"Merciful One, grant us the hammer. Forgiving One, grant us the forge. Use Thine bellows to breathe into and through us. That we may grant the stricken succor, and bring all things back to you." The paper-thin voice of ancient Mother-Superior Lindel echoed strangely in the Hall of Saint Christiana du Treux. The reverberations returned with such delay, it seemed to Eliah that the long generations of Reverant Mothers spoke to the attending gathering of Initiates with the quiet harmony of scores or reeds blowing gently in Autumn winds.
Weathered hands, little more than porcelain bones and spider-web skin, slid up from the gargantuan, dusty tome. They quivered in the air to either side of the pulpit.
"Deliver us unto the might of disease and violence, that we may bless the afraid, the infirm, the suffering, the dying. Let us become the radiance of Thy divine hand in the corners of this cruel and unforgiving world."
Eliah felt her jaw tighten. Her fingers clasped tightly against sweating palms. Endless hours of study, turned to lengthy nights up late by the thin candle, turned to years of routine, scripture, prayer, study, work. All the training and tests she had completed, always just a step ahead of what felt like ruin. All to become a Healing Sister. The walls of the Grand Convent had been her world, her home, her cell. It was her prison of kindness. For 12 long years, the world outside had passed her by. If she had chosen not to become a Healing Sister and instead simply become a Nun of the Faith, she would remain inside the walls of the Abbey du Treux until her death, at which time she would be buried beneath a hammer-shaped piece of wood marked "Eliah". She would achieve nothing but a life of mundane work inside the abbey.
"Carry us, Thy humble servants, to the forefront where our brethren fall, Thy children suffer, and plead for Thine aide."
The Acolyte's mouth twitched. If men and women shifted their insatiable appetites from the destruction of one another, trembling, blood-soaked, wild-eyed Sisters of Saint Christiana would need not scramble into pitched battles armed with tourniquets, needles, and salve. They would be free to focus on more serious ambitions, such as aiding with births and preventing the spread of plague. She felt slightly guilty at the thought. The world wasn't so sunny as to deny its shadows. Free will and spirit were the most blessed gifts of humanity, forged in the fires of Heaven. Without them, the masterpiece of creation would be incomplete.
"Place us into the heart of plague and famine, that we may deliver the innocent from destruction." The small, wrinkled lids opened. Piercing green eyes stared out from under the red and white hood. Those bright little stars scanned over the acolytes as they raised their heads in unison. The Liturgy of Embarkation was ended. But it was also customary for a Mother-Superior to impart wisdom on newly appointed Sisters before the Passing of Hoods. Old Mother Lindel smiled.
That smile meant the world. It literally meant freedom. The old Eliah couldn't leave this place alive. Sister Eliah, with claim to nothing but medicinal knowledge and comfort for the suffering, could go wherever the Mother Superior instructed.
"Bless you, children. Bless you, all! May the footsteps of all those who have come before be trod by your own holy boots. May all your doubts be comforted by the knowledge that many a sister has been where you stand now; has trod where you will tread." Whispy brows furrowed together in the shadow of the hood.
"Let there be no mistake; you will be tested. Your lessons are complete. But those are little more than preparation for the true trials."
The wrinkled lids shut tightly, squeezing until the creases merged together. Great, massive lines formed the entirety of the ancient Mother-Superior's face. The eyes opened a few moments later, watery and full.
"You will leave behind many friends, both of those you tend and the ones standing next to thee." the words punched out, so quiet from the old woman's voice but firm in their belief and fervor. Eliah didn't turn her head but peered from the corner of her eye at her long-time best friend Alys Palani. Alys had come with Eliah to the convent when she was ten; after the men had come to offer Mother the deal.
YOU ARE READING
The Forlorn Hope
Fantasy"Proof of the honoring of that Pact be herein accounted for by we, The Forlorn Hope." A sullen and unruly crowd. It's any wonder Colonel Mornings got them to sign the wretched thing in the first place. Most couldn't sign their own name. They put "X"...
