The Chronicles of Harold the Healer Ch. 09

"I'm that bad, am I?" he asked sadly. She nodded and gave his hand a squeeze. "You're remarkably empathetic." To their surprise, they were able to cross the road without getting run over. As they walked on the paved path uphill, they saw and heard that there was a party going on in the park, centered around a bonfire, but the Memorial was beyond that, close to the ocean's coastline. "Thank you. I really appreciate it."

"To anybody who knows how to read people, your pain is as obvious as the bonfire over there."

"You lost people in your civil war. You would know the look."

"We all did. As you may have guessed by now, I'm the Ship's Physician. I have to deal with everyone else's traumas as well as my own. It took fifteen days to cross the ocean, and close quarters does not help." Harold nodded bleakly. They were approaching an illuminated area that was clearly the Memorial.

"In the days following the main battle outside the city gates, then inside the city once we'd broken in, we were already seeing signs of trauma in the soldiers, and in the Mages too. The Argoseans showed up a week later and got the privilege of ridding the countryside and other towns of the last holdouts. They started coming back with it as well. Psychological injuries are so much harder to treat." The paved pathway on which they'd been walking went up a gentle incline, which, had they been there during the day and without all the fog that had been coalescing, would have given them an excellent view of the harbor mouth, the ocean, and the beach below. The lighthouse on the far side could not be seen, though the pulses of light were visible as it did what it could. Even the top of the lighthouse on their side, which was located only a hundred yards ahead and to the left of the Memorial, was not clearly visible, though its light was.

"There it is," said Greta softly. They were facing west, toward the ocean, and about twenty feet below them, in a clearly engineered, broad, shallow bowl, was a wall that was illuminated from the inside by enchanted Mage Lights. The main path looped around the side of the bowl as it descended with a shallow enough grade to make it easily navigable in a wheelchair, as well as to give the people the view of the whole thing as they approached. There were also stairs that led down to the bottom between what would be flower beds in the warmer months, but Harold and Greta, holding hands by an unconscious agreement, opted to take the path. As they descended, the form of the wall clarified out of the fog and the myriad sounds of the city and the harbor slowly faded into a hushed silence that was only broken by murmurs and whispers from the others who were there. Harold detected the signatures of two other Mages, one which he recognized, among the small crowd as they advanced to a gap in the people.

"This Wall of Remembrance is given to the people of the Kingdom with eternal gratitude from the people of Carcosa," Greta read in her accented Kingdom Standard from the message that ran across the top of the Wall. The polished stone felt cool to the touch.

"This granite comes from the quarries near Svend, which is in the Northlands," said Harold quietly. It was shades of white shot through with jade green streaks. "I have no idea where the stone for the letters comes from." The Wall was forty feet long and six and a half feet high, and covered with the names of those who had fallen, names that had been formed from letters two inches high that had been carved from a red granite.

"You can't even feel the letters," Greta marveled as she ran her fingers over the name of Daniela Iverson. "They're like a part of the Wall."

"Stonemason's Magic," Harold replied absently, his face illuminated by the light from within the stone as he read from the upper row. He removed his pack and it hit the carefully-fitted paving stones with a thump. "But they're not in any order I can see," he added irritably as he continued reading.

"Maybe it's because they want you to read them all as you look for the ones you want to find," said Greta huskily. He turned to look at her, and her eyes were shining. "Each name is a story, one that came to an abrupt end in Carcosa." He reached to gently brush away the tears that had started to run down her cheeks, and was surprised when she did the same for him. The port-wine stain was already gone from her face and retreating down her neck as his spell continued its work.

"Many stories ended in Esk, including several in which you played a part," he said, and she nodded, unable to speak. "Some of these names I vaguely remember," he added.

"But there is one that you want to see," said a mellow female voice from Harold's left. "And I can show you where it is."

"Hello, Sarah. Long time, no see," he said as they turned to face her. She was the same height as Greta, but more solidly built, wearing a dark green cloth coat that ended below her waist, beige slacks, dark leather shoes, and a warm brown knitted hat. Her hair was half brown and half gray, down past her shoulders and partly tucked behind her ears. They embraced each other and Greta could feel an old love between them.

"I'm Sarah Willoughby, a colleague and schoolmate of Harold's," she introduced herself. "We served together in Carcosa, which is why I am here."

"I'm Greta Mueller, from Esk, just come in today on a trading ship." Sarah's eyebrows, perched over warm brown eyes, an elegant nose, and a wide, friendly mouth, elevated.

"You're a long way from home. What would bring you here, to this place?"

"Him," she replied with an ironic smile. She explained the circumstances and Sarah nodded.

"I'm a Healer too, and am quite familiar with Deities and their none-too-subtle interventions. Let me take you to what you want to see." She led them to the far end of the Wall, past several people who had chosen to be here instead of the Eve of Beltane festivities. The name was at knee level, third one from the left, and they both could feel Harold's inner turmoil as he dropped his pack again and knelt to look.

"Laura Patterson," he said softly. "One name among thousands on this giant gravestone." He gently ran a finger along the smooth surface of the stone over the letters, then stood up and turned to look at them. "My head knows that the price we paid is much less than the cost of the suffering of the Carcosans, and what they would have suffered had we not been forced to intervene. But my heart... is broken. We lead such charmed lives, it seems, we Mages. Death... always happens to someone else, not to us." He wiped tears from his face, knelt down again and wiped them across her name. Seeing this, Sarah and Greta both broke down, knelt beside him, and repeated his gesture. From somewhere down near the other end of the wall, a small group of people began to sing.

"We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when..."

"Tears from the heart, freely given, to show our love for the lost," said Greta, her accent noticeably thicker. They were reliving their memories, and she was reliving hers, the long nightmare of treating post-battle casualties, helping Georg the Healer as best as they could until he fell and had to sleep, then carrying on without him. The blood, the shrieks of pain, the smells, having to hold the hands of dying men and women and telling them it would be all right until she had to close their eyes, get up, and go to the next one.

"... Til the blue skies chase those dark clouds far away..."

"We were on the battlefield," Sarah said as the pent-up emotion spent itself. "Are you familiar with the Ward spell, where a Mage can weave a protective wall around her?" Greta nodded. She'd seen the Wards in action as Georg had had to defend himself on a number of occasions. "We had pushed their line back, but the fight was still going on full tilt. We and the medics were out checking the people on the ground to see if there were any that could be stretchered back to the hospital tents. Laura was between Harold and me, about 10 yards from both of us."

"... They'll be happy to know that as I saw you go you were singing this song..."

"She slipped on something," Harold continued. "It was pouring rain and the field was covered with mud, blood, and all sorts of other stuff. She slipped on something and landed on something sharp. She screamed in pain, and it was enough for her to lose her grip on the Ward spell, just as a random crossbow bolt shot out and hit her in the side of the head. Bang, just like that, she was dead." His face and voice were as bleak as a snow-covered field.

"Mages develop connections to others when we get close. We were all lovers, all nine of us, and we all felt that part of her that was in us suddenly die, leaving a hole where it had been." Greta nodded, understanding all too well. "Connie was our Warrior and was slipping and slogging behind the lines, tossing Fireballs and Lightning Bolts and Goddess knows what else at the enemy, screaming bloody murder. The rest of us carted Laura's body back to the hospital as best as we could, then had to go back out there and do our jobs, bringing in other casualties that we thought had a chance."

"We have all been through Hell and back," said Greta, wiping her eyes with her coat sleeve. She opened her arms, both Mages walked in, and they all found comfort in the group hug and in listening to the song play out, then start again with a different group of people. It was commonly sung at funerals in the Kingdom, usually as the body was being lowered and laid to rest in the ground.

"I'm ready to go," said Harold finally. "I feel like I've been through a wringer, and the Magic is feeling really weird tonight, more so than usual. Do you feel it, Sarah?" She nodded as they all stepped back and Harold put on his pack and picked up his staff.

"We call this night Walpurgisnacht," said Greta. "We light fires and party loudly to try to keep the spirits at bay, or stay inside and lock the doors. On foggy nights like this, you never know who or what you'll meet." They walked back up the path, leaving the glowing Wall and its mourners behind them.

"So, Harold, you came back to collect your prize?" Sarah smirked at his innocent look. "He solved the Air Sled problem by applying dirty thoughts, I mean, 'erotic energy', to stabilize it. Trust a Healer to find a way to apply sex to Magic."

"Our colleagues in other Specialties claim that Healers are the most lecherous of the lot of us," Harold explained to an amused Greta. "Our behaviour prior to the battle in Carcosa may have reinforced this baseless notion."

"Be warned that he seduces with massages," Sarah replied, giving him a poke. "We're all well trained in the art, as it's very helpful for all sorts of things, but he's a master. By the time he's done, every part of your body will be relaxed, except for your pussy, which will be demanding that a cock be stuffed into it, and by an amazing coincidence, there will be one right there ready to help in your time of need."

"I will find a place to stay for the night," Harold cleared his throat loudly as they passed by the large bonfire, close enough to feel some heat but avoiding the rowdy revelers. "I will then collect my prize first thing in the morning and get the next coach back to the Westlands, where I work as a traveling Healer." Sarah looked interested.

"You always felt the need to be moving, never wanting to be in one place for too long," she replied as they approached the harbor's edge. The air was absolutely calm and had a damp chill to it, and even the water in the harbor, barely visible through the fog that reflected a lot of the light from the lamps, had little motion to it. "That sounds like the perfect job for you."

"There is where you will stay for the night," said Greta, stopping and pointing into the gloom. "Our ship, the Schwartzwald. One of the perks of the Ship's Physician job is that she gets a double-sized bed and a cabin large enough to hold it. We went through a bad storm a few days ago and I am still feeling stiff and sore."

"Damn, Moser, you've done it again, getting a woman to take you to her bed. I have no idea how you do it." The two women laughed and he shifted nervously.

"There are probably other crew members who need a Healer's touch," he said.

"Actually, there are. There's a broken leg, two broken arms, and various other injuries. I set them in casts, but if you Heal them, they'll be able to get back to work right away. We've got stuff to sell."

"I'll leave you in her care," said Sarah, giving him a hug, then Greta. "And I'll see you sometime tomorrow at the Magic School."

"Not if I see you first!" She blew a raspberry and they all laughed, feeling much better, and she turned and walked up the sidewalk. North Harbor Road had reached the water level here, and the path to the park and Memorial was up the hill. It was wide enough to allow for three large wagons to be beside each other, and during the day was always busy with traffic in both directions. The warehouses were in the streets north of the road and were served by the side roads that they had crossed on their way here.

"The ship is this way, Mister Moser," said Greta firmly, arresting his attempt to sidle away in the direction Sarah was heading.

"But I'm afraid of those big floaty things," he replied in a quavering voice, pointing a shaky hand towards the ships. Her laugh was music to her ears and her smile lit up her face.

"Now you are being silly," she said, leading him down the sidewalk. "You must believe that laughter is the best medicine."

"I've found that it helps, especially after what we went through back there."

"It does. I feel better already. Oh, here's the Harbor Police building." It was a large, blocky building that contained not just the North Shore Harbor Police, but also Customs and Excise, and was open 24/7. A large man and an only slightly smaller woman were standing under the light pole that was in front of the building, drinking what was probably hot coffee and appearing to be talking to each other. The fog swirled and shifted, revealing that they were wearing long, dark blue coats with an embroidered badge on the front above the heart and another on each shoulder, sturdy looking boots, and broad-brimmed hats with the same embroidered badge of some sort on the front. "And there are the cops. Why are they standing under the light? They can't see what's going on in the darkness around them."

"No, they can't," Harold replied as they approached them. "They're meant to be seen. The watchers are elsewhere, where we can't see them. Not that they can see much in this murk."

"And where are you two going on this lovely Eve of Beltane?" the man inquired ironically as they arrived at their post. The Mage performed the Respectful Bow #1, and the Physician her equivalent.

"I am Greta Mueller, Physician of the ship Schwartzwald, arrived this afternoon from Esk."

"I am Healer Harold Moser, accompanying Greta Mueller to her ship to offer my services to its crew, some of whom have been injured after passage through a storm."

"At this hour, on this night?" the woman smirked.

"Broken bones are painful, and in the interest of cordial relations with Esk, I thought it in the national interest to attend promptly," he replied with his most winning smile. "And my apologies for the fog. My head has been leaking again." The two cops chuckled and shook their heads.

"We shouldn't keep you, then," the man replied, waving them onward.

"Be gentle with him," the woman said to Greta with a wink. Greta snickered and he cringed in mock fear, making them laugh out loud as she pulled him away. "You are being very silly," she said, loudly enough for the others to hear and emphasizing her accent. "We are always gentle with our Healers." They laughed again as Harold and Greta retreated into the fog.

"The ship isn't that much farther," she said as they walked briskly along the sidewalk, moving from pool to pool of light cast by the lamps. Some of the quays were empty, while others had ships of varying sizes tied to them, all of which had parties of varying degrees of loudness and activity happening on their decks. It took less than ten minutes to reach the end of the road where the Schwartzwald was berthed. It was much larger than it looked from the initial distant glimpse that Harold had had earlier, and there was a party happening here too. No bonfire, obviously, but several lanterns had been tied to various ropes around the midship area. The mainmast had been decorated with colourful ribbons like a Maypole, there was music from a fiddle, guitar, and drums, and they were singing a song in their language and dancing. Even with the party, someone was keeping watch, and he shadowed their progress down the quay to a point nearly amidship.

"Hey, Ralf, it's Greta. I've brought a Healer to help with the injured." The man responded with a question in their language, to which she responded with two words.

"Welcome back, Greta," he said in Kingdom Standard. "And you are?"

"Healer Harold Moser, here to mend some broken bones and any other issues." He cast a white Mage Light over the two of them so that he could be seen more clearly.

"Wait a minute. I will get some help with the gangplank." The man moved away and called out, "Greta's back! Get the gangplank down!" There was extra activity and within a minute the plank had been shoved over the side on a roller mechanism and expertly guided using a pulley with ropes on either side so that its end rested on the paved surface of the quay.

"Ladies and crew first," said Harold with a bow and Greta preceded him up the gangplank that was steeply inclined due to high tide. Harold noted it had been roughly sanded to provide traction even while wet. He paused at the top while she turned around to face him. "Permission to come aboard?" he asked the welcoming committee of three sailors, saluting with his right fist over his heart, knuckles up.

"Permission granted, Healer Harold," said the man on his right, who was about five-foot-ten, bald on top but with a long fringe of mostly gray hair tied back in a pony tail. "Welcome aboard the Esk Sailing Vessel Schwartzwald. I'm Captain Paul Smits." Harold performed the Very Respectful Bow, moved onto the deck and shook his offered hand. They got out of the way as the two others pulled the plank back on board and stowed it in its designated spot on the gunwale with practised ease, despite its apparent weight. "Any friend of Greta's is a friend of ours," he continued loudly over the music, singing, and dancing, which had not stopped as he'd boarded the ship. Though he was by no means a mariner, Harold could see as he looked around that the ship was in good shape and that the crew were all keeping an eye on him while carrying on with their party.

"Thank you, Captain Paul," he replied. "Is there a place I can put my pack and staff where people won't trip over them?"

"Over by the gangplank will be fine," he replied with a wave, and the Healer gladly put them down and stretched, with an almost audible popping of vertebrae. A small folding table was set up and two small trays with crackers, cheese, and sausage slices were placed on them, along with two mugs of beer. "Those are for you two," Paul said. "On Walpurgisnacht, nobody should be hungry!" He then did a classic double-take. "Greta! What happened to your skin? It's clear!" he exclaimed, drawing attention from the rest of the crew, who broke away from the dance floor to get a look at her. Harold took advantage of this to slip over to the table, grab a tray, and begin devouring its contents. The cracker combos were delicious, as was the beer in the mug.

"This was Healer Harold's work," Greta finally was able to say, pointing to him as he was raising the last cracker to his mouth. He quickly popped it in and crunched happily.