This section takes place right after Syndria leaves Simon and Ina's home in the woods outside of Caron.
*****
Syndria walked
on all day, the mountains her guide once Simon turned back at the edge of the
forest. It was quickly growing dark, and though the Healer was afraid of what
magical terrors would be able to find her in the open grasslands she was
traveling through, the girl didn’t think she could make it to the mountains
before night covered the land. Simon had told her there were many small caves
in the mountain base--she was certain to find shelter in one. To Syndria,
though, despite walking for hours, the peaks never seemed any closer.
In the pale moonlight, Syndria saw
something begin to take shape in the distance. As she drew closer, the Healer
could see what at first appeared to be a hill standing alone in the grassland.
Thinking perhaps she could find some sort of shelter there, at least enough to
feel more secure, she hurried her pace and quickly reached the strange hill.
Once she stood at the base of the hill, Syndria wondered how she had not seen
it earlier. Perhaps in the twilight it had blended in to the mountains in the
distance.
“Whatever the case,” Syndria said
aloud, “I am here now and I should look for a place to sleep.” Dropping the
heavy pack from her back, the young Healer decided to sit and rest a moment.
When she put her hand against the hill to steady herself, Syndria jumped back
in pain. She felt a tremendous jolt of some kind, a feeling she had felt only
once before, and it took the girl a moment to place from where that first
feeling had come.
When Syndria had been with Nedra for
eight years, the Ancient had explained what the presence of magic in others
meant to a Healer. She sliced her palm and asked the girl to heal it, but not
without a warning first.
“Before you touch my wound, prepare
yourself. You will feel what will seem to be an explosion in your own hand, a
feeling unlike anything else. While you touch me it will be as if your palm is
burning. Hold the connection only long enough to begin the mending and I then
will let the cut heal on its own.” When she had touched the Healer, Syndria had
felt a pain unrivaled by anything she had felt since, even the excruciating
pain of the prisoners on the edge of death. It took every ounce of strength the
fifteen year old had to keep contact for the few seconds it took to begin
healing the Ancient’s hand. After the young Healer had composed herself, Nedra
spoke again. “If you are ever required to heal someone who has been injured by
a Wizard, you will feel the same feeling. And while it is possible, to do so
may drain far too much of a Healer’s own gift. Choose carefully how much you do
for someone with such an injury.”
Kneeling at the base of the hill,
Syndria knew there was no question as to the origin of the pain. Though it
seemed impossible, this hill had been touched with some kind of magic. But why?
What reason would the Wizards have for touching a single hill standing in the
midst of a grassland with magic? Though she searched her mind, Syndria could
come up with nothing. That was when an idea crept slowly in, the Healer’s
rational mind trying all the while to push it away. She could take the pain
from those she healed. Would it be possible to take the magic from the hill?
Perhaps then she would see the reason for a spell’s presence.
“You really are a fool, Syndria!”
she told herself. The pain of merely beginning the healing process on Nedra had
been more than excruciating. What would happen if she tried to take the magic
into herself? Besides the immediate consequences, it was possible that the
Wizards had contained something within this hill, something that should not be
released. But while her rational mind was arguing all the reasons Syndria
should just go on her way and leave things alone, one thing changed her mind.
It seemed a simple argument had ridden in on the back of the idea to try and
take the magic into herself. The Wizards who had cast some kind of spell on the
hill she was looking at were undoubtedly the same who tortured and killed good
men as traitors. Syndria could not imagine them doing anything for the good of
Tundyel. Everything they did was an order from King Simann.
Her mind made up, Syndria took a
deep breath as she tried to prepare herself for anything. Still kneeling, the
Healer braced herself and touched the hill, her eyes closed. Immediately,
Syndria felt the same excruciating pain she had experienced healing the
Ancient. It was as if she were feeling the pain of hundreds all at once. An
explosion started in her fingertips and shot up her arm, quickly spreading
throughout her body. She felt as if she were kneeling in the center of the
potter’s furnace instead of the cool meadow. Struggling against common sense
telling her to simply pull away, Syndria willed her left hand to join her right
against the hill. Her entire body trembling from the pain, Syndria pushed the
feeling from her mind and focused all her energy on trying to take the magic as
she took the pain from people. She held it as long as possible, but after only
a few seconds the pain was too much for her to bear. She started to drop her
hands and realized in horror that she couldn’t move, couldn’t stop the pain.
Opening her eyes wide with terror, Syndria began to pull back wildly. No matter
how hard she tried, the Healer’s hands would not move. When she happened to
glance up at the top of the hill, Syndria stopped struggling. The hill seemed
to be disappearing, revealing stone underneath. Though the pain was no less
intense, Syndria again focused on taking the magic into herself, closing her
eyes once again as unimaginable pain racked her small body. Suddenly she fell
back, no longer unable to take her hands off the hill. Every inch of her body
shaking from the pain, Syndria curled into a ball as her mind faded and
everything went black.
