Prologue

  Magic. A power that seems impossible to get. An ability that only Aelia’s wealthy seem to be able to access. Whatever you have been told throughout your life about the truths and realities of magic, disregard them as lies. Truth is not so hard to find, if you look closely.

  The Tree of the Father Fruit is said to be the center of our world. It is rooted in the Eternal Meadow, and from it, comes the Fruits. When a child eats of a Fruit from that tree, he gains the ability to wield a bit of the power of nature. He can learn to control the mighty sea, or the solid earth. He can acquire the talent to change the flow of the wind or tell the plants where to grow. He can discover the secrets of the raging flame, or the raw power of lightning. When he learns these secrets, not only does he gain power, but he gains responsibility. When used for good, these powers minister to you, and you grow in your ability to use them. When used for evil, they will consume you, no matter how long it takes, but they will take you in the end.

  There is one type of magic that is so rare that you will likely never meet one of its Kin. The Art of Healing. It is said that to gain this magic, one must climb the tallest mountains of the north to reach the Tree of the Mother Pearl, the Mother of the Pearls. Though many have ventured into the high mountains to find this tree, and many have come back, none have ever found the Tree…

  Chapter One

  “Healer!”

  A cry rose above the din of the dusty marketplace, demanding the attention of those at the monastery gate, especially that of a slight teen who was fixing her hair back in place. She paused, glancing up from the small hand mirror she was using, then gave a small sigh of relief as she saw a woman in the pale dress and dark tunic of a healer already coming.

  “Healer!”

  A middle-aged man broke from the crowd, breathing heavily and clutching a stitch in his side, dark hair falling into his eyes, his pumpkin-colored tunic rumpled and damp with sweat from his recent exertion. “Please come, my son fell from his horse, and we don’t know what’s wrong!”

  The woman, Nir. Elen, rushed from the tent, “Sir, please calm down. What happened?”

  “My son was riding his horse this morning and fell to the ground, clutching his stomach. He needs a healer; an herbalist will do no good.”

  “How do you know an herbalist will do no good? Does he have powers?”

  The man hesitated for a second, “I – I just know, and no, he doesn’t. What does it matter?

  “We cannot send out healers every time some claim to need them, they are very busy with the war, and must conserve energy- “

  “He needs a healer!”

  “What do you mean,” a quiet voice interjected. “‘the Healer is super busy’; I haven’t healed in at least a week, Nir. Elen.” The slight teen had come to stand beside the woman, having finished winding her long chestnut hair into a thick bun.

  “Where do I need to go? Who needs healing?”

  “No, Raicu, we are sending an herbalist- “

  “No! He needs a Healer!” The man insisted, only his eyes relaying his desperation as they flit from Raicu, to Nir. Elan, and back again.

  “I will come.”

  The man opened his mouth to respond but Nir. Elen’s voice broke through the silence first.

  “Raicu.”

  Raicu’s face fell, and she turned to Nir. Elen. “Please may I go? I haven’t been allowed to heal in weeks.”

  An unreadable emotion flickered over the woman’s face, more akin to a shadow and Raicu wondered if she had seen it at all, then measured smile returned as she turned to face the man.

  “Please wait here, we will send someone momentarily.” She said, voice as sweet as honey, then grabbed Raicu’s wrist and pulled her into the tent, dragging her to the dim back, out of earshot.

  “How many times must I tell you? You must save your powers for those that are worth it!”

  “He’s just a kid! He deserves to be taken care of! I promise I won’t wear myself out”

  Nir. Elen sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Go then, if you must, but do not overexert yourself. You must remain fresh.”

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “Thank you Nir. Elen” Raicu rushed, giving a shallow bow, and dashed into the bright, afternoon sunlight, slinging her Healer’s pack over her shoulders.

  Back inside the tent, Nir. Elen remained in the same spot, arms crossed and wearing a worried twist to her lips. A shadow detached itself from the tent wall to walk to her side.

  “That’s her then?” A man’s voice asked from beneath the deep hood shrouding all but a stray lock of blonde hair and the lower half of a man’s face. “She seems to be getting out of control. Thinking for herself.”

  “I agree,” Nir. Elen admitted. “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but she is getting an attitude.”

  “We do not allow attitude in our units.” The man responded, his tone holding a measured interest.

  “Yes. What should happen if the attitude continues?” Nir. Elen mused, inspecting her fingernails.

  “An admonition would be the first step.” He stated.

  “And if it continued?”

  “More severe punishment would be an order.”

  Nir. Elen nodded. “Let us hope it does not come to that.”

  “Indeed.” He muttered in agreement.

  Back out in the bright midday sun, Raicu glancing around the grassy square, spotting the man by the fountain. He was pacing back and forth in front of it, wringing his hands and occasionally running a hand through his hair. She went over to him, nervously clenching the fabric of her trousers in her sweating palms. “Where do I need to go?”

  He looked up, his shockingly amber eyes meeting hers. “By the Merchants Villa.” He turned and began to run. He led her through the prosperous merchants and fine craftsmen, spices thick on the air, and bright bolts of cloths spilling into the main thoroughfare, he led her past the farmer’s markets, the old women haggling for the best prices of their potatoes or carrots, the occasional child leading a family donkey laden with produce. As she followed the man, Raicu was amazed at the how far the market spread, it seemed to go on forever. They passed more stalls, some with ornate lanterns hanging from seemingly every possible place, and a few places that didn’t seem possible, and others that were bare, with a sign hanging from the rafters.

  They paused at another stone fountain, where women were washing clothes, and children were running around, screaming and laughing as they played a game of their own making, before a scream rent the air, stilling the hubbub immediately.

  “Tommy!” the man paled and pointed toward a house with a bronze-bordered banner, one with three stars on a field of deep blue above a mountain. “Lord Aardene?” Raicu gasped, mentally kicking herself for not recognizing the man.

  “Yes. That’s my name,“ He said, seeming annoyed. “but my son!”

  “Of Course.” Raicu said, swallowing her surprise and following the man into the house where he opened a door into a dim room. She stood in the dimness for a moment, eyes adjusting to the low light. In a moment, she could see a young boy, around 8 or 9, curling on a cot, face tight with pain.

  “Marie,” Lord Aardene spoke from behind her. “I brought a healer.” Lady Marie, as the woman was, allowed herself a sigh of relief, motioning for the herbalist by the bed to move aside. The herbalist sputtered something about being dismissed until she saw Raicu. Her eyes widened, and she hastily stepped out of the way.

  Raicu slung the back off her shoulder and knelt by the child, resting her hand against the boy’s flushed face. “Where is he hurt?”

  “We don’t know, he was fine this morning. He just seemed to shudder, and fell from the horse, clutching his stomach and groaning. When I tried to look at his stomach, he screamed and curled tighter.” Lady Marie said, her delicate blue eyes shining with unshed tears.

  The boy groaned and Raicu and his mother turned toward him. He had shifted on the bed, and Raicu found fever-bright blue staring into her own dark eyes. Immediately his mother was by his side, speaking soft words by his ear.

  “Tommy, it’s going to be alright. Daddy brought a Healer.” He hardly seemed to her his mother, contorting as a new wave of pain swept through him.

  Raicu dug into her bag, grabbing a mortar and pestle, and ash bark, which she snapped into pieces and ground into a fine dust. She set the bowl aside and began to gently pull his arms from around him, lifting his shirt. She winced when she saw the inflamed skin, and strange purple bruising that seemed to reach toward his heart. When she lightly pressed her palm against the bright flesh, grimacing at the heat radiating from the skin, he screamed again, curling up again, tears trailing down his flushed cheeks.

  Shoving aside the agony she felt radiating from the boy, Raicu reached into her bag and grabbed two phials of oil, dripping one into the mortar, and mixing it into the dust to form a paste, and putting some of the other on a rag.

  “I need a cup of water,” She said. “And I need him to be able to drink.” Lord Aarden moved to prop Tommy’s head on a pillow, running a trembling hand through the boy’s sun-bleached curls. Raicu accepted the cup Marie handed her and scraped the paste from the mortar into it, mixing it into the water.

  “Have Tommy drink this,” She said, giving the cup the his father. “Ash bark for the fever, and Thelmen for any infection.”

  “I will need to be able to feel his stomach before I can do any healing. Can you help him stay still?” His parents both nodded.

  “Tommy?” Raicu asked tentatively.

  The boy opened pain bleary eyes, staring up at her again.

  “I need to be able to feel your stomach so I can know how to heal it, but it’s going to hurt. Can you be a big man and hold still for me?”

  Tommy nodded and squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his teeth.

  Raicu pulled away his arms again, and rested her hands on his stomach and occasionally pressing or moving them around. He flinched at every move, stifling cries, more teras squeezing onto his cheeks. She worked as quickly as she could and still be gentle.

  Finally, she felt confidant she was ready to heal it. She positioned her hands on his middle, wincing at the heat, and closed her eyes, letting her powers flow through her arms and into her hands. A dim green light shone from her hands and filled her vision, like liquid emeralds. She healed the surface, then went deeper, the swelling going down, and the skin growing cooler, more normal. She went deeper, to the source, but something was off. She couldn’t tell what, but she couldn’t stop, not now that her powers were flowing.

  The healing energy touched the source, trying to restore it and all went wrong. The world was spinning all around Raicu, her mind felt like it was being torn, then a sharp spear ran through the top of her head, through her heart, and into her stomach. Her hands flew back, and she found herself fighting to breathe as the air fled her lungs.

  For a moment she could only gasp, refilling her lungs with air. Then the ringing in her head faded, and she opened her eyes to see empty blue eyes staring at nothing. He was dead.