by White, Gwynn
Meldrassa and Efloog, a humble couple not one year married, were due to greet their first child with the coming of the new moon. Unfortunately, Efloog fell gravely ill after slicing his arm on a rusted edge of steel. Unable to afford the special herbs for Efloog’s healing, the couple faced his inevitable death.
One the first day of November, after her husband’s first dip into madness brought on by a fever, Meldrassa ran into a wide and begged the sun and skies for help. The sun god struck her down, turning her eyes golden. Meldrassa awoke filled with lust, and returned home to make love to her husband for the last time. To their surprised, Efloog was healed—the Sun God had made Meldrassa a healer when he gave her golden eyes.
Though Efloog survived, their poverty deepened. Unable to pay their taxes with only a week until their child’s birthing day, they feared losing everything. Efloog spoke to Meldrassa, convincing her that healing other men would make them rich. Reluctantly, Meldrassa agreed to one healing for five gold coins—enough to pay their taxes until the birth of her child. News spread quickly, and after one old man’s healing from near death, men from across Senya flocked to their marital home.
Meldrassa healed hundreds of men out of fear they would kill her. Even Efloog could not stop them, though they always paid their coin. They tied Meldrassa to the bed and ravaged her body.
Her body healed, but her mind withered. The child in her womb grew stronger and was soon born. A daughter, whom she named Curatia.
Meldrassa tried to kill herself, but failed to bleed to death, or choke. Her body’s exceptional healings kept her alive through her misery. She sought out a mercenary, paying him fifty gold to sever her head. Before her death, Meldrassa gave her close friend, Wenda, a letter to pass onto her daughter Curatia on her eighteenth birthday.
Quxa turned her head as the tears dripped down her cheeks. Meldrassa’s story saddened Quxa, as if she was a part of Meldrassa somehow. Even worse, Curatia had never known her mother’s sacrifice. It angered Quxa that healers couldn’t have children. Meldrassa was the first and last healer to succeed. That’s why Quxa was obsessed with the story. She desired a child herself. It meant more to her than living.
Quxa read on.
The night of Meldrassa’s death, Efloog sent Curatia to live with Wenda, to give his daughter a nurturing upbringing, something he could not. After ten years passed, the story of Meldrassa became a legend told on winter’s nights around blazing hearths. Wenda and Efloog kept Curatia’s mother’s identity from her, since the story of healings was one of shame and immorality.
Meldrassa’s sacrifices left Efloog a rich man. He bought a large estate and hired workers and tenants to work the land. Because of his riches, Curatia lived a happy life with Wenda. But, before she started school, she asked to move home with her father. He received her with great joy.
On Curatia’s wedding day, which came near the end of her seventeenth year, Wenda gave Meldrassa’s daughter the letter she’d intended for her eighteenth birthday. Curatia never imagined that Meldrassa, the fabled healer woman, had been a real person, let alone her mother. She wept for the truth of her death and was angry at her father for keeping the secret. Curatia and her rich husband moved to the opposite side of the country, unable to forgive her father for letting Meldrassa suffer and die.
In honour of Meldrassa’s memory, Curatia bore as many children as her womb could manage. Eight children, all girls, became Curatia’s descendants. Half were healers, half were ordinary. News about the healer girls spread through the land. The sick flocked to their door and Curatia’s husband hired protection for his daughters. The king soon intervened and ordained the healer girls a gift from the sun god and built temples in their honour. The healer girls wrote books inspired by the divine as a guide to healer ritual and worship.
The king’s eldest son chose one of Curatia’s commonplace daughters to become his wife. Together they had a healer child of their own. The reverence for healers became a religion, and the lands rejoiced in their prosperity and health.
A thousand years of peace followed.
‘Sleep, Quxa. Our day is full tomorrow,’ said Pinda, Quxa’s cot-mate and dearest friend.
Pinda immediately went back to snoring. Quxa slid her eyes back to the scroll to see that the wetness had faded to a light brown and even though the ink had run, the letters were still readable.
She read the story three more times before placing the stones aside and carefully rolling the paper into a cylinder. After sliding into bed, she lay awake, watching the ceiling. Every year, ordinary folks stared at the sun, blinding themselves forever in the hope of becoming a healer.
Fools, she thought.
Quxa rubbed her stomach wishing she could marry, wishing she could have children of her own. She wanted a small cottage, somewhere on the western ocean cliffs just south of the Sanctuary. Her husband would be a hunter or a carpenter; they’d make love a hundred times a day. He’d protect her, hold her close and warm.
Quxa blew out the candle on her bedside table, rolled onto her side, and smiled sweetly.
I’ll be a mother one day, she thought. If Meldrassa found a way to save her husband’s life, then I can find a way to have children.
2
Quxa
Superior Cilan, Quxa and Pinda stood among five hundred other healers, waiting for dawn to arrive. All wore red robes with white sashes. Between them, High Priestess Ninen stood atop a stone platform that rose above the thousands of Senyan citizens. Standing in front of plates overflowing with gold, her robe shimmered in the dim light. Firelight illuminated the temple sanctuary—a building as big as Juxon City castle where King Dobarstine ruled—bathing every corner of it in orange flickers. Fires raged in bowls as large as carts, and thousands of torches outlined the area where the ceremonial proceedings would take place. Candle pillars twinkled on the stairs that emerged and then disappeared back into the sanctuary. Fire twirlers danced at the sides of the crowd.
King Dobarstine stood beside the high priestess, looking regal in a royal blue cape and his shiniest armour: a suit made of broad, thick interlocking plates overlaying chains. Ten of his royal soldiers rested their hands on the hilts of their swords, a warning to anyone with mischief in their heart.
As the sun climbed the sky, murmurs arose from the previously silent crowd. The light finally dazzled on the red, blue, yellow and purple stained glass windows. Pinda took Quxa’s hand, grinning excitedly. Quxa managed a small smile through her gloom. Mixing with the commoners would only serve to remind her of the life she could never have. Her desperation for a child and a simple home life had never been stronger; she watched young couples nuzzling each other. One woman, swollen with child, blushed as her husband whispered into her ear.
Brimming with jealousy, Quxa wished the woman’s child would be stillborn.
‘Here it comes,’ Pinda said. ‘This is our day to be us!’
Quxa groaned. ‘And yet I only feel pain.’
Pinda turned to her with a sympathetic smile. ‘Speak to Superior Cilan and ask her if you may adopt a child. Such things have been done before.’
Quxa turned away as a tear rolled onto her cheek. ‘It would not be my flesh and blood.’
‘You would love it deeply. I know you would,’ said Pinda, a little too loudly.
‘Hush. Both of you,’ said Superior Cilan, scowling over her shoulder at the two younger healers.
Pinda rolled her eyes at Quxa.
High Priestess Ninen raised her arms as the sun bathed her in light, making her silvery white robes shimmer. ‘Meldrassa’s story is a warning to our kind,’ the high priestess shouted. ‘We remain willing to heal the men of Senya, if they remain willing to respect us completely.’
‘And so they will,’ replied the king. ‘Another year of health for the men of our lands.’
High Priestess Ninen gestured to the overflowing plates of coins. ‘Thank you for all your donations to our temples. Your generosity sustains us and allows us to continue our holy wo
rks.’
The people cheered. The common women applauded for their fathers, sons, brothers, uncles, grandfathers and cousins would all live long, healthy lives. Healers were only women, and could only heal men.
Quxa had always thought it unfair that the women of Senya remained unhealed while their men prospered. Ordinary doctors treated many illnesses, but they could not mend bones, heal deep wounds, or bring people back from death’s edge.
Quxa basked in the sun’s warmth, inhaling and tuning out the rest of the priestess’s address. When the formalities ended the air filled with music. Laughter, food and wine followed. White tents were erected for urgent healings that would cost no coin, for this one day.
Pinda slipped off to barter with jewellery merchants while Quxa strolled across the lush green grass. She stared up at the trees, fascinated by the sun glimmering gold on the dewy leaves.
A piercing shriek snapped all heads to the front of the crowd. A young girl with brown hair, her hands clutched over her eyes, stumbled through the wall of people. ‘Help!’ she cried, falling to her knees. ‘Help me!’
Quxa ran to the girl. ‘Stranger, what has happened?’
‘I can’t see!’ The girl’s eyes stayed unfocused as she turned her head. ‘I can’t see anything!’ She reached for Quxa, her fingers recoiling at finding her face. ‘I… only wished to be a healer.’
‘Did you stare at the sun?’ Quxa asked.
‘I thought if I did then maybe the sun would grant me healer powers like Meldrassa.’
Quxa sighed. Foolishness! she thought. ‘You have burned your eyes. Meldrassa was unique. Special. Don’t fret, the damage may not be permanent.’
A Superior broke through the crowd, two soldiers following her.
‘What happened here?’ asked Superior Mardon, her stern gaze descending on Quxa and the blinded girl.
‘I am Becksa,’ said the girl.
‘She tried to become a healer,’ Quxa added, rolling her eyes.
Superior Mardon sighed with irritation. ‘Well then, Becksa, you best come inside and see what can be done.’ She led Becksa away from the crowds and up the stairs of the sanctuary.
Quxa felt empty. So many women wanted to be healers. To live for a hundred and fifty years while retaining their beauty and vitality. But Quxa wanted to be ordinary, to have a husband and children of her own. As a healer she had no choice but to serve her people.
‘Boo,’ said Pinda, a wide smile on her face as she clutched the arm of a handsome male escort. A long fringe flopped over his right eye. A dopey grin filled prominent cheeks.
Quxa smiled at them weakly. ‘Well met,’ she said to the young man.
He bowed his head. ‘Well met.’
‘What are you doing?’ Quxa asked Pinda. Her friend risked everything by cavorting with the opposite sex. Healers training for Superior were not permitted to talk to men except for the purposes of healing.
‘Oh posh,’ Pinda said. ‘They don’t care today. We’re supposed to mingle with the common folk.’
Quxa bit her lip, tempted by the idea of feeling the thick hair on Pinda’s escort’s arms; his biceps pushed up a roughly spun tunic. ‘We’re not supposed to.’
‘I don’t mind if you come with us,’ the young man said, a little crinkle forming at the corner of his eyes.
‘Please, Quxa,’ Pinda begged.
A thought jumped to Quxa’s mind. What if I could lose my healing powers the same way Meldrassa had gained hers?
‘Quxa?’ Pinda said. The couple stared at her expectantly.
Quxa let the thought go, saying, ‘Very well.’
Pinda gave a small squeal of delight and took her friend’s arm. The three made their way to the flower gardens where lower ranked healers flirted in groups with boisterous lads. Quxa listened to the animated chatter, inserting herself into a small group where she smiled appreciatively at jokes.
A peaceful stream gurgled nearby. Faint patches of steam licked the water. Tadpoles wiggled through the shallows. Quxa broke away from the group to squat at the water’s edge. Bugs skipped across the surface of the water where light danced in the ripples.
Footsteps crunched on frosted grass until richly crafted boots appeared in the corner of her vision. ‘There’s good fishing in these waters,’ came a smooth, low voice.
Quxa glanced upwards to see a handsome young lad. She swallowed nervously. ‘Yes.’
‘Well met, I’m Gord.’
Quxa rose, offering her hand to the lad standing a half foot taller than her. Thick lashes edged intense brown eyes. A hint of leather wax aroma reached her nostrils; his garb gleamed from the polish. Quxa felt small and safe next to his wide shoulders and strong arms.
When the young man shook her hand, a shock of warm pleasure made her giddy.
Gord blushed while Quxa focused on not bolting like a startled rabbit. As the tiny, finite moments passed, her curiosity drowned her jittery nerves.
‘I’m Quxa.’
‘Walk with me, Quxa?’ asked Gord, holding out his arm.
Held by Gord’s regard, she felt the centre of the universe. ‘Along the stream?’
‘If you wish,’ he replied evenly.
‘Talking only,’ Quxa stated, but felt instantly foolish. She yearned for so much more than polite conversation. As they walked, she caught a whiff of pine coming from his dangling wild locks.
What would it be like to kiss him? Quxa thought, stealing a glance at his smooth lips.
‘So,’ asked Gord as they strolled, opposing feet moving in time, ‘what’s it like?’
‘What?’ Quxa inquired.
‘Healing,’ he replied. ‘What’s it like?’
‘Simple. I like seeing those close to death invigorated with life again. Many people walk through this world ungratefully, but when you’ve faced death, everything is richer, more beautiful. All existence is precious.’
Gord laughed.
Quxa realised she’d revealed a depth of herself from which most shied away. ‘Forgive me, morning discussion should be restricted to the weather or recent events.’
Gord turned his left hand so that his palm faced the sky. Then he slid his fingers between hers, making her shudder. ‘I like it I mean, I like you.’
Prickly heat bloomed in her cheeks and her nervousness returned as healers were forbidden from enjoying intimate pleasure.
‘And—’ he chuckled ‘—what I was trying to ask about was the healing act. Isn’t it…disappointing?’
Quxa was confused. ‘No.’ His question was most inappropriate. ‘I already told you. My joy comes from seeing my countrymen in good health.’
They were out of sight of the others now, inbetween the thick woodlands, tree rats scurried and fought amongst the canopies. Quxa caught a glimpse of the sanctuary’s spires against the blue sky.
‘Then you’re not allowed to be courted?’ he asked.
‘No. Attachments cause unrest of the heart. To marry is to give oneself to a singular person. A healer is devoted to the many.’
Gord took hold of her shoulder and squeezed it gently. ‘Men are forbidden from touching you this way, aren’t they?’
She swallowed hard, fighting back the powerful protest inside her.
His fingers caressed closer to her neck, then slid up her skin and behind her neck where he felt the downy parts of her hair. ‘What about now?’
An unfamiliar jolt erupted inside her chest as air filled her lungs, and the sensation of his strong hand on her neck drew her into herself. ‘It’s forbidden,’ she whispered, feeling herself sink beneath his intoxicating touch.
‘But you like it.’ His hand cupped the back of her neck, then slid upwards, coming to the front where he took her cheek in his palm. Quxa forgot herself entirely, closing her eyes; sounds were clearer. Under his touch, her cheeks burned.
‘You’re beautiful,’ Gord said. ‘Did you know that?’
‘Beauty is the way to indulgence,’ she breathed. ‘We are not to—’
He dra
gged his thumb gently across her lips, silencing her; a wetness bloomed between her legs. A decade of tutoring and lectures forbidding moments like this blared like a horn. Her heart pounded like a war drum. Men were also forbidden from taking pleasure from healings. Their feet and hands were tied down on a table. A hood covered their entire face. Two soldiers were present, though not permitted to watch. Quxa remembered yesterday when she climbed on top of a man not yet thirty. She held onto a metal iron bar, frozen out in the night; this to prevent her own pleasure. She would sit, rise, then leave the room. She had to feel nothing.
Gord’s eyes flared with the want Pinda spoke of so often. He leaned down, averting his eyes, to place his cheek against hers. He was warm and inviting, like a bed on a cold winter’s night, or a warm meal during winter’s frozen days.
His breath tickled her ear as he said, ‘Let me pleasure you.’
Quxa’s body arrested as he moved his lips to hers, gently; they were as soft as she imagined. As she let go, she parted her lips around his; the tip of his tongue moved into her mouth, kissing her.
When he pulled back, he seemed more handsome than ever. ‘Follow me.’ Gord led her further into the trees where the sun barely broke through the canopy. She shivered. Gord immediately removed his warm, black cloak and draped it about her. ‘I want to show you what love feels like. For this one day, if you let me, I will make your heart fly amongst stars.’
Under the cloak, his strong hands took her waist, as he backed her against a tree and kissed her again. His soft warm tongue slid inside her mouth urgently, making her eyes close. Heat flared along her neck, shoulders and chest. When he pressed himself up against her, Quxa’s body responded with the same urgency. Her own hands slipped around his waist; letting go of all control, she pulled him against her.
Gord groaned, then sunk to his knees, lifted her robe and bared her legs, kissing the insides of her thighs. ‘You’re dripping,’ he moaned.