To Heal A Lonely Heart

Witch!

The people of Vergen hated me. They were scared of me, of what I could do, even though all I am doing is to help them, heal their sick and sell them potions. Once I had brought back a man from the brink of death. That was all it took for them to hate me. They accused me of necromancy, but didn't have the guts to come and arrest me. Anyway, I did not wake up the dead, only heal a man who was close to death; there is a difference, but the people didn't seem to care. I originally had come here to find refuge. As a half elf life was not easy, and it was even harder when you are a woman, a woman with the ability to use magic.

I cannot understand why they hate elves so much, humans I mean. All my elders have ever done was helping the humans after the Conjunction of the Spheres, just like what I was doing now. My mother had taught me everything I know about magic and healing. She had always told me to do good, even though the world will be doing the opposite. So here I was, an outcast, healing and helping ungrateful people, who would like it best to see me dead.

I should stop, but then I would starve. So I keep helping them for little coin. Not really a life worth living, but still better than death.

I should hate humans, too. They have taken everything from me. My family, my home. My mother was killed during the Great Cleansing. I was 74 years old when that happened – young for an elf. The humans slaughtered her like an animal. I could escape thanks to my father, but I never really knew him. He brought me here, to Vergen, and told me to hide, to tell no one who or what I was, and to only use magic if I absolutely needed to. He used to visit from time to time, but his visits had stopped a long time ago. I don't remember much of him, not even his name, or what he was doing. I asked him once, but he told me that it was safer for me if I didn't know.

So here I am now, brewing potions in a small cottage just outside of Vergen, at the edge of a small forest.

The distant sound of a horse drawn cart shook me from my trance as I was stirring in a kettle and chanting a spell in Elder, otherwise the potion would be useless. I sensed that there was no danger coming from whoever was approaching, but I still grabbed my dagger and pushed it into my belt behind back as I stepped outside.

On the cart lay a coughing young girl. The other woman on the cart, probably her mother, stepped up to me.

"Please," she said with tears in her eyes, her voice nothing more than a broken whisper, "my daughter... her fever won't go away."

I took a step closer to the cart, inspecting the little girl. She was pale, almost as white as a sheet, pearls of sweat ran down her face as she coughed and wheezed, her small body writhing.

"Bring her inside," I told the woman, "follow me." I led her inside and pointed to the small makeshift bed I had put up in front of the fireplace I had set up for my patients. "Lay her down," I ordered as I disappeared into the kitchen, collecting all the herbs, oils and potions I would need. I returned to the main room and started mixing the medicine for the girl.

"Do you have other children at home," I asked the concerned mother, who was clutching her daughter's icy hand in her warm ones.

She glanced at me, confused, before returning her gaze to her daughter. "No. Why?" she answered.

"The fever," I started to explain, "spreads fast among little children.It ends deadly if it is not treated within the first four days. Adults are immune."

The woman grew pale, counting the days of her daughter's sickness in her head – I could tell from her expression.

"To-t-tod-today is the fourth day," she stuttered out.

"Well, then you are lucky that you decided to come to me," I told her. The medicine was finished now and I poured it into a vial, careful not to spill anything. I left about a spoon full in the bowl and walked over to the bed. I held the girl's head and lifted the bowl to her impossibly pale lips. "Here. Drink this." And she did. Within minutes a little colour returned to her face and she stopped writhing. I handed the woman the medicine. "Twice a day, best in the morning and in the evening. One spoon full each time. For the next three days. If it has not stopped until then, come back." I instructed.