The Eldest, ruler of the midwives of Nilos strode into the ruins of the once magnificent hodara. Eons before her birth, the Healwomen sworn to Midra Mistress of the Moon had resided here. From the nome people had journeyed to this place seeking healing. Miraculous cures had resulted.
The tumbled blocks of pale granite and heaps of rubble
forced her steps to falter. She paused to study her surroundings for asps and
fire scorpons often lurking in the rocks. She found none. Her searching gaze
raked the shore of the
Anger roiled her thoughts. Her hands clenched. Why had the Healwomen of ancient times lost their place of honor? Once they had walked side by side with the priests of Midran. Perhaps as the legends said Midra and her priestesses had ruled the land before the priests ahd arisen. A burning desire to change fate rose. Her gut churned. She wanted not to stand with the priests but to rule them.
Midra, send me a sign.
She would be a Healwoman. The words resounded in her thoughts. Though she had none of the fabled talents, she vowed to find a way. Those who had dwelled in the Healer’s house had been relegated to the status of midwives. Where they had once been vital to the health of the land, their reputation lay in tatters.
She moved away from the riverbank and stood beside a depression where blocks of stone had been ripped away and dragged to the city. Many of the newest city buildings had been built from hodara granite.
Where she stood had once been a cleansing pool where the ill and injured had come to bathe in the herb scented water. They had waited for a Healwomen to assign them to one of the treatment houses. She should have been one of those women.
The change had happened in ages past. As the last of a long line of women bearing the title of Eldest, she was a failure. To her disgrace she had only one child, a son. When he reached his fifth year, his father had taken him away. Though she had tried, she birthed no daughter. Failure honed her determination to bring change. She had dreams and plans to restore the reputation of the Healwomen. And bring them to their proper place. She must succeed.
She stumbled and when a rock shifted nearly fell. A scrap of parchment showed from under the stone. She crouched and carefully removed the tattered fragment. She held it to the light to read the few words.
The Three…Seer, Warrior, Healer…Come again…Unite with…
Those few words rocketed in her thoughts. They pointed the way. Her brow wrinkled. She had a command from the goddess. Why else had she found this shard?
The Eldest sat on a rock. Plans circled in her thoughts. Three young women must be found. She could create them and erase her failure. She slid the scrap into the pocket of her dark green divided skirt. Was there more knowledge hidden beneath the rubble? Could she find more information from the few remaining scrolls as the house?
Though she spent the rest of the morning overturning rocks and stones in what had been the scriptorium, she found no more fragments. A triumphant laugh emerged. The bit of parchment had been a gift from Midra.
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