Fanfic:Balms from the soil
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Beron set his first bundle down with a satisfied sigh. He had been working all morning to collect the various herbs and roots that were part of helping the Grey Tower maintain its supply. With his skills as a Ji and his knowledge of climbing, the Yellow Sister in charge of his chores today had sent him high into the mountain country. The alpine chill helped many medicinal plants grow strong, and he had learned that many of the plants were fed by the mountain run off each spring.
The terrain made for tiring work, every bundle he collected required that he hike up bluffs and back again to the clearing his camp was in. An Andoran Dedicated had known of this area, somewhere in the wilds, and so Beron had been told that each morning a gateway would open to allow him to deliver the herbs. He would be a few days in the area, and Beron was glad for the chance to enjoy the woods once more.
Andor was beautiful, it’s high country a lot like Saldaea where he had grown, if warmer at night. Looking at the sun as it hung above him, Beron knew there was probably a few chimes left to hunt down the Muskroot, Rhubarb as a surprise for the cooks, among a few others. He had found a good section of Ursi leaf, a bitter small white plant that could be crushed and used on wounds to help heal. Deftly wrapping the plants in the cloths provided, he checked his water skin and food were secure before heading up the mountain once more.
Walking through the woods was a little like returning to being a scout, although as he bounded over rocks and searched the open grasses he realized how much stronger he had become. Spying some betony, he made his way to the wildflower, checking the leaves and stems against his notes. Once he was satisfied it was the correct plant, he collected the flower which was good in tea or as a calming agent.
The rest of the afternoon passed much the same way, Beron spent the time under the bright sun, collecting herbs and scraping moss and other useful lichen off the alpine rocks. He had tried to bring down a grouse for supper, but had missed the bird in it’s flight. And as the sunny rays of the sun began to slip beneath the peaks, Beron was fishing in the stream.
Soon a fat trout lay sizzling upon a stone he had selected, his rocks built up to help shield his fire from prying eyes. Not that he expected much trouble, he had seen little signs of predators and there was ample game. With the smell of smoke and the fire, he was more worried about any hunters in the area seeing his fire.
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The next morning Beron awoke to the sound of birds and insects greeting the dawn, the light just coming over the peaks and washing over the trees and grasses. Grabbing some fresh dandelion, he crushed and steeped the plant in the hot water. It was bitter, but he knew the tea would help keep him strong, aid in his digestion and provide his body with energy.
After eating his breakfast, he checked around the clearing making sure there were no new animal signs. While scouting out his location, Beron paused for a moment when he saw smoke in the distance. The smoke was rising slowly but thick with dark curls. Beron felt his suspicions rising, the volume of smoke told of something larger burning. Debating for a moment, he laid out trail markers, sticks and stones stacked in particular patterns. Hopefully whoever arrived would know it meant he planned to return in a day. Otherwise he would trust to the fact that the Dedicated had never missed a morning.
Checking his daggers and sword, he packed food and water, beginning the loping stride scouts and woodsmen alike learned to perfect. The day was pleasant, the only mar on his trek the stink of woodsmoke as it flowed with the wind. After a hard days travel, Beron stopped as he spotted the source of the smoke.
Down below him, it’s back wall pressed against a rise in the sloping land, lay a burnt out cabin. The fire still smoked and burned as the lazy flames licked against the roof and walls that had fallen down. Drawing his sword, Beron used his higher vantage to watch the cabin. As the time dragged on, Beron could see no signs of movement and so he approached the cabin slowly; senses alert to danger. Arriving at the cabin, he could see footprints in the ash, leading further down from the still burning pile of embers and timbers. There was no sign of a body, but he did spy dresses and shirts on the line nearby. At least two people then, but where.. Beron paused as he saw a flash of movement down towards the creek.
Crouching down, he used the sound of the water to cover his movements, he slowly approached the creek, stopping when he saw the movement he had spied. Two people were at the sandy shore of the creek, the woman trying to move a larger man around the rocks and towards the water. Cautiously Beron approached, and spying no weapons in their hands kicked a rock to get their attention.
The woman scrambled to turn, falling onto the sand with her mouth agape in shock. The man was clearly not well, his movements stiff and weak on the wet sand. “Peace woman, I mean you no harm. I am Beron, Ji’val of the Grey Tower. Who attacked your home?” Beron soothed as he sat on his haunches far enough from the pair that they would not feel threatened.
“No one, it was a fire in the chimney, we awoke to the smoke and flames. My husband.. badly burned.. help us,” she sobbed as she fought past great heaves of tears and found her voice. Beron moved at once, helping her set him near the water and getting him clean cool water from the stream.
They were covered in ash and soot, and Beron winced when he saw the vivid red blisters, and the blisters had broken on much of his body. Taking his jacket off, he spread it down and helped gingerly lay the wounded man down by the water. Racking his brain, he tried to remember if he had ever encountered burns like this in the Infirmary, and he realized he could think of a poultice he had been shown to make. An apprentice armoured has been badly burned, and the poultice applied had helped reduce the damage until a healer could be fetched.
Looking down at the couple, he then turned his head towards the higher country where his gateway would be awaiting, with any luck. “I can make a dressing to help him, and maybe something to ease the pain. After that we should feed you two. If you’re willing to trust me, I can get us back to the Grey Tower. But first we will have to climb.”
“We’ve heard of the men and women of the Grey Tower. Please help my husband,” the woman said as she washed her hands and face. “Wren and I thank you, Wynter is my name and can I help at all?”
“No need, rest here and I will gather the herbs I need,” Beron reassured Wynter before he headed into the woods nearby. He knew the plants he was looking for, long hours of work and practice paying off as he collected the poultice ingredients. Spying good birch trees, he also cut strips of that to make a tea that would help the pain.
Plants and a grindstone he had found in hand, Beron went about making his poultice. The herbs he had gathered would help bring the heat out of the wound and keep the raw skin from going foul. He also brewed up the birch, making a thin liquid that as it cooled he fed to Wren. As the cooling poultice spread against his burns, Wren moaned and thrashed weakly; although once the heat began to draw from the wounds he stilled.
Seeing her husband settle, Wynter finally felt her eyelids droop. Beron seeing her exhaustion, made her a quick meal from food she had managed to drag out of the house. “Eat, then sleep. I’ll watch for trouble,” Beron said softly as she curled near the fire and finally succumbed to fatigue.
Beron spent the rest of the day watching over the couple. Both were exhausted, although Beron found enough roots and wild edible plants that he was able to make a fortifying broth. As the sun sunk behind the jagged peaks, Beron was changing the dressings on Wren, while Wynter slept besides the fire. The man was awake, his gaze less clouded by pain and exhaustion but he was still too burned to move. Lost in thought, Beron saw the briefest flash of light on the slope, and he sprang into guard stance with his dagger in hand.
“Easy there Ji’val. I was just sent to scout ahead. Mirin Sedai is on her way, we were sent to check on you when we spotted your trail sign and the smoke,” said a Gaidin as he advanced from out behind the brush and trees.
“Well met. Beron, and this is Wren and Wynter. There’s a little food, though as you can see there is not much left of the home. I had some supplies, and stretched it with what I could find,” Beron said as he sheathed his dagger and greeted the other man.
Sitting down, the other man looked over the ragged campsite, his eyes resting on the stone where Beron had crushed and ground the poultice. “Name’s Terrance, handy you knew enough to make that up. And thank you for the offer, but Mirin will want to depart when she arrives. The sooner we get him to Healers, the better.”
The two men worked on salvaging what could be saved, making a small bundle of tools and the least stained clothing. Beron knew the Grey Tower would aide them, and soon the telltale noise of a rider approached. Mirin Sedai was a Green, her shawl and dress dripping with the Ajah color. “Good Evening Aes Sedai,” Beron bowed in greeting as the woman approached Wren.
A few heartbeats later, she looked at Beron and motioned for him to help Wynter up. “You did well, I am no healer, but I did Delve. He’s getting stronger, and your care has him well enough for Skimming.”
Beron thanked the Aes Sedai, grabbed some of the wood nearby and fashioned a travois for the two men to pull. Beron watched as the silver line of a gateway appeared, and as they stepped onto a white wooden disk, he helped prevent Wynter from stumbling too near the edge. Soon they would be where the Healers could begin to help the poor trapper and his wife.
