Registered: Mar 2001
Ileni GoldenFlight's View
“Act quickly!. Heal the Palladin, Silver! The blacksmith! Phen give us strength!” The other healers had rushed into the room behind H’Dero and began to add their own voices to the chaos ensuing there. Hands and eyes constantly busy, Ileni had no time to think, no time to feel, no time to deal with her own reactions. She worked completely on instinct; sensing need and healing where she could.
Saere was found and still screaming, even after her ropes had been released. Ileni reached for her healing potions, praying they would either calm down the distraught girl or render her mercifully unconscious for a brief time. Saere’s clothes were in absolute shambles, ripped and shredded. There were rope burns in places, and a gash in her leg; these were quickly and easily mended. Saere’s emotional state, however was of more concern. Sliding an arm under the girl’s neck, Ileni propped up Saeare’s head enough to slip a healing potion into her wide-open mouth. Sputtering, Saere managed to swallow it, her body following its own instinct. Phen aid our healing. Ileni implored. This girl has need of rest.
Ileni noticed Silver hovering fiercely. He looked grim, older. His chest was still heaving from the battle, and his limbs were stained with blood. His jaw was set and his eyes, steely, as if he dared anyone to further harm the girl twitching on the table.
What is it about this songstress that brings out these protective feelings? Is it her beauty? Her youth? Her heart wrenching vulnerability? Ileni mused looking down, to see that Saere’s body was starting to lose it’s tension.
"How many more..." She heard H’Dero say behind her. "How many more will these goblins take?" Ileni turned to look at the blacksmith. The superhuman fury had left his face, replaced by something far more serious, more determined, more deadly.
"We have to act" he stated firmly. "NOW."
Ileni watched as H’Dero bent over, picked up his sword, and sheathed it. The blacksmith looked down at a mangled goblin and then stomped angrily down on it. "I am not losing anyone else in here," he declared. "This mine, is our mine, and we must liberate it!"
His words hung, throbbing, in the thick silence. Beside her, Saere’s body still twitched, the violent shaking slowly leaving her limbs. She still sobbed, only quietly, more puffs of air than actual outbursts. Ileni laid a calming hand on Saere’s forehead, willing healing warmth to flow into her.
A detached part of her mind noticed that Old Freidric had hobbled into the room, supported by Young Timac. Although still somewhat ashen-faced, the old healer had immediately gone to the fallen warrior, Marius. Those two had known each other well, Ileni noted mournfully. Old Freideric, gently, tenderly, closed the dead man’s eyes. The spilled blood around him was starting to fade. Young Timac whispered something to the older healer, which caused the old man to pause in his conjuring, nod solemnly and stop.
“Yes,” came his whispered words, voice old, but firm, “We shall leave this blood to sanctify this ground.” And he began to chant prayers to The Three and The Spirits, for the safe journey of the Fallen One.
Last edited by SilverHorse on 05-22-2001 at 05:49 AM
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