Jerrit : pt2

Continued from Jerrit : pt1

The child was about the size of a two year old, though Jerrit couldn't be sure of her actual age, as he wasn't quite sure how fast dwarves actually matured. The girl was covered in a thick deer skin blanket and he could see her forehead was sweating.

He was assaulted by the odor of burnt honey when he closed in on the crib. Two silver bowls had actually been placed in the corners next to the girl. A small wisp of smoke escaping from each of them.

Jerrit knew the dwarves very highly valued friy honey as the insects rarely made it this high up the mountain, and that they often claimed it had divine or healing properties; but this was utter nonsense and Jerrit couldn't imagine how any of them could stand it.

Then he saw the girls lips... they were cracked and blackened as if the skin had bubbled before bursting, and then died. It was one of the most gruesome sights he had ever seen as far as physical manifestations of a disease. This was only compounded by the fact that the girl was so young.

It truly tore at him as he focused his attention on his preparations. He hovered over the princess a moment longer pondering how long she had needlessly suffered at the hands of the incompetent 'healers' on either side of him.

Turning this frustration on the clerics he snapped orders at them.

"First get these ridiculous things out of here." Grabbing the bowls and shoving them away he turned his head in disgust. "And bring me four candles, no shorter than a half a foot in length and 21 pieces of silver. Pure silver."

The clerics stood stunned for a moment before hearing him shout again. "Now!" And with that, they were off. He wasn't sure if they had been spoken to like that previously, but he didn't mind the startled looks on their faces before they left. Looking back at the child he knew they deserved a sharper lesson than having a few orders shouted at them.

He stroked the girl's hair, which was thinner than it looked and again Jerrit was saddened at the thought that such a young child had been made to suffer such a horrible condition. He gently turned the child from her side to lay flat in the crib and positioned her squarely. He then reached in to his bag, and produced a thick piece of chalk, a leather bound book and a silver star, the symbol of Koralenae.

He flipped through the book considering how powerful of a spell might be needed. Glancing over his notes, he came across a ritual he had used to purge a small farming village of a rather nasty curse that caused them to be covered in pustules that oozed a burning green slime when they burst, a 'gift' by one of the townsfolk who had been discovered to be witch. She had been a delusional bitch, no more than 17, thinking to punish the village for the constant teasing she had received the entirety her young life. She had let her anger twist her heart to match her deformed face. After Jerrit had arrived, it didn't take long for him to suspect the girl's involvement, after all, she was the only one who had not been cursed. Jerrit wondered if her burnt corpse still stood in the field where he last saw her.

He snapped the book closed. He did not want to take any chances now with the child. He would have to duplicate the powerful bit of magic, not just for the dwarven girl's sake, but also for his own. He could ill afford any mistakes here in Torgrum's bedchamber. Who knows how a dwarven king might react to a failed ritual. Jerrit did not have any misconceptions he would be granted a second. 

Continued tomorrow....