Chương 7: The Procession

"Healer Barrows? Are you okay?" Paige said. Her cold hand pressed against Aaron's shoulder, and it lodged him back in reality. He was on his knees like a fool, the coin in hand. It was embarrassing for a healer of his station to be found on all fours. He dusted himself and got up.

"I'm good, thanks. I get visions sometimes and they can be a bit disorientating." He had never had an experience like that before. Paige raised an eyebrow at him.

"Is that normal for a Spirit Healer?" The world was still spinning around Aaron and there was a dull ache behind his eyes. It took a frustrating amount of focus to listen to Paige and took him a few moments to process her words. He shook his head.

"No, I mean yes." Aaron steadied himself on the wall.

"Totally normal. It happens all the time." The girl shrugged.

"Oh okay, so you're fine? It's just you look a bit shaken up, that's all."

"No need for that. I'm a little tired. I'll be fine in a moment. I just need to catch my breath." Paige shuddered as if suddenly realising something and got back to work folding some clothes.

"Sorry if I intruded, Healer Barrows."

"No, it's okay. I appreciate your concern. It's kind of you. And please just call me Aaron. You don't need to be so formal."

"Okay. Sorry, A.. Aaron." His name sounded unnatural as it came out of her lips, as if it was forbidden. Aaron forced out a smile. He felt completely taken aback by the strange vision and didn't want to share the details with Paige in case it was something to do with his Necromancy. He suspected the experience was something to do with his recently evolved True Sight. Or perhaps there was something unique about the coin or the man who dropped it.

But either way, he didn't want Paige to think she'd done anything wrong. He fiddled with the coin in his pocket. He wanted to keep it to study it. However, if he was caught, he could be kicked out of the infirmary as a thief. It was too tempting to give up. The noble would probably never notice a single missing coin. And he had so much to learn about his new powers. Thud! A can of paint crashed to the floor in front of Aaron's feet. He jumped back before it could get on his shoes. They were his only pair for work.

Paige's face lit up.

"A procession!" Aaron set aside the laundry and slung his bag over his shoulder. He could never be too safe with his tome. They rushed upstairs to investigate. He pushed through a crowd of healers in the doorway and stepped outside. Paige followed close behind. The morning's rain left a cool musky scent which brushed past Aaron's face with a light breeze. It was a welcome change from the smells of the laundry room.

He went up on his toes and lifted his neck as high as it would go to try and get a look, but the street was too full of people. The rhythmic marching continued. A puddle beneath Aaron's feet rippled with each beat.

"Come here!" Paige yelled. She was perching on a decorative stone outcrop from the side of the infirmary. Aaron climbed up next to her. He took his bag off and held it in front of him so he could stand on the stone and put his back against the wall. They could see the procession in the streets outside the ward. The crowd extended up the entire road. It parted to make way for a procession of nine troops, each fully geared up in black armour.

"The Black Guardsmen," he muttered.

"Huh?" Paige said. It was barely loud enough to hear each other, let alone a mumble.

"Those are the Black Guardsmen. I've only seen them a handful of times before."

"Me too. I wonder what they've been doing in the Desolated Lands."

"Probably fighting corrupted beasts. I heard rumours that they have been on a campaign further north." Paige grimaced. The north was where the corruption originated from and where the beasts were supposed to be larger and more dangerous. One of the guards blew a brass horn, sending a loud, deep sound through the streets. It cut through all the noise of the crowd and made it impossible to hear anyone speak. Aaron and Paige watched as the Black Guardsmen walked by. Healers and patients alike were outside, watching.

Crowds cheered. Some threw flowers, while others watched with nervous excitement. Aaron knew it well. As a child, who didn't want to join their ranks? The black guardsmen were mysterious elite magic users; leaders of the king's army. They trained to forge powerful artefacts, infused with their souls and bound to them. The blackness of the armour came from deep volcanic obsidian, one of the hardest materials known to man.

Beautifully decorated with silver trim and patterns, each unique to the knight telling a story earned in battle. The nine knights walked in perfect formation, three by three, marching in perfect time. The centre knight held a flag high overhead, bearing the king's crest—a bronze hawk. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Leading the procession, a broad shouldered figure wore the same armour with a slim helmet shrouding his face.

He looked familiar to Aaron, but he couldn't place him. Paige almost jumped up in the air smiling.

"That's Brastovir, the dragonslayer!"

"So it is! I've only heard about him in the legends."

"He's got Wyrmfang!" The behemoth of a man held a giant foehammer in one arm, his gauntlets firmly locked around its gold handle; the armor plates on the back of his hand were like scales on a lizard's back. A huge tooth the size of his head sat firmly affixed to the top of the hammer, melded to the weapon's shaft. The slaying of the dragon was one of Tim's favourite stories to tell. Aaron couldn't wait to tell him he'd seen Brastovir and Wyrmfang in person.

"I still can't believe a man managed to kill a dragon," Paige said.

"I heard it was a thousand times bigger than a person!" Aaron's excitement slipped and he frowned.

"It was even bigger."

"You've seen it?" Paige asked. Aaron couldn't keep up his smile, but he tried his best not to ruin the mood.

"Yes. That beast attacked my farm and scorched a lot of the ground around my village." Paige put her hand on Aaron's shoulder and smiled softly.

"I know how you feel. We all lost someone in the dragonstrikes. That's why I like to celebrate our heroes." He forced out a smile from one corner of his mouth.

"Yeh I suppose it's important. But that still doesn't change how we've been stuck in this city for ten years."

"I know. Things will get better eventually. People are working to make sure of it. Just like the Black Guardsmen." Aaron smiled for real this time. There was a certainty to her voice.

"Look, they're leaving." Aaron watched eagerly as the procession passed up the road. Thinking about the dragon brought up some bad memories, but he was able to find joy in celebrating the returning guards. The parted crowd filtered in behind them to get a closer look. The Black Guardsmen were so well respected that everyone kept a pace or two away and allowed them to pass.

He wondered what exactly they were doing to secure the safety of the city and if it was really true that they were venturing north, closer to the dragon's resting place. The wall around the city was erected after the dragon was killed to keep out all the dragonfire corrupted monstrosities. The city's forces were occasionally dispatched to investigate disturbances beyond it, but it was all kept a bit secret. The most he'd heard were rumours. The crowd buzzed with excitement.

Hundreds of people were now in the street trying to catch a final glance. It was going to be a struggle to push back past to get inside the infirmary. A figure wearing a black cloak stepped out in front of Aaron, his hood down, revealing dark, well-groomed hair, combed backwards stylishly. His face was young, yet worn and tired, with a small crescent-shaped scar in the centre of his hairless chin. He skulked out in front of Aaron and snatched his bag out of his hands, and with it, his tome.

"HEY!" Aaron shouted. But the thief was already on the run. Without hesitation, Aaron bolted after him.

"Aaron! Wait!" Paige shouted behind him, but he didn't turn. He couldn't. He needed this. The thief was larger than Aaron and easily able to push his way through the crowd, but at least it made him easy to spot. Aaron had to use his smaller size to his advantage and slipped through smaller gaps between people. The man slipped further and further away into the crowd. Aaron's heart raced. Part of him thought this was stupid and risky—what was he even going to do if he caught up?

But a bigger part of him was urging him to move. Urging him to do something. He couldn't suffer another loss. So much had gone wrong recently—the ritual to save Tim, his class change, even the crow. He had no money left to replace the tome, and the ritual to bind a new one was as expensive as it was painful. Not to mention that someone might identify him as a necromancer. He had spent everything he had on the de-cursing ritual.

If he lost the tome now, he could be set back months, if not more, and every day counted when it came to finding a cure for Tim. Instinct took over and Aaron ran after the man. He needed to get his tome back! Turning down a side street, he barged between two food stalls and into the darkness of a narrow alley. With the crowd now behind him, and Paige still back by the hospital, Aaron was alone. The thief stopped. They were around the back of a few small timber houses, boxes and rubbish piled up.

There was barely enough room for two people to stand abreast. Even the sun didn't reach him here. Aaron knew he should be frightened. He was a big man, perhaps a few years older than Aaron, and with a crooked nose and scarred face that spoke of many fights. Despite that, he felt no urge to back down. Perhaps it was rage and desperation clouding his rational judgement.

"Take the loss," the man said.

"Better to lose a bag than to get a beating with it."

"I need that back," Aaron said, doing his best to sound confident.

"It's not worth it, kid." Aaron took a step forward, heart racing. His hands balled into fists.

"Give it back!" The thief shrugged and casually dropped the bag to the floor.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." The man rushed him. So fast and sudden that Aaron didn't even react before a punch flew for his face. It was so fast, Aaron couldn't even move to dodge. His body tensed. He braced himself. The punch connected. Aaron yelled in pain and staggered sideways, head spinning, but he managed to keep his balance. He put a hand on his throbbing cheek and pulled it away to see specs of blood. The thief scowled at Aaron and raised his clenched fists.

"Last chance!" Aaron breathed deeply, anger boiling. Without thinking, he lunged at the man, right hand swinging. The man leaned his head back just enough that Aaron's fist missed him, causing Aaron to stumble.

"Suit yourself," the thief said. This time, he put his body weight into his punch. Aaron was off balance. He couldn't dodge, let alone raise an arm to block. Instinctively, Aaron used his Manipulate ability. A fierce blizzard swelled in Aaron's chest as his mana activated. It shot through his body like lightning and he directed it to his face as he braced for the punch. He could feel his spirit reaching through to the surface of his skin on his cheek.

His spirit wrapped and warped around his face forming layer after layer, alternating direction and crisscrossing to form a firm lattice. The mesh tightened over his face, pulling his skin onto the bone, hardening like ice. It all happened in a fraction of a second. Aaron was shocked that he could control his mana like that; he'd never experienced his mana flowing like this as a healer. It was always slower and more deliberate. And it certainly never felt cold. Crack! The punch connected.