by B K Suitter
They still intimidated her, and they weren’t very friendly. They spent more time trying to know Timber than they did her. They considered her weak and hardly gave her a look, and never a second thought.
Aliha was thankful that Gideon and Shanks were so kind, and even the charming Daphaxian treated her well. There was also another woman on board, and she was from the North, not quite as large as the men from her homeland, but still an imposing figure. Her name was Gretta and she had a long face with sharp features, cold blue eyes and long hair the color of ice. She kept it braided and it ran the length of her solid torso, ending at her lower back. She was considered beautiful amongst her race, and deadly. She boasted she could out-fight and out-drink any man, Northern blood or from the South. Gretta made it clear that any fool that tried to court her would have to best her in battle. She could fight with sword or axe and was deadly accurate with the longbow. They called her the Ice Queen.
Aliha was too scared to ask why, even though Gretta loved to talk to her. She assumed it was because they were the only two women on board the massive ship. She would sit in Aliha’s cabin and just talk about anything and everything. Aliha had been too sick to really engage in conversation, but she did enjoy listening to the large woman. It helped take her mind off her troubled stomach.
Now that she was starting to feel better, she could go up on deck and join the large community of ocean voyagers. Aliha loved to watch them train. She had never handled a weapon before, but after watching Gretta wield her sword against her fellow Northmen, she asked if she could be taught to fight. One of the large men laughed and called her a “Southern Princess,” which was an insult in the Northman tongue, meaning that she was too weak for battle. Gretta gave him a right cross with a hard fist, laying him low to the deck. She stepped on his back, hard, driving the wind from his lungs on her way over to Aliha.
“I shall train you myself, with the help of our good Captain Shanks,” and she looked over to the captain and he nodded his head. “And the pretty boy from the South,” she finished, giving Daphaxian a seductive smile.
He bent forward in a graceful low bow and said, “It will be my pleasure, but only if the beautiful Ice Queen grants me a kiss.”
Gretta smiled coyly. “I will, Sergeant, but only after I cut your head from your fanciful body,” and they all laughed at that, even the burley warrior she had knocked to the deck, who was just now rising to his feet and rubbing a bruised jaw.
So that was how Aliha spent her long journey aboard the IRONHEART as it crossed the vast Eastern Ocean. Each day she would train hard, wielding sword, staff, and bow.
Aliha also spent time with Gideon, who taught her how to heal. He showed her which herbs could save lives, cure diseases, and numb the body from pain.
“It is better to save lives than take them,” Gideon would say and Aliha became an apprentice healer.
He also taught her the ways of the four lands. What she needed to know to stay alive. He told her stories of the kings and queens, both ancient and new. Her favorite story was the one about a queen giving birth to a princess while her castle was being over-run. It was only by the help of a powerful wizard that they survived.
He also taught her how to meditate and how to find peace within herself when chaos was unfolding all around her. There were many lessons to be learned at the Temple of Carami, and one night as Gideon was alone in his small cabin, he sat with his back straight and his legs crossed, deep in meditation. Soft images began floating across his mind.
*****************
Year of the Ageless Giant 2300 A.A.
Gideon walked quickly down to the base of the hill, coming onto a plain covered with dead bodies. For as far as the eye could see, there was carnage – men and animals, and those that were both.
He moved west along the shore of the dead and could see the large camp of survivors from the South – the men King Uriah brought to die. As Gideon walked into the camp, the eyes of exhausted men fell upon him. A chorus of moans and the last cries before dying could be heard all around as healers shouted orders and holy men recited prayers for the dead. There was chaos and blood, a visible stench that was both horrible to see and smell.
“Gideon, where have you been? Where is Ezeria?” The soldier appeared suddenly, his urgency bringing Gideon out from the nightmare he was watching.
“He’s dead,” was all Gideon could say, the events unfolding around him leaving him speechless.
“Dead? How?” The soldier’s eyes were wide with fear. He was young, only twenty summers old and his face was twisted in panic.
“It was a wolf,” the healer lied. “It strayed from the battlefield and caught us unaware,” and Gideon looked away, not wanting to explain further.
“Captain Shanks is severely injured and they sent me to find Ezeria. Jonas and Anah are working on him, but they say he will die. Daphaxian is mad with grief and no one dares go near him.”
“Where are they?” Gideon asked.
“They have taken him to the med tent.”
“I want Captain Shanks moved to the command tent,” Gideon said as he followed the soldier through the maze of injured and dying men.
“Why?” the soldier asked. “Daphaxian won’t allow you to move his body.”
“I was Ezeria’s apprentice and I believe I can save him. I must be alone with him, though.” Then Gideon asked as an afterthought, “Where is King Uriah?”
“The king has gathered his personal guard and is heading back to the South,” replied the young soldier.
Good, Gideon thought. The king was the last person he wanted to see. Uriah’s lust for war caused this carnage to happen.
“You must hurry,” Gideon commanded as they continued through the camp. “Meet me in the command tent with the captain.”
The soldier just stared at Gideon. He was afraid and shaking his head.
“I can save him, now go!” Gideon pushed the young man in the direction of the med tents, and the soldier took off running through the camp as fast as he could.
Gideon made his way to the command tent and waited nervously inside until the tent flaps finally opened and Daphaxian entered alone.
“Are you mad, Gideon? Shanks cannot be moved! He has everything he needs in the med tent, if you want to help him, go there!” Daphaxian was smeared with blood and he was exhausted. It was clear that his desperation and anger were all that kept him going.
“He must not be allowed to die in front of his men!” Gideon shouted back. “Bring the things I need from the med tent here! I have a better chance of saving him if I can work on him alone, without the distractions of other dying men!”
Daphaxian looked at Gideon through tired eyes, shaking his head slowly.
“You’re right,” Daphaxian said in defeat. “The men must not watch him die.” He spoke softly now, a sad wash putting out the fire he once had. Daphaxian turned and left the tent in haste, leaving Gideon alone with his thoughts.
The healer reached up and touched the amulet he wore around his neck and he prayed that the magic would come to him as it had for Ezeria. He had heard stories of the great man performing miracles in healing, but he thought it was with skill – not magic. Now Gideon knew the truth of it, and he waited to see if he could perform a miracle of his own.
Daphaxian soon returned with two other soldiers carrying the captain’s body on a long stretcher. Jonas and Anah followed close behind, arguing with the sergeant. They laid the dying man on a table, his blood flowing freely and staining the maps that covered the long planks of wood.
“Gideon, what are you doing?” Jonas asked, sounding more than irritated. “We might still be able to save him, but we need the supplies in the med tent.”
Gideon had thought that Daphaxian would bring the things they needed, but when he looked at the defeated sergeant, it was clear that Daphaxian had brought his friend to the tent so he could be alone with him when he died.
“Then bring the supplies here,” Gideon said as he turned aw
ay to inspect Shanks.
Jonas looked at Daphaxian and the sergeant simply nodded his head, then he turned to the soldiers that had carried Shanks into the tent. “Go with them. Help them bring back everything they need.” Daphaxian’s tone made it clear that he knew it wouldn’t make any difference. His only friend was about to die, and he was ready to accept it.
“I wish to be alone with the captain,” Gideon said to Daphaxian as Jonas and the others fled from the tent.
“Too bad,” replied Daphaxian as he turned to his long-time friend and watched him slowly bleed out.
Gideon took a deep breath and tried to calm himself.
“Then watch the entrance, make sure no one comes in, and it would be best if,” Gideon took another deep breath as he lifted the necklace from around his neck. “It would be best if you forget what you are about to see.”
Daphaxian looked at Gideon as though he were crazy. “What? Have you lost your mind, healer?”
Gideon said nothing as he held out the amulet, the long silver chain held tight in his hand.
“What are you doing, Gideon?” Daphaxian asked, beginning to think the healer really was crazy.
“I don’t know,” Gideon whispered. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do to make the magic work. He began to doubt himself and wondered if Ezeria had even used the amulet to summon the dragons, but then a tiny spark of blue light showed itself deep inside the crystal. Gideon focused on the small glimmer, begging it to allow him to heal the dying captain.
Daphaxian’s eyes grew wide as the floating crystal in the center of the triangular shaped amulet began to spin.
“Gideon,” Daphaxian breathed in amazement, watching as the crystal began to glow, a soft blue light falling all around Captain Shanks’ body.
Gideon looked deep inside the gemstone and the magic filled his eyes. He was shown in his mind all of the dying man’s injuries – a collapsed lung, shattered ribs and a failing heart, accompanied by severe internal bleeding. Shanks had little time left to live and Gideon began to panic, starting to doubt that he could help the captain, but then the amulet’s power took hold and a queasy feeling gripped his insides. Gideon focused deeper on the glowing crystal and a visible scroll opened inside his mind. Words he could not comprehend slowly unscrambled and he began to mumble the language shown to him, but he spoke in a tongue unknown to man.
Before Daphaxian’s own eyes, Shanks began to heal. He watched as the captain’s open wounds slowly began to seal up, leaving jagged scars that turned a light pink then disappeared all together. Shanks’ breathing became stronger and his pale body flushed with color, and only the dark stain of blood was left behind to show proof of the man’s ordeal.
Captain Shanks blinked open his eyes and stared up at the amulet, the crystal’s light fading quickly and its spinning rotations slowing to a stop.
Gideon pulled the necklace away and staggered backwards, almost falling until Daphaxian reached out quickly and took hold of his arm, steadying him as his legs wobbled underneath.
“Gideon, that was amazing. How…, what…,” Daphaxian stumbled over his words, clearly excited at the sight of Captain Shanks trying to sit up, mumbling questions of his own.
“How did you do that? Are you a wizard?” Daphaxian asked as he laughed with excitement, almost letting go of the healer, until he realized Gideon was still having trouble standing.
“No, of course not, Sergeant,” Gideon spoke with a dizzy look and a slow speech.
“What happened?” Captain Shanks asked in a tired voice, still struggling to sit up.
“I’m ok now,” Gideon said softly to Daphaxian, then moved slowly over to Shanks. “Please lie down, captain, I must inspect your wounds.” Gideon sounded exhausted and he gently forced Shanks to lie back down on the table.
“What wounds?” Daphaxian remarked in a jovial manner.
“I feel fine, Gideon, just a little tired,” and Shanks tried to sit back up, but was resisted by the healer.
“I need to wrap your wounds,” Gideon started to say.
“What wounds?” Daphaxian said again with laughter.
“Please, Daphaxian,” Gideon replied, sounding irritated by the joking manner of the sergeant. “No one must know what I’ve done here. I cannot heal the entire camp, and if people see the captain like this, they will start asking questions that none of us can answer.”
“What did you do to me, Gideon?” Shanks asked with a voice still tired but gaining strength.
“Of course,” Daphaxian replied, his manner quickly becoming serious. “I will help you with the bandages.”
“Will someone please tell me what the two of you are talking about? I feel fine, really. I’m just a little tired,” Shanks kept repeating the question, arguing that he felt fine while Gideon and Daphaxian continued to wrap him in bandages that covered his entire upper body. Just as they were finishing, Jonas and Anah came through the flaps carrying supplies from the med tent. The two soldiers that were with them followed in close behind, also carrying equipment the healers would need.
“False alarm,” Daphaxian said with a wide smile. “It appears the captain was not as bad as we thought.”
The two healers stood with shocked expressions on their faces as they stared at Captain Shanks sitting up on the table.
“It’s true,” Shanks replied. “I’m fine now.”
“But how,” Jonas stammered. “You were near to death.”
“Apparently not,” Daphaxian said in his jovial manner.
“I used the last of a healing salve given to me by Ezeria,” Gideon lied. “The captain will be fine now – he just needs rest.”
Jonas shook his head. “No, I saw him – we saw him,” and he looked to Anah who just stood there dumbfounded. “We worked on him and he was dying and…” Jonas’ words came quickly, and he was on the verge of hysterics when Daphaxian’s slap across the jaw immediately calmed him down.
“It’s a good thing we didn’t let you finish, or the captain would be dead,” Daphaxian scolded as he became serious. “Now get out there and see if you can help the other men. There are still soldiers that are wounded and dying.”
Jonas just stood there frozen in disbelief, shaking his head. He looked from Gideon to Shanks, then back again.
“Go!” Daphaxian roared, and Jonas and Anah backed slowly out of the tent, their faces twisted with unasked questions. “Assist them,” he said to the two soldiers, and they turned on their heels and left as well, passing three large Northmen as they entered the tent. The Beoraki soldiers wore plate mail armor that was covered in blood and their large weapons were sheathed at their sides.
“Daphaxian,” greeted one of the large Northern warriors with disdain.
“What do you want?” Daphaxian asked coldly.
The Northman ignored him and turned his attention to the man sitting on the table. “Captain Shanks,” he said with respect.
“How fares the Northmen?” Shanks asked with equal respect.
“Not well,” the large warrior replied in a deep resonating voice. “King Ironheart lies dying on the field of battle and our healers have lost all hope. We have heard of the great feats of Ezeria and would ask you to allow us to escort him to our king’s side.”
“I will go,” Gideon said, looking at Daphaxian.
“You are Ezeria?” asked the towering Northman as he turned to the healer.
“Yes, now let’s go, we must hurry,” Gideon said as he headed for the tent’s exit, still weak in the knees.
“We were sent here to bring back an old man,” the Northman said.
“Soon I will be,” Ezeria’s apprentice pushed through the tent’s flap a little bit older and a little bit wiser.
The three large Beoraki soldiers hesitated, staring down at Daphaxian.
“He healed Captain Shanks,” Daphaxian said, shrugging his shoulders. Shanks nodded his approval and the Northmen looked down at the thick wrap of bandages surrounding the man’s torso, then turned and left the te
nt.
They rode horses that were large and angry. The land was thick with blood and death, disturbing the animals as they wound their way through the carnage.
The expressions that were frozen on the lifeless men were as unsettling as the positions they were left in. The twisted bodies showed the true art of war like a vast museum of the dead. Gideon covered his face with the neck of his tunic, choking on the foul stench.
They made their way to the Northern camp where a massive group of Beoraki soldiers gathered in silence. As Gideon got off his horse, the hulking men parted a narrow path to their beloved King Ironheart. The healer hurried to the Northern ruler’s side and knelt beside him. The king was huge, lying motionless and barely breathing, his fabulous plate armor stripped clear to expose his massive chest that was covered in blood.
“You are not Ezeria,” a tall thick soldier spoke, his voice deep and cold. He was the leader of The Shadows: the king’s personal guard.
“Ezeria is dead. I am his apprentice, Gideon Saul,” the healer looked over the king’s wounds, inspecting deep gashes and dark bruising. “I must use magic to save your king,” and the healer pulled off the long silver chain from around his neck.
A murmur spread throughout the surrounding Northmen, whispers of fear and dark magic.
“This is not dark magic!” Gideon yelled out to be heard. “It’s healing magic and it does not bring people back from the dead! If your king dies now, I cannot save him. I used it to save Captain Shanks.”
They had all seen the captain taken off the field of death. He was crushed under a large lionsteed, broken up badly and they knew the man was sure to die. The three Beoraki soldiers that had brought Gideon confirmed it was true; they had seen and spoke with the respected Asarian captain.
The large Shadow pulled forth a sickening blade, the slow noise grating to the ear. He towered over Gideon, his long thick hair the color of coal and streaked with white, which was unusual for the Beoraki.
“I despise magic,” the Northern warrior said deeply. “But if you can save my king, then I must let you try.” The large Northman pointed his long dagger at the face of Gideon, a warning to what could happen if things went terribly wrong. They all knew King Ironheart was about to die, and only a miracle could save him now. Gideon held the amulet out over the king’s body. He stared deep into the magic crystal – confident he could do it again. The round gemstone slowly began to spin as a soft glow brightened from its center, illuminating the great king as he laid there dying.
