Reya led us inside as if this death-stench was an everyday occurrence. I followed after her and was assailed by a hurricane of pickled dried leaves, wrapped around an older, flaxen-haired woman begging me to save her husband.
While Reya set to calming the panicked thing I cast a look back at Gery and Meg. The visibly paling Meg gulped and set her jaw before stepping inside as well. I gave her my best worried frown, raised a questioning eyebrow at her, and tilted my head. It always paid to show concern for those that took my side.
The redhead gave me a faint smile and a nod. I nodded back and turned my attention to where the putrid odor was coming from, the only other room in this little home. Focusing my ears I could hear faint, uneven, labored breathing. And an erratic heartbeat. I sniffed, digging beyond the rancid scent of decaying meat. The dying man smelled greasy and warty, a completely unappealing taste.
I clenched my jaw at that last thought, realizing that I was judging the man as if he were a meal instead of a patient. It didn’t change the severity of his condition though. I shot a quick glance at Reya and who I assumed to be Uncle Tare’s wife.
They really want me to save this man?
So don’t think I can help them with this.
My dad had taken me through close to everything from the Inquisitions basic field medicine guide. At times like these, I wished I had paid more attention. My unique condition meant I rarely had a need for most of the knowledge. What information had stuck, combined with a healthy dose of extrapolation and improvisation got me far, but I doubted it would be enough for this. Even without having gotten a look at the man I knew it would take some serious healing magic to get him through this. More than I was capable of.
Reya was just about done assuring the wife that I was indeed here to look after her husband, so I pushed past them and into the bedroom. The man on the bed looked to be in just as pitiable a shape as he smelled. He was beyond pale, yet with a tinge of yellow coloring his complexion. Sweat dripped from his brow and clustered in his unkempt beard.
Pulling away the blankets covering him I surveyed his wounds. His left leg was badly mangled, and several other cuts, scrapes, and bites riddled the rest of his arms and legs. All of the major wounds were bandaged, preventing me from seeing much more. A quick sniff underneath one of those bandages told me some half-decent attempt had been made at treating the wounds.
Reya barged in before I could do anything more. She gave me a vicious glare, just as I had expected she would. The blonde fury did not trust me alone with this man. I licked my lips in front of her just to spite her.
She really thinks I’m going to eat this man?
Nothing appetizing left in him.
The wife came in right after Reya, soon followed by Meg. The redhead cast an uncomfortable glance around the room, then dragged the wife back out. “Come on, Suri. Let’s get the two of them some more light.”
I hadn’t asked for any light. The room was dark though. I didn’t need it, but they probably did. Much more important was that Meg had taken the man’s wife away. Having a serious conversation about a patient with distraught family members hovering about was not fun.
Not wanting to waste this opportunity I addressed Reya. “You tended to him?”
She nodded and gave me a sad half-hum of assent. “We don’t really have anyone capable of treating wounds like this.” She sighed. “I did the best I could.”
“Probably better than I could have done without magic,” I assured her.
On the bed, the man’s eyelids fluttered, probably stirred awake by our presence. Reya knelt next to him and tried to get him coherent. While she did so I began a more serious cataloging of his wounds. “Left leg gored down to the bone. Inflammation here, here, and here. Rot eating his foot,” I summed up my diagnosis for Reya, then led with a question. “What did you try? Besides moss and onions?”
Without warning her heart rate spiked.
Fear?
Why? What’s wrong with the onions?
“We… pooled some money… sent Nebby to the city for a doctor,” she admitted haltingly, pausing between words as if deep in thought. Her eyes darted across the room.
Searching for a way out?
Hoping I won’t kill her for this?
It wasn’t the onions that were the problem. Asking about them had merely made her think about all the steps they had taken. All of the logical steps everyone took after a monster attack. Some of which were very bad for me. Something this woman had just realized. Struggling to keep the surprise out of my voice I pressed for more answers. “Only a doctor? Or also a hunter?”
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!
Why did I even ask that?
Reya’s gaze snapped back to me, studying my face. So they had sent for a hunter as well. Why did I not consider they would send for both a doctor and a hunter before now. Of course, they would.
When did I get this stupid?
Normally meeting other hunters wasn’t an issue, simply because no one knew what I was. Here the situation was entirely different. Onar, Limn, maybe even this Reya woman, someone would accuse me. As soon as the V-word was uttered in front of a hunter my life would be forfeit. It would be on me to prove I wasn’t. I couldn’t. The simplest of Tonaltus test would unmask me.
“Right. This is beyond my capabilities. You should wait for the doctor.” I fixed Reya with a stare and got up. The time I had to get myself away from the hunters and the Inquisition had just been cut short by a dramatic amount.
“Vale… please wait?” Meg had returned, had heard my refusal, and was blocking the door and giving me pleading looks. “It’ll be days till the doctor gets here. What if he doesn’t have that long.”
I didn’t want to shove her aside. I didn’t even think I could, not without revealing how freakishly strong I was at night. Ridiculously short as she was, Meg was still more than a head taller than me. There was Uncle Tare’s wife as well, standing at their door, candles in hand, looking utterly broken at my refusal to help.
The problem was, Meg was right. Anyone could see that he wouldn’t last for more than another day or so. He might not even live to see the morning. Not that I particularly cared what happened to the man. I had only promised to look, nothing more.
They have to understand.
I only promised to take a look.
Yet what got me was the pained look Meg gave me. It reminded me of Shae stamping her foot, balling her little fists, and shouting “You’re leaving again!”. Onar’s kid had been right. I had a habit of running away from anything even remotely tough. Ashamed of myself I looked away from her and to the ground.
“I am going to need clean water, heated,” I looked up, not at Meg but at Reya, and began rattling off a list. “Fresh linen, bandages, honey, soap, something to cauterize a wound…”
I had made a split-second decision. I was certain I was going to regret it.
Vale is feeling she is going to regret a lot of things. Hope she is proven wrong. Uncle Tare will better be grateful.
Research is hard. Though if you really play hard with the world making it up is an option though world consistency will be harder.
That's nice tidbit about hygiene and culture. I like the note but don't feel obligated to do it. it's more of a nice addition.
Thank you for the story!