That still left an even larger number of minor wounds to treat. Ean took a long enough break to eat half a loaf of bread, then went back to work. The task of cleaning and bandaging wounds, setting broken arms and legs, sewing slashes that did not require Flashseal, and applying soothing salves to villagers that had been burnt was easy compared to how the first half of his day had gone. All the while, villagers were helping those that could be moved off the green or setting up tents around those that needed to remain immobile.
Ean found himself enjoying the work as he moved from one person to the next. Most were overly grateful for the help, those that were awake, and seemed especially appreciative because he was a stranger. They would tell him about how they got hurt or about their families as he worked. He even got a few invitations to dinner, which he awkwardly refused. It felt nice to be appreciated but he was nowhere near ready to sit down with a bunch of strangers in a more social setting.
The sun was just starting to sink down behind the mountains to the west as Ean finished with his last patient. He was a much older man, the gray in his thin hair vastly outnumbered the black. A chipped and dirty knife sat on the ground not far away. He had been out in the thick of it, with the younger men, not quite as effective but still holding his own. He had received a nasty cut to his arm chasing after one of the bandits as he tried to flee. The old man was very proud of that.
Rising from the man’s side with a smile, Ean took a good look around the green. He felt … good … about that and enjoyed the feeling. Sure, he had helped Cleff countless times, but that had mostly been for minor cuts and scrapes. These people he had healed on his own, without anyone looking over his shoulder or telling him what to do. There were men and women right now, sitting in their homes with their families, telling stories about how they had fought off a bandit attack, how they had received terrible wounds but were thankful for a boy in the village that had healed them. Ean didn’t even mind if they called him a boy as they repeated their story. Well, not much, at least.
Ean slung his lightened bag over his shoulder. As he walked among the tents, he wondered where he might restock his supply. Since Rottwealth only grew at home and apparently cost a great deal, he might as well forget about getting any more. Flashseal, however, tended to grow near bodies of water. He made a mental note to keep an eye out for it next time he filled his canteen.
The atmosphere had been all doom and gloom when he had first arrived. Now people walked about, or limped about, in generally good moods. Ean even heard jovial singing from some of the tents. It felt good to be a part of that feeling. At home he had always felt it was him against the world. It was nice to find out that the entire world wasn’t holding a grudge against him.
Instead of returning to the inn, Ean checked in on the worse of the wounded, those that couldn’t be moved home. Most were surrounded by family, playing games or drinking Burnbeer. Grateful town folk asked him to sit down and enjoy a drink with them. Remembering his earlier battle with the after-effects of Burnbeer, he politely declined. As he exited a tent, someone tackled him from behind.
“You’re okay!” Jaslen’s musical voice only improved his mood. She wrapped her arms around him.
“Yes, and so are you. I was worried about you … and Bran. Where were you?”
“Out amongst the trade wagons. The wagon guards held their own, but they needed help with their wounded and putting out fires most of the day. We only just left them a few moments ago to try and find you.”
She spun him around and gave an impish smile. “I hear you’ve been rescuing girls in distress, healing the wounded and being an all-around hero.”
He felt himself blush.
“Uh, well, I just happened to be in the wrong place at the right time, I guess.” His thoughts went to Paige. Even if she was physically fine, he knew trauma like that came with emotional wounds that no amount of Rottwealth could heal.
“And as for the healing,” he continued, “I was practically bullied into doing it by the local Healer. They were going to use my supplies anyway, so I figured I might as well make sure they used them right.”
She playfully punched his arm.
“Whatever you say, hero. All I know is that everyone has been singing your praises. If you want to play it off and be modest, so be it. Just know I’m proud of you.”
“Yes, well,” he paused to readjust his bag, turning so she couldn’t see his smile. “Regardless, we should be thinking about getting supplies for our trip and getting out of here tomorrow.” He took a quick look around. “Where’s Bran anyway?”
Her smile faded and she took a step back. “At the inn, but I don’t think we’re leaving any time soon.”
“What? Why not?”
“It would probably be best to wait until we are back at the inn to discuss what we are going to do next.” Something about her tone was strange, but Ean couldn’t quite figure out what it could be.
“Alright. If you say so.”
They headed off towards the inn, dodging around tents and people. More often than not, they were stopped so that someone’s brother, daughter or other family member could thank Ean for everything he had done. Jaslen seemed to enjoy the attention he was getting, her grin growing whenever anyone stopped them. At some point, while Ean wasn’t paying attention, she managed to snake an arm around his as they walked along. He was sure it was just a friendly gesture, but his cheeks still colored once he realized her arm was there. Once they had made it off the green, they were able to move on uninterrupted. They walked on in the fading light of the sun, arm in arm.
“So, what happened at the wagons while I was here saving the village?” Ean asked to break the silence.
“Well, after we put you to bed,” she said, giving him another impish smile. “Bran and I were still wide awake. The leader of the trade caravan, Berek Soushade, had invited us to come back at night, so we decided to take him up on his offer. We stayed up talking and drinking for a time as they had a drink that was much smoother then Burnbeer, and were having fun … until one of their scouts came running into camp yelling about how we were about to be attacked. Then everyone leapt into action.
Guards drew swords, wagon hands gathered the animals together and then drew their own weapons, and even Berek, the head of the caravan, drew a weapon.” She tilted her head slightly. “It was different than any weapon I had ever seen before. It was thin, like an enlarged needle and didn’t look like it would do much to a man wearing armor. The way he used it though …” She gave a laugh. “I thought Bran had gotten good from all of his private tutoring, but the men that worked for the caravan had twice as much talent, and Berek had even more. He moved about the bandits as if he was dancing, but they all either fell or were disarmed before they could even get close to him. It was all very exciting.” She smiled for a moment, then her voiced lowered.
“A good amount of Berek’s employees were killed though. They had a Healer with them, but he couldn’t help a lot of the men. They had been through another battle somewhere to the south, and the healer was low on supplies. It was horrible to have to sit and watch as some of them died.”
Her voice trailed off, but she hugged his arm closer. Ean glanced over at her, but returned his gaze to the street ahead once he saw her crying openly. He had no idea how to handle a crying girl. For the first time, he actually wished that Bran was with them. He would know what to do to make Jaslen feel better.
Ean understood how she felt. In his own mind, he could still picture the man he had, well, transformed was probably the best word. That look of horror on the bandit’s face as he realized what had happened to him … It made Ean shiver.
The pair continued to walk along in silence until they came to the inn. Jaslen detached herself from his arm.
“I don’t want Bran to see me all a mess,” she said, pulling out a cloth to wipe at her eyes. “You know how he worries about me.” When she finished, she shot him a questioning look. “So, am I presentable?”
“Yes,
can’t even tell you were crying.”
“Wonderful. Let’s join Bran, yes?” Without waiting for a reply, she pushed open the doors and went inside with Ean trailing behind her.
AS SOON AS EAN pushed open the heavy doors, loud conversation and drunken laughter washed over him. He had expected a small crowd of somber diners but found a packed room full of men and women dancing in the aisles and falling over the tables and each other. Every table was packed with villagers, some of which he had helped earlier in the day. Ean was curious how the medicines he had given some of them would mix with Burnbeer.
A tug at his arm brought his attention back to Jaslen. She motioned over towards a far corner where Bran sat at a table alone. He waved the two of them over with the mug in his hand, the chair teetering beneath him. Even across the room, Bran’s sloppy mannerisms made it obvious that he was nursing more than a light buzz.
As Ean tried to weave through the crowd, people pointed and whispered. Unlike at home, these people were smiling in recognition. Kindness shown in their eyes — something to which he was unaccustomed. People were reaching out to stop him, shake his hand, pat his back. It made him feel appreciated and claustrophobic all at the same time.
“Sit down, young healer,” a crowd of boisterous men invited. “Let us buy you a drink while you tell us what it’s like working with that sour crone, Mable.”
“Uh,” Ean said with a weak smile. “I’m sorry but my friends are expecting me. Maybe another time.”
By the time they reached Bran, he was ordering another drink. He grabbed the serving girl by the arm as she was turned to leave, nearly yanking her off her feet.
“Make that three drinks, miss,” he said, his words slurred. “My friend and my girl have just as much to celebrate as the rest of the people here. They both saved many lives today.” Shooting him an annoyed look, the waitress nodded curtly then hurried away.
Not seeming to notice, Bran returned his smile back to Jaslen and Ean. “Sit, sit!”
Jaslen took a seat to Bran’s left, pulling it close to him. Her usual smile grew as Bran wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in for a kiss. Ean didn’t want to intrude on the couple’s private moment but how could he not when they insisted on showing their affection in public? He shifted his gaze to the rest of the bar, thinking about how far he had come. The day’s experience had opened his eyes a bit to the world. He didn’t have to be against everyone or be jealous of what others had. Maybe he would even enjoy his time traveling with these two.
Probably not, but at least now he thought it was a possibility.
Bran must have sensed his good mood. “Look at our young Healer, all puffed up about his accomplishments.” Reaching over, he patted Ean on the shoulder. “I heard all about what you did today. I always knew you weren’t as useless as my father said you were.”
That took Ean down a peg or two. The Mayor had always made his opinion about Ean known, but it was different to hear it coming from Bran’s mouth. Well, it didn’t matter. What mattered now was figuring out what Jaslen had been unwilling to tell him.
“As much fun as this is,” Ean said. “We should prepare to leave as soon as possible.”
Letting out a laugh, Bran took a swig from his mug before answering. “We’ll leave in twelve days — give or take.”
“Oh, so you want to vacation here a bit,” Ean snorted, knowing Bran was joking. “Of course.”
Jaslen narrowed her eyes and sent Bran a scolding frown. Without looking up, she said, “He’s serious, Ean. We’re not leaving — we can’t.”
“What do you mean can’t?”
“Tell him about the Scar, Bran,” she said. “And about the Seekers.”
“The Scar? Seekers?” The temperature in the room seemed to plummet as a chill traveled down his spine. “Will someone just tell me what is going on?”
“Sure,” Bran started, then paused. Lifting his mug to his face, Bran went to drink before realizing that he had finished it already. Frowning, he slammed it down on the table then began to look around. “Where is that waitress with our next round of drinks?”
Giving up on him, Ean turned his attention to Jaslen. “Please, just tell me.”
“A Scar seems to be a … well, Berek explained it as a doorway to the Abyss.”
That got Ean’s attention. “What? A doorway? You mean people can actually walk through?”
Shaking her head, Jaslen continued. “No, they say it’s like a one-way doorway. Things can come out but nothing can go through. It also gives off some kind of energy, which apparently corrupts everything around it.” She glanced at his arm for an instant before continuing on. “That’s the main reason the caravans are waiting two weeks before trying to travel past it.”
Ean let the glance at his arm go by without comment. Let her think what she wanted for now.
“The main reason? That seems like reason enough for these fools that know nothing about the Abyss.” He felt himself growing angry, but he wasn’t sure why. Even so he kept his voice low.
“Ean, it’s not just the creatures that might come out of the Scar or what it might do to them that has the caravan workers scared the most. It’s a group of people called the Seekers.”
“Seekers?”
“Yes. They’re a religious sect of the followers of Alistar that hunt out these Scars and close them.” Her face went pale as she spoke, which Ean didn’t understand.
“That would be even more of a reason to get going sooner. I would love to see one of these Scars for myself.” The fact that he had never heard about them before, especially from Zin, annoyed him even further. Where was the imp anyway? “If we stick around here too long, those people will end up closing it before I get the chance.”
Jaslen put a hand on top of his own. That stopped him from speaking.
“Ean, these Seekers,” her voice was low and she was looking at him intently. “They kill anything that they even think has been touched by the energy coming out of the Scar. Anything.” She gave his hand a squeeze, emphasizing the word.
So that’s what had caused her so much concern. She was actually worried about him. The thought quelled his anger in a heartbeat, and he did his best to give her a reassuring smile.
“Even if that’s true and these people exist, I doubt that they would be able to tell that I’m connected to the Abyss in any way.” At least I hope.
Bran interrupted them with a bellow of excitement as the waitress finally returned with their drinks. As soon as she set it down, he snatched his up and brought it to his lips. Gulping a few times, he smacked the half-finished mug back down on the table.
“We don’t need to fear these Seekers,” he said, loudly. “We’ve turned into Heroes ourselves; we can handle them.”
It took a few moments for Ean to realize that the whole room had grown silent. Jaslen’s eyes darted about. The patrons in the tables around them had turned to face them, their faces blank. It took Bran a bit longer to notice.
“What’s going on?” Bran asked, that stupid grin still on his face. “Did someone just die?” Ean watched as Jaslen cringed in unison with him. Bran didn’t seem to notice. “Well, I guess a bunch of people died today, but many more lived. So you all should return to your celebrating!”
The faces around them weren’t blank now. Open anger painted half of them while the rest had looks of disgust. People further away were mumbling now as well, occasionally pointing and frowning in their direction. Jaslen reached over and tried to get Bran’s attention, but he was oblivious.
“I may not be part of this village,” Bran continued on, “but I did my fair share of helping out. I didn’t see these so called Seekers anywhere about.” The scratching sound of a blade coming out of a sheath caught Ean’s attention, and he stood so fast he knocked his chair over. He had no idea where the sound had come from, but the feeling of inevitable violence hung in the air.
“Now, now, no need to get all worked up,” said a woman’s voice from somewhere in the crowd. Ean tri
ed to pick out the direction he had heard the sound from, but with everyone’s attention on them, it was impossible to determine who might have drawn a blade. Almost everyone in the room now was looking in their direction.
Before anything could happen, the innkeeper’s wife pushed through the crowd and planted herself next to Bran. She was built more like a solid block of stone, not like a soft doughy woman that had eaten too much of her own baking. She glared down at Bran from behind a mop of disheveled black hair.
“If you ask me, there should be an age limit on Burnbeer. The younger you are, the dumber it makes you. This one is too ignorant to be afraid of Seekers and lacks the good sense to respect the dead. I have a good mind to turn him over my knee and give him a spanking.”
That got a few nods from the surrounding crowd, but just as many were still giving Bran looks as if they meant him harm. The innkeeper’s wife continued on. “I’ll escort our young trouble-maker back to his room and then the rest of us can go about celebrating in honor of those we lost today.”
Bran had just been staring at the woman open-mouthed as she spoke, his face becoming redder with each insult. When she was done, he tried to speak. “Now wait just a second,” he slurred. “I am perfectly fine …”
A loud smacking sound cut him off as the innkeeper’s wife backhanded Bran across the face. The woman moved so quickly, Ean didn’t even think Bran would have been able to dodge or block the blow if he had been sober. The hit was hard enough to knock him out of his chair. A look of confusion crossed his face as he found himself on the floor. The crowd around them erupted into a cheer with many of the men and women standing to applaud.
With a satisfied nod in Bran’s direction, the innkeeper’s wife turned her attention on Ean and Jaslen. “Now, you better get him up to his room and keep him there for the night. I don’t want to have to teach that boy a lesson again. I’ll even help you get him there.”
Bound to the Abyss Page 17