Chapter 2 #2
I shuddered. His words had been barely audible, but they pulsed through me insistently.
I didn’t understand them, not entirely, but they wrapped around something old and familiar inside me.
For all the fear curling in my stomach, a strange certainty flickered beneath it.
A quiet knowing that, somehow, he meant me no harm.
Before I could form a single word, Dr. Marris appeared at my side, snatching the medical bag from my shoulder with a sharp tug.
“What is going on here, Maelis? We have several victims to tend to, and you stand around chatting!” His eyes slid down to where the strange man was holding me and his features hardened. “Good man, please unhand my nurse. If you are in need of medical assistance, come by my surgery tomorrow.”
To my surprise, the man let go of my arm and retreated into the crowd, never taking his eyes off me.
* * *
The Moirai was a rather large pub with a more than questionable reputation.
As I entered, it took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the dim light inside the tavern.
My eyes quickly scanned the room for possible threats and exits, a habit I had honed over the years.
For nearly a decade, pubs like these had been my home, if you could call it that.
And although I had never stepped foot inside this particular establishment before, a sense of familiarity and longing overcame me.
This was not the time for a trip down memory lane, though.
Dr. Marris hurried through the room into the back and gestured for me to follow him.
As I entered the back room, the smell of blood and old cigarette smoke overwhelmed me.
Several men sat hunched over on chairs or lay on the ground, some unconscious, some groaning in pain.
Dr. Marris took charge of the situation.
“While you were outside, taking your time getting here, I already triaged these men. The ones to the left are the ones who need immediate attention, I already placed two tourniquets, but I need you to check the wounds for me. Use the pond flower powder if needed.”
There was no pond flower powder, this was simply his way of telling me to use my heka. It was a risky thing to do in a room full of people, but I had no choice but to comply.
“Of course. Whatever you think is best,” I responded.
I’d grown used to moments like this: him barking orders, me obeying, the unspoken understanding that the miracles would be credited to his skill alone.
Still, the unfairness of it gnawed at me every time.
I was the one carrying the danger, the one who risked exposure with every breath of magic, yet it was his name that earned the praise and gratitude.
Part of me wanted to scream, to make them all see the truth of what I was doing, but another part knew that recognition would only bring ruin.
So I swallowed the bitterness and let the lie stand, as I always did.
The two men with stab wounds to their thigh and underarm were already unconscious due to the loss of blood, which made it easier for me to weave a spell.
I handed the medical bag to Dr. Marris and grabbed pen and paper from my pocket.
One breath. One act. One choice.
Do good. Stay clean. Hold steady.
Taking a deep breath, I focused on my heka and steeled myself for the inevitable rush of magic. Healing two wounds like this would take a lot from me, and I’d need to try and stay calm when the high of using my heka would hit me.
“Fates, I call upon your age-old wisdom.
Stop the bleeding in this man’s thigh
and leave no infection.
As I command, so it goes.”
I repeated the same charm for the second victim and stashed the parchments with the spells in my pocket, mentally setting a reminder to burn them as soon as I got back to the surgery.
The high of my healing hit me straight away.
My body tingled from head to toe, I tried to calm the excitement bubbling in my stomach.
A manic laugh threatened to escape me, but I quickly covered it by coughing loudly, drawing Dr. Marris’ attention to me.
He reacted quickly, recognizing the signs of the magical fallout from previous close calls. “Maelis, how about you clean this man’s wound over here so I can take a look at those tourniquets?”
I nodded and walked over to the less injured people on the left side of the room.
The urge to use my heka was almost overwhelming.
Sweat coated every inch of my body, my legs felt like they would give out any minute now.
That’s what it had always been like. My heka was calling to me, baiting me to get lost in its silent promise of oblivion and peace.
One breath. One act. One choice.
Do good. Stay clean. Hold steady.
It took me several tries to pick up the scissors and cut dressings and bandages into smaller strips, but with every small routine, my vision cleared a little bit, the familiarity of the task calming the swirling magic inside my veins.
That is until I heard a familiar voice behind me and the blood in my veins turned to ice. “Well, well, well… if it isnae our wee Nightpetal, up tae her old tricks again. Don’t be shy now. Come gie yer old pal a hug, aye?”