“Breathe in, once more…”

Little Faun took a deep breath and held it, her eyes wandering the room from boredom.  If she’d known the examination would be this long and tedious, she’d have headed to the tavern instead of sitting on a hard table enduring the endless poking and prodding.

“And let it out.”

Air escaped the druid’s lungs.  This was ridiculous.  Why did everyone keep clinging to the idea that she was some small, frail little thing who didn’t know how to take a hit?  They were being overprotective, and that’s all there was to it.

“Okay, now just relax.  This will only take a minute.”

She’d heard that before.  Rolling her eyes, Faun scooted back on the table to lie down.

“Best offer I’ve had all week,” she muttered.

A silent chuckle escaped the healer’s nostrils.  “You never change, do you?”

“Almost nightly,” Faun replied with a sigh.

Hiding a knowing smile, the healer closed his eyes.  Muttering several arcane words, his hands began to glow a soft blue as he passed them a few inches above the druid’s blanket-covered body.

“How long have you been back in Kelethin?” he asked, trying to relax his patient.

“Few minutes.” Faun tossed her head to rid herself of a strand of sandy blonde hair in her eyes.

“And you came here first?” the healer asked in mock surprise.  “I think that’s a first for you, isn’t it?”

“Tish insisted,” the druid replied.  “She and Lorr are standing guard outside to make sure I don’t make a break for it.”

“Those are some friends you have, girl.  So, what happened?”

Faun let out an annoyed gasp.  “Nothing!” she insisted.  “Just a little fall, that’s all!”

“Mmm hmm,” the healer commented, moving his hands down to hover over her legs.

“It’s no big deal,” the druid mumbled, shifting herself to get more comfortable.

“I know you, Faun.  You’ve never lost your balance on a bar top, much less a fifteen foot drop, without good reason.”

“So, I slipped.  I healed myself, got up, dusted myself off and walked away.  See?  My leg’s good as new!”

“It’s not the injury that worries me.  You healed it well.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s what caused you to fall that has me concerned.”

“I already know what made me fall.”

“Which was?”

“Gravity.”

The healer cast the flippant druid a deprecating look.  Sighing, Faun rested her head back and resigned herself to looking at the wooden rafters above until the bothersome inspection was over with.  For some reason, the healer kept going over her left leg with his hands.

“It’s the other leg that was broken, by the way,” she said, hoping to hurry things along.

“I know.”

Faun didn’t like the tone in his usually good-natured voice.  Even on the odd occasion when he found cause to berate her for drinking too much, he always had a lively gleam in his eye.

“Then why are you-?”

“Have you visited Velious lately?” the healer interrupted.

“Well, of course.  I hunt there all the time,” she replied with a half-hearted giggle to lighten things up.

The healer swallowed, his tone serious.  “You’ve been in the Tower of Frozen Shadow recently, haven’t you?”

Faun’s heart stopped for an instant, her chest feeling heavy – a reaction the healer was sure to pick up on in his magical examination.  She could think of only one reason why he would know that.

“Well, yes,” she admitted.  “There are several artifacts there that-”

“Did you go alone?”

The druid propped herself up on her elbows to look at the healer.  His expression matched his voice.  The soft blue glow of his hands faded as they habitually straightened the blanket resting on top of her.

“Why?” she asked.

“Please just answer, Faun,” the healer insisted, his eyes pointedly glued to the blanket.

The sinking feeling in her chest intensified.  In all the years she’d known him – even back when she was a small girl – he never called her by her given name in casual conversation.

“No, of course not,” she said.

Licking his lips, the healer pressed his hands against the tabletop with a sigh.  There was no graceful way of broaching the subject, so he dropped all pretense of tact.

“And yet you managed to keep it a secret?”

Faun swallowed.  “What?”

The healer finally looked her in the eye.  “You know perfectly well what,” he accused.  “The pain must have been unbearable.  When were you planning to tell somebody?”

The druid froze in his reproachful gaze for several moments before clutching the blanket to her chest and swinging her legs over the table’s edge to stand.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said under her breath, pacing quickly over to her tunic hanging on the wall near the door.

“There is no possible way you couldn’t, young lady,” the healer shot back, not bothering to turn around to make his claim.  “Something in that place bit into you… deeply.”

“Now you don’t know what you’re talking about,” the druid denied.

“Don’t I?” The healer shoved himself away from the table’s edge to finally turn and address her with folded arms.  “Pain, Faun.  Like lightning shooting through your leg, leading to your spine, and from there to your head.  It was so intense it clouded your vision, threatening your consciousness.  Before you knew it, you were on the ground and you didn’t remember how you got there.  Stop me if I’m getting warm.”

Faun’s hand stopped just shy of lifting the tunic from off its peg.  Though she made no further denials, she didn’t turn around either.

The healer pressed on.  “Afterwards, you healed the wound with Tunare’s power, but for some strange reason the limb remained stiff and achy.  Movement was particularly troubling, but it was far more tolerable than the pain, and so you chose to dismiss it.”

Still clutching the blanket to herself, Faun slowly turned.  Her usual jovial demeanor was replaced by a somber look in her blue eyes as she suffered the dramatic, but no less accurate recount of events.

Stepping forward, the healer placed a comforting hand on her exposed shoulder.  “You still feel it, don’t you?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Faun whispered dully.

“But you know something’s wrong.”

The druid’s jaw clenched, her lips pressed together tightly.

“I credit you with being a fine journeyman, my dear,” the healer continued, “but nobody can expect you to understand everything.”

“If you’re so smart, why don’t you tell me what the matter is, then?” Faun asked, jerking her shoulder away for emphasis.

Letting his hand drop, the healer leaned back against the table for support.

“It’s the frozen shadow,” he explained.  “You know of the tower’s origins, yes?”

Faun looked back pointedly without reply.

“A shard has invaded your body, Faun.”

“So get rid of it,” she snapped.

Now it was the healer’s turn to look back pointedly to match the druid’s stare.  The tendons in Faun’s neck grew increasingly taut as her breathing became heated.

“You can’t,” she said without a voice, her eyes glistening.

The healer blinked silently in response, his mouth closed.

“See?” she whispered, her face twisting.  “I do know some things.”

Unable to retain her composure, Faun turned and grabbed her tunic from the wall.  With a strangled sob, she hurled it across the room where it struck the opposite wall.  By the time it hit the floor, the druid had already joined it on her knees as she fought angrily to control her tears.

“It was so stupid,” she said through clenched teeth.  “I saw it coming.  I should have backed away where it was safe, damn it!” A fist against the wooden floor accentuated her words.  “I knew better.  But I wasn’t content to let the fighters have all the fun.”

“Where was the shard?” the healer asked calmly.

“In my pocket,” Faun muttered, swiping at her face with the palm of her hand.  “I found it and two others earlier in the raid.  The splinters were curious, and so was I.  I remember thinking to myself, ‘what could happen?’”

“What, indeed.” Bending down, the healer lowered himself to crouch beside the distraught druid.  “You know what you have to do now, don’t you?”

Faun snorted derisively, her hands fidgeting with the blanket still covering her.  “Live life to its fullest, I guess.”

“You have to submit yourself to the healers in Felwithe.”

“Not a chance,” the druid glared.

“It’s killing you, Faun,” the healer declared.  “Day by day, the frozen shadow is drawing the strength out of your body and into the cold abyss that it is.”

“I will not end up prone and useless in a creaky old cot, hidden away in the corner of some gods-forsaken infirmary!  That’s not what I’m about, and you know it!”

“You’re far from that, my dear,” the healer tried to console.  “But soon the day will come when you’re not going to have any choice.”

“I… feel… fine!” Faun insisted.

“Yes, now!  But what happens tomorrow?”

Her jaw set, the druid tossed her head and looked away.

“What happens next time, Faun, when your strength fails you?  What if it’s not just a simple fall, and your moment of weakness claims your life?”

“Then I’ll die a little sooner, that’s all.” The druid scrambled beneath the blanket to stand and recover her fallen tunic on the far side of the room.

Sighing, the healer lowered his head in frustration.  “What about your companions?” he asked in a muffled voice.  “What if the secret you keep from them claims one of their lives?”

“I won’t let it,” she said over her shoulder.

“You are not functioning at full capacity, Faun.  They deserve to know!”

“And be the object of their pity?  No thanks.  I’d sooner walk out that door and leap off the platform.” The druid spoke as she fastened the buckles of her tunic.  “I don’t need strength to use my magic.  Nobody expects anything more than that.”

“They’re going to find out.”

“Let them.”

Having finished her task with the tunic, Faun marched over to her other belongings and began pulling on her leggings.  Standing once again, the healer made due with speaking to her back.

“Fine, it’s your life,” he conceded.  “But let me ask you one thing before you walk out that door.”

Standing erect, Faun yanked the leggings up around her waist, letting the blanket fall at last to her feet.  “Yeah, what?”

“If it were one of them, and not you, how would you want to find out about it?”

The druid paused in buckling her belt for half a moment before proceeding more slowly.

Sensing a lapse in the druid’s stubbornness, the healer pressed his argument.  “Whether you like it or not, my dear, you are not alone in this.  Surely you won’t deny them that which you would think yourself deserving?”

Pulling her belt tight with a firm yank, Faun smacked her backside with both hands, as if to get comfortable in the tight curves of her leggings.

“You made your point,” she said.  Reaching over, she grabbed her pack and flung it over one shoulder.

“Don’t over-exert yourself,” the healer advised, stepping forward.  “If you feel weak or tired, rest.  I would advise against traveling by yourself, if I thought it would do any good.”

Turning to face him with one hand on the door handle, Faun gave the healer a wry smile in response.  He wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t already know, and she knew he was well aware of that.

“You’re the one who saw me into this world,” she said.  “Have you ever known me to give up on anything?”

“Piety?”

“Besides that.”

“I can’t say that I have,” he said with a grudging smile.

“If there’s an answer to be had in all this, I’m going to find it,” Faun stated.

The healer opened his mouth as if to say something, but checked himself.  Instead, he took the small druid by the shoulders and kissed her on the forehead.

“May the goddess be with you, child of Tunare.”

Faun raised an eyebrow as she unlatched the door.  “If She were ever with me, I don’t think this would have happened.”

Turning, the druid left the room and closed the door behind her.

Part II

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