Mother Clemens

Nia had never been to a hospital. But somehow she was sure that the beds there would’ve been more comfortable than the one she was in. That she couldn’t really move without feeling pain wasn’t helping any. At some point, she had fallen asleep nonetheless. It was still hard to tell when it was day and when night, but the hint of color returning to her world told her that it was dawn when she awoke from a dreamless sleep.

When she tried to move, it was even harder than before. As if there was a lump in her back. Even breathing wasn’t easy. Why couldn’t she just have had a nice healing spell that just knitted her flesh back together? Why did healing have to be this uncomfortable?

“Good Morning.” The woman from the day before entered the room. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been stabbed.” Nia smiled at the woman.

“You shouldn’t joke about that, young lady.” She shook her head, then corrected herself: “Lady saint.”

A shiver ran down her spin, agitating the wound. “Please, don’t call me saint. Or lady.”

Although she knew that she wasn’t the same anymore, hearing someone she didn’t even know call her lady, or even saint, conflicted with her self-image. Was it because a part of her still clung to her former male self? Or was it because of being called a lady?

“I … But … of course, milady.”

“That’s not really better, you know?”

“I … forgive me, mi…” The woman cleared her throat. “Anyways, Mother Clemens is coming over shortly. She might be able to help you.”

“Is she,” Nia paused a moment to take a long and shallow breath. “Is she another saint?”

“No, no.” The woman shook her head. “She’s just a traveling priestess. I guess you’re lucky that she’s here right now.”

Nia frowned, unsure what she should answer to that. Then she heard someone knocking on what she assumed was the door to this home.

“Oh, excuse me. I think she’s here already,” the woman said and hurried out of the room.

Nia heard the sounds of the door being opened and then the muffled voices of two women. Hopefully the traveling priestess was easier to interact with than that woman. She didn’t like being worshiped or called a saint.

“Please, come here.” The farmer’s wife led the other woman into the room. The first thing Nia noticed was the white robe she wore. It was decorated with stars and moons on the sleeves and the hem of the clothes. It was just like the robe Qiin had worn. Her blood pressure shot up, and she could feel her pulse in several quick, sharp pains in her back.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

She only managed to calm down somewhat when she saw the slightly wrinkled face of the priestess. The woman’s hair had grayed, but she had still sharp yellow eyes. Eyes that widened when she took Nia in. “Another saint.” It was just a whisper, but there was surprise in her voice. “After all these years …”

“Are saints meant to appear more often?” Nia stared at the woman. What was going on in this world?

“Some time ago, saints appeared roughly every five years.” Mother Clemens bit her lower lip. “But roughly twenty years have passed since the last saint and her retinue walked this world. I almost thought that Luaria had forsaken us.”

Were they all summoned by Saesquar? Or had that shifted at some point? “How many saints have there been?”

“You are the twenty-fifth.”

“Twenty-Fifth …?” That was a lot of summoning of other people.

“Lady saint?” The priestess looked at her questioningly. “I heard that you were hurt. Who did that to you?”

Should she tell the priestess about the dark goddess? Seeing how she was dressed in the same robes as Qiin, Nia didn’t really have many reasons to trust her.

None at all to be precise.

“Do you know a prayer for healing?” she asked instead.

“Ah, yes, I am sorry for not acting sooner.” Mother Clemens straightened and closed her eyes. As she began to recite—or rather sing—the prayer, her voice sounded smooth and strong. One note quickly came after the other, and the song soothed her pain. The more the pain receded, the stronger she felt.

Nia could feel the magic at work, what it was doing, and how. Not why. The prayer seemed to start off like the others, but it didn’t seem to contain any knowledge about the human body. It was more as if the magic was supposed to restore the body into the shape the soul knew to be correct.

So, there was a soul? Should she take that as evidence that the god of her world existed, too?

As the last of the pain vanished, Nia straightened herself. “Thank you,” she told Mother Clemens and gave her a broad smile. The old woman looked white as a sheet.

“I’m glad I could be of assistance. Though I don’t understand, why you don’t know the healing prayer yourself.”

“That’s a long story.” Nia hopped off the bed and grabbed the older woman’s hand. Mother Clemens looked really unstable on her feet.

“I am surprised that you’re still alive with a wound that took that much energy to heal.”

It’s probably better if I don’t tell her about the period I was more undead than alive …

“Is there a prayer to give someone energy?” Her question seemed to startle the woman.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t ask,” she began, wide eyed.

“You’re not the one asking, I am. That knowledge could be helpful on our journey.”

“I guess you’re right,” she murmured and took a deep breath. “The following prayer allows to restore another one’s energy by giving them your own.”

“Luaria, my goddess of light,
please hear of their plight.
In your service power was given,
but new threats have arisen.
I ask for their energy to be replenished
so the task you’ve given them can be finished.”

The beginning of the prayer was again similar to the ones she knew. The interesting thing was that to address someone else, the introductory lines of the prayer were changed. Even the short melody was similar to what she’d gotten to know. So that meant that the words were important? Or was it the intent they carried?

Nia closed her eyes and began to sing in a quiet voice. There was no need for anyone to hear her.

The older woman’s fingers tensed hers. Still, Nia kept singing the short prayer, and could then feel the energy being transferred to the priestess. She could even feel the core where the energy settled in the older woman. But she couldn’t feel the source in herself. It was just a vague sensation that it was somehow coming from her.

Nia stopped the flow when she sensed that she couldn’t give any more energy to the other woman. When she opened her eyes, she looked into the shocked face of Mother Clemens.

“I … You … Thank you.” Tears glistened in the eyes of a slightly younger looking priestess.

“Thank you for healing that wound.” Nia let go of the hand and stepped backwards. She suddenly had so much energy that she wanted to twirl, but she kept that desire in check.

“No problem,” the woman said and cleared her throat. Was there a blush on her cheeks? “Anyways. Would you mind telling me, who wounded you?”

Of course you didn’t just forget about that.

Nia hesitated and frowned slightly. She was still unsure how much she could tell that priestess. Yes, she had healed her, but then again, Qiin and the other monks had been friendly to them at first, too.

“It’s a longer story,” she hedged again.

“It’s important that I know,” Mother Clemens insisted. “We can’t have anyone run around, hurting a saint. Those might be followers of Saesquar.”

Nia put on a half-smile, and her eyebrow twitched. “You know, it’s funny that you mention her name.”

Mother Clemens narrowed her eyes. “So it has been one of her followers …”

“Well, yes?”

“I see you’re feeling better.” Sonja squeezed herself into the room.

“Are you part of the saint’s retinue?” the priestess asked immediately, as if she suspected Sonja of stabbing her.

“Retinue?” Sonja asked.

“She was summoned together with me,” Nia explained quickly. “And it’s not a retinue thing. We’re just sort-of in the same boat.”

Or world, she added in her thoughts.

“Then she is part of your retinue,” insisted Mother Clemens.

Sonja’s head turned red, while Nia just stared at the older woman.

Haven’t you listened to what I’ve said?

“So you’ve met a follower of Saesquar?” Mother Clemens continued. “Where?”

Neither Nia nor Sonja answered immediately. Nia wasn’t sure what answer she should give, since they had somehow teleported away from that monastery. She couldn’t even give a name for the place they had been in.

“There is something more to all of this you’re not telling me,” Mother Clemens concluded after a moment. “Why?”

“She doesn’t have much reason to trust you,” Sonja supplied. “After all, you’re wearing the same robes as the one that stabbed her.”

That comment made the color retreat from Mother Clemens’s face faster than a blue screen turning up on a fatal error. Only after a moment passed, the priestess uttered a single word: “Impossible.”