Hope of Healing

The sermon was barely audible from where he was laying. Aoric's mind drifted as the sound of a crowd chanting something reached his ears. He tried to move his body again, but the numbness was still there, and his muscles refused to obey him.

He forced his mind away from his current situation. He wasn't going to drown in sorrow and misery. Not yet.

The chanting soon stopped, and the sound of the cathedral gates opening sounded. The loud creak echoed within the room, immediately followed by another, lower, quieter creak. A door closed right afterwards, and footsteps neared him. Ivy and Irene had called this man the Sorcerer before.

"Are you awake, young man?" The Sorcerer's question sounded. His voice was kind, gentle, and almost like a whisper. Aoric felt his cold touch on his throat. "I guess not…" The man muttered, to Aoric's surprise. He was sleepy, and was taking deep, slow breaths still. Was that why the man thought he was asleep?

"In that case," The Sorcerer muttered. "Let's see how bad your wounds are."

The cold fingers resting on his throat slowly creeped down, until the man's palm pressed against his chest. He heard him draw a sharp breath, then chuckle. He pulled his hand away, then lightly tapped on his cheek.

"Wake up." He spoke, louder. Loud enough to startle Aoric. "You've been asleep for almost an entire day." He said with that same gentle voice. "Too much sleep will dull your mind, so I took the liberty to wake you."

It was a bit awkward now, Aoric thought. And what was that 'checking his wounds' all about? He didn't feel any pain in his chest. Well, he didn't feel any pain anywhere anymore. Just numbness, occasionally disturbed by the man's cold touch.

That though startled him. How could he feel the sorcerer's touch, but nothing else?

"I have some good news," The Sorcerer continued speaking, unaware of the chaos within Aoric's mind. "Your wounds may not be as bad as I first feared. And your loss of motion…" He paused, presumably to smile. "Well, I might be able to help you out with that. I will take a little bit of your blood, it will help me see if I can help you at all."

Aoric heard the rustle of cloth. He wished he could at least see what was going on, as the man's cold touch on his arm sent a shiver down his spine, breaking that numbness for a split second.

"There," He mumbled. "I'll be back shortly, try to be patient." The sound of his footsteps grew distant once more. Aoric breathed out a sharp sigh. If only he could see… Why were they still keeping his eyes covered? Or had he lost his sight as well?

Just the thought of it was enough to send a wave of desperation throughout his body and mind. It threatened to down him, to take away the last thing he had: his sanity. Aoric refused to give in. He forced his mind back to the present and focused on the information he did have: The Sorcerer had taken some of his blood, and he could have a solution to his paralysis.

A broken neck or spine couldn't be healed. Aoric knew that for sure. There was no natural way to heal such injuries, and that brought another question: How could the Sorcerer heal him?

Was the title of 'Sorcerer' more than just a title, he wondered. Magic was real after all, though calling it rare would be an understatement of how few people were capable of it. This man, however… His title as the leader of this cathedral, and as the person who holds the most authority in the city of Vesporum; he couldn't have gained and held onto these without at least some power behind him.

And why wouldn't that power be magic?

Aoric pondered. Magic always came at a cost, or so the stories told. And magic users tended to dislike paying those costs. If the man was able to heal Aoric, he would have to pay. And what the price would be, he had no idea.

He just hoped it wouldn't be something like eternal servitude.

A while passed before the door creaked open once more, and footsteps neared. Something heavy was put beside him, and someone removed the cloth on his forehead and dipped it in water. Was it one of the nuns?

"May the Old Gods grant you healing." Someone whispered as they placed the newly wetted cloth on his forehead once more.

"Help me lift his back." Someone else's voice sounded. Aoric felt his body being lifted a little, and something being stuffed behind his back, so he could sit at least somewhat upright.

"We can not give you much food, mister." The first person spoke again. "But we have prepared something nutritious enough to keep you alive. Please don't try to spit it out. It may not taste the best."

He felt something placed between his lips. A few drops of a sour liquid dripped into his mouth. They apologised for the taste a few more times as they helped him drink it a few drops at a time. Not long after, he was done, and they helped him lay down again before leaving.

As much as the taste was awful, the liquid made his hunger fade away. And along with his hunger, his consciousness too.