| Marc Pelzer | Ewan Smith
Immediately, the girl was laid on the ground padded with furs. Moreover, some strong figures, undoubtedly warriors of the tribe, instantly rushed out of the tent to repel the attack. Thuli, the old shaman, had crouched down next to the girl. She had removed the very thin, still long black blade from between her ribs. Tirion had limited knowledge of healing wounds, for as much as he had been interested in most subjects in his training, the art of medicine and healing had barely interested him. He had been much more eager to learn various attack spells. In this situation, however, he regretted that. "My lady, they don't teach us much at the guild school, but what I can contribute I will do", Tirion formally proposed his help. The old woman looked up briefly and looked into his eyes. "Lend me a hand removing the cloth around the wound if you want to help." The voice still sounded rough, but there was also an underlying tone of desperation and anger in it. Tirion pushed his way through the now quieter crowd and knelt across from Thuli. He helped her remove the thick and blood-soaked fabric. The cloth revealed something that made his blood run cold: the wound was surrounded by a circular spreading dark green rot that smoked slightly. He looked over at the shaman to see what she thought. There was horror on the old woman's face. "What is this?", Tirion asked her in hushed tones. "This small and inconspicuous blade, young mage, is not from our world. It is cursed. A curse is now upon the poor girl. A curse that will slowly drag her into the dark woods from which she will never return." "I don't quite understand," Tirion replied. "Ja'nemeri is standing between life and death. The wound is magical in nature, no herbs or extracts will help here. My abilities can't save the girl. I'm not even sure if we can do anything for her anymore." The old woman finished the monologue, looked up and gazed thoughtfully at the nearby fire, as if she suspected an answer in it. After some time, she continued muttering, "Magic can only be fought with magic. The gate between worlds through which Ja'nemeri is drawn into the realm of the dead must be closed mage. You could do this. I am aware that you owe us nothing. But we have no choice. Please, help me and save this girl."
Tirion had great self-confidence. His abilities had been admired at the guild school. Somehow he had never had to learn or understand much. His intuition had allowed him to perform many feats. Some had called it talent, some unfair, he didn't care. He had always had full confidence in himself and his intuition. But now, as he roamed the world, there was no trace of his intuition. He was at a loss, but did not dare to confess this to the old shaman. Shame was written all over his face. "I have seen it young magician, I have read it. The bones have spoken to me: You will free us from a plague, or you will bring one to us. This is how it is destined to be.
The mage did not quite know how to react to this. Normally, in such a situation, he would have simply ignored the inner uncertainty and pretended with feigned self-confidence that he could handle everything, but this was different. Tirion took a decision. He concentrated and once again looked at the place on the girl's body that had been affected by the curse. The source was located below her left breast. The greenish web that emerged from the wound throbbed slightly at regular intervals. He stretched out his hand and convulsively tried to remember his training. He let magic flow into his hand, but did not concentrate it, as was usual for lighting fire, but instead solidified a potential on the whole palm. What had been the next step? Tirion did not remember. But he suspected that it was to palpate the injury. However, when he did so, he experienced nothing, felt nothing, and did nothing. He raised his voice in disappointment, "I'm sorry. I have many skills and know about spells, however, even though I learned it once, I have no idea how to deal with this." Thuli didn't say anything for now, not wanting to break his concentration. "Tell me, when could you have learned how to treat magical wounds?" she finally asked him. "Fire magic is a dangerous thing, so first year healing was mostly on the schedule. But I didn't think it was necessary to memorize it, because I rarely hurt myself." "There is a ritual that allows you to go deep into your thoughts. To search your memory and relive the past. It has its risks, bad things are not separated from good. Earlier in ancient times, the ritual had been often performed. However, many of the participants were damaged in consciousness and confused. Would you be ready for that mage? The whole tribe would be eternally indebted to you." Thuli looked at him. He swallowed, dropped his gaze to the girl still lying on the ground.
"I will do it."