Druan Episode 8: Chant

By Mark Robson

Darkness consumed the world for centuries, under thick black clouds that blocked the sun. Without light, the plants withered and died, and the animals starved. Few survived in this wasteland of night. With a final, desperate effort, the shamans gathered together to form a great chant. They gave their lives to open the clouds and let sunlight shine back on the world.

When the scattered remnants of humanity step from the dark, with nothing but their wits and the waning power of an old shaman to protect them, they are faced with a cracked, lifeless desert. Led by a child, guided by the spirits, their deeds will become myth.

To survive, they must train a new generation of shamans to face the coming dangers. Thirteen students to guide the people into a new age. And, of those students, two young sisters will grow to stand at the heart of a legend.

Each episode is written as a short story, to be read in a few hours, but together they tell the story of two sisters growing up in a new world and facing responsibilities and dangers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mark Robson
• Release date: Dec 1, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370842179

Book preview

Druan Episode 8: Chant

By Mark Robson

Copyright 2016 Mark Robson

Smashwords Edition

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Cover Art by Alan Mence

Cover Text by James Eden

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Spring

The Age of the Sun, Year Seven

Feet pounded, sandals clattered on cracked paving stones. Six men carried him along Main Street on three layers of linen sheet. Salinda ran ahead, clearing the path. It was still early afternoon and the streets were busy with people going about their work. She pushed them aside, careless of the bruises she caused or the spilled food or materials scattered across the ground. Hazaara’s hospital was just a little further.

Salinda dragged the reed door aside. Hurry!

Six men carried him inside, followed by Hazaara.

On that bed. Hazaara pointed to an empty reed mattress against the far wall while she rushed to the stone table and began sorting through her ingredients.

They lowered Morvadannon gently down onto the bed and rolled him to his back. He did not wake.

Salinda ushered the men out while Hazaara fussed over her bowls. She closed the reed door, ran to the shaman and knelt by him. What do you need me to do?

Open his tunic, said Hazaara. We need to see the wound.

The tunic was already sliced over the cut, so Salinda took hold of both sides and pulled. Linen ripped easily, and revealed a long bloody smear across Morvadannon’s ribs.

Wash it.

Salinda looked around. There was a bowl of water beside a pile of cloths against the wall. She took both and returned to the shaman’s side. Salinda took a cloth, wet it, and gently washed the blood away. The bowl of water soon turned pink. Hazaara arrived by her side.

What’s next? asked Salinda.

The wound drew a straight thin line across Morvadannon’s chest, a shallow slice by a sharp blade. Normally, even Salinda would have no problem curing it, but there was more to this cut. The skin around the wound was losing all pigment, becoming dry and translucent, while a yellow tinge filled the blood vessels leading away.

Hazaara frowned down at the shaman. I’ve not seen anything like it. Check his breathing.

Salinda bent over and put her ear close to Morvadannon’s mouth. One deep breath, then several stuttering short ones. Then two deep breaths and a long exhalation. She reported her findings.

Erratic breathing means his body is struggling against something. Jayenna said it was poison? Hazaara touched the crumbling skin. Dead skin.

It’s spreading, said Salinda, pointing at the yellowing veins.

Hazaara put her mixing bowl down. I need to chant.

Do you know a chant for poison?

Not this poison. I’m going to try a general healing chant, one that will strengthen his natural resistances.

What can I do?

Hazaara shook her head. Just stay close. It’s better that I do this alone. We’re short on shamans right now. She sat and crossed her legs. Hazaara reached over and placed both hands on the shaman’s chest, palms either side of the wound.

Pavandar picked the wrong time for his chant, didn’t he? said Salinda.

Don’t blame him, replied Hazaara. There was no way he could know what would happen.

But what did happen? Why did Taya steal Morvadannon’s crystal? Did she cut the shaman? Was it Valara?

Salinda, please. Questions can come later. I need to chant.

Salinda nodded. Sorry. Do what you have to. I’ll be nearby.

Thank you. Hazaara smiled, closed her eyes and began. Words mumbled from her lips, and Salinda felt the energy surge as the chant began.

She stood and stepped back, leaving Hazaara to her work.

The reed door opened and Varion entered, leading a large farmer with Jayenna in his thick arms. The girl’s eyes were closed and her hands were in her lap, wrapped around the crystal.

Salinda looked around at the beds. Put her there, please. She pointed, and the farmer gently set her down. Thank you.

The farmer looked up. Salinda recognised him as Thomadin. Will she be alright?

She’s just asleep, said Varion. She needs rest.

Thomadin nodded. I need to get back to the fields.

I’ll be along when I can, said Salinda. Thank you.

He left, and Salinda knelt to examine her friend. Jayenna’s breathing was regular, if slow.

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