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Chapter 10: That Time a Cleric Used {Healing Rite III} to Mend a Visitors Sprained Ankle

  His body scraped against the rockface, tearing into his left arm. He cried not so much in pain as in surprise. He hit the dirt, feet first, before falling backward.

  “Gah!” Andy let out a frustrated sigh as he lay motionless, struggling to breathe. All of his weight had landed on his right foot.

  Morwen rushed to his side. “What hurts?” she said.

  Andy lay still for a moment. He could already feel his ankle beginning to swell, and his left forearm stung where it had been torn open by the cliff face.

  “Ankle and arm,” Andy said between breaths.

  Morwen pulled a small vial of alcohol, a needle and thread, and some gauze out of a compartment of her belt.

  “Let’s get this stitched up so you don’t lose too much blood,” she said.

  Andy winced as she applied alcohol directly to the wound, and he gritted his teeth as she deftly sewed him up in a matter of minutes.

  “Easy,” she said, wrapping the arm in gauze. “And you didn’t even get any blood on your clothes. Now, about that ankle… Can you move your toes?”

  Andy winced in pain as he moved his big toe. “Barely, but yes.”

  Thankfully, the boots probably kept him from sustaining a fracture, but it was badly sprained.

  “Good,” Morwen said. “We can deal with the ankle when we get back down the mountain. We’ll get you healed up there.” She placed her supplies back into her belt. “That was a valiant attempt. You’re almost there.”

  “Almost there?” Andy asked, wincing at the pain in his ankle. “This will take weeks to recover. How am I supposed to keep training?”

  “You’re going to do what Fighters do,” said Morwen. “You’re going to accept my help to get you down the mountain, you’re going to accept help from Yarel and recover quickly, and then you’re going to try again as soon as you’re able.”

  Andy growled in frustration. “I thought I was supposed to do the impossible!” He yelled just a bit more harshly than he intended.

  “I know you think you failed,” Morwen said. “I know how this feels. And if you're anything like I used to be, accepting help is what feels impossible to you now. That's the impossible thing you need to do.”

  She was right. His fear and anxiety made the cliff climb seem impossible, and now his pride and embarrassment made accepting help seem just as hard.

  And took a deep breath and exhaled.

  He rose to his feet, leaning on Morwen for support and keeping weight off of his sprained ankle.

  They made their way slowly back down the mountain…

  Andy limped, bending down to lower himself carefully around a rock on the steep trail. The trip down the mountain was slow going. Walking in weighted boots with a badly sprained ankle was not easy, and though she had been pushing him only minutes before, Morwen insisted on helping him get to the bottom of the mountain to heal.

  So she’s not all bark… he thought. She’s not about pushing through everything at any cost.

  As if reading his mind, Morwen spoke to him while helping him scramble down a series of small boulders. “Exerting yourself further right now would be stupid,” she said. “Real wisdom is about knowing when to push yourself, and how far.”

  Andy smiled at her words even while he winced in pain, putting as little pressure on his ankle as possible. Even a little pressure was too much.

  Morwen put Andy’s arm around her shoulder and helped him continue limping down the path. They had made it past the steepest declines.

  As they finally reached Morwen’s property, Noel and Pliny were practicing archery again. It was almost noon, and the sun had risen into the middle of the sky, shining directly down onto the clearing.

  “Is the lad hurt?” Pliny called to them as they emerged from the woods.

  “No,” Andy said.

  “Yes,” said Morwen. “And he earned his injury. He performed valiantly.”

  Andy looked down in embarrassment. He didn’t know these people all that well, but he suspected he’d be ribbed about his fall.

  Pliny set his bow down and approached Andy as he limped across the yard, supported by Morwen’s shoulders. Noel followed close behind.

  “Didn’t make it on your first try, I take it?” Pliny said.

  Andy shook his head and shrugged.

  “I’ll let you in on a little secret, lad, I’ve never seen anyone do it on the first try,” said Pliny.

  “Not a single one,” Noel echoed.

  Pliny furrowed his brow but let Noel’s comment go. “Ah, look at that gash,” he said, gesturing toward Andy’s left arm, some blood seeping through the gauze. “That’s really something. And I suppose Morwen stitched you up, eh?”

  “Yes, and his flesh was easy as a cross-stitch,” she said. “But we need to get his ankle elevated. It’s sprained badly but thankfully it’s probably not fractured. I want him healed quickly so we can continue our training. Is Yarel around?”

  “Here,” came a voice from the porch. It was Yarel, reclining in a rocking chair with her feet resting on the front banister, a book in front of her face. “What do you need?” she called without looking up.

  “A flesh wound and a bad sprain,” Morwen said.

  “No problem,” said Yarel. She stood up silently, and retreated through the double doors into the house.

  “She’s a healer,” Morwen said. “Her work goes far beyond what I can provide with simple first aid.”

  Andy nodded. “What kind of healer?”

  “She is a Cleric,” said Morwen. “And a good one at that. Performs service for the public clinics in the area when she’s not accompanying adventurers or helping out the Order. You’re in good hands.”

  Morwen helped Andy hobble up the front steps. They went into the bunk room where Yarel was waiting. She had placed a thick beeswax-coated tarp over Andy’s bed.

  Beside the bed, Yarel had placed a small bedside table with a basin of water and an ornate bookstand holding a gold-plated tome open. Andy wasn’t sure, but it seemed like the water had a faint, blue glow.

  Yarel donned her white robe with colorfully stitched patterns on it. A variety of multi-colored trees, triangles, and birds decorated the sleeves and hems. She made gestures on each of her palms and whispered something under her breath.

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  Andy limped over to the bed with Morwen’s help. He unlaced his boots. As he loosened the boots grip around the sprained ankle, he felt the pain and swelling instantly increase. He struggled to pull the boot off, but he did it.

  “Lay back,” Yarel said. She was demanding, but also reassuring. “Relax as best as you can.”

  Andy laid back, allowing his head to rest on his pillow. He took a deep breath in and exhaled fully, letting as much tension as possible leave his body. Nonetheless, his ankle began throbbing.

  “We will proceed with {healing rite III},” Yarel said.

  “{Healing rite III}?” said Morwen. “Is it that serious?”

  Yarel leaned down, examining his ankle.

  Andy could see it was extremely red and extremely swollen, and it hurt to move it, even a little bit.

  “It would heal on its own in a couple of weeks, perhaps,” Yarel said. “It is not life threatening, but I know he is training. I am going to use {healing rite III} to expedite the process.”

  “And if you use such a high level spell on him, will you have enough magicke in reserve in case of emergency?” asked Morwen.

  “Yes,” Yarel said. “I have enough magicke for many, many more S-tier spells.”

  “Alright, then,” said Morwen. “I’ll leave you to it.” She headed toward the spiral staircase.

  “Wait,” Andy lifted his shoulders and called after her. “It’s noon, I need to stoke–”

  “I’ll take care of this one,” Morwen said. “But only this one. You’ll resume stew duty this evening.”

  Andy began to object, he didn’t want to shirk his duty, and he certainly didn’t want to appear weak. But he looked back down at his ankle, now swollen to the size of a mango.

  He looked up at Yarel, who was studying the gold-plated book closely and resting her hand over the luminous basin of water.

  Andy sat back.

  “I’m going to touch your ankle and your arm. Please don’t move when I do,” said Yarel.

  Andy nodded. “Okay.”

  Yarel began whispering indiscernible words, her eyes following along the tome opened in front of her. She kept her hand placed just above the water. Then, her tone shifted. She kept whispering, but this time in discernible words. Andy could make out only a few.

  “Let him… for your service… allow me to…”

  She closed her eyes, her brow furrowed, as she continued to whisper.

  She’s… praying?

  As she continued whispering, the soft glow in the water began to intensify. Finally, Yarel opened her eyes and gathered a small, white cloth. She dipped the cloth in the basin and wrung it out. The sound of water dripping into the basin was oddly soothing.

  Yarel stepped out from behind her makeshift altar and placed the cloth on Andy’s ankle. It was tender, and his instinct was to yank his foot away, but he restrained himself.

  “Good,” said Yarel as she kept the cloth in place.

  Then, she began to apply pressure.

  Andy let out an involuntary groan that morphed into a distressed chuckle as she pressed against the inflamed flesh. Within a few seconds, though, the pain subsided. So did the swelling.

  Andy felt the pressure in his ankle dissipate like a deflating balloon.

  After a few moments, Yarel removed the wet cloth and stood upright, walking back behind the side table that held the gold-plated tome and the basin. She dipped the cloth back in the basin, and once again wrung it out.

  Making her way to the opposite side of the bed, she placed the wet cloth over her arm as she unspooled the gauze around Andy’s wound, letting it fall to the floor for the time being.

  She took the wet cloth off of her forearm, unfolding it so that it was long enough to cover the entirety of the wound on Andy’s left arm.

  Holding his wrist as she washed the wound. Finally holding the cloth in place and applying mild pressure, just as she had done with his ankle.

  It felt tingly… a little itchy, even, as the wound healed rapidly. When she removed the cloth, the thread Morwen had used to stitch his wound was simply laying on the skin of his arm. Yarel picked it off and smiled as she crossed back to her makeshift altar.

  She folded the wet cloth and put it on the table, then pulled out a small vial of oil, turning it over to coat her finger.

  She approached Andy’s side, sitting next to him on the bed. She looked into his eyes for a moment before she pressed the oil into his forehead.

  “Blessings,” she said.

  Andy instantly fell into the most comfortable sleep he had ever experienced.

  ***

  A bit later that day, Andy rose from his rite-induced nap. The altar Yarel had used in her healing ritual was no longer set up. The room was more or less as he had found it the day before.

  Yarel was sleeping soundly on the bunk across from him, dressed in her ordinary garb with a wide-brimmed hat covering her face. Her clerical robe hung beside her bed.

  That must’ve taken a toll on her energy, too… Andy thought.

  As he stood up, he realized that he had no pain, no soreness whatsoever. He felt as good as new.

  Remarkable. Just like that, I’m back to normal.

  Andy quietly walked up to the den. Evening was falling, which meant he needed to stoke the fire for the stew.

  Morwen sat in the den, again reading her copy of the Cresthaven Atlas. “Ah, you’re up,” she said. “Feeling better?”

  “Good as new,” Andy said as he approached the fireplace, picking up three logs and placing them on the fire.

  “Very good,” said Morwen. “Shall we try again?”

  “Now?” Andy said.

  “Well, after a {healing rite III}, you should be able to do anything,” said Morwen. “I’m honestly surprised Yarel was willing to expend that much magicke on a sprained ankle.”

  “Alright,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

  Andy descended back down to the veranda, picking up his brawner boots as he passed the still-sleeping Yarel. He walked quietly through the double-doors and sat on the stairs overlooking the yard as he laced up his boots tightly.

  “I saw what you were trying to do on your last attempt,” said Morwen as she exited the door behind him. “You were attempting to pull yourself over an extra rung.”

  “Yes,” Andy said. “I knew my strength was running out. I didn’t have much time.”

  “And so you thought you’d push yourself to accomplish the impossible,” Morwen said.

  Andy nodded.

  “Admirable,” said Morwen. “I applaud your grit. Now, let me give you some advice for the second run.”

  “Sure,” said Andy.

  “Don’t skip handholds. Go one by one. Go steady, and give each handhold your full attention until you get to the top. Apply complete consistency, and don’t push yourself harder on any one rung than you do on another.”

  Andy considered her words. It made sense. If he took the challenge one handhold at a time, applying the same effort to each, he would reach the top eventually. It was completely logical.

  “I will do that,” Andy said, nodding.

  But it’s easier said than done.

  They began their ascent up the mountain trail, Andy’s lower body again burning with that familiar fatigue. But this time, it wasn’t nearly as debilitating.

  “You’re keeping up well,” Morwen said as they approached the steep incline. “A big improvement.”

  “I think the healing ritual kind of… boosted my strength?” Andy said. “Isn’t that cheating?”

  “No, the healing ritual didn’t boost your strength at all. It restored your body’s natural capacities. Sure, it accelerated your muscle’s healing and repair, but you earned the strength you have by virtue of our hike this morning. If this attempt is marginally easier, it’s because you prepared for it.”

  “That makes sense,” said Andy. He was a little winded, but nothing like he had been that morning.

  They hiked and climbed, scrambling up rocks and ducking under brambles, until, finally, they reached the cliff face once again.

  Twilight emerged on the horizon behind the skyline below. The city and its sprawling villages were spotted with warm lights.

  Andy turned his attention to the cliff wall. Any breath he had lost on the hike up he had already regained. The bandana was still lodged in the top notch.

  “Remember, one rung at a time, with consistent effort,” said Morwen.

  Andy nodded.

  He approached the wall, grasping at the nearest handhold.

  He stopped thinking and began, letting his body and instincts take over.

  He lifted himself, notch by notch. His heavy boots dangled against the cliff face, pulling him toward the ground, but he resisted.

  And he found pleasure in that resistance.

  Every strain, every burst of effort, each movement was full of pain, but also satisfaction. He put one hand above the other, synchronizing the muscles of his back, shoulders, arms, and core to achieve maximum efficiency.

  He wasn’t moving fast, but he was moving steadily. He didn’t let himself become focused on the bandana, and he didn’t let himself become focused on the ground. He was only focused on the next notch.

  He continued rhythmically, turning off his mind and trusting his body. Exhilarated, he was impressed with the progress he had already made.

  Then, something interrupted him: as he pulled himself up by his right hand on the next notch, the rockface under his fingers crumbled.

  “Gah!” Andy cried as he caught himself with his left hand on the notch below. The boots added immense weight to his body, but he resisted the temptation to allow himself to dangle limply.

  “Good!” Morwen called from below. “You didn’t let yourself fall!”

  He was nearly to the top. The bandana was blowing in the wind only five or so feet above. If the notch above him hadn’t crumbled, he’d have achieved his goal by now.

  Damn!

  “Don’t lose heart!” Morwen said. “You know what to do!”

  Andy did the only thing he could do. He placed both hands on his current notch. He summoned all his concentration and all his strength. With a burst of energy and an involuntary roar, he tensed his back, core, arms, and chest as he flung himself wildly upward.

  He propelled his body past the crumbled notch, both hands finding purchase on the next notch above.

  “Yes!” Morwen yelled. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

  Morwen cheered from below as Andy laughed in surprise and awe, clawing his way, hand over hand, to the bandana above.

  He reached up, feeling the soft fabric in his hands as he grabbed it, pulling it free of the cliffside.

  *

  Level Up!

  Level 1

  Skill Rank Achieved!

  Athletics 1

  *

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