Ah, healers. Anybody who’s ever
played a Dungeons & Dragons or other roleplaying game can tell you how
essential it is to have a healer in the adventure party along with a thief,
some fighters, and a mage. D & D healers could usually fight a little, too,
but their primary usefulness came from casting all those Cure Light Wounds and
Cure Heavy Wounds spells on their fallen comrades. They were necessary, but I
never felt the urge to play one. Perhaps because the healing spells always
sounded so boring. Perhaps, because in codifying the rules for easy play and
reducing life-threatening injuries to ‘hit points’, they sucked all the
life-and-death drama away from healing.
D & D made healing too easy.
A healer/cleric character simply called upon their deity and was instantly
granted the ability to magically heal a certain number of times a day depending
on the character’s level.
And yet, conversely, fantasy
novels that relied only on medieval types of healing such a herbal medicine
often frustrated me. They were too hard, too limited. I grew tired of
willowbark tea. I craved the endless possibilities and sense of wonder that magic
could bring.
So I combined the two: magical healing with a price. 
In my novels, Gate to Kandrith and Soul of Kandrith, Lance is a healer. Like
a D & D cleric, his power derives from Loma, the Goddess of Mercy. His
healing can do wondrous things, but his path is anything but easy. He pays a heavy price for the ability. The
exact nature of the price he pays is a spoiler, but I will say the original
title of book one was Sacrifice. :)
Having a healer
character opened up a whole world of plot possibilities. Characters made
different choices than they would have otherwise.
When Lance regained his composure, he rejoined the others. They
were arguing about how to free Sara—the key had been lost—and getting nowhere.
Sara listened, saying
nothing. Wenda, Marcus and Esam talked over and around Sara as if she were a
lump of rock. Unable to stand it, Lance interrupted Marcus’s speculation on
where they might find blacksmith tools. “Sara, what do you think we should do?”
The others fell
silent.
“You could leave me here,”
Sara said, as if it were obvious.
Wenda flushed—the
thought had obviously occurred to her.
“Never,” Lance swore
vehemently.
“Then use a sword.” Sara’s
expression was completely unperturbed, as if what she was suggesting was easy. Lance
wished he could take it as a sign of faith in him, rather than indifference.
“Who has the sharpest
blade? Marcus?” Lance asked.
Marcus handed Lance
his sword.
Lance tested the edge.
An axe would have been better for shearing bone, but this would have to do.
He
raised the sword, then moved it down in a swift cut, severing Sara’s forearm
just above the manacle.
Blood spurted
everywhere, including—curse it!—into the stone mouth. Fortunately, the Dark God
didn’t wake. It had lost two priests in quick succession and must be hurting. Sara
watched the whole procedure calmly, neither flinching nor screaming.
“God of Death,” Marcus
swore. The hardened legionnaire looked sickened as Lance handed him back his
sword.
Grimly, Lance pulled Sara’s severed hand out of the shackle, then rejoined
it to her wrist. “Goddess,” he prayed. Loma answered his prayer. The two pieces of
flesh melted together into an arm once more.
What are some of your favourite healing scenes from fantasy novels?
And don't forget, there's still time to enter the rafflecopter draw for a bundle of fantasy ebooks featuring healers!
