, unsure what to think about it.
“No. You belong to a completely new type of Kin. A unique one – and don’t forget your Body was made to specifically fit you. And that means it wasn’t made from only one source” she responds swiftly. “But that’s just a theory. Again – talk to old Yaga, she is much, much more knowledgeable on that topic than anyone this side of Kolo Mountains” I’m not very thrilled to meet someone who has just… violated my mind not that long ago, but it seems I will have no choice. Great.
“Finally” Baba Tika breaks the silence, bringing my attention back to our talk. “I’m telling you this since I believe it will help you in the future – we need to have a few words about dreaming. I don’t know how it is in a world you came from, but here in Yavea, the dreams can happen – and it’s the type of dream you had – when a Soul of someone slips to Snevsiet” a drop of cold sweat forms at my back when I recognise the name of one of Beastkin underworlds; the venerable woman in front of me notices my unease and hurries an explanation. “It’s nothing dangerous, Snevsiet is the closest and the safest of all the Zavsiety. In fact, spontaneous travel there is safe – really, only when invading the dreams of others for nefarious reasons it may turn dangerous; still, it requires a special kind of Soul to breach the Veil so often and so easily as you – a quality that would make you a very good Witch” I feel myself blush at that compliment; thankfully, the old Beaverkin does not pay any attention to that. “But we digress; one final thing you need to know about Snevsiet is that the dreams there are true to the dreamer.”
“What?! I don’t understand – it doesn’t make any sense!” I complain – and Baba Tika only smiles.
“You will understand in time. Now – you need to eat and meet with the others. After all, the Full Moon is tonight – and as I said, many are interested in you after the Gathering.”
