CHAPTER 3
THE HEALER
Alan raced to his room and through on his boots before running down the stairs. He stormed down the stairs, about running into his father, who was starting to come up the stairs. "What's happening?" his father demanded, but Alan pushed by him without a word. He was out the backdoor in what seemed like an eye blink and running across the courtyard. He saw Stormy's house was dark, and knew that she was asleep. Jumping the neat picket fence they had put in when they were just kids, he ran up to the door and started pounding on it. "Stormy, wake up. Wake up!" The door was suddenly thrown open. Stormy stood in the doorway, apparently having just woken up, because she was naked. He ignored her generous assets as he came directly to the point. "You need to dress. We have got to get to Jasmine's fast." Stormy didn't waste a moment throwing her top on. Alan grabbed a saddle and cinched it tight. In just minutes they were pounding down the trail.
The night was full of stars, but the new moon meant that there was very little light on the trail. That didn't stop Stormy and Alan from flying down the trail, her mane and hair blowing in his face as she leaned forward, breathing heard as they galloped. The air was heavy with damp. Another storm was on its way. There was electricity to the air itself, as they raced past the piles of rubble and dark homes. In a very short time, they came up to a dark, two story stone building with a thatched roof. In front of the door, was a carved wooden sign with the healer symbol of a long winged staff with a serpent wrapped around it. That was the ancient symbol of the healers. No one knew where it had come from, that knowledge had been lost in the mists of the ages.
Alan swung his leg and hopped off Stormy. Running up to the plain wooden door, he began pounding on it has hard as he could. He kept up the ferocious assault until he saw light flare on in the upper window, indicating a candle had been lit. The sound of running feet could be heard, and then came a muffled voice through the door. "Who is it?" "It's Alan Eagleheart. You got to come, quickly! My sister, Mary, she's very sick."
The door opened to admit him. Jasmine stood there, clad in her nightdress. A pretty woman, she was in her late twenties. A kindly woman, she was usually seen tending her patients with a large smile on her face. Now, with her hair up in a net and her eyes baggy from sleep, she looked so frightening that Alan stepped back. She shook her head irritably. "No time for that, boy! Come in while I grab my back and throw on some clothes. You can shout out her symptoms to me." Pulling him into her snug living room, she darted upstairs to her rooms. Alan followed as far as her door and, feeling a bit foolish, began shouting symptoms through the door. "She isn't waking up, her head is feverish, and she has a hacking cough." "You say she isn't waking up?" came the concerned question. "Not as of when I had left." Alan said impatiently. He strove to keep calm, but it was so hard to do when his mind insisted on showing Mary in that bed, pale as one of his momma's white sheets.
What was taking so long, his mind screamed. It seemed like forever, although it really was only a few minutes, before she came running out the door, her big medical bag in hand. Running outside, they found Stormy outside, prancing in her nervousness. When she saw them she reared from excitement. They quickly clambered aboard her. He felt her muscles bunch as she launched herself into a full gallop. Such was her speed that speech proved to be impossible as the silent houses turned into blurs as they passed.
Soon they were thundering up by Alan's house. Sliding to a stop, Alan slid off the back and turned to help Jasmine down. She had already hopped off and was racing through the threshold, Alan close on her heels. Stormy was left foaming in the yard, though they would soon hear her come through the large door to the living room.
When Alan and Jasmine got to Mary's room, Paul Eagleheart came out. He was as grim as Alan had ever seen him, his mouth set in a thin line and his brow heavy with worry. Jasmine pushed past him into the room. Mary was in nearly the same position as when Alan had left her. More blankets had been piled on her bed, and a bucket of water was set to the side. Sabrina was using one of her shirts as a cold compress on Mary's forehead. Kathleen Eagleheart was next to her, holding Mary's hand. She appeared to be praying to the gods. They both looked up as Jasmine swept into the room. She took it all in a glance, and quickly took charge. "Sabrina," she said, "Continue with the cold compress. Kathleen, why don't you go and prepare some soup in case she wakes." Bustling over to Mary, she began pulling out strange implements, roots and herbs. Turning to Alan, she took in a glance his dirty condition. "Alan, there is nothing you can do here. Why don't you go down and look after Stormy. After a run like that, she could use some care." Alan opened his mouth to argue, but closed it at her look. Turning on his heel, he left the room.
Down in the main room, he found Stormy still breathing hard from her run. She was washing her face with a wet rag from the basin. Grabbing a rag himself, Alan commenced scrubbing her flanks. They were silent for a few minutes, scrubbing the foam and dirt off her. "How is she?" Stormy asked quietly. He said just as quietly, "Jasmine is in there now. That's all I know." He continued cleaning. Going to a carved wooden box, he pulled out a curry comb and began brushing her back. The soothing action helped calm Alan, and he began to focus on the problem at hand. Mary was very sick. That much was certain. Alan knew that the chances of her pulling through were very slim. That left little chance that Jasmine would be able to save her, although he knew she would give it her very best. Alan's fears began to run away with him again as he imagined Mary bedridden for years until her health finally did her in. He quickly put the brakes on that train of thought, before it came to its graphic conclusion.
He felt restless. He finished with Stormy's coat. Placing the brushes back in their box, he began pacing up and down in front of the fireplace while Stormy folded her legs and laid down. Her concerned eyes followed his movements.    Back and forth. Back and forth. His father, meanwhile, came out of his room fully dressed and carrying his carved pipe, which he preceded to light with a burning twig from the fire. Sitting in his favorite chair, he began to nervously puff on it. An uneasy silence choked the room, stifling any conversation.
The creak of the upstairs door had everyone on their feet and pushing towards the stairwell. Jasmine came slowly down. To Alan, it seemed as if she was facing the weight of the world. "I'm sorry Paul." She said. Alan's breath seemed to catch in his throat. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Stormy's eyes widen in horror while his father stiffened. "It seems that Mary has caught a sleeping sickness. None of my roots or herbs can stop it. In all my life, I've only seen this sickness once before." "Wh-Where was that?" Paul asked in a hoarse whisper. Jasmine lowered her eyes. "At a village not far from here. Mother Theresa had a patient in with just the symptoms of Mary. He died in half a year, without ever regaining awareness." She said. "I won't give up hope on Mary. She's hardy. Comes from her family, I have no doubt. With the Lady's blessing, she may make it yet." Jasmine turned around and headed back up the stairs.
Alan turned to the wall. "By the Lady!" he swore, slamming his fist into the wall. He yelped, trying to shake the stinging out of his wrist. A moment later, he was rubbing the stinging out of the back of his head. "Never take the Lady's name in vain!" his father said angrily. Alan merely growled. "There's got to be more. Something we've overlooked." Paul Eagleheart looked downcast. "Not insofar as I know. Jasmine is good. She knows what she is talking about." "I wasn't casting doubt on her ability," Alan said hurriedly, in case she was listening, I'm just saying that there might be another possibility. One that we haven't thought of yet." "And what might that be son?" Paul asked hopefully. Alan was silent. His father's face drooped and right before his eyes, he seemed to age. Turning around, he ascended the stairs, his heavy tread slowly ascending.
Alan continued to turn the problem over in his head. As soon as a possibility came in, it was weighed, thought out, and discarded. He barely heard Stormy wish him good-night as she went out the door. He was lost in a world of his own making. Sitting on the chair, he leaned back and folded his hands over his stomach. Should he try to take Mary to the city of Pacifica? It was some way to the west, near the ocean. It was perhaps three days ride there. However, there was the possibility that she might die on the road. Also, Alan knew that Jasmine was easily the equal to any of the healers in the city. Having discounted that option, he thought about seeking help from others. At last, in desperation, he considered the Gleeds.
The Gleeds owned the entire land east of the Great Wall. They stayed primarily in their cities. There powers were legendary. They had spears of fire that could kill a man from a mile away, and could heal even the most grievous of wounds. They considered themselves superior to all other races, and were not known for their generosity. If you wanted their help, you had better be prepared to do something for them. Even then, it was a real throw . They might simply take you as a slave, or send you on impossible quests. Personally, Alan doubted half of the tales that came with the traders caravans that came through the wall. If you believed all of them, you would think that they had the powers of a lesser god. Their physical descriptions were hard enough to swallow as it was. Over ten feet tall, with large mouths, green eyes, and skin as hard as stone. Still, it might be Mary's last chance. Alan would talk it over with his friends on the morrow.
"You want to do what!?" shouted Tobias. They were sitting in the lee of a storm wrecked house on a break from the hard work of the cleanup. "I told you," Alan said stubbornly. "I want to travel to the Gleed city on the other side of the Great Wall and find some help for Mary." Toby shook his head. "Come on Alan. Thin this through. You can't just go rushing off half-cocked. You know the traders tales, you have to have something they are interested in before they'll even talk to you. I don't see that you have much to offer them." Alan shrugged his massive shoulders. It was true that he didn't have much to offer a Gleed. Still, he had his metalwork, and his hobby of making trinkets might pay off. He had made out all-right the last time the traders came through, and earnings had been up for most of the year thanks to the drought south of them. He had more than twenty pieces of gold, and thrice that of silver. He felt sure that he could pay the cost for a physician. "I have some earnings," he said aloud, "and I'll take some of my tools along, as well as some trinkets as barter." Tobias just shook his head. "I hope you know what you're getting us into, my friend." "Us?" Alan asked curiously. "Like I would let you go off on an adventure without me." Toby said. "Besides, if it's the only chance your sister has, then we have to try, right?" "Do you have any idea on how you're going to break it to your parents?" "Hey, I'm an adult now, in case you haven't noticed. I turned twenty last summer." Alan protested. "I can go where I wish." "Uh-huh". Tobias said dryly. Alan grinned ruefully at him for a moment before sighing. "I'll break it to them tonight and start packing tonight. It will be at least a month of traveling before we get there." Tobias thought for a moment. "We'll need a pair of horses, some clothes, and provisions for at least a month. We'll need our bows, of course." Alan nodded. Sandytown had some hard, good wood that made great bows. They could launch an arrow at a fleeing rabbit from a hundred yards and hit their target. Still, it wouldn't do to leave anything to chance. "We might want to toss in a couple of spears, just in case." Tobias looked at him for a moment. "Do you have spears?" he asked in surprise. Alan nodded. "I made several for a caravan that came through here a year ago. However, the merchant didn't want to pay my price, so they have been in the back of the forge ever since." Tobias looked impressed.
The planning session lasted several hours, in between working times, and snatches at rest here and there. By sundown, the boys headed their separate ways, satisfied that they had planned everything out. Only one thing remained. Alan didn't look forward to telling his parents about his plan.

Alan began walking back to the farm. He didn't know how he was going break the news of his leaving to them. He could picture the scene in his head. His father would be near the fire, considering his words carefully, before coming up with a logical argument against going. Her mother would probably tell him that he wasn't going and consider the argument finished. She would be the most difficult to convince, and convince her be must. Kathleen Eagleheart ran her home with an iron fist. She also had a fiery temper, and when something set her off, neither man nor beast could move her. Alan thought of his sister lying on that bed and felt a surge of determination. He had to convince them of the necessity. He had too.
Alan walked into the farmhouse when twilight was still in the air. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves and bolster his courage, he pushed open the door. The murmur of conversation suddenly cut off in his presence. He found his mother and father sitting at the table, looking up at him while Stormy was off to one side, washing dishes. From the slight creak in the boards, he knew Jasmine and Sabrina were still with Mary. It confirmed his fear that Mary was not recovering well. He decided to get right to the point.
"Mother, Father. I have something to tell you." He began. "We already know." His mother said quietly.  His father tightened his grip on the chair. "Who told you?" asked Alan, confused. He hadn't told anyone but Toby, and he was fairly sure that Toby hadn't told anyone else yet. "Joan overheard you." His father said steadily. His gaze seemed to search for something in Alan's face. Alan returned his father's stare levelly. "It could be Mary's only chance." He said. "But the Gleed's!" his mother whispered. There was a dread in her voice that sent chills up Alan's spine. Stormy, meanwhile, had stopped washing dishes to stare at him with something akin to disbelief. Alan set his hand on top of his mother's in a comforting gesture. "I'll be okay mamma," he said "I'll have Tobias with me in case of trouble." His mother looked unconvinced, but Alan was sure that they could see the logic in going to the Gleeds. "When would you leave?" asked Paul Eagleheart? "In two days, if there isn't any change for Mary." Said Alan. He noticed Stormy looked upset, but wasn't sure why. He'd have to ask her later. He could see his parents weakening as they grasped the hope that their daughter might have a chance to live. Finally, Paul nodded, gripping his wife's hand. Alan bowed out of the room as quickly as he could.
He headed for the forge. He needed to collect some of the necessary tools while the list was still fresh in his mind.  Going to the back of the forge, he shifted aside an old anvil and a couple pieces of iron. Digging under where they had sat, he felt his fingers brush against an iron ring. A few minutes and he had his strongbox out of the ground where he had buried it. Opening it carefully, he gazed down at its contents. A small pile of gold coins, some jewelry he had found in the river one year and restored, a strange skeleton of a bird he and Tobias had unearthed in the great swamp once, and some swamp jewels. These last he carefully took out of the box and held them in his hand. Originally unprepossessing, they were some of the rarest jewels found. A deep blue in color, these would polish up nicely and fetch a nice pile of coins. Or, perhaps, a healer of the Gleed.
Removing the coins, he set the coinage and rocks in his pocket and replaced the box in its hole. Reburying the box, he placed the anvil and iron pieces on top and stood up. Turning around he froze at the sight of Stormy standing behind him. How had she come up behind him without his hearing her?! Alan opened his mouth to ask her when he saw the terrible hurt on her face. Snapping his mouth shut, he felt a flush climb up his face as he guiltily waited for what she might say. She didn't say nothing, just let him stand there and fidget until he finally asked exasperatedly, "Light of the Lady, what is it Stormy. You've got that look on your face that I've done something wrong again." "How come you didn't ask me to go?"  Alan had a hard time picking out any one emotion in her voice. "I didn't think that you would come. Besides, I needed someone I could trust to keep an eye on the family." Her eyes flashed and Alan realized he had something wrong. "You didn't think I would come!" she growled, and Alan knew he was in trouble. "Let me tell you something, Master. That is the most low, most ignorant idea I have heard. I care just as much about Mary as you. You are going to need my help to make it, so don't even think about leaving me behind !" With a horse-like snort, she turned around and left. Alan watched her go with a confused feeling. He felt guilty for offending her, but was at least happy that she was coming with them. She would be a valuable friend and a good set of eyes for the road. Blowing out the candle, Alan left the forge, heading for the farmhouse .