32 – Hakim

When I was a young boy, my father took me into the mountains to see the Mother-Well. We crossed valleys after valleys, pass after pass. I was sick. I remember the feeling clearly, the nausea, the daze, the weakness, though I don’t quite remember how my affliction was called.

After close to a month of travel, we reached Samarand. The city of gods was unlike anything I’d seen before. The spire of the Pavilion of the Gaze, the Hall of Pillars, the Great Lens, I still regret not being able to visit the other four temples. But Samarand wasn’t our destination. We visited the hospice, where my father exchanged a few words with the local Hands, and after a generous donation, we carried on deeper into the Kushtar Range.

We crossed Oakhaven, Blackearth, then the Wild Vale, yet I was growing weaker by the day.

It took us another month to reach the Mother-Well. By that point, my memories are a haze of pain and fever-dreams.

The Hands took me into their care as soon as we crossed the pass. They took me from my father, and escorted me through lush old growth. The air was heavy with life.

I stood in front of the Well. It was nothing like I expected it to be. I had envisioned a massive pool of golden liquid, the personalization of Fanon himself, yet all I saw was the most ordinary stone well.

A stone enclosure, a pulley, and a rope. That was it.

The Hands tied me to the rope, and lowered me into the dark. I must confess that, at the time, I didn’t have the willpower to complain, or even consider the situation I was in.

I saw nothing. I felt nothing.

But when they pulled me up, I was healed.

Excerpt from the autobiography of Landon Tristemere.

He watched as the attendants cranked the winch, pulling the girl up from the Well. Her parents were standing across from him, alternating between throwing glances at him, and at their daughter.

After a century, he was used to the stares, though he didn’t enjoy them any more than before.

They extracted the girl, and untied the ropes from the harness that was securing her. Then, they asked how she was feeling.

Good.

She was feeling good, naturally.

The parents thanked him profusely. Another scene he was tired of seeing. He wouldn’t be overseeing the process if not for the risk of some forsaken patient getting ideas about the Mother-Well.

With him around, none would dare to act out of line.

Hakim listened to the girl’s parents with the patience of a saint. Then to the girl herself. She was close to unlocking her class, and as such, old enough to glimpse at the significance of what had transpired here.

Once the attendants had guided them away, he allowed himself to relax. He stepped closer to the Well, and sighed.

What a waste.

There was a time where he’d hoped to spread the wonders of the Well to everyone, but those naive aspirations had faded with time. His predecessors hadn’t built this system out of greed. It was a necessity. The donations allowed the order to function, to heal more people. It came at the cost of those who couldn’t be healed through normal means, but the balance was positive.

Furthermore, in a world of magic like Laika, such cases were rare.

He rubbed his eyes, and adjusted his glasses, his mind returning to the issue that had been bothering him for days.

His fingers traced the edge of the Well, as if Fanon himself would come out and give him the answers he was looking for. But the gods’ intentions were always difficult to grasp, and Hakim knew he would need to make a decision on his own.

Even if he would prefer not to.

However, for someone in his position, the absence of decision was a decision in itself, and he couldn’t allow himself to fall into this mindset.

He walked away from the Well, and deeper into the valley. The buildings were few, and the vegetation lush. Attempts to tame this valley had all been rebuked by the endless life mana coming from the Well. The path had been broken by three roots since last week, and it would continue to be so. Everything grew so fast, so strong, that an army of gardeners wouldn’t be enough to see the task through.

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Hakim didn’t mind. He liked the quiet, the soothing song of countless birds and cicadas.

He stopped near the base of an ancient tree. That one had been old before Hakim arrived to Laika, and it would likely stand long after his death. Its trunk was wider than a building, and its canopy stood near the mountain peaks. He jumped, effortlessly landing on one of the highest branches that wouldn’t snap under his weight.

The valley lay before him. Unchanged. There were many such trees all over it, albeit slightly smaller than the one he chose.

On the road leading to the only pass, he saw the family of three making its way back toward Samarand. A difficult journey, though he knew that the girl’s parents were more than strong enough to endure it.

“What should I do?” He murmured, his voice lost in the leaves rustling under the wind.

In this life, he’d seen things he never would have imagined. Uncertainty and surprises were a daily occurrence. At least, they used to be. Yet, when he received this report, he was shocked.

Hakim received many reports, as was natural. If there were humans somewhere on Laika, the Hands would be there too. Their healing was too valuable. The other orders allowed them to enter their most protected sanctuaries. Kings begged for them to be stationed all over their lands. Even demonic organizations sometimes had to call on them for their service.