Chapter 4: Portius

 Givontair: 

We make it in Portius, but are not let in. There is a gray flag on the gates of the town. A flag that means only one thing. There is a sickness taking lives behind those walls. I set Erik down, and let him take a hold of my hand so that he won't topple over. 

"Do you think that mom and the rest might be here?" Erik is hopeful, and I don't want to crush his hopes. 

"The deal said that they were heading towards Corum, but they might have made a stop in here. At any rate, we must help the people in here," I say. The two of us go to the side door and I knock on the wood. 

"No one is allowed in Portius," a gruff voice calls out to us. 

"I am a healer, sir. Surely, you do have a need of my kind?" I ask. The small window in the door opens, and I see a pair of brown eyes peering at me. 

"You don't look like a healer," the guard says, and then slams the window shut. 

"Oh, come on! Givontair is a top-notch healer. He healed my burn," Erik protests. The window opens again. 

"Can I see?" The guard asks. Erik looks at me for confirmation. 

"You are to not undo your bandages. Your wound can't be allowed to get dirty," I say sternly. Then, I take off my backpack, and rummage in my horde bottomless back. "We will pay the visitor's tax, sir." 

"What visitor's tax?" The guard asks. Still, when I take out a sapphire as big as an eye from my bag, his eyes begin to shine with greed. I don't like the fact that I have to part with my treasure. Most dragons can't do so. It pains them to be separated from even a single copper coin. But I am a dragon of discipline, if of nothing else. 

"You will find your deaths in here," even though the guard says that, he still reaches out for the gem. I can feel Erik staring at me with disbelief. I smile down on the boy, and wink at him. That doesn't serve to make him any less confused. Still, he doesn't argue. Soon, the side door is open, and we enter the town. 

The streets are empty, there are incense burners at every corner. I take Erik's hand, and then head in the direction of where I remember the inn was. When we reach it, we see that the door is boarded. 

"Who let you in?" I hear a weak voice from the direction of the dumpsters. There is a young man slumped on the ground, with bloodstains around his mouth. "Why would you lead a child in here? Don't you know we are doomed to die?"

"I can heal you, as soon as I find out from what you are sick," I say. The man shakes his head. 

"You will die, just like the other healers," he says. I move closer to him. Blood around the mouth could be many things. Bronchitis, pneumonia, tonsillitis and tuberculosis come to mind. I will need to see the condition of his lungs. 

"There are no surviving healers in town?" I ask. The man shakes his head. 

"They either died, or ran. Probably spreading whatever this is," he touches a bloodstain with a finger, and closes his eyes. 

"Do you feel a swelling in your neck? Do you have chest pains?" I ask, as I position myself to give the man a mana scan.  

"I do. I have also been coughing for the past two weeks. Can't even eat, anymore," I nod, and then do the scan. The lungs are damaged. Ah, so it is tuberculosis. 

"The healers should have remained in here," I say, my temper ready to snap. Just what were they thinking? Even if the case for them was latent tuberculosis, they'd still be spreading the sickness where they go. "I have some pills that will help you. But you will have to take them every day for twelve weeks." 

"I can't pay you. I already gave all my money for hedge witch cures," the man says. I sigh. 

"Why do you all think that a healer's only motivation for healing is money? Don't fall asleep now. You will need to take the pill," I pull out a water bottle, and a glass bottle with antibiotics. Handing them to the man, I watch as he drinks a pill. "Keep the bottle." 

I will need to wash it with warm water. Maybe even let it boil in the water, so that the bacteria that the man left on the throat of the bottle can die. There is one problem, however. The bottle with the pills is my only one, and we are on the wrong side of the country. Damian, the Naga alchemist that makes the pills, will have to be contacted. 

"Where is the mayor?" I ask the man. 

"Hiding in his home. I really want to give him a piece of my mind. If he didn't let the healers leave, we would have been better off," I nod. The healers would have at least lessened the pain. Not that they would have done much about the sickness. Antibiotics are heavily regulated. I shouldn't even have any, but Damian supplies me with an entire bag every month. Something, for which I pay him handsomely.

Erik looks between us, and then at the bottle with pills which the man is holding. 

"What is your name? I am Erik Firg," Erik makes to offer his hand, but I pull him away from the man. 

"Nathaniel Valk," the sick man says, and then turns to me. "And what is the name of my savior?" 

"Givontair," I say. He hums. 

"I think I have heard the name before. Are you Givontair the White?" I pale at that. I knew that I needed to change my name. Yet, my name is something that helps define me. A part of me, really. I couldn't just give it up. 

"Let it stay between us. How do you know about me?" I ask. The man pulls out a badge from his breast pocket. A dragon slayer badge.  

"I was on your trail, until I got sick. What a mess, eh?" Despite the pain he must be in, he gives me a sly smile. I narrow my eyes at him. 

"You will find that I am not an easy prey," I say. He shrugs. 

"We can work something out. As long as you can claim that you have been named after the dragon, and are not a dragon. I do owe you," with those words, he closes his eyes.

 I don't feel well, leaving him in the alleyway. So, I place the water bottle and the bottle with the pills in a sterile bag, and then pick him up. I will bust open the doors to the inn, if I have to. Hopefully, my coin will pave the way better.