Chapter Eleven: From the Ashes


“He is not going to survive is he?”, asked Lesalia as one of the hooded monks emerged from Weslyn’s room.

The monk turned back to look at the rough wooden door a moment before responding, “We do not know the man at all…it is hard to care so much for a stranger enough that Yuriandil will answer.”

Lesalia tilted her head slightly, “Your God I assume? He requires feelings for a victim in order to respond?”

The monk nodded, “Goddess…and yes she does. Yuriandil is a Goddess of Mercy and Compassion…in order for her to respond to our prayers she must feel great love and compassion in the asker. Our simple good wishes are enough to keep him alive for now , but the arrow will still claim his life in the end. If you have any good-byes to say, now would be the time.”

Lesalia looked after the monk as he departed, seeming to try to pry some more answers from his back. Sighing to herself as the monk turned a corner, she turned and opened the strong wooden door, entering the room that Weslyn had been brought to. Weslyn lay in exactly the same position as when she had left a few hours ago, even paler than before. The faint sheen of perspiration on his face caught the flickering light of the lanterns and gave him the eerie look of a corpse. Lesalia eyes however were instantly drawn to the arrow, still protruding horrendously from the youth’s back. Her voice actually rising to a disbelieving yell, Lesalia loomed over the still kneeling monk, “What are you doing?! Why did you leave the arrow in him? He can’t possibly recover until the arrow is removed and the wound is cleaned!”

The monk ceased his soft murmering for a moment to answer, “It is not necessary. If he is to live, Yuriandil will see to it…if he is to die than removing the arrow will do little good.”

Lesalia’s face grew heated, though the monk didn’t seem to catch on at how irritated she had to be in order to actually show an emotion, “Your Goddess has not done a single thing to help Weslyn! I believed he was actually being cared for and what do I find? A few deluded monks whispering wishes and hoping for divine intervention! I could have cared for him better by myself! If you let him die just because your “goddess” did not arrive I swear to it I will do the same to you, than you can pray for your “goddess” to save you as well!”

Lesalia felt a hand rest on her shoulder and turned to find yet another monk standing behind her. The monk began speaking in a quiet yet strong voice, “I would like nothing better than to expel both you and your friend from this Temple for blaspheming Yuriandil, wounds or not, but luckily for you Yuriandil teaches us mercy. I will give you another chance but I suggest you return to the quarters we have so kindly provided for you. We will notify you if your friend’s condition changes at all….now go.”

Lesalia tensed for a second before relaxing with a defeated sigh, she really had no other option than to obey, aside from fighting her way through the monastery herself. Back in the small room she had been given, Lesalia stood in the middle of the floor and slowly gained some of her composure back. She had trouble maintaining her clam however, the sight of the small sunburst, the same design as on the doors of the Temple, caused her thoughts to begin whirling again. Long ago, Lesalia taught herself to rely on nothing that she could not feel or touch with her own senses. She had never seen anything to prove the powers of the many gods and goddesses she had been exposed to and came to believe only in the power that one held within oneself. She postulated that that was probably the reason she had been so intrigued with Caylen, besides the simple fact that he gave her the opportunity to finally accomplish something with her life. Caylen’s power came from within, and he denied the existence of some sort of predetermined fate with all of that burning power. His resolve made the faith of the monks seem a pale flicker in comparison.

Despite these strong internal beliefs, there was some doubt beginning to form in her mind. The first was why, after the hours since she had arrived at Celandiel, Weslyn still survived. The wound was bad enough that he should have died shortly after she had arrived yet -something- was keeping him alive. The second doubt stemmed from the feeling she had had since she had arrived in Gaia. A feeling that there was something just out of the reach of one of her senses, though she knew not which one. A ghost flitting on the edge of her vision. A smell that she just couldn’t capture. A barely heard voice or song that, no matter which direction she went, never grew louder. She attributed her unusual lack of control over her emotions to that feeling.

She didn’t know Weslyn at all. Before she had decided to follow Caylen, the only contact with him had been in accidental meetings in the Defender complex and most of those were no longer than a few seconds. The past few days had been the longest time she had ever been with Weslyn and, even then, much of that time she was either hunting or making sure there was no one following them. Why then did she feel so much concern for him? Concern that went far beyond the normal urge to help someone in need. It was not romantic in nature, that much she knew. Not only was Weslyn’s roguish character as far opposed from Lesalia’s collected coolness as night and day, but they hadn’t been around each other enough for -any- kind of relationship to form. What was making her feel so much for him then?

A memory struck Lesalia then, her about to enter the forest to hunt but being stopped by Weslyn’s question on why she had followed Caylen. Her response with its puzzled question at the end, and Weslyn’s soft answer, "It’s called compassion.”

Compassion. Something she had never been accused of before. Cold, aloof, and uncaring were more common traits people labeled her with, never compassionate. But something had made her help Caylen, something beyond some craving to be doing something important in the world. She could have more than fulfilled that desire as a Defender but she had completely thrown that hope away by aiding in Caylen’s escape. No…there was something else guiding her when she made her decision. Could it have been compassion? Could she really have felt so much for Caylen in his confusion and despair that she forsook her dream to help him escape? How deep of a feeling for someone did that take? Deep enough to please a God…or Goddess? Suddenly she recalled the monk’s words hours ago, “You are standing in the Temple of Celandiel…which no one finds by accident. You would not have found us unless there was a purpose for you to have done so”

It is hard to recognize when your beliefs are being undermined, especially when you have built your entire life around those beliefs. Lesalia had often scorned any higher powers, hating the idea that her fate could be adjusted on a whim. Now however, it seemed that fate didn’t care about beliefs. There was a purpose for her having found this place. She wondered if she could find that purpose before Weslyn died. And even if she did, if it would help her to save him at all.

Lesalia opened the door to her room silently, hoping that the monks hadn’t seen fit to set someone to watch her. Luck was with her for perhaps the first time since she had stepped out of Caylen’s room days before and the corridor was empty. Of course, that small victory really didn’t help seeing as she had no idea what she was even doing. A preposterous idea struck her. An idea that, despite her decision to figure out what force was manipulating her, was still absolutely absurd. Closing her eyes tightly, Lesalia muttered to the air, “If you wish for me to do something, you will have to guide me.”

After waiting for what she felt to be an adequate amount of time, Lesalia opened her eyes and turned to re-enter her room, sure now that all her doubts meant nothing. Although her upper body turned as she wished, her legs refused to comply. Not only did they not turn at her command; they also began to walk on their own accord. No trace of alarm showed on Lesalia’s face as she strode down the hallways and through the many courtyards of the Temple. Only one thought formed in her mind, “I suppose it is strange that I don’t find this odd.”

Her rather unorthodox mode of transportation only lasted for a few minutes however. In the middle of a hallway, much like the one she had left behind, control suddenly returned to her. For a moment Lesalia wondered why she had only been led this far before a sobering thought occurred to her. Just moments ago she had been convincing herself of her self-reliance and now she was wondering why some deity wasn’t leading her by the hand. Letting out a quick breath, the only sign of her inner annoyance, Lesalia began to glide down the hallway looking for a promising sign. Wondering why she hadn’t seen any of the monks on her wanderings, Lesalia opened a door and instantly knew she had reached her destination. A simple sanctuary sat before her, not much more than a few small benches and an altar. The spiraling sunburst hung on the wall over the altar, catching the light from the few torches that burned in the room. Her dress sliding over the wooden flooring, Lesalia stood herself directly in front of the sunburst and spoke, “I have come here to listen to what may be said to me…no more.”

“Someone looking for help usually does not give terms to their rescuer,” said a lilting voice behind Lesalia.
Turning smoothly, Lesalia regarded the monk before speaking, “Did your Goddess send you?”
“Not exactly,” said the monk as two slender hands reached up to throw down the obscuring hood. Long brown hair was tossed aside as the hood fell, revealing a beautiful woman beneath. Deep blue eyes gazed out of a face with well-tanned skin. A soft smile appeared on the woman’s lips as she spoke again, “I believe that -you- sent for -me-.”

Lesalia nodded slightly, “Yuriandil I would hazard to guess. Your monks speak rather highly of you.”

Her hair visibly lightened as Yuriandil replied, “I should hope so.”

Lesalia spoke directly, “You wanted me to come here…you have been watching me since I arrived on this world. Why?”

Yuriandil’s hair lightened further into a blonde as she sat herself on to one of the benches, “Straight to the point I see. Actually I have been watching you for much longer than the past few days. The world barrier prevented me from doing much else.”

Lesalia gave a wry little smile, “I guess even omnipotence has its limits.”

Yuriandil’s eyes changed color now, darkening into a royal blue, “Yes it does actually. Especially concerning you.”

Lesalia took a few steps back so that she could regard the sunburst while still looking in Yuriandil’s general direction, “How so?”

Yuriandil caught Lesalia’s eye before continuing, “It is much easier to see someone who embodies your own ideals more than it is someone who seems to actively take steps to avoid them.”

Lesalia actually chuckled at that comment, “You are quite blunt.”

Sliding to her feet, Yuriandil continued to hold Lesalia’s gaze, “You seem to appreciate simple truths more than insinuations.”

Lesalia nodded, “Then why did you…or rather why were you able to observe me?”

Yuriandil’s skin darkened this time, along with her eyes and hair, to a deep brown, “Much of the time you were a shadow in my vision, barely seen, almost like smoke. But there were times where it was all I could do not to be blinded by you. Times where you shone like a sun and all others were drowned in your brilliance.”

Lesalia watched as Yuriandil became more and more animated as she talked and her features lightened until she began to shine like the sun she was describing. Lesalia understood then the symbolism used in the Goddess’ sunburst symbol for not only did Yuriandil emit light, she seemed to also draw much of it back into her in an endless cycle. Lesalia was impressed despite herself and actually allowed some of it to show before speaking,
“Which means?”

The light quickly faded as Yuriandil’s features returned to the hues they had started the conversation with, “I have seen many possible explanations but only one has any real merit to it. It may take quite some time to explain though…time I am afraid we do not have.”

Lesalia nodded, understanding what the Goddess was referring to, “Weslyn will not live much longer if indeed he is even alive now.”

“He is” remarked Yuriandil, “But as you said, not for long. What would you have me do?”

Lesalia turned her body in order to look at the sunburst affixed above the altar. After a moment she spoke softly, “Save him.”

Speckles of brown appeared in Yuriandil’s eyes though the rest of her features remained as they were, “And if I were to ask for something in return for my help?”

Doubt clouded Lesalia’s eyes, “What would you ask for?”

Yuriandil’s hair became golden once again and radiance began to seep from her even as her eyes transformed into the darkest brown imaginable. A subtle breeze wafted through the small room, sending the Goddess’ hair fluttering upwards into a sort of shining halo around her face. Her eyes burned as she spoke in a resonating tone that sprung from every surface of the small room, “Worship me! Recognize my power and bend yourself to its will. Be my presence on Gaia. Give yourself up completely to me and let me mold you as I see fit.”

Defiance and was etched onto Lesalia’s face as she spun to face the shimmering goddess, “I would not blindly give myself up to anyone no matter what the price! You hide yourself behind your ideals of mercy and compassion and yet you seek only to draw power from those foolish enough to follow you, draw it from them the same as you draw the very light from a room!”

Instantly Yuriandil’s face softened as her eyes brightened to match her other features, “Blind faith is an weakening disease, something you seem to understand even better than my followers despite my attempts to teach them. I do believe that I may be correct in my assumptions about you.”

Lesalia was completely befuddled and knew she showed it, though she did not, or could not, make an effort to
hide it, “You were testing me?”

Yuriandil nodded, “You will find that that was only one of the tests you will face in the near future…indeed another is before you already.”

Lesalia took a step towards the Goddess, “You will help Weslyn then?”

Yuriandil shook her head sadly, “As I said before, even a Goddess’ omnipotence is limited. For my healing powers
to reach your friend they need something to guide them…a bridge of a sort.”

Lesalia was gliding out of the room scant moments after the last words had left Yuriandil’s lips. The Goddess shook her head as the young woman moved quickly down the corridor, “Why is it that a simple question can never have a simple answer?”

The beautiful deity moved to stand in front of her own insignia. Reaching a hand up to touch it, she gave a lilting laugh, “A paradox worthy of the Gods.”

A flash of light blossomed from the sunburst to consume Yuriandil completely, leaving behind a very shaken monk who quickly vacated the small chapel.

Lesalia knew where she was going. She assumed Yuriandil was subtly helping her in that matter and was mildly grateful that the Goddess had decided to give her control of her legs this time. She arrived at the door to Weslyn’s sick room having managed, or having been helped, to avoid Yuriandil’s followers. As she pushed open the door however, she spotted one of the cloaked figures still praying next to Weslyn’s pale form. Rising to its feet, the monk held out a splayed hand as if to stop Lesalia, “You were asked to return to your room in return for you blasphemy, returning here is yet another insult to Yurian...”

With a solid shove, Lesalia pushed past the monk, “Take it up with your Goddess, we have come to an understanding.”

Lesalia was sure that if she could she the monk’s eyes they would have been bulging, a thought that brought a small smile to her face. The smile vanished as she kneeled though, and stared at Weslyn’s face. He had grown even worse in the time it had taken her to find and converse with Yuriandil. Any vestige of color had left his face, painting it as grey as slate. His breath was so shallow that many would have thought him to not be breathing at all. Wondering if she was out of her mind for trying this, Lesalia knelt and continued to stare at Weslyn. Bringing her breathing into a calm, rhythmic pattern, Lesalia whispered to herself, “I passed the first test, whatever that means, and if I am to learn why I am being tested I suppose I should pass the second as well.”

For a minute that stretched into an eternity, Lesalia simply stared at Weslyn’s pale face, taking in each of his features in turn and forming a strong mental picture of the young man. Then she closed her eyes and reached inside of herself. She had never tried to bring her internal emotions to the surface before, indeed she had not really understood that she -had- such emotions before her meditations and the conversation with Yuriandil. In fact, she was unsure if she could even find them intentionally. Slowly however, something stirred inside of her. Her mental picture of Weslyn was suddenly overlapped with another version of the youth from a time when he had been much healthier. The façade lasted for but a moment however and was replaced with another one and yet another one as her various memories of Weslyn arose as if to proclaim to her that the Weslyn lying before her was but a pitiful shell. A wave of emotion rolled over her and it took a second for Lesalia to realize what it was…pity. Pity and sorrow that someone as alive as Weslyn could possibly be reduced to the doppelganger that lay before her. The wave passed however as new images and emotions overlapped the old ones. She saw Weslyn as he was with Caylen, saw how completely loyal he was to the troubled youth and saw too that her loyalty was just as fierce despite the different reasoning behind them. That was the connection.

It was as if a star had exploded in the sickroom. Light was streaming from every possible surface: the walls, the furniture, even from the body of the monk who had seemingly collapsed where he had been standing. Lesalia felt the lights entering her, filling her with a power that transcended any pitiful attempt at comparison. With a smooth movement, Lesalia raised her hands and laid them lightly on Weslyn’s chest. Immediately the light began to flow as if attracted by an irresistible force. The geysers of light seemed to redouble their efforts, racing through Lesalia’s body and out of her hands into Weslyn. A single, pure, note began to ring out somewhere as Lesalia focused her emotions on Weslyn and used them to guide the healing light into the young man’s body. She began to feel an odd sensation, as if she was in two places at once and she realized on some basic level that her connection with Weslyn had grown to where she was becoming aware of what he felt. She winced at slight twinge in her…no -his- shoulder as the arrow suddenly dissolved in a small pillar of searing light. A tingling told her that the deep wound was closing itself. The wound vanished and, with a final burst of emotion and energy, Lesalia felt the sickness and disease purge itself from Weslyn’s body in a flash that felt like wildfire burning through his veins.
The light instantly vanished from the room along with the ringing note as she pulled her hands away from Weslyn and sat back heavily on the stone floor,panting.

Weslyn’s face had already returned to a more normal color though he still hadn’t regained consciousness. Lesalia heard footsteps behind her and turned to look up into the cowl of the monk that had approached her. Deep blue eyes stared at her from the darkness and she heard a soft voice emerge from the folds, “Impressive…you may have even made him a few weeks younger with that much power. That was about as close to the doors of death as one can be and still turn back.”

“I pass?” asked Lesalia, struggling to keep conscious.

Yuriandil nodded, “Indeed. And now I’m sure you are wondering what that means.” Lesalia nodded tiredly and the Goddess continued, “I’m afraid you are not ready for it yet my young friend…despite what you have accomplished. I still cannot ask of you what I wish. I must depart from you now and allow you to come to that discovery on your own, as I am sure you would wish. Now rest my child, a healer who pushes themselves too far will soon find they need healing themselves. You can only take so much on you at once.”

Lesalia tried to stay awake, tried to ask Yuriandil to simply state her request but found herself unable to as she sank to the floor in sleep. Yuriandil smiled at the two sleeping humans and whispered softly, “You will need the rest young one…especially if you are being Called as I suspect. Sleep well.”

Light filled the Goddess' eyes for an instant before suddenly diming. Jerking as if he had lost his footing, the monk quickly straightened himself and stared down at the sleeping Lesalia and, with tangible amazement, at the similarly sleeping, and obviously restored, Weslyn. Murmuring a soft thanks to Yuriandil, the monk quietly left the room and shut the door behind him.