by Thomas Green
When she did, Astril wrapped Zerae into a cashmere nightgown and put her to the bed before sliding into the duvets next to her. She tangled herself on top of Zerae, softly running her hands by Zerae’s body.
Astril stopped and pulled her hand from beneath the duvets. Crimson blood covered her fingers.
Zerae smiled weakly. “It’s just a scratch.”
Astril’s face turned to steel. “That’s not a new wound. You have had this since Kaeby.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” Yellow flame burst around Astril, veiling her beneath the usual image of beauty she always wore. She rushed herself into her clothes and armor before she grabbed Zerae to dress her.
Zerae shook her head. “We can’t go to the camp. Karmen will be awake from the sleeping powder, and she must not see me.”
“You have been bleeding for days. We are tough, but this will kill you, Zerae.”
She sighed. “Then so be it. I have done my part already, and death can’t be worse than my life.”
Astril slapped her, sending a painful shock through Zerae’s head. “Never say that again!”
Zerae turned her vacant gaze into the wall, unable to meet Astril’s eyes. Out of all the slaps she had ever received, this one hurt the most. Yet it also sparked a strange feeling of warmth within her chest, one she couldn’t place.
As she realized Astril wasn’t moving, Zerae glimpsed at her from the corner of her eye. Astril sat above her, petrified, staring at her own hand in utter disbelief of what she had done.
She still cares about me. Zerae smiled, happier than she ever remembered being. “I deserved this one.”
Astril didn’t move. “This is the problem. It’s so easy for me to use my strength to do anything that I forgot how to do things differently. I am sorry… I—”
Zerae grabbed her by the hand. “I am the one who should apologize. Do you have a plan on how to get a healer?”
Astril closed her eyes and exhaled to force herself to calm down. “I know it’s stupid, but my idea was to kidnap some healers from the Order and force them to help you.”
“That’s not stupid, but we can also steal Palai uniforms from some corpses in the valley, dress as their soldiers, and go to the medical camp they had surely made for their own forces.”
“See?” Astril smiled. “This is why we can’t do anything without you.” She helped Zerae into her clothes and carried her outside of the cave.
As Zerae laid out, they returned to the valley where the battle was about to finish. Astril had to carry her the entire way, for Zerae was too weak to walk. They stripped a couple of dead soldiers, put on their uniforms while hiding their armor and weapons, and followed the stream of wounded men from the Order.
The Order’s medical camp lay less than a mile away from the valley. The scent of blood was everywhere, and people flowed among the tents in a strange mixture of chaos and order. As the other incoming wounded, Astril and Zerae waited into the admission line.
When their turn was getting closer, they heard the officer asking everyone what legion they belonged to. Astril threw Zerae a worried look.
Zerae tried to tell her the lie she had prepared, but her throat failed her, releasing only incoherent mumbling.
Their turn came, and the Palai officer standing before them scanned them with his eyes. “Tell me your Legion, position, and name.”
Astril gave Zerae one more desperate glance, but she couldn’t answer.
The officer raised an eyebrow. “Well?”
“Errr…” Astril smiled awkwardly. “Fifth Legion, Private Hellwind, and Private Darkscream.”
Zerae wanted to slap her face with her palm, but even that failed. You put me into a lieutenant rank armor.
The soldier raised his hand a dozen men rushed from nearby, surrounding them. “There are no Sil Haen in the fifth legion. Take them away for interrogation.”
Astril’s eyes darted around, but she found no solace, no chance of escape other than fighting her way out. But that wouldn’t help because they still needed a healer. She handed her weapons to the soldiers and carried Zerae to where they pointed her to. As she did, Zerae’s loss of blood leaked away the last bits of her consciousness, drifting to darkness.
34
Lucas
Lucas ran out of the caves and glanced over the battlefield, carrying Zoey in his arms. Not that he cared about her wellbeing, but she dying because of him was not acceptable. And it was one of his better excuses not to have to face Kayleanne. The battle wasn’t over, but the outcome was evident as the Order was finishing the cleanup of the now-indefensible town of Snowhaven.
While he had her wrapped in cloaks, he knew she had a few hours to live, at most. He blasted off in the direction where he figured the camp for the wounded would be.
The journey took him longer than he had hoped, but he could neither soulstep with her nor run at speed too high, less he wanted to further shorten her lifespan.
Once he reached the medical camp, he strolled through the entrance, ignoring the guards, and found a small tent by the side of the camp. He chased out the soldiers loitering around and put Zoey on the table. Her eyes were rolled up while she was shaking in a seizure. The poison has already spread through her body.
He sighed, spun on his heel, and headed to the main tent. Inside, he burst into the medical staff room, searching for whoever wasn’t busy in this very instant. He smiled as his eyes met those of a couple of medics he knew. They were young, inexperienced, but he didn’t care.
“Benedict, with me. Vincent, fetch Galen to tell him to get me six vials of Sil Haen blood and bring him to the lone tent by the southern edge of the camp,” he ordered them in a tone that not allow for a discussion.
They obeyed without questions, and they soon met, standing above Zoey, who was still shaking in a seizure.
Benedict stared at her, eyes wide. “This looks out of what we can do.”
Lucas went over them with his eyes. “I know how to save her, but I need you three to perform the surgery.”
They nodded, not looking confident at all.
Lucas sighed. “Start by undressing her. Galen will lead the surgery. Benedict will block pain and keep her conscious while Vincent will assist Galen. Questions?”
They shook her heads and started removing her clothes.
Lucas walked out of the tent, leaned onto a tree, and reached into his soul chamber. He pulled out a few inches long white cylinder with a half-an-inch long, orange end and a steel contraption. He put the orange end of the cylinder to his lips, opened the contraption, pressed the wheel and used the fire that sprung from the contraption to light the cylinder.
The familiar taste of the smoke and the kick of the toxins it contained calmed his mind. He raised his hand to see it shaking. While it trembled lightly, it was worse than he hoped. I still can’t do it, can I?
He remembered how he used to smoke before surgeries, before all the hundreds of times he had saved other’s lives. Yet now, his hand wouldn’t calm down. Like it hasn’t for millennia. He remembered himself leaving the medical school he had finished in a world that didn’t exist anymore and his first surgery in a downtown hospital in a town long gone.
His hand still trembled when he finished smoking. He tossed the butt aside, and returned to the tent, seeing Galen had to tie Zoey to the table.
Galen met Lucas’ stare. “I am sorry to say so, general, but these are not healable wounds.”
Lucas shook his head. “Archbishop Nashimeael could heal wounds like these within an hour. But he isn’t among us anymore so we will have to manage with ourselves.” Lucas smiled. He took out a half face mask, long pristine white apron, and a magnifying glass on a coronet made to hold it in front of the left eye and handed them to Galen. “Put these on.”
The young medic nodded, and dressed in the clothes, gazing surprised through the magnifying glass. Lucas handed him a couple of gloves, and another pair to Vincent.
They stared at
him, not sure what to say. Galen cleared his throat. “I am sorry to say, but I had never seen tools like these… or the material from which the gloves are made.”
Lucas sat on a stool by the side, smiling faintly. “This world has yet to invent them. Now, Benedict, get her out of the seizure, and then stabilize her, so she stays conscious and doesn’t feel too much pain.”
He nodded and sat down behind her, putting his hands on the side of her head.
“Don’t bother with conserving your strength, for I will transfer you a part of mine if you start running out,” Lucas said, formed a funnel from his aether, and pushed it into the young medic, filling him to the limit his body could handle.
Zoey’s eyes turned normal. She started shrieking with pain and terror but calmed down as Benedict’s aether did its work.
Lucas pulled a long half-transparent catheter, attached a thick hollow needle to it, re-strapped Zoey’s left arm to the side of the table and handed it to Galen to insert the needle into her vein.
Galen did so with expert precision, fixed the needle in position using a strap of leather, and put the other end of the catheter down above a bucket. Tainted blood started pouring through into the bucket.
Lucas moved to the other side, took out a second catheter and put it into the vial of Sil Haen blood. He attached a needle to the second end and handed it to Galen to insert it into Zoey’s right hand. He flipped the vial and blood started flowing into her.
Zoey stared at him, eyes wide. “What is going on?”
“We will perform reconstructive surgery on your upper abdominal area,” Lucas said in a calm voice. He flicked his wrist, and a sharp, steel blade appeared in his hand. He handed it to Galen and made a jar appear on the table by Zoey’s side.
Lucas motioned over the hole in Zoey’s body. “Galen, you will now start the reconstruction of the organs. We will be using this.” Lucas unsealed the jar, revealing the dark-red mass contained within. “It’s demonic tissue with great regenerative ability. Put it by small pieces to the damaged areas while pouring in your regenerative aether. The tissue will adjust itself and like this, bit by bit, you will recreate her insides.”
Galen nodded breathlessly.
Zoey closed her eyes and tried to relax. She did what she could to not watch the blood flowing into her vein. “Thank you… for saving me.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
She forced out a smile. “It is. You abandoned your plan for me. Thank you.”
Lucas smiled as he watched Galen cutting apart the tissue destroyed by the acid while reconstructing it, piece by piece, little by little. He advised him every time he got lost, but Galen and Vincent soon got the idea of the procedure, so Lucas walked out of the tent.
Once outside, he put his hand in front of his face and cursed as he saw it tremble.
“Prepare the medical tent, three high-priority patients incoming!” thundered from the side of the camp. Lucas looked in the direction and soulstepped to the entrance.
A unit of soldiers was bringing in three people on stretchers covered by white cloth. Lucas stopped the man with a motion of his hand and stepped to the nearest stretcher.
Beneath the white cloth lay Merewen, unconscious. He drew another white cylinder from his soul chamber, lit it, put it into the corner of his mouth, and examined her. The stab in the thigh missed the artery, so that’s not lethal. Otherwise, the bent in armor and stabs all missed critical organs so my healers can put her together with ease.
He motioned his hand, signaling the men to take her to the main tent before he stepped to the second stretcher, knocking off the ash from the tip of the white cylinder as he approached.
The white cloth hid Miranda, still conscious, but with bloody foam running from her mouth. Lucas swallowed the burst of rage and sadness that exploded through him and proceeded to examine her. Multiple crushed bones, likely hiding damaged organs. The stab in the right lung is the main problem, one the healers won’t be able to fix easily. She will live.
He turned to the men. “Tell the healers to stop the bleeding, repair the crushed organs in her midsection, jaw and the smaller cuts. I will handle the stab in the chest myself later.”
They nodded. Miranda spat out blood, coughing out blood between every word. “Help Luna… she’s not fine… please.”
Lucas nodded. “I will make sure of it.” He motioned the men off and approached the last stretcher. Luna lay on her side, drenched in blood, staring with open eyes into nowhere as spit drooled from her mouth. Lucas rolled her to her back and hit her lightly in the kneecap. No response.
He rolled her onto her belly, seeing her skull was half-crushed and caved in. Lucas closed his eyes and sighed. “How long has she been like this?”
One of the soldiers cleared his throat. “About half an hour, sir.”
Lucas drew in from the cylinder and knocked out the ash from its tip.
A sharp, girly voice sounded from the side. “Hey! Hey! Hey! Let us be dammit!”
Lucas turned to see a tall blonde Sil Haen holding Zerae while being surrounded by soldiers. What are these two doing here? He focused and realized Zerae lay limp in Astril’s arms.
“That’s our commanding officer. Go ask him to what legion we belong to!” Astril shouted, pointing at him.
The soldiers turned to him, puzzled.
Lucas sighed. “I will be there in ten minutes.” He tossed aside the butt of the cylinder and motioned the soldiers to place Luna onto a flat rock by the side. He made the dagger disappear, removed his gauntlets, and pulled a pair of white gloves from his soul chamber.
He glanced at Astril, seeing her watching him as he put on the gloves. He moved his hand before his face, seeing it shaking. He tried to focus, to calm down, to steady his hand. He couldn’t.
“Would you stop wasting time?” Astril shouted. “Just put on the cross-thing and stop slacking.”
Lucas remembered. He pulled the rosary out of his soul chamber and tied it around his left wrist. His hands stopped trembling. He turned to Luna. She has pieces of her skull stuck inside her brain, and while her regeneration can repair the skull, it wouldn’t manage to remove those even if she wasn’t about to start backlashing. He made forceps appear in his hand, put it inside and forced apart the sides of her skull to see her brain.
With a flick of his wrist, he made micro tweezers appear in his hand. Lucas spread out his aether, weaving his power through the area around him, feeling every object, every being, every piece of bone stuck in Luna’s brain. He lowered them down, grabbed a part of her bones stuck within the gray matter, and pulled it out without touching the brain. At first, he moved slowly, but every move was faster than the previous one.
Three minutes later, his hand was but a blur, moving at and precision impossible for mortals, impossible for anyone other than him. He removed every single piece of bone from Luna’s brain, focused, and pushed his aether into her heart. Her skull recreated itself within a second, hair regrew, and she sprung to life, catching a deep breath.
With a smile, Lucas threw his tools back into the soul chamber.
Luna’s eyes darted to him. “Is Miranda okay?”
“She will live. Now rest, for you will have a nightmare of a backlash.”
Her mouth opened to speak, but her lips turned indigo while her skin turned blue. She collapsed onto the stretcher, whispering. “Thank you.”
He spun on his heel and walked to where his men held Astril and Zerae, turning to the men holding them. “They are from the 1st Legion, operating directly under my command. Take them to a free tent.”
The men nodded and led them to the far side of the camp. Once they arrived, he waved the soldiers away and put Zerae onto the table within while he glanced at Astril. “How did you know I would help you?”
Her face turned into a satisfied smile. “By the white thing you were smoking. Sophiel hated those.”
Lucas nodded while a lone tear slid down his face. So she inherited Sophiel’s divine spark. “How
much do you remember?”
“Enough to know you should be able to heal Zerae.” Astril’s words trailed off as her face turned dark red. “And to feel awkward around you because I have seen of a lot of memories of you two banging.”
Lucas laughed. “Oh, yes, we did that a lot. I will need access to your arm, so put down the gauntlet and mail.”
“Why?”
“She has lost too much blood, so I will use this.” He made a pair of large needles connected by a catheter appear in his hand. “To refill her veins with your blood.”
Astril started removing her clothes to let him access her inner elbow. “Can you heal her arms?”
Lucas glanced over the scarred arms with black leather melted into the skin. “In the morning. Now, she needs to survive the night.” He undressed Zerae from the armor, quickly examining the body, seeing a horrible gash in her side. He moved apart the cloth to see it better, withdrew a needle and a thread from his soul chamber and stitched the wound closed within moments.
Astril watched him with a satisfied smile. “You were a lot faster in the memories I have of you.”
Lucas shrugged. “I haven’t done this in a while.”
“You were also a lot more handsome.”
Lucas sighed and grabbed her hand to stick one end of the connected needles into her vein. “Keep your hand above her, so the blood keeps flowing and remove the needle when you start feeling dizzy.”
Astril nodded. He struck the needle into Zerae’s vein, and when the blood started flowing, he left the tent, heading for the main tent where Miranda was to be operated upon.
Wounded soldiers filled the main tent to the brink, lying everywhere he could see. Tiredness gnawed upon his mind while the specter of backlash haunted his every move.
He found Miranda in a side compartment where a couple of healers were operating on her. Lucas threw them a quick smile. “How’s it looking?”
The healer swiped the sweat off her brow. “Poorly. The lung had collapsed and is filled with blood. We are doing what we can, but we are short on everything.”