Chapter 195: Healing

Book 4, Chapter 36 - Healing

Elizia went back and forth between triage tents set up for the wounded. Her physics were few, and those of Red Vine could not be sought out this late into the night. Not with the incessant howls and constant clicking and clattering sounds coming from deep within the woods.

Winds come down the slopes served to add an extra layer of anxiety over the mountainside camp her soldiers found themselves in. They were tired and beaten, but worked still to set up extra wooden barricades and fences along the edges. Every now and then Elizia heard a shout from those on guard duty, heard the whistle of arrow fire, and felt dread mount in her breast from an attack she thought had come. An attack she was unprepared to lead against, and furiously frightened of.

Ratmen…

Elizia rolled up her sleeves, painfully aware of her quiver and bow lacking from her person. Her only weapon was a knife at her belt. She marched into the light of a campfire where two of hers sat with bags beneath their eyes, cured meat shards in their hands. Their leathers and cloaks bore dark stains.

“Flaming tough, those Virk,” one was saying.

The other grunted. “Had my arm dangling by strands,” he said, rubbing an elbow. “The Saintess put it back like it was never cut. All pain gone in a breath. Wonder how long we'd have lasted without her.”

“Gentlemen,” Elizia announced, stealing from them the pail of water boiling above their fire. The men stood with haste and saluted awkwardly, food stuffs in their hands. Elizia gave a terse nod, steaming water sloshing out the sides of the pail as she tried to keep it steady during her walk to a triage tent.

“Wonder what Lady Sar'tara might've said,” one soldier mumbled, “'bout us taking aid from a Trillian.”

“The girl's fifteen or sixteen at best,” Elizia said without turning around. “She's saved many lives. I do not think my mother would have minded.” She stumbled away before hearing a response, lugging the pail of water into a tent where Lina, the head physic of Elizia's legion and one of five present, tended to ten soldiers laying down with various gashes, scratches, and bruises on their limbs and torsos.

“I need three gauze strips cut into two arm span lengths,” the physic said without turning her eyes from a stitch she was making in an arm. The soldier in question had his eyes squeezed shut.

Elizia pulled her knife and estimated the length of gauze she was to cut with her eyes alone, laying them at Lina's side. She then moved to the edge of a tent where a half bare man had a hideous axe wound just below the ribs. The man had gone pale, face glowing with sweat.

Elizia pulled away the bloodied cloth covering the wound. She dipped a small bowl in the steaming water, and poured it over the wound, wiping it down with a clean strip of cloth. The soldier hissed through a clenched jaw. “Your highness,” he mumbled through teary eyes.

“Captain, if you would, soldier,” Elizia said with a smile. The man had some greys around his chin. He was of her mother's original company.

“Funny. Her grace… never liked 'captain.' She… ack ” the soldier cut off as Elizia poured more hot water over the cruel wound. “She enjoyed… 'her grace'. Was always… noble. It fit… her.”

Always noble. As opposed to whatever I am. Elizia exhaled. She ran her arm over his forehead. “Stop speaking in past tense,” she said. “Your life isn't gone yet.”

“Yet,” the soldier groaned.

“That wound runs deep,” Lina said softly as she came over.

“Do we have pain killers?” Elizia asked.

“I gave him something to chew on.” Lina knelt down and inspected the wound. Blood still leaked from it. She pressed a clean cloth over it. “We don't have enough medicines to go around. My lady, go check on this Saintess of ours. I think I can manage alone here.”

“But—”

“ Please . That cut is not one I can stitch.”

Elizia nodded. Without the Gift, this man would die before the night saw its end. She gave her hands a quick rinse with the hot water, cringing as it stung her skin, before walking out into the cold, moonlit night. More distant howls welcomed her. She spotted Rask near the edge of the camp, barking the occasional orders.

Elizia heard sudden feral screams come from the darkness. Her heart skipped several beats as she reached for her knife, breath catching as she realized she'd left it back in the tent. She saw her archers loose from behind the meager safety of picket fences with splinters. The arrows sailed into the darkness. Then all was still.

Several seconds passed before Elizia's heart returned to its normal state. A droplet of curiosity hung at the tip of her thoughts, a curiosity urging her to go to the edge, and see what it is the soldiers spoke of. To see the occasional ratman come prowling at the camp's perimeter in search of easy meals. Her textbooks had made it clear they were attracted to rotting flesh —such was their nourishment. It was said they cannibalized each other to survive in the dark passages they called home beneath the earth's surface. It also mentioned that their very presence inspired fear and despair to the weak of heart.

Darkspawn soldiers drawn to kill to ever sate their own hunger and desire to expand their population. Given their way, they'd run all species into the past and rule Illusterra in an unending feast of self-cannibalism.

Elizia shivered. To think these creatures had some degree of sentience was all the more frightening. Then there were imps, of which little was known than there being different species —some more feral than others, but all of them possessing devious and violent qualities.

Elizia, against her better judgement, walked over to Commander Rask. He gave her a knowing nod as she approached. “All is well?” she asked rhetorically. She was happy to delegate command to someone with more experience, and someone she deeply respected. And the physics needed all the extra trained hands they could get at the moment.

“Nothing of note, my lady,” Rask said. “We've had a couple come prowling about near to the camp. Some of them came lugging the heavy axes of the Virk. No sign of a coordinated assault as of yet. Or any wolf riders. My wager is they're busy feasting at the site of our skirmish.”

Elizia swept a bead of cold sweat from her brow. She walked around the big commander, going on her toes to catch a glimpse of the grotesque monsters she so feared, if only to conquer said fear. Darkspawn roaming freely above ground. Such had not been seen or heard of since the War of Ashes many millennia ago.

“Have to go a little closer than that,” Rask said. “Even with your sharp sight.”

“I'm not afraid, Rask,” Elizia said with a scowl. A passing breeze made another shiver run up her spine.

The grizzled old man smiled. “Never said you were.”

Elizia shook her head and began walking away.

“I could hold your hand if you'd like, my lady. Just as I did when you were knee height.”

Elizia felt a spark of anger. “Is that you I'm hearing, Jengard Rask, or your knew idiot lord's inanity rubbing off on you.”

“Just me trying to find mirth in this cold, dark world of ours. How fare the wounded?”

“Poor, lest that Saintess of yours wakes. I'm going to her now.”

Rask nodded. “Don't be too harsh on the girl. She's lived a rough life under a stepmother. Was sold to the Trillians at a young age for her Gift.”

Sold to the Trillians. Not of Trillian upbringing, then. Was she really a Trillian faithful, and religious guide to Lord Caranel?

Food for later thought. More pressing was Lord Caranel's current state. There was no knowing if the Virk that'd taken him would keep him alive. If for whatever reason he succumbed to wounds or was killed, there'd be none in charge of north Xenaria's vast resources and growing wealth. None but me if I chose to take it.

There came an underlying guilt with that thought. The same one she felt for wanting to have murdered Aarondel. He had to be retrieved come dawn. Elizia would march on that fortress. Whether a conflict ensued would be entirely dependent on how the Virk reacted to the situation.

Elizia entered Lord Caranel's main tent which was positioned next to hers on the plateau before the entry to the iron mines. Saintess Ophelia was sitting upright on a makeshift bed, bright hair a mess, and eyes bloodshot. She clutched her head as if it ached. At her bedside, a poultice went unused, and a bowl of broth had gone cold, congealed fat shining from the flickering light of a candlestick next to.

Elizia sat down next to her. “Rest,” she urged, gently nudging the girl to lay back down. Elizia placed the poultice on her head. “Did you only wake?”

“The wounded,” Ophelia said. “Are there any fatal wounds.”

“Some.”

“Then—”

“No,” Elizia said. “We need you recovered enough to heal most of them. I can't have you collapsing after you've Healed only one man.” Ophelia's lips thinned. Her eyelids drooped down slowly. She was sleepy. Half the night perhaps. Hopefully she'll be recovered enough to heal then.

“I don't like you,” the girl said suddenly.

“I am sorry for my past treatment of you,” Elizia said. “And… for forcing you into a battle at your age.”

“Not that,” Ophelia said. “I'm used to being called names. You're just… you're mean. To Lord Caranel.” Spots of color appeared on her cheeks as she spoke. “I don't like that.”

Elizia frowned. “I do not do it intentionally. He hasn't treated me all too respectfully either since I arrived.”

“Maybe you deserve it. I don't know.”

That turned petty really fast… Elizia had been under the impression that a Saintess would be more… saintly? More calm, and detached from the world? Ophelia seemed like a normal girl. “Maybe I do,” Elizia agreed. After all, her original intent at Red Vine had been far from pure.

“You agree?” Ophelia asked with furrowed brows.

Elizia turned the poultice over to the other side. “Should I not?”

“Where is Lord Caranel? This is his tent isn't it?”

“He's held captive by a second faction of the Virk he sought to defend,” Elizia said. She unbound her hair, letting it cover the back of her neck. The cold of night was felt more readily now when not constantly moving. “I don't think they intend to harm him so you need not to worry about that. We'll go retrieve him in the morning.”

Ophelia nodded. Her eyelids began to droop again.

“Sleep,” Elizia urged. “I'll come wake you halfway in the night. Maybe you'll be up to Healing then.”

The Saintess brought her blankets closer to her shoulders. “You didn't force me into battle. I wanted to be there myself.”

“Of course.”

“I wanted to be a real Saintess.”

Real?

“But that was just a lie,” Ophelia continued. “I spoke as I did because… because I wanted to seem an adult in a room full of adults.” She sniffled. “I wanted to be useful. Wanted to do something than nothing. I wanted to prove myself so I won't be thrown away or hidden in a corner to be used when others see fit.”

Elizia narrowed her eyes. “Does Lord Caranel not treat you right?”

“He does,” Ophelia said. “And Lord Rask too. But… I'm afraid. What if they're only keeping me around because of my abilities like the Trillians did? What if I can't use them one day and I'm of no good anymore? What if I'm sold again?”

“I don’t think they would do that to you, Saintess,” Elizia assured. She could only respect the effort. She'd heard tell of the girl throwing up on the field, but pulling through in the end. Filling great shoes at such an age was something Elizia knew too well. She still didn’t believe she'd lived up to what her mother would have wanted, just as Ophelia perhaps did not think she could be the Saintess everyone addressed her as. I suppose we're more alike than I would care to admit on a different day. “There is no end to knowledge,” Elizia said. “If this fear persists, you can always learn the arts of a physic and help people that way.”

“I want to be a scholar one day.”

Elizia smiled. It almost felt like she was speaking to a younger sibling. “That is well too.”

“Lord Caranel has a vast array of books —I've read them all. He promised he'd take me travelling the world to learn new things and… I'm rambling aren't I?”

“A little,” Elizia admitted. She pulled the poultice and dipped it in water, letting it cool before replacing it again. “I would prefer it if you could rest.”

Ophelia stared at Elizia for a while. She then pouted. “Maybe you're not so bad,” she mumbled.

Elizia found it in her to giggle. “I'm glad I could change your opinion of me.”

“Just don't hate him too much, okay?”

“As long as he doesn't get on my nerves first,” Elizia said with a smile. “Sleep now.”