Shadows Over Arcadia Chapter 18: 18. The Good Healer

Read chapter 18 of Shadows Over Arcadia by Zacheas on NovelPedia.

18. The Good Healer I am Angela Muara, age 42, Master Mage and head healer of the Wyvern Division of the Arcadian Army. https://shadowsoverarcadia.com/api/storage/objects/uploads/eb73e2a9-2f17-4856-bf7a-6b3349ab334d I have always hated the idea of war. I once dreamed of a world where the boundless potential of magic could be harnessed to end suffering, heal the sick, eliminate poverty, and bring peace to all. Lofty ideals, perhaps even impossible ones, but that vision fueled my studies when I first entered the Academy three decades ago. That idealism is what led me to the path of a healer. Never did I imagine that all those years spent learning to mend the broken would one day place me on a battlefield, surrounded by so much ruin. The deep, mournful groan of battle horns rolls across the plains of Dreamor, echoing like a dirge for the living. I watch as the black flood of the Demon Lord’s legions crest the horizon, an endless tide spilling from the Dark Citadel Netherspire, spreading like a shadow devouring the land. The earth quakes beneath the synchronized thunder of armored feet. Demonic banners whip violently in the freezing wind. Among the horned demons stride iron-clad trolls, ogres, and minotaurs, wielding massive clubs, axes and ballistae. My heart tightens. The sight before me, a wall of nightmares advancing without end, seizes my breath, making it catch in my throat. I grip the frost-rimmed stone of the barricade, steadying myself as I peer over the fortifications. From this elevated vantage, the master mages and I occupy the rear-line magical bombardment position: a half-circle of stone battlements enchanted with protective spells. Fear lingers in the air like a stench seeping through the gathered ranks. The mages along the battlements and the knights assembled before them exchange uneasy glances, their faces mirroring my own, apprehension mingled with grim resolve. The battle has already begun. This is the great crusade of the combined forces of the known world to end the demon threat. The elves of Elandriel, the iron phalanxes of the dwarves of Ravenmark, the savage warbands of the beastkin tribes of Fuketsujin, and the proud banners of every kingdom of men are all arrayed between us and the approaching horde. Even with our combined forces, it is clear that we are badly outnumbered. A year has passed since Malakar Brackus descended from the frozen north, his armies leaving only ruin in their wake. The people of Volgrin were slaughtered as the Demon King’s legions swept south, seizing the fortress city of Netherspire, making it the new capital of their new demon nation. All of the known world has responded, rallying their armies in a unified campaign to purge this scourge from our lands. I serve the Wyvern Division, a force of 3,000 mages and knights sent to represent the Kingdom of Arcadia in the joint operation. Drawing a deep breath, I turn away from the advancing tide to gaze down at our commander, Grandmaster Mage Edric Drakemore. Even in the face of such overwhelming darkness, he stands unmoved. Clad in robes of deep midnight beneath a breastplate etched with ancient glyphs, he embodies Arcadia’s strength. The crimson crystal atop his staff, nearly the size of a man’s fist, pulses with restrained energy, waiting for his command to be unleashed. On either side of Commander Edric stand Master Mages Lady Harris and Lord Lunts , each positioned beside crates of mana crystals. Their duty is to sustain Edric’s power and ensure he never exhausts his mana during the coming battle. Before him, a crystal orb rests in an ornate stand. From its surface, several rectangular panes of light shimmer outward, projecting the battlefield as seen through the eyes of the sentry mages stationed at the ten Arcadian bombardment posts. I see Edric study the images carefully as I descend from the barricade. On the screens, the demon army's vast front line has halted scarcely one hundred yards from the allied forces. Flashes of fire st