Prophetess

Chapter 5: Healing Paws

Arella and Casperit held audience in their own private tent, the flaps held open with golden pins leading into a small carpeted room where they sat on a slightly ragged loveseat that seemed to have been patched up a few times. Shadow sat on the floor by Casperit's right side, but Muchie stood and walked near the tent entrance, rubbing against as many people as would give him attention, meowing joyfully.

The festival raged on in the town center where she had given her speech. The king had ordered in entertainers of great variety; singers and musicians, belly dancers, an array of gymnasts, tumblers, beautiful men and women dressed as elves on stilts over 10 feet tall throwing colorful flower petals and sugared candies to the crowds. The taverns all across the area had their doors propped open and had laid out food and treats both for sale and for service. Young children tried acrobatics or errands to earn a small sweet treat or a cheap prize. Barreled kegs had been propped up, selling for mere pennies per cup of the cheapest beer and cider. But the party goers didn't mind one bit, and the kegs were emptied and replaced with constant fervor.

Cas held a mug of mead in his hand, sipping on it slowly while smiling slightly at the orange cat doing dolphin dives to the passing crowd who crouched to rub his fur.

Arella wouldn't drink while taking audience, but she planned on letting loose once the sun finally set. She wanted to reach as many of the citizens who needed her as possible, as she knew Cas would want to leave by the next evening. An elderly man bowed into the tent and laid himself at Arella's feet, reciting from the Ancient Word a prayer of faith. A young woman in her early twenties followed behind and also sank down. Her visage had that of an old woman trapped in a young woman's face, stress lines creasing her forehead and her pale expression turned down into a hesitant frown.

"Prophetess," the man said, rising to his knees, "This is my daughter Capoeia, she just bore her first child three nights ago. But the baby, he is weakening, he struggles to breathe. He sleeps all day and when he wakes he coughs and cries for hours. The doctors say there's nothing they can do for him, they don't have the technology and can't help him but I-I-I... please prophetess, heal him for my family. My only daughter and my only grandchild, the heart of my life, I cannot-" he broke off weakly, casting his head down to the floor.

Capoeia slung a bundle from behind her back and Arella saw the baby nestled against his mother's torso. He let out a pitiful cough that shook his whole body, then he began to cry weakly.

"I'm sorry sir, but I cannot heal. I have not been given that gift and when I try there's no power behind it. But I do have a Mender, my cat Muchie, who has been given the gift. He will cure your grandson if the Lord gives him back to you." She held out her arms for the child, and the woman handed him over with tears of gratitude running down her cheeks.

He was so small, so light, and Arella could feel the labored manner of his breathing as he struggled for life. She clicked and Muchie appeared beside her, already curious about what she had in her arms. She held the child out to him, and commanded, "Heal Muchie."

The orange cat perched on her knee and sniffed the baby curiously. Then he reached out his right paw and placed it on the child's chest, a deep purring starting to thunder throughout the tent. Some people held their hands over their ears in shock, but the vibration could be felt more than heard. After 10 seconds or so, he withdrew the paw and looked up to Arella.

"Thank you sweet boy," she said, patting him on the head and scratching his ears. She saw that the babe had regained some color in his cheeks, he slowly opened his eyes and peered up at her with indignant blue orbs. Then he let out a short cry that turned into a bubbling laugh. He had entirely lost the cough and she could sense life resurrected with his spirit.

The father and daughter cried and held the baby between them, thanking Arella and Casperit and Muchie and anyone else they saw in the room. They backed out, the grandfather singing praises to the Lord's mercy.

"I'll take one more audience," Arella called to the two guards standing outside the tent flaps.

"Finally," Cas grunted, standing to stretch. Shadow jumped up to pace around the edges of the tent, whining softly as the guards brought in a bent over woman wearing a shabby brown cloak.

The woman looked to be in her fifties, but gaunt above her years. She fell onto the floor, just like the old man, and began chanting softly in a language Arella didn't recognize. One of the guards laughed at her display, the other led their way out of the tent to start dispersing the crowd. The woman crawled over to Arella's feet, lightly brushing her bare toes with just the tips of her fingers.

"The Lord is here, speak," Arella chimed kindly.

"I must present the prophetess with a gift," the woman's voice garbled softly, "Please, you would honor me and my family if you could accept it."

Arella reached out her hand, but Casperit pushed her arm down then leaned over her shoulder from behind. He insisted on inspecting all gifts before she touched them in case of sabotage or attempted assassination. He peered at the small bundle as she began to unwrap it, and had to lean over to see more clearly.

Arella saw a shimmer of something jeweled, then in a split second the woman had unsheathed a knife from her breast and driven it into the right side of Casperit's neck. She yanked it out quickly and ran like a gust of wind as Arella screamed, leaping to her feet and hurling a ball of flames after the fleeing woman. She pivoted in slow motion, kneeled and held Cas up, then frantically tried to get him down onto the couch. Blood spurted from the wound, he clasped it with his right hand tightly and shouted "Mother FUCKER" trying to draw the sword in his shock. Shadow jumped around him barking madly.

Muchie, sensing her desperation, ran over to her side and meowed. Arella yelled, "HEAL MUCHIE" the sound broken through the sobs wracking her body. His green eyes flicked to Cas and the blood, then he leapt onto the Guardian's chest and placed a paw on the wound, which was immediately coated in the thick redness. A long sonic boom blasted through the tent and Arella clung to Cas' neck with a grip of death. When Muchie pulled the paw away, the wound was still there but looked as if it had been healing for weeks. There lay a small white scar where the knife had planted, but all the inner muscles had all been repaired.

"Praise God," Arella sobbed, dropping to her knees and covering her face in her hands, then she forced herself back to the present, "Please, anyone, help us!!"

Servants had rushed in after the two guards had taken off after the assassin, waiting in awe as they watched the healing process. They snapped to attention, and helped Cas stand, a few of the women fetching water buckets and a change of clothes.

Arella waited outside the tent, wrapped tightly in her black formal cloak but it didn't stop her shaking. Shadow stayed inside with Cas, but she heard the dog's quiet whining in a slow stream.

After about half an hour, just as the sun finished setting in a shimmering red glow, Cas emerged from the tent. He held himself up, rubbing the right side of his neck with suppressed rage.

"This was what the woman tried to give you," he thrust the wrapped bundle in her arms, "Don't touch it, it's most likely cursed. Turn it over."

She opened the wrappings and saw a beautiful, but very old and tarnished, emerald green and silver necklace. It had the vague shape of what could have been a heart, seeming to have been rubbed dull on the inside. She turned it over, and peering at some writing etched into the back of the locket, in an almost childlike scrawl:

                                                                                    ♡ Wretch