The Wedge

B E F O R E

Alendar looked up from the cot where the young, burned elf lay.  He gently took his hands away from the traumatized one’s forehead, cheeks and lips and narrowed his eyes.

“How is he?”

The Chief Healer must have come while the exchange was happening.  Alendar looked at her and was glad to see concern etched in her old features.  Many had been suspicious of this young survivor at first.

The concern was warranted.

“His mind is deeply fractured.  The attack was sudden, and the violence of it has driven a wedge into his psyche.  I believe this is why he remains unconscious.  His mind has literally lost the ability to weave together his will with the rest of himself.  He may wish to wake up.  But the mechanism to act is disconnected.”

The Healer mulled that over as she pulled fresh potions from the pouch slung around her shoulder.  She applied them to the survivor’s wounds.  After several long moments she asked, “Can you help him?”

Alendar nodded.  “Perhaps.  I can attempt to reconnect the two, but I cannot guarantee that it will not begin to come unraveled again.  Something may trigger a disconnect later, or it may slowly come apart again.  The mind and the spirit are complicated, as you well know.”

“I do,” the Healer said.  “Let us try.”

“As you command,” Alendar said, and he began preparing himself to merge minds with the survivor again.

The Healer began to leave, but paused.  “Alendar, have you gleaned any information?”

“Only a name.  One he keeps hearing screamed at him by someone as he relives the attack.  His name, I believe.”

“What is it?”

“Silvus.”