Chương 10: It’s Just a Flesh Wound

Aaron stumbled through the laundry room, haunted by his vision from the night before. He was present in person, but his mind was wandering and dissociated. Piled high with baskets of dirty linen, the room stank like a soiled bedpan. Aaron had cleared and washed all of the clothes before leaving the previous shift, but they always piled high again by the morning.

If he didn't know any better, Aaron would have said it was magic producing this many dirty sheets as it was almost unfathomable how much mess came out of the infirmary. A tiny bit of morning daylight crept in through a vent at the top of the room. It was barely big enough to provide any ventilation to the musky room. The morning rush of hasty footsteps and chatter clambered down through the ceiling. Aaron noticed Paige at the back of the room, already working. She waved cheerily.

"How is your cheek?"

"Much better, thank you. Whatever you put on that bandage worked fast." Paige walked over and looked closely at his left cheek.

"Wow, you can't even tell anything was there. But that wasn't the herbs. I bet you used your healing when you got home."

"Oh yeh, of course," Aaron chuckled nervously. Aaron picked up a basket of dirty linen and carried it over to the sink next to Paige. He was a few minutes late and felt bad that she had started working without him. Aaron did his best to cheer up and focus on the work. He still ached from the day before and had a lot to think about. Some hard work was exactly what he needed to distract himself. He pumped the handle on the sink a few times.

It was rusty and made an awful creaking sound before water started to spurt out of the faucet into the empty sink.

"Have you always lived here?" Paige asked.

"No, we actually came from a farm in the east. When the dragonstrikes started, we fled to the city." Paige's smile dropped.

"Oh. Sorry I asked. I remember you mentioning it. I lost my home as well."

"What was your home like?"

"I was so young when we left. Must have been fifteen years ago so I don't remember much, but my parents told me it was a beautiful village by a river in a mountain valley. I'd love to see it one day."

"That doesn't sound too different from my home, except we lived on our farm. We grew beets to sell at the market and kept a small amount of livestock for ourselves." Aaron pulled the pump a few more times, expelling more water into the sink. Paige was sitting at a table next to him, folding clean sheets into a basket. She was smiling and humming as she worked.

"Would you ever visit again?" She asked. Aaron frowned at the ridiculous question.

"It would be far too dangerous. The dragonfire has spread so much corruption on the land outside of the city walls. I'm not sure my brother could manage the trip either. He's not too well."

"It might be a long way, but I still want to go."

"Surely you know how bad it is out there?"

"I hear the same news as everyone else, but it doesn't change what I want. It's the only chance I have at finding my family again."

"You're brave. But surely you know it's not safe to travel out of the city. Especially not north."

"I know… I know. It's just horrible not knowing what happened to them since they left the city. It's been a couple of years now and I miss them. I dream of them back in their village safe from harm and far away from the Desolated Lands." Aaron thought back to that time, when the dragon had come. The skies had turned black with smoke and corruption. He and his brother had woken to the barn on fire, and in the distance, the rest of the village was burning too.

"I hope they made it. Maybe there's somewhere safe out there afterall." There was a moment of silence between them as Aaron pushed a sheet into the sink of water and flapped it up and down a few times, submerging it in the soapy solution. The stains vanished seemingly into thin air as the magically infused cleaner seeped into the fabric. Hours passed as the pair chatted away. The dimly lit basement room filled up with new dirty linen just about as fast as they could clean it.

Normally hours would have felt like days, but the company made it go quick. Paige had a way with making him feel comfortable and forget about his problems for a few hours. Ring, ring, ring. A loud bell bellowed from the ward above. It made Aaron jump. It wasn't very often that the emergency alarms went off like this. Something serious must have happened. The basement stairs creaked and dust flew off below as Aaron ran up towards the ward.

He was supposed to be on laundry duty, but he wasn't going to pass up an opportunity to help in an emergency. Aaron was the last Spirit Healer to arrive. Master Addison and five lower ranked healers stood in a circle around a bed. It was too packed for Aaron to see what was going on. They were dressed in white tunics, much cleaner than Aaron's, with smart trousers and polished black shoes. The chaotic energy in the room was palpable as staff clambered around gathering up supplies and equipment.

One of the assistants scrambled over and placed an armful of supplies on a small unit text to the bed. Bandages, towels, needles and thread, herbs and water were arranged there neatly. A young boy, perhaps twelve years old, was standing in the corner of the room, barely tall enough to reach the rope above his head. He was practically jumping up and down yanking on the rope to ring a large brass bell. The ringing was so loud, it hurt to stand this close.

Master Addison put his hand up in the air to signal the boy to stop. The noise was replaced by loud discussions between the staff. Aaron approached the healers. As he got closer, he could see between the shoulders of two of the other apprentices. There was a man laying on the bed, eyes clenched in agony. He has short black hair, with hints of gray peeking through. His face was aged, but he had smooth well kept skin, as if he'd never had to work out in the sun. This was a common appearance amongst nobility.

There was blood pooling on the bed beneath the man. His knee was tightly wrapped in a blood-stained bandage which clearly looked like it needed replacing. It was frustrating when healers stood around thinking they were too good to replace a bandage. There were plenty of them standing around doing nothing. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Aaron stepped forward to join the other apprentices, barging his way between two of the others.

Master Addison reached out his arm and gently pressed against Aaron's chest.

"Not this one." It would have been unprofessional to show any frustration or argue back with a more senior healer in an emergency situation, so Aaron bit his tongue and stepped away. Even though his class had evolved, he could still help with the bandages. No one else was rushing to do it. The team linked hands around the man. The master gestured to the room for quiet by clapping his hands twice firmly. A light hum resonated around the room. A blue fizzing light rose up from Master Addison's hands.

The other healers joined him in the ritual, channeling blue particles into the centre. All of the beams joined up above the patient to form a massive glowing sphere. A wave of envy went through Aaron. He rarely had the chance to take part in a group healing ritual like this. The novices weren't considered skilled enough to take part in these rituals. It was one of the things he was looking forward to the most as a journeyman. Blue particles sprinkled down over the man.

They must have figured out the best way to balance his spirit. This all seemed trivial now he knew his Necromancy could be trained to manipulate flesh and bone. He could probably fix a simple injury now, even without any training. But still, he respected spirit healing and found these rituals fascinating to watch.

"AAAAGH!" The man let out a cry of agony. Aaron hated the painful part of healing. It looked excruciating to have your spirit twisted back into balance. They say it was like having your head crushed slowly in a blacksmith's clamp whilst wasps buzzed around inside your head. But it was usually worth it in the end. For many people, it saved their lives. Raising their heads, the group bathed in the blue hue of the man's spirit above them. Flickering from each person's chest, a gentle glow appeared.

Each one reached up to a different side of the blue orb. They must have needed to use more mana to finish the ritual. It must have been a pretty bad injury, Aaron thought. Looking around the room, Aaron wasn't the only one fascinated. Every assistant, novice, porter and clerk was staring at the healers. The dance concluded after a few minutes and the blue sphere dissipated. A few of the healers were panting and leaning onto the bed for support.

Master Addison threw a glare at the room, which meant "get back to work." Aaron didn't hang around to argue. He didn't want to draw any more attention from the master.

Knock knock knock. It was early evening, the garish white magical lighting in the halls of the hospital had taken over from the sunlight filtering in through the windows.

"Enter!" Master Addison commanded from within his study. The familiar scent of books filled Aaron's nose as he entered. The room was well lit by torches on the walls, which were probably arranged for him by some poor assistant an hour or two ago. Aaron didn't envy anyone who ran around after that man for a living.

"What can I do for you, Aaron?" The old man asked politely. Aaron mustered up his confidence. The man had been difficult with him recently, so he wasn't too hopeful that he'd get what he wanted. And he had been asking cold towards him since he found out about his Necromancy.

"Are we attending the festival this year? I would like to join you and help set up and demonstrate, please."

"Aaron, you are a Gifted. I have staff to set up and pack away." The master glanced up at Aaron briefly before returning to his book.

"But you are not a Healer anymore, are you?" Aaron held his ground.

"Respectfully, sir, it would be a great opportunity for me to learn about other kinds of magic." Master Addison tutted and slammed his book shut.

"Why? So you can learn more about Necromancy? I am warning you again. This is not the kind of magic you want to toy with!"

"Why is there no information about Necromancy in the Sacred Library? Where are all of the other Necromancers?" Master Addison sighed, "Look Aaron. I barely know anything about Necromancy, only the basics. I've only met one or two and they're all dead or in hiding." The old man stood up, and walked into a better lit part of the room. He stood uncomfortably close to Aaron and spoke just louder than a whisper.

"I had a good friend as an apprentice, but her powers were nothing like anything we had ever seen. One day, she tried to heal the heart of a man who had recently died of consumption. She had just enough power to animate his body, but could not hold onto the soul. The abomination was barely a man anymore. It writhed in agony and tried to lash out at her in pain." Aaron's eyes widened. Maybe he could press Addison for a way to help Cuthbert.

"How did she repair his soul?" The Master blinked and pursed his lips shut until Aaron stopped talking.

"As I was saying before you so kindly interrupted. She had to stab into its heart to end its suffering. The next day, she was found dead, hung by a rope in her home. Between you and me, I don't think she killed herself. I looked at the body and she was dead long before she was hung, but my master at the time overruled me. Something malicious was going on." Aaron took a sharp inhale.

"But I want to heal the living. My abilities let me manipulate flesh and bone. I could do a lot of good for horse riding injuries. Everyone would just think I'm a Spirit Healer. What reason do they have to think otherwise?" The old man looked at Aaron with a soul piercing glare.

"I will give you a chance to keep your job. You can still help with Spirit Healing without magic. You know a lot already and you can help diagnose and prepare patients. You still have your Sight don't you?"

"Yes, but it's evolved. I should still be able to do that."

"Fine, but if you do not heed my warnings, you will no longer be welcome in my infirmary." Aaron bit back his anger. How can he judge my entire identity based on one experience? And whoever killed that girl is long gone. It must have been half a century ago.

"Thank you, sir." Aaron excused himself and left the room. Dusk had descended over the city. The halls were quiet enough for the creaking of insects outside to be heard whispering through the walls. Master Addison's words played over and over through Aaron's mind. His book said Necromancer, but he still felt like a Spirit Healer. His new magic was more than suitable for wounds of the flesh. His power wasn't inherently evil, or dark, or a threat to anything.

He was leagues away from raising armies of the dead like the stories. Aaron paced up and down the halls of the infirmary. The patients were all asleep. A symphony of snoring rumbled around the rooms. He was suddenly alerted to the faint sound of sobbing in the distance. It was soft and stifled, as if trying not to draw any attention. Aaron walked down the long corridor. Every few paces was an open door leading into a small room with a patient inside. He kept walking, following the sound of sobbing.

Turning to the right, the man from this morning lay on a small bed at the back of the room, his feet hanging off the end of the comically small bed. A basic steel sink was in the opposite corner and an old, dust set of wooden draws sat in the final corner of the room, piled up with poorly folded towels and sheets. The man was laying down staring at the ceiling, tears running down the sides of his face and dripping onto the pillow below.

Aaron spoke quietly, conscious not to wake up the other patients, "Are you ok, sir, is there anything I can do for you?" The man lifted his head up. His eyes were bloodshot and a sting of snot was hanging from his nose.

"I don't think anyone can help me," the man said as he wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

"What's your name?" Aaron asked kindly.

"It's Thomas," he replied.

"Nice to meet you Thomas, I'm Healer Barrows. I can't help if you don't speak to me." The man shuffled back and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He rested his elbows on his knees and cradled his face in his hands.

"They told me I will be fine, but I will lose my foot." The man sniffed deeply, clearing the snot pooling at the end of his nose.

"If I can't walk, I can't work. I don't know what I'm going to do. My children rely on me." The man's sobbing got louder and tears dripped down his arms making a trail of water from his wrist down to his elbow. Master Addison wouldn't want him involved, but if he could help this man, it was his duty. Perhaps it would prove to Addison that it was possible to do real good with his power. This man didn't need a Spirit Healer anymore, he needed someone who could repair the internal damage in his foot fast.

That he could do.