Submitted: 25 January 1999

The Heroes, The Rune, and the Isle

by Amorisse

Then they were there. In the excitement, one empath became separated from her traveling companions. So much was yet to be explored; everyone had scattered, climbing up the rocky cliffs that rose up from the soft- sanded beaches. The empath, lost in daydreams as was her habit, made her way slowly through the ruggedly beautiful landscape, taking her time to note landmarks and enjoy the peace of nature. Serenity wrapped around her like a comforting blanket. The boat was too small for such a long trip and several places on her body were still sore from being bumped into by other people. It was good to get away from it all. It was good to be in a part of the realms she'd never seen before. Compared to the almost constant bickering and sparring she encountered near the Crossings, the sound of waves roaring towards shore was like a whisper. As much as she tried to hold on her empathy towards Elanthian beings, a tinge of bitterness pricked at her. The past months had not been easy. Last year's war against the Gorbesh tore them apart as much as it brought them together. Many arguments still arose in public gathering spots and over the thought waves concerning why we fought the war to begin with. Massive deaths and bloodshed seems to have taken its toll on everyone's outlook, hardening the hearts of some, even while the hope of others held fast.

Soon the empath found herself completely alone. Somewhere, past thickets and vines, down a steep slope, something nefarious laid in wait, hiding in the kweld. And those who were caught unaware, met their fate.

It was not long before the empath could sense the losses. The sound of a voice called in her head, and she stopped and gazed out at the view from the cliff she'd just climbed. "Amorisse, are you out there? I have four dead here who need help."

She picked her way along the trail until she reached the top of the slope. There laid the bodies of her traveling companions, Stonesong and Calimoon, and also those of Keivel and Aldied. "Are there no clerics on this island to help four dead?" She concentrated on projecting her thoughts with the aid of a gwethdesaun. No reply. She observed the area: a slight breeze rustled the stillness all around and all was silence but for the sound of her own breathing. Aldied's ghost moaned, begging for a reunion with his body. The moaning grew into whining. It was nearly unbearable.

"Wait here," she said, as if the dead had any choice. "I'll find help in town." Rushing through the kwelde, she searched until she found the trail to town. In town she searched for a cleric. She came upon a scraggly priest and touched his shoulder to get his attention.

"Bless you, child," the priest said as he reached out to clasp her hands in his. His eyes were almost wild looking, a gaze of madness. She shrank back from him as he pulled her closer, grinning oddly. "Watch yourself! This place is unholy!" he began muttering distractedly, paying no attention to the empath's pleas for help. She ran back through the wilds toward the slope, stopping only to ask several times over the gwethdesuan for help.

The thoughts of one came back through her mind, "I've checked the beach, the dock and the boat: there are no clerics here." Desolation mixed with adrenaline and she rummaged through the supplies she carried in her pack. There was a rustling in the bushes and she turned to face a shadow. Her heart jumped and she raced the rest of the way up the slope. Despite the priests despairing words, she knew the gods wouldn't forsake those who held their favor. Although the spot where one would return after a departure and short pass near the starry road was unknown, that would be the only way. As time wore on, memories of life slipped away. We all know that in these realms, memories are cherished.

"I'm going to depart," came Stonesong's ghostly voice. "Then I'll find my way back and help the rest of the group." Calimoon's body shivered. Amorisse glanced at Aldied: his body was so cold and stiff, so drained of blood, that the massive wound on his neck had stopped bleeding. Keivel still had color in his cheeks, although his lips were decidedly blue.

"Ah!" the empath said as her fingers closed around the small stone she had been searching for. Though it was only an inch in diameter, the pink erithyte runestone contained months and years of memories, so to speak. "Wait a moment, and I can cast the rejuvenation spell on you." She smiled and smoothed a hand over her friend's forehead. The empath was glad to feel Stonesong's warmth against her palm; restoring her memory would not be too difficult. Harnessing as much of the life power around her as possible, the empath gave a silent thanks to the hunter who had given her the runestone. Then, after two casts of the spell, Stonesong's body sank into the earth below, leaving behind a grave.

For dead lips, Aldied managed a fine job of complaining. Stonesong had been working tirelessly for several anlas. Her hair was damp from perspiration, her lips dry from chanting her prayers. She looked worn and weak from straining to harness power. Stonesong was a young member of the cleric's guild, and one not used to such work with magic. Yet though her magic was unpracticed and unrefined, it was as heroic as any the empath had seen in all her years of working alongside the holy sect. More so, she thought, because Stonesong endured despite her lack of experience. That took courage, and heart. Another anlas passed. Calimoon was alive and playing a gentle melody on his lute. The empath pulled out yet another runestone and brought forth from it a spell that called a refreshing breeze to sooth them as they worked.

Then two more hunters arrived, pulling behind them the bodies of two more dead. One of them smiled apologetically as he saw the two other bodies still at our feet. The other cupped his hand over his nose and made a face. "Peeeew!" He exclaimed, toeing one of the bodies gently with the end of his boot, as if to test its deadness. Stonesong glanced up at him, her head still bent in prayer. The colors of the setting sun reflected in her eyes and they looked more weary and bloodshot than ever.

The empath was dashing back and forth from an area a little west of them, drawing on the better supply of Life mana to share with Stonesong. When she arrived to see not two, but four dead, she could have been pushed over with a feather. She dropped to her knees between them to rest, brushing them slightly with her touch, sensing the loss of blood and measuring it. For every two steps forward, it seemed as if one step was taken back. "How are you?" The empath whispered to Stonesong, although she didn't need to ask. She could sense Stonesong's fatigue.

"I'm tired and I should've been gone at (Meraud's cloak)," Stonesong whispered back. "But I..." She was interrupted by another whining moan from the dead.

"How long until Keivel is ready?" Amorisse asked.

"He's been down for a long time. Aldied is even worse. These other two are not quite as bad. It will be a while before they are all up." Stonesong chanted another prayer and gestured again at the body beside her. The empath ran west to harness more mana for her friend. Part of her didn't want to go back. The dead are an ever complaining sort. Some of the words from the scraggly looking priest came back to her and she thought how unappreciated the clergy sometimes are. Elanthia is blessed with many fine members of the Cleric's guild, each following a calling of his or her own. Some clergy, cynical perhaps, had given up on work with the dead altogether. At times, their lack of gratitude was abrasive. Didn't they realize that clerics did not have to rejuvenate them? Did they know the formidable foe a cleric had to face before she could bestow the gift of resurrection on them? The cleric faced Urrem'tier in battle so these fallen warriors would not have to. Amorisse winced to recall one ghost's words about Stonesong, "If she can't resurrect, then what good is she?" Amorisse knew the answer: Stonesong is good because of what's in her heart - compassion. The cleric could have turned away from the dead and left them there to whither away to nothing, but she stayed and slowly, ever so slowly, brought each closer to being the whole same soul they were before they were slain.

The empath raced to town once more to search for help. This time she found a Paladin, Krisp. Before she could finish her request for assistance, he had slipped his hand into hers and she lead him back to the spot where four dead still laid. When Stonesong saw the Paladin, one who shared the same connection to Holy power as her, she sighed with relief. The empath's harnessed Life power was helpful, but not nearly as that of the paladins. Work went faster now, and those who witnessed it were moved by the unity and diligence of the group. Krisp never once complained about being dragged to this place, which was beginning to smell worse, from his dinner and ale in town. Few words were shared, while the task at hand, while daunting, was faced with shared magic and smiles.

Night was full upon them by the time the last of the dead was dead no longer. One passer by commented, "Well, they could have departed all along, at any time." But no one in the group replied. In their hearts they knew something more than memories were saved here. It touched them with a power no empath has ever possessed and it had nothing to do with guild or calling or walk of life. Out of the heart of compassion came the building of something more, an evidence of what even the most dramatic of landscapes pales to in comparison.

Clouds passed by the stars and moons with serendipity, and Stonesong leaned against her father, Calimoon. Amorisse gazed at each with admiration and said, "Thank you."

"Whatever for?" Stonesong asked.

"For showing me why I have faith in this world," came the reply.