Healing, Anthrax, and Avoiding the Dreaded "Mary Sue" (and an awesome picture, just for fun)

One of my main character used to be a full-blown, sickly-sweet "Mary Sue." I admit it. She was so bad she made my mom cringe, and my mom usually likes what I write, even when I don't! Once she pointed that out to me I rewrote the story trying to fix that, but in my latest draft I came across a problem that could potentially make her look that way again, which is what today's blog post is about.

See, at one point in the story, Éadra is tasked with healing three patients in Erron's infirmary, and I felt it was important that she fail this time. Also, the disease had to at least appear to be very contagious; the other healers had to be scared enough to refuse to treat the patients for Éadra to have to heal them. This presented me with a problem; if the disease was highly contagious and she couldn't cure it, she would likely catch it and die from it. This would not work at all for my story! However, the situation was too important for me to just drop it. I could just have her not catch it, but without a good reason for it I was afraid this would send her straight back into Mary Sue territory, making her too perfect and special to ever get sick. Through research I finally hit upon a solution, but I couldn't make the reasoning clear in my book, so I will lay it out here. Perhaps someone with greater medical knowledge can correct me if my reasoning is too faulty :) .

I discovered that anthrax was around in the Middle Ages. From what I gathered, it's a hard-to-kill spore but not airborn. So, I made the original patient a tanner who tanned an infected cow skin. The spores got on his clothes, so both the healer and the elf who washed those clothes had direct contact with the spores and came down with the disease as well. This would make it appear to be highly contagious at first, but by the time Éadra gets there, the remaining spores are all the patients' bodies (the rest having been tossed away with the laundry water). She has no direct contact with the spores and so doesn't get sick.

So, thoughts? Is my logic sound, or at least sound enough that any flaws can be chalked up to artistic license?


In other news, my awesome sister-in-law is going to be my artist, and has made me my first picture for the story. It will be part of a presentation on kickstarter, helping me fund-raise to get this book out there! Take a look!

Finally, a decent picture on my blog!!!

Fight with a Dragon (excerpt)

This is a scene I've always thought was kind of fun, so I thought I'd share it today. This occurs when Éadra is being taken to Erron's fortress.

Dragon!

Disaster took the form of a small gold dragon. Small, however, was a relative term. It was three times as tall as Éadra, and twice as long as it was tall. Its head was free of horns, but its tail ended in a sharp spike. It was frantic--whether from fear, or from being driven mad by the mental fog, Éadra did not know. A broken chain dangled from its neck.

The soldier swore under his breath and dismounted his horse, leaving Éadra to deal with the terrified beast.  Éadra barely noted her captor drawing his sword and charging the dragon. The greater part of her attention was focused on keeping her seat as the horse beneath her bolted away from the dragon. Fortunately, the human had kept her in front while riding, so she was able to take the reins. She held them firmly but gently in one hand while she patted the horse's neck with the other and spoke soothing words. But the horse would not be quieted, so she jumped off and ran back to the knight, allowing the horse to flee with all their supplies.

The knight's sword lay shattered on the ground; his battered shield hung precariously from the tail spike. The knight himself was attempting to climb the broken chain as the dragon reared and batted at him with its front claws. He somehow managed to evade the angry claws long enough to take a stab at the dragon's neck with the knife he'd carried up in his teeth, but then the dragon knocked him to the ground. But one claw scraped through the scales where the knife had found no purchase. Its skin shone white underneath the golden scales.  Éadra nabbed the knife from the now-unconscious soldier and leaped for the chain. The dragon grasped at her as it had at the human, but she swung from the chain onto its claws, and jumped from there to its neck. She managed to drive the knife into the now exposed skin. Her weight pulled the knife from the top of the exposed skin to the bottom, and boiling blood dripped from the wound.  Éadra let go of the knife and fell to the ground, but not before a drop of blood hit her arm, burning it. The dragon shrieked in pain and flew off.  

Éadra groaned in pain and crumpled to her knees, clutching her burned right arm with her left hand. She forced herself to let go and look at the burn and saw that it was already blistering. She grabbed her flask of water and poured some on the burn. The momentary relief from pain allowed her to clear her head and concentrate. She shut her eyes and reached into her core, summoning her healing magic. She pulled it up to her burn and felt the quick relief. Healing herself was easy and usually required little energy because the magic was so attuned to her body. Now for the human.

She walked over to her captor and knelt down beside him. His forehead was covered in blood, but she knew from experience that even minor head wounds bled a lot. She used a little water from his flask to wash away some of the blood and find its source. There—it wasn't bad at all. It was long and it might scar, but it had already stopped bleeding. But that didn't mean there wasn't internal damage. She put her hand on the still-damp portion of his forehead and pulled her magic forward again. This time, the water served to conduct the water out of her and into his, while still allowing her to be connected to it. She shut her eyes and felt around with the magic. She found a ruptured artery near the back of his skull. If she didn't act quickly, the damage would escalate beyond her ability to heal. But did she want to heal him? If she left him here unconscious, she could return to the elves with the information about the spell surrounding the mountain. Except that the horse had run off with the potion. There was no way she'd make it out. But healing him would as good as give away her true identity. Even if he didn't know that Éadra was the only one of the twins who could heal, Erron certainly would. Maybe she should just continue on to the fortress herself. Could she find the way? Was it even ethical to leave him? Without treatment, he might die. She was always the one who insisted on healing the enemy soldiers left wounded on the battlefield after a battle. She was always in control of the situation then, though. If she healed him, she'd just be putting herself in his mercy all over again. She writhed inside, weighing ethics against pride and freedom. Then she realized she didn't have much of a choice: even if she could find Erron's fortress all on her own with no supplies, she couldn't just waltz up to the gates and turn herself over. Not only would it look incredibly suspicious, but also they'd expect her to tell them everything she knew in return for sanctuary from the mountains. Either that or they'd just kill her. Decision made, she went to work.

  As quickly and neatly as she could, she drew the pooling blood back into the artery, aiding it with extra magic to make sure it integrated neatly without disrupting the flow. Then she sealed it off and searched for signs of brain damage. There was some, but less than she'd expected. Good. She didn't have enough energy to do much more repair work, and even a little brain damage would be difficult to fix. She threw the last of her magic (and energy) into reviving the dead cells, pulled back out of his head, and passed out.

Character Profile: The Aquinix (With excerpt, as usual)

I'm taking a quick break from elf characters today to introduce you to the character who is quite probably the hardest for me to write: the Aquinix. Sort of a large, sea-blue phoenix, (but with a head more like a bird of prey than a songbird head like a phoenix traditionally has) the Aquinix is to my world as Aslan is to Narnia. He's sort of a Christ figure, watching over the characters and guiding their steps. He came into being slowly, starting with a picture I drew once of a flarefox staring into the sea while a giant blue eagle rose from the water. I later had this image in my head of a blue eagle-like creature flying over a dead forest with water flowing from its wings to revive the trees. This, plus the scriptures about "healing in [Christ's] wings" all came together to give birth to this creature.  It has been very hard for me to write him without feeling like I am being too cheesy or dramatic or something. I still don't know that I've done all that well; I'm certainly no C.S. Lewis, but I hope that I can at least touch people a bit. Anyway, here is the Aquinix!

Name: unknown
Species: Aquinix
Age: ???
Height: 7'0"
Likes: flying, healing, protecting
Dislikes: War

Excerpt: (this is a dream Éadra is having)

Éadra saw the great gold dragon in the distance, running towards her. She tried to run away, but it was like trying to move through molasses. She turned around and saw Erron behind her, gripping her by the arms. He was laughing. Then he began to grow and change, turning into a lion. But he was twice as large as a lion should be, and had the ears and tail of a fox. His muzzle was also a bit thinner than it should have been, and his mane was blood red. The rest of his fur was tawny with a reddish undertone. He'd become a reyle, and she was trapped beneath one of his enormous paws.
The dragon arrived, and the reyle roared a command. The dragon glanced at her for one terrifying moment, then raised its head and flamed. Blue fire shot from its mouth, striking a mountain in the distance. Éadra tried to scream a warning, but her voice wouldn't work. The pressure from the reyle's paw increased.
The dragon sucked in air, preparing to flame again. But before it could, an eagle's cry filled the air. Éadra looked up and saw what she thought at first was some kind of blue phoenix. It had a long, elegant neck and a crest on its head. But it was too bulky to be a phoenix, and its tail was like that of an eagle. Its beak was sharp and curved.
At the sight of the strange bird, the dragon checked itself and calmly trotted off. The reyle ran away in fear. The bird flapped its wings, and a flood of water washed away the rest of the scene, leaving behind nothing but a soothing white. It landed in front of her.
“Aquinix,” Éadra whispered reverently. It nodded.

“Will you help them? Please?”
“I will show them how to help themselves.”
Éadra grew frustrated. That was impossible. The only thing that could pierce a dragon's scales was the claw of another dragon.
The creature before her seemed to know what she was thinking. It covered her with its wing, and she found she was standing again. “Trust me,” it said. “I will protect them.”