Remedy of the Kazer

"Crying is an act of Love I regret to make."

-Viri, Matron of Life, Goddess of Hearth and Home.

©

The Southern Forest of Graygreen grew darker shadows, the tall and radiant moring pines now clawing like silhouettes of spider legs begging to tear the firmament flesh for more rain, and the rains indeed fell slow and unceasing on the border, blood-washed from both its intruders and defenders...

What once was a tranquil forest turned into a mossy graveyard of after-conflict.

Among the litter of bodies fallen on stained dirt crawls a restless woman, resilient as a roach as she flips each corpse to check their faces. The mud-field area adorned by her sweatful anxiety.

Her nose scrunched from the smell of burnt skin all around, a trace of native magic from charred barks, the roots holding decapitated limbs that she had to feel so she won't stumble. Though, through all the gore, the woman didn't once falter.

The snow never falls in this bloody part of Sovenia, even if Queen Ingrid decreed that all which snow touches in the north is of Sovenian land. This ancient decree from the Frozen Queen sparked the squall between the Graygreen Province and the Barbaric Tribes of Bannar adjacent from the green border, a war raging for generations forgotten and new.

The Graygreens claimed that the Pale Citizens are the true possessors of the forests, but the Bannari raged that the snow fall too far from the woodlands that it shouldn't be under the Sovenian territory in the first place.

She had blindly searched for hours, her right hand holding a candled lamp while the other clasped tightly upon a crumpled parchment- a letter from a lover. Though the Bannari are known for scavenging after a battle, she still risked even with the probable threat of an ambush by the savages.

Her lantern also invites danger, but she doesn't care, she had been in a lot of battles before and anyone who never lose never felt anything. But this time, she is fueled by anxiety, the next thing she knows she had already turned all the corpses in every roots of the forest. She knows that this army was attacked off-guard, caught in a guerilla judging from the ebb and flow of scattered bodies.

She pushed through the fields of rot, further until she realized how she was already in the forest's edge where the armoured corpses stretched even out to the far grassland.

War banners were waving under the open sky and her chest lightened, the person she's been seeking had always fought the frontlines to lead the militia forward. After all, only the bravest could keep up with a woman like her.

Vultures circled the open sky and the crows feasting on the fields did not even fled when she passed them by. Her rush only left a hush rustle of grass for her fleet footwork comes as light as a breeze.

But her tears were adding to the salt of the bloodied soil and grass, heartbeat faster than her short legs, she is a minute maiden with a big heart and sometimes it feels too heavy for her body.

There were watchful eyes dotting the atmosphere as much as the unblinking stars, and all of which staring into her soul- mouthless yet smiling. But she doesnt meet their gaze. The dead are not a blaze in the dark to be noticed that much.

Instead she noticed something else... someone else. From the far field were shadows of looters crouched on a hill of bodies. Sharp sounds of metals and sentimental accessories dropping their sacks as silver and gold would shine on their smile for a moment.

Her tiny fingers twitched, counting along her eyes. There are about a dozen of them from a good distance of a hundred yards. She released a thankful sigh on how she's not blessed with a good height or else the grass won't hide her since her first step on the open fields.

She ducked and felt the direction of the wind with her eyes closed, upon their opening she stared between the bird-littered skies and the looters, where she angled her fingers upon a steady breath. Mind lost in calculation. Upon a clear vision in mind she began to uproot the grass which hides her, piling them up along with some twigs and branches until a mound had formed.

She stepped on the mound with a sage lit on her fingers. Her air-filled lungs now gated in by a smile that elaborates a master plan.

When she threw the burning sage down the mound of grass, there it begun.

"Ulok-lom ong! Grom iko ong Pali!" One of the looters alarmed the others in Bannari.

(There's a rising smoke! Someone else is here!)

Then from the rising smoke howled a crazed laughter of a woman. Her silhouette enlarged behind the thick smoke.

"Muliyak Rehlia! Ong Muliyak Rehlia! Mete-lom!"

(Rehlia's Spirit! It's Rehlia's Spirit! Banish it!)

The mystics among them were the first to charge towards the ghastly figure, native trinkets and sealed-talismans on hand ready to banish.

The lady behind the smoke only smiled upon the success of her plan.

As they were charging towards her the vultures circling the sky began to fall on them like a blizzard of flesh and feather, eyes blooded and feral. Their beaks aimed on their necks and eyes. And down they pierced.

When the last scream was released from the suffering looters, the woman finally released her held breath. Her heavy, curled hair carried by the winds towards the gory mayhem she orchestrated.

She waited before walking towards the place where the looters were scavenging, which was a hill of bodies pierced by spears and bones.

Her eyes found joy for such hill is the reputation of the lover she's been finding. The Bannari may be savage but they know who to outnumber in the battlefield- the strongest piece on the board.

She knelt before the pile of corpses, reaching out saintly to the rotting hill and chanting a series of words from a forgotten language.

Energy flickered from her eyes and she let out a cry that trembled every blade of grass. Then, one by one, the carcasses flew into soft ashes carried by the midnight winds, nestling themselves down the grassy soil like how all of their ancestors were rested.

Mediumship, people like her with such magic are as rare as a black snowflake, blessed and cursed by a forgotten God. But all forgotten Gods are dead.

A heavy-armoured warrior at the very bottom of it was finally unravelled. His plated chain-armour shining against the moonlight and his helmet, cracked open with an axe, revealing the blandest grey coloured upon his hair.

Wide eyes blissed over the medium, filling her with relief as the weight of the world was lifted from her chest. Hurriedly, she fished through her satchel then threw herself at the man's side to scatter powder all over him, covering every pierced wound to the tiniest scars. Seconds later, everything bleeding was closed and healed, as expected from a Master Alchemist's innovation.

The armour inflated as air rushed inside the man's lungs. Tears dropping down his chest plate when the woman cupped his face, a face she had always dreamt of anywhere she sleeps.

"Miriam..." The man mumbled even with his eyes closed, he knew that it was her solely from the presence. His eyes opened to the world and saw the girl who had been stuck in her dreams ever since he was a young prince. He smiled at how unbelievable it was that dreams could haunt him in reality.

"Vallin..." Miriam whispered his name like a thousand cries of love, the warmth of her palms against his cheeks made Vallin realize that it was indeed the girl she was thinking of when he was at Death's door. Blood escaped with his chuckle when he finds that after all these cycles, she remained exactly the same since their first meeting. A misunderstood lass with a small body full of pain and love.

"Miriam Graygreen..." With the smallest strength remaining, his facial muscles twitched to force a smile, hand raising to hold her cheek.

"Cease on that nickname Val, I'll always be a Blackmercy." She smiled at his silly joke thinking how the Kazer prioritized on making her laugh, even though he lies helpless from the grasp of death.

"But it conforms to your name, my love. It should have been you..." his tear trailed down his temple.

"Gah! you're just depleted and dying that's why you reckon it suits my name." Miriam starts to unbuckle his complex armour. Belts of sturdy ram hide had never been more tedious.

"I'm depleted and dying yet you're trying to undress me, lass?" Vallin snickered, the alchemist just paused and stares unbelievably at the Kazer. That damned smile, the damn reason why she endured the wrath of some forgotten god.

"Says the one who did the same thing on an innocent Court Alchemist 25 cycles ago." She tightened Valin's greaves instead of loosening them, causing the Kazer to grunt in pain. As bitter as everything is, Miriam still kissed the Kazer's bloodied mouth. Her tears flowed through her face to the Kazer's like a river connecting two different worlds. As long as he is alive, then she would still allow herself to feel.

"Etriova Fida" Vallin whispered in Ancient Sovenian.

(Medicine of my heart)

"Neuch Alzina Fida" Miriam replied before reconnecting their lips once more.

(Only pain of my heart)

And from there, love is rekindled in the pasture of blooded grass.