Golden Healer

Prologue

PROLOGUE

Worms, caviar too,

Two unlikely friends share tea,

And Chit - ter—Chat - ter,

That Chiastolite, oh my!

And Amelina’s bloodstone.

Come with me…

Through a gated door leading to a quaint herb and rose garden where two strange companions, Leanne and Eruterac, share a rare moment together.

Today, they marvelled at the beauty and fragility of the rose petals that created a dazzling display of white, yellow, pink and darkest crimson blooms. The delightful fragrance of roses and herbs filled the air, bursting with sweetness. In the background, a quaint old cottage with shuttered windows rested as if waiting for a passing stranger to dare to cross its threshold. Within, sunbeams alighted on all manner of crystals as they twinkled, longing for a release from their embedded position on the walls. The ground around the cottage stirred, breaking and settling as if threatening to draw the cottage back into its hiding place, the earth.

In the surrounding courtyard, there were cages and bird feeders hanging from the trees. White doves cooed and preened themselves in bird baths.

The creature Eruterac paid no attention to the antics of these exquisite birds. Instead, he fidgeted as he tried to rearrange his tall skeletal frame into Leanne’s dainty, wrought-iron chairs.

Leanne sat opposite him. Except for the tulle layers of her silken gown, her tiny frame appeared lost in the chair. She tilted her head with an air of grandeur, as if she were about to join a garden party frequented by the finest royalty, or perhaps by the gods themselves.

Eruterac had no such attire, except for his knitted Rasta cap with sun-cured palm leaves that covered his matted dreadlocks, infested with rotting insects and decaying skin and held together by lumps of graveyard earth.

His needs were a thing of the past, now his only concern were the worms that crawled across his bony frame. He held one such wriggling creature inches from the gap where his mouth used to be and edged forward, dangling it in front of Leanne’s nose.

“Dinner,” he joked as he bobbed his skeletal head.

Leanne shuddered. “No worms, thanks, dearest creature. Caviar for me!” She picked up her finest china teapot and poured the liquid into a cup. It flowed slowly, twinkling with myriad brilliant colours. When it filled the cup, it turned the colour Leanne expected. She’d thought of green tea and magical green tea it was.

Eruterac choked and spluttered on clods of earth as he laughed. “That’s foul. Green tea, how can you drink such muck?”

“Easy. I do so with a smile, unlike… poor you! I see worms oozing gunk where your dear mouth used to be,” replied Leanne, reaching forward to pat Eruterac on his skeletal shoulder.

They rested for a moment, her gentle hand on his bones.

“I’ll try not to drink such delicacies!” replied Eruterac, cracking his bones for a joke.

“Wise fellow. Forgive me for changing the subject, but your new hat is very fetching! It’s so brown and earthy with that Chiastolite death crystal and the black cross embellishing the cap’s centre.”

“Indeed, it’s a dark beauty, like an honourable death,” he said. His skeletal arm reached up to touch the crystal on his hat.

“Take heart, dear creature, forget death, and being bound to this cottage. Let us rejoice in the simple pleasures of life, which we take for granted…” Leanne pointed at their sublime surroundings.

Eruterac sighed. “Yes, there are times amid such tranquillity and beauty that I forget everything.”

A white dove landed on Leanne’s slender shoulder. She turned and smiled. But the dove thought better of it and alighted on the creature’s hat. It pecked away at the worms, making the creature smile.

“Cheeky doves, always favouring Eruterac’s sunny hat.”

“They know who provides them with a constant dinner of worms. And who’s boss.”

“Huh! A boss? You? That Chiastolite’s making you big-headed. Oh, my days! The protectors, you, and my dearest doves are all that I and my dear cottage need… But I mustn’t forget, I have news to impart – the Midsummer Fly is up to his tricks.”

“Where’s that stinking fly been to this time?” asked Eruterac, leaning forward, sending worms tumbling towards Leanne’s teacup. Her eyes grew wide as she placed a protective hand over the top, but a few swift worms landed in the saucer. She swiped them away.

“Oh, anguish me. Worms in my saucer! How my flesh crawls. Ugh. I feel giddy.” Leanne placed her tiny hand on her forehead. Her multihued grey hair twirled like an ebullient rainbow in a cloudy sky.

“Leanne, forget the worms. You were talking about the Midsummer Fly?”

“Yes. The fly has been to Amelina’s. He flew in her open bedroom window, sampled her Krystallos blood but, other than that, my crystal ball refuses to grant me a vision. I placed my trust in Amelina, and I fear I was hasty.” Leanne sighed and her hands fell to her lap as her shoulders slumped.

“This gurgling, sensation in my gut tells me that a shadow demon threatens the cottage’s safety. I believe that the grasshopper and the fly are in cahoots. Either way, I could suggest this or that, but it would all be for nought. Amelina’s young and in time she will learn to value the magical gifts you’ve entrusted her with.”

He lifted his hat and a family of rats, which had been resting on his dreadlocks, ran free, knocking over Leanne’s teacup.

“Ugh. I wish you wouldn’t do that, Eruterac,” said Leanne, wagging her finger at him. “You pretend to honour me, but the last time you did that, you broke my precious china teacup!”

“How could you accuse me of such a thing, Leanne?” Eruterac’s eye sockets winked, crunching together, making a horrendous grinding sound.

“Stop that! You have no eyeballs – you devil! The rats devoured your eyes long ago. Enough.” She paused for a moment before announcing, “The Bloodstone will find a way.”

“Of Krystallos blood and Amelina, I am certain,” replied Eruterac, bowing.