“If you can heal any wound and resist poisons, then you must be burned until your body is reduced to ashes and the ashes scattered.”

“Do it. I want to die,” Marcellus firmly declared. “About my farm... my signet ring tells the family running it and the authorities that the holder is the owner. It’s yours as a reward for ending my life. Also, in my kit is the spear head I used to pierce Jesus. I kept it as a memento... it’s yours now.”

As Raben piled the collected wood around the man he explained how to find the farm. As night fell he doused the brush with oil then set the brush afire. There was an audible WHOOSH as the flames quickly engulfed the brush. Before the full agony of the flames engulfed the warrior Raben picked up his bow, nocked and arrow, and loosed it. The arrow pierced the Roman’s nose impaling his head against the tree as his struggling body stilled ending his misery. Soon the body was quite charred. While the man’s tale seemed impossible it was clear to Raben the man firmly believed it. The fact he lived after being so gravely wounded made the far fetched tale seem plausible. But it was the fact the fatal wounds had begun to visibly heal that convinced Raben the bizarre tale was true. The young healer knew there were many things in the world that were unexplainable.

All night Raben kept adding wood to the pyre. The tree itself caught fire acting like a chimney concentrating the heat and flames on the tree trunk and the impaled body. The fire climbed into the branches with the tree becoming a huge torch. Adjacent trees were scorched but thankfully did not catch fire. By dawn the tree was reduced to a smoldering stump. Stirring through the ashes and charred remnants he found the spear and arrow points as well as the cursed man’s charred bones.

As morning dawned the freed clansmen quietly gathered their booty and headed home. Raben’s brothers dropped off some food before they left him to his grisly task. It was easy to gather the charred remnants of the cursed man onto another pyre. Using some still smoldering charred wood he was able to kindle a fire in the piled charcoal. When the heat was unbearable he threw the collected bones into the hellish fire. By late afternoon the fire died down as storm clouds gathered overhead. Once more he rooted through ashes finding a few charred bone fragments and teeth. Gathering these in a cloth he took them to a flat topped rock, spreading them in a layer. Using an iron head mallet he began crushing the brittle bone fragments to dust. Once the bones were powdered, one by one he attacked the teeth pounding them into dust. As the hammer crushed the first molar a shock traveled up the handle making his hand tingle. After shaking his hand he continued the task. With each crushed molar, a progressively stronger shock traveled up the handle, each of which he shook off. The second had his hand and forearm tingling. The third left the entire arm tingling. The fourth enveloped his face.

At that point Raben gasped and stopped as he recalled the Centurion spoke about how the shock he had received had changed him. Was the power... the Curse... that kept the soldier ageless, healthy and regenerating wounds trapped inside the teeth he was crushing? Were the shocks he was feeling as each tooth powdered transferring the Curse to him? The teen couldn’t imagine himself being a warrior like the ex-centurion. The killing he’d already done unsettled him. Hopefully if the Curse was now his he’d be destined to remain a healer. With a sigh he continued crushing the teeth with the shocks and tingling continuing but not worsening.

Night was falling by the time the job was done. As he brushed the ash and powder off the boulder the heavens opened. The weary Ianuarian stripped, stretching his arms skyward welcoming the rain that rinsed his ash covered flesh clean. The weary boy moved to the lonely tent snatching the pack of the dead centurion. For a long moment he examined the carefully wrapped spear tip before crawling into the blankets as a deluge fell from the sky. After not sleeping for nearly two days he easily slipped into the land of nod.

The rain had stopped by morning. Raben emerged from the tent and stretched in the early morning dawn. Returning to the stump and the rock where he’d smashed the bones and teeth, the intense rain had rinsed the ashes away. There was no trace left of the cursed Marcellus Longinus. Raben succeeded in killing the unkillable man. Deep in his young soul he feared the Curse had passed on to him.

With the warming sunshine of the morning he struck the tent, packed it and the goods that had been inside and secured the loads to three horses. Mounting the fourth horse he was ready to begin the trek to what was left of his home. At a steady walk he rode upstream along the Tauber River

When he reached the Grunbach he turned left to follow it. Half a mile up the Grunbach he reached the burned remnants of the first village he could tell it had been scavenged for salvageable goods but then abandoned. The dead had been seen to. On the other side of the ruined village his former home was equally abandoned. A great pyre had been built in the glade where her house had been. Erminlinda’s shrouded body lay atop. Astride his horse he was able to look down upon her. They had treated her kindly. Soon he had the horses unloaded and staked so they could graze. After sending a prayer of thanks to Ianuaria he lit the pyre. In his grief he kept a silent vigil as the fire purified the shattered body of his adoptive mother.

As night fell he tethered the horses inside the shell of the cabin then leaned against a tree and pulled a blanket around himself still looking into the smoldering coals of the conflagration. Again he mused on the revenge killings of the slavers that while necessary had not been satisfying. As a healer, to so blatantly take life ate at his soul. At some point he dozed off.

Raben awoke still weary and a bit disoriented. A heavy fog filled the glade. The trees were barely visible through the thick fog. To the north he heard a wolf howl. Other wolves answered from the east, west and south. The horses nickered in fear. The boy leaned his head back and howled answering the call of the pack then calmed the horses. The horses seemed to understand his soothing words and settled. A few moments later the wolves once more howled, only they were closer. Again he answered their call then reassured the horses. Over the next few minutes the wolf howls repeated, each set getting closer. Finally the wolves padded out of the swirling mist stopping just a few feet away from him. Their eyes glowed and their sharp teeth glistened but they didn’t growl and made no attempt to attack.

From the darkness behind the wolves a soft feminine voice spoke. “Are you not afraid of the wolves?”

“No, they did not come to kill me or my horses,” Raben calmly replied.

“Your mother said you were special,” the woman spoke as she emerged into the moonlight. Her white gossamer dress seemed to be made of swirling mist. “You avenged her murder and freed your people. It is good you are unsettled by the killing you did. Too often killing warps the mind corrupting the soul. Unfortunately there are times killing must be done. Even more unfortunately sometimes healers must kill. That you hate killing is good, for only then can you continue to be a healer. The last man you killed was indeed cursed. As you feared his curse has transferred to you. You were a skilled healer, now you are destined to be the greatest of my Ianuarians. Always keep your goodness close to your soul but when it is needed don’t be afraid to kill. All too often the betterment of life requires death as well as healing. You must find and maintain a healthy balance.”

Raben realized he was talking to Ianuaria herself. “I’ll do my best, Goddess.”

“I know you will, my child,” Ianuaria smiled. “The Curse you received will keep you in perfect health. If you are injured you will heal quickly, what takes a day to heal will take a minute. If you die your body will heal. You’ll never be ill nor will you age. People will begin to wonder why you never age. That wonder will turn to fear. They’ll accuse you of witchcraft or being a demon and try to kill you. That means you’ll find it difficult to stay in one place. You’ll need to be wary of those about you and be prepared to flee at a moment’s notice.”

Raben shivered. “Is there no way to break the Curse?”

“Only the utter destruction of your body as you did to Marcellus will free you from the Curse,” Ianuaria declared.

“So I should flee now,” Raben sighed.

“Not yet,” Ianuaria answered. “You can stay here many years. Use that time to prepare yourself. Learn as many skills as you can, gain as much knowledge as you can. Physically you are in excellent shape. Since you’ll heal any injuries you can push yourself harder. Become faster, become more flexible, agile and stronger. It can only help you. Study animals as well as plants. Cultivate the natural affinity you already have for wildlife. Live by your wits and do not be afraid to embrace your sexual duality. But the most important thing will be learning how to read people. You are now able to sense their emotions and get an inkling of their thoughts especially in stressful situations. You already know people will say one thing but do another. Your life will depend upon knowing what they are not saying. Oh, there are other benefits your Curse has given you. You can now speak to and understand animals. You have gained the ability to understand and fluently speak any language you hear. It also allows you to read and write any language.”

“So I can now read those scrolls I took,” Raben smiled. “That skill will allow me to seamlessly move from one society to another. That will be very useful in prolonging my life.”

“Now my child, I’ll leave you sleep,” Ianuaria smiled. “One more thing... your mother thanks you for avenging her and her kinsmen’s deaths.”

The woman turned and disappeared into the swirling mists. The wolves came and lay against him. He chuckled about having live wolves as blankets. His last thoughts before falling asleep was he was in a truly bizarre dream.

The first rays of the rising sun awoke Raben. His first sight was looking into the eyes of the wolf curled upon his lap. A quick glance revealed the other three wolves still lying against his body. Upon seeing he was awake the wolves stood and stretched, yawning then shaking their coats. Raben followed suit, stretching, then standing and stretching again as he yawned. Then he spoke to the wolves. “Thank you for keeping me company.”

The leader of the pack seemed to smile and yipped.

Raben was stunned. He understood the wolf’s yipping! “Ianuaria say you good. Ask pack keep you safe for grief vigil. Now pack go.”

“Thank you,” Raben answered. “If you ever need my help, just call.”

The wolves all nodded their heads. Then turned slipping into the forest.

The horses nickered and pranced a bit as the wolves passed them. Raben smiled. The wolves had joined him without terrifying the horses. At the same time he’d understood the horses.

“DANGER... WOLVES... DANGER”

“You’re safe,” Raben soothed. “The wolves were summoned by Ianuaria to watch over me.”

The horses immediately relaxed.

Raben was amazed. Apparently his Curse granted language abilities included communicating with animals! That could prove quite advantageous.

With a last look at the ash remnants of the pyre, he packed up the horses. Feeling lighter in the heart he resumed following the Grunbach upstream. As he rode he listened to the birds chirping, marveling that he could understand their calls. Of course they were saying nothing profound. “Alert” “Danger” “Food” “Human... traveling” and similar simple terms.

It was mid morning when he reached the second ransacked village at the confluence of the Grunbach and the Wittigbach, noting that like the first village it had been scoured for salvage and abandoned. Without stopping he headed up the Wittigbach. An hour later he noticed the birds becoming agitated.
“Human... hiding” “Human... traveling”

Raben headed off the woodland trail, easing his horse and pack train into the trees. Tethering the horses, he slipped noiselessly into the forest. Ten minutes later he saw the lookout leaning back against a fallen tree casually observing the trail.

The youth obviously understood the importance of watching the trail. It was only five days since the slaver raid. While trying to do his best the teen was clearly bored. Raben silently sidled up behind the watcher then tapped him on the shoulder.

“YAAAAA” the startled youth cried as he rolled away. Unfortunately he didn’t grab his spear which was still leaning against the fallen tree. Scrambling to his feet he pulled his knife and assumed a defensive stance. The expression upon his face was one of terror.

“Relax,” Raben smiled holding his weapon free hands aloft. “I figured there would be a lookout on the trail. I was just testing the clan’s security. You didn’t do too well. I could have just as easily slit your throat.”

“Raben... Great Woden you scared me,” the teen gasped as he shivered. “You... you won’t tell them you caught me off guard... will you?”

“It’ll be our secret,” Raben assured him. “But please use it as a lesson. If I had been a Roman, you’d be dead and the village left wide open for another attack.”

The youth thanked Raben. He had been one of the captured, losing his father, an uncle and a cousin in the attack. The fright Raben had given the teen had been eye opening. “How did you sneak up on me? I didn’t hear a thing!”

“I’ve spent hours in the forest,” Raben explained. “I’ve studied the deer, squirrels, rabbits and wolves. I learned how to move silently. I doubt many Romans could do the same.”

“I doubt most of our hunters could move as silently as you do,” the youth said with obvious envy. “Moving so quietly... the Roman guards never knew you were there. The same with those who were asleep. If any of them realized they were being attacked they were already dying.”

The youth told Raben how the clan reacted to the slaving attack. The people that survived the attack sent runners to the other clan villages. They in turn assembled their warriors to attempt a rescue. Unfortunately it took two days to assemble their force and they correctly feared the slavers would make it back to the Roman border fortresses before they could do so. That would have been the case if Raben hadn’t wiped the slavers out.

The surprised warriors met the freed clans people just as both groups reached the first village. It was a joyous reunion. The survivors reported they had been rescued by Raben. Naturally the rescuers found it difficult to believe the small young healer had been able to single handedly wipe out the entire slaving party. The survivors reported that the sentries all died with an arrow through their hearts and all those sleeping had their throats cut. They had taken ninety seven Roman bodies into the forest far enough off the Tauber so the rotting smell couldn’t be sensed. It was their story about the resurrected mercenary commander that unnerved the warriors much as it had done with the former prisoners. They all wondered if Raben had been finally able to totally kill the demon. Together they built the pyre for Erminlinda leaving it as Raben had requested. Then they all headed up the valley to the third village. With winter approaching, they knew they didn’t have time nor manpower to rebuild all three villages.

The first village had a population of forty nine before the attack. Only twenty three survived or escaped. The second village had fifty one people. Of these thirty seven survived or escaped. The third village had a population of forty five. Thirty two survived. The clan didn’t have the people to repopulate all three, the first village had lost half it’s people in the surprise assault. Fifty three clan members were killed, thirty two were men. There were only enough men to repopulate one village. With so many women and children without a man, they were distributed throughout the untouched clan villages. The third village was the closest to the rest of the clan so that was the one to be rebuilt. They also knew leaving the burned out villages as they were would serve to make any future raiders think going up the side valley would not be worth the effort.

“My horses are just around the bend,” Raben told the youth after listening to his explanation of what had happened. “I’ll head back then ride up the path. Give the signal when you see me. Now, try to keep track of me while I leave.” With that he ran noiselessly into the trees.

The teen quickly lost sight of Raben. Ten minutes later the sound of the horses upon the trail alerted the youthful guard to his approach. Putting an aurochs horn to his lips he blew three short blasts that echoed through the valley. That was the signal a friend was approaching.

As Raben entered the third village he saw they had made a great deal of progress rebuilding the site. Those who had been freed by Raben greeted him with respect. The warriors who came from other villages were a bit leery. They all knew the young boy was an excellent healer but had never even attempted to fight. Needless to say they were skeptical about his being a hero. It quickly became evident they doubted he’d been able to kill the Romans without assistance. The grumbling grew louder as the day progressed.

Finally he turned to the loudest grumblers. “Are you willing to make a wager?”

The men exchanged looks uncertainty. Gunter, a known brawler who was better than three times Raben’s size asked about the wager.

“A race from here to the slaver camp and back along the streams. I’ll go on foot against five men on horseback. I’ll have to beat them all. Send two men by horseback to the Slaver encampment early tomorrow morning. Those of us racing will depart at noon. We’ll race around the two at the camp then return here. Those waiting at the camp can follow us back.”

The overconfident man figured there was no way the scrawny teen could win such a long race. “What will we wager?”

“I’ll wager two of my horses against building me a cabin just outside this village,” Raben replied.

The wager was set. After breakfast the next morning two men, one of whom had been captured and knew the site of the slaver camp eighteen miles away. The race would be a grueling thirty six miles. At noon Raben and the five warriors on horseback began the race.

For the first three miles the horses easily outdistanced the youth, but then the ground grew soft which drastically cut down the speed of the horses. By the time they reached the first village Raben was within sight of the men on horseback. By the time they were a mile past the abandoned village following the Tauber, Raben was amongst them. Three miles later the horsemen couldn’t see the fleet footed teen who had passed them. The horseman would gallop over firm ground but then encountered more marsh once more slowing them down while Raben left them behind. The wetlands, churned up by the Romans, remained the dominant terrain for the next five miles. The men on horseback were barely able to urge their weary horses to trot. The last two miles before the slaver’s camp was dry land and they set off at a gallop to catch Raben.

The two men at the camp had tethered their horses and sat upon the ground waiting. They were amazed when they saw Raben burst from the trees. They watched expecting the horsemen to quickly follow. When he reached the men he sat down with them taking several droughts from his water skin. The three discussed how Raben had scouted the camp before wiping the slavers out.

Five minutes after Raben sat the first rider burst from the forest with the others not far behind. Needless to say they were shocked to see Raben sitting clearly resting. Raben promptly sprang to his feet and took off. The two men untethered and mounted their horses just as the five riders reached them. After being ridden hard for eighteen miles, with the last two at a gallop the horses were fatigued. The men tried to urge their horses to gallop the two miles of solid ground but the horses were too tired to give it their all. They never even caught sight of Raben on the return leg.

The three blast warning sounded and everyone gathered to see the winners. The villagers were surprised when Raben burst from the trees into the warren of activity. They looked expectantly for the horsemen to come in right on his heels. A half hour after the boy arrived the two men sent to the slaver camp arrived. They quickly quelled the worry saying the other men had ridden their horses until they were foaming at their mouths. It was an hour later the five men, now on foot, led their wasted steeds into the camp. The only thing that was said was to ask Raben where he wanted his cabin.