A Time for Every Purpose

The rain had stopped. Small miracles thought the ragged elf called Gaelin. Taking up one of the few remaining cotton cloths the short elf swabbed away the accumulated sweat and grime from a day he longed to be over. Thunder roared in the distance, the hot quiet of the night would not last. Walking to the water basin to rinse his rags again, he stopped in front of the looking glass. His buckskin leggings were stained in blood, his tunic turned from a quiet forest green into a stinking mixture of brown and crimson from the wounds his friends suffered only hours ago. A sharply angled elven face showed the weariness he felt deep inside. It had been too many years since he had pushed himself to this point. Seeking a moment's quiet in the humidity, Gaelin's eyes began to sag shut, the trance was calling to him.

Twin screams of pain made the moment short-lived. The elf turned back to his two desperate patients. The man on the floor, a fellow named Avaro as Gaelin recalled, was suffering from more than a score of seperate blade bites. The dying man's bandages should most likely be changed again, though the wounds were so deep and grievous that his fate must rest solely on the whims of whatever curious gods might be observing them. Gaeilin chose to focus on the one patient that he might be able to give some comfort to.

Her light cotton gown clung to her body, soaked in sweat and fear. The pain of this delivery was worse than any she could have imagined, worse than any Gaelin had heard humans speak of. Mouthing syllables that could be heard but not remembered, Gaelin cast one of his few remaining spells. As the imprint faded from his memory the elf fell to a new depth of inner turmoil, the Tormentors outside were still blotting out all magic within the sanctuary. The young heiress would have to endure the torture being inflicted by the nether beasts a little while longer. What's taking so long? thought Gaelin. If those two fools don't succeed, then none in the cramped room might live to see the sunrise tomorrow.

While Gaelin cursed his feeling of impotence, Avaro let out a low moan followed by a violent shudder. He passed from the world of the living. Gaelin's sadness at the passing of the human turned to horror at what he next witnessed, a spectral form tore itself free from its corpse and sparing only a moment to glare at those who still lived, it flew into the sky set on joining with the rest of its kind. Another scream from his last living patient.

Her latest contraction sent spasms all through here, the mystically intensified pain to much for any sane person to endure. Gaelin petted her arm, and then mumbled more to himself than to her, "Be at ease Ari, its almost over." Tears were running down his cheeks. Fear? Sadness? He no longer knew which.

Time was up. They were coming. Now.

Outside the screams of the woman could no longer be heard. Tears of the elf no longer felt. Winds from the fresh storm ripped aobut the ruined sanctuary, transformed into a family crypt.