Helpless by Wen Wen Yang

“Sorceress!” The wounded warrior cries as he presses his hand against the wound at his shoulder. “Help me!” He stumbles on the steep, densely covered mountainside and collapses to his knees. The clang of his armor rings through the forest. He whimpers at the pain, and presses against the flow of blood. Brown locks of hair stick to his forehead, plastered by sweat.

A soft gasp echoes through the trees. The warrior looks up, tears in his dark blue eyes. In the distance, he sees a young girl of fifteen summers rushing toward him. Her bare feet are unaffected by the rough terrain. From her arm hangs a basket of freshly picked herbs, while her other hand holds a fistful of her pale cotton skirt to keep it from becoming entangled around her legs.

“Maiden!” He rasps, swallowing the taste of blood in his mouth. “Call your mistress, the sorceress. I am in dire need of her aid.”

The young girl purses her lips and takes a green sprig from her basket. She waves it in the sign of the Lady and Lord, then crushes it between her fingers. Spreading her fingers, she drops the leaves onto the young warrior’s body. He gasps for air before the spell takes effect.

“Rest,” the child whispers as she kneels beside him. Reluctantly, the warrior accepts the magic and slips into slumber.

“Ah!” The warrior shouts, protesting the wet cloth against his wound.

“It could be worse,” sounds the soft voice at his shoulder. “You could be giving birth.”

The warrior groans in argument as he tries to blink away the remainder of the spell. Rather than seeing the wrinkled hands of an aged sorceress, he watches the young maiden clean and bind his wound.

“Where is the sorceress?” He asks as she walks around to his other side. Without a sound, she slips her hand behind his back and pushes him into a sitting position.

“Dying,” the maiden answers as she takes a seat beside him. “Don’t move.” She presses her hands against his shoulder blades and begins to chant. A warm sensation spreads from her hands, into his skin, down his spine, and warms his entire being. The warmth soon becomes a burn, eating away at infections and forcing the body to hasten its healing process. The warrior grunts his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut as he endures the pain of chi-healing, as the heat becomes frigid cold, returning to blistering warmth.

After what may have been an eternity to the soldier, the girl moves her hands in circular motions, breaking the chi-strands. She keeps one hand against his back as the other grabs a hot washcloth from a nearby bucket and wipes his back.

“You’re lucky.” She says, her voice suddenly softer than before. “It took only one session to heal you.” She slides out from behind him and places her hands around his neck. Slowly, she lowers him onto the pallet. The warrior can now see the subtle changes that have taken place during the session. The girl’s cheeks seem larger, while the mouth seems to have shrunk.

“You are becoming younger.” He finally says, staring up at her.

“Yes, that is the price of giving away my chi.”

“Then you are the sorceress?”

The young girl nods, showing only the hint of a smile as she purses her lips.

“But I have seen other sorcerers heal without changing at all.”

“They take chi from animals, or plants, then give it to the sick.”

“Then, you are killing yourself.”

“Yes,” she blinks slowly. “As I said, the sorceress is dying.” She looks up suddenly at the sound of a cry. “Excuse me, another patient is giving birth.”

She lifts up her skirts slightly and walks out of the bamboo-hut. The warrior stares at the ceiling made of interlaced bamboo leaves, letting his eyes travel to the foundations, and finally to the floor. An empty pallet is on the floor before him, under a window. Beyond the window, he can make out the roofs of the other huts.

A carpenter had thanked the sorceress ages ago for birthing his daughter by constructing five healing huts over the mountainside. He had long since died, but his sons and grandsons returned every summer to build another hut for the sorceress. From this one act, the sorceress of the woods became known as a midwife. During wars, soldiers from either side came to her mountainside for aid. No one dared to question her presence or knowledge, until now.

“I do not understand.” The warrior says as he ate his meal of rice porridge. “Giving away your own chi is suicide.”

“Yes, it is the least painful way to kill an immortal.” The sorceress weighs a gold token in her hand. “Why do they give me such rubbish for my deeds?” She throws the coin onto the golden pile and pushes the bundle against the wall.

“Why would you wish to die? You have helped so many.”

The sorceress ignores him. She pulls up her sleeves and starts to shell peas. “What year is it?” She asks finally.

“The twenty-third in the name of our Emperor,” the warrior proudly points out the emblem on his armor lying at his side.

“That’s useless.” The sorceress grumbles. “The year according to the Star or Moon.”

“Oh,” the warrior counts on his fingers. “By the sun, it is seven thousand, four hundred, and thirty three. Why?”

“Imagine living as long as time itself.” The sorceress looks up from her work, her hands reaching for another pod. “And living the past two hundred years in hiding.”

“Why do you hide?” The warrior asks bluntly.

“When I was a young sorceress, my father bet my marriage during a round of dice. That night, he sealed my fate with one throw.”

“Was he a horrible sorcerer? Your husband, I mean.”

“I would not know. I never met him.”

“You hide from someone you do not know?”

“I am evading a fate I did not choose for myself.”

“Couldn’t you simply refuse?”

“Debts must be paid, or else one’s soul cannot rest peacefully in the afterlife, while one is shunned during this life.”

“Then, this is to spite your father?”

“Eternally,”

“What of your husband?”

“I am certain DaNakot must have found a bride by now. From what I have heard, he is a most handsome sorcerer.” The sorceress finishes her work and places the peas under a netting. Turning back to her patient, she frowns. “And what of your past, warrior? What war has your great Emperor brought this country into?”

“None. I was attacked by a fellow warrior, envious of my success in the field.”

The sorceress shakes her head slowly. “Mortals and immortals forever surprise me in their ruthlessness.”

“And self punishment!” The soldier exclaims. “How much longer of this disintegration will you endure?”

“It isn’t all self-punishment.” The sorceress leans back against the sturdy bamboo wall. “Because my chi is spread out among so many people, it has made it nearly impossible for my would-be husband and father to track me down with my magic.”

“And if one of them did find you?”

“Oh,” the sorceress shrugs. “A battle with my father now would surely kill me, though quite painfully, I believe.”

“And your husband? What would you do should you meet him?”

“I will apologize for the situation my father has placed him in, and for the trouble I caused him. At the very least, I will advise him to forget the entire incident.”

“On the chance he wanted to be with you,” the warrior says. “What would you do?”

“I never thought about it.” The sorceress yawns, sounding like a kitten. “We must both rest. In the morning, after breakfast, I am afraid I must ask you to leave. You are quite ready to return to your fighting.”

“Would you want him to care for you?”

“My dear boy,” the sorceress says ironically, for outside appearances made him the more mature individual. “I am trying to die! Would you want to die if you knew that someone would notice your absence?”

“What about these people, soldiers and women?”

“Oh, I have taught them how to care for themselves. They will learn how to make it without me.”

“I pity you.” The warrior says as he rolls onto his uninjured side away from the child. “You have lived so long, yet experienced so little.”

“How odd,” the sorceress says as she stands and walks to the door. “I pity the world, for it will continue to endure for much longer after I die. At least I am at peace in the end.”

With that, she walks out to her own hut at the center of the network. The moon travels across the heavens as hours pass. At the darkest hour before the dawn, the warrior slinks out of his hut. Reaching the sorceress’s hut, he peers through the window. In the darkness, he sees a young girl curled on her side, with her hair splayed out around her shoulders. In other worlds, this could have been the picture of innocence and peace.

Through DaNakot’s eyes, he sees the sorceress finding the sole means of escape from reality, other than death. With a brisk wave of his hand, he gives her peace, and disappears.

The End