“Thank the light,” the Felidan said with effort, “We could use a good doctor right now.”

  “Agreed,” Leonidas said softly, beginning to regain his bearings as the initial shock vanished, his mind began processing, prioritizing, establishing a hierarchy of who to treat first with the old military triage he had used more times than he could recall. The man on the bed requires immediate attention, the doctor thought, the unconscious woman is next, the academic bloke and the Felidan come next and finally, the archer and Jeanne, lest their injuries proved worse than they appeared.

  All this passed before Leonidas had lifted the strap of his satchel over his head to set it down and pull out his equipment. As he took out bandages and other supplies, Leonidas turned to the others. “I hate to be rude, but I think we’ll hold off on introductions,” he said candidly. “Is this the only room you have, Jeanne?”

  Jeanne shook her head slowly saying haggardly, “We have a couple more across the hall.”

  “Good, perfect” Leonidas said, “let’s get the unconscious woman and the scholar in one room and everyone else rest in the third.” He then pointed to the man on the bed, “I’ll look at him now.”

  “Cid and I would like to stay with him, if possible,” Jeanne replied, nudging her head to the Felidan.

  “It might be a little bloody,” Leonidas said.

  “We’re sell-swords, doctor. We’ve traveled this road many times before,” Cid said frankly.

  “Fair enough,” Leonidas acquiesced. “Then let’s get started, shall we?” said Leonidas.

  “I’m surprised he hasn’t asked what happened,” said the academic weakly, pressing a wet towel on his forehead with his free hand as he struggled to get to his feet, even with Cid helping.

  “When you’ve been doing this long enough, you start figuring things out pretty quick,” said Leonidas bluntly, helping the academic to his feet. Jeanne took the man and escorted him to one of the other rooms as Cid helped the archer do the same. Leonidas then turned his attention to the man in the bed. “All right then, time to see what’s going on inside you.”

  Leonidas tossed back the flap of his satchel, reaching in and pulling out a palm-sized rock emitting a red glow from within. Leonidas as he made a circular gesture with his hand, in several quick rotations, releasing the rock which continued its movement on its own now, moving faster than before. Looking through the disc formed over the man, the doctor could see a menagerie of dreadful injuries causing him to shudder at first sight. “Well, you don’t see that every day,” he said to himself.

  “Is it bad?” the man in the bed asked him.

  “Not ideal, I won’t lie,” Leonidas replied.

  “Within the gates, all men must go, and stand silent not knowing when and where he’ll be laid lo,” the man said stoically.

  Leonidas stopped and turned to the man, lifting an eyebrow up. “We’ll go with that. I don’t suppose you have a name I can use?”

  The man said weakly, “Kveldulf Einarsen.”

  “Good to meet you, Kveldulf,” said. Looking over Kveldulf’s torso Leonidas used his hands to widen the circle, then held his left hand over the disc, and with subtle movements of his fingers, he could see past the armor and skin, viewing the internal organs with crystal clarity. “What exactly happened?” the doctor asked.

  “I was caught in a storm of arrows and steel,” Kveldulf replied.

  Leonidas stared at Kveldulf with a narrow gaze and started tapping his foot loudly. “Do you want me to help or not?”

  “Yes,” Kveldulf said in a strained voice, none too pleased with the question.

  “Because I’m not in the mood for patients waxing on poetically. And I know for a fact that crossbolts are not known for adhering to the rules and regulations of guests’ rights. So, give me a straight answer, or you can try to impress your new friends with your wordplay,” Leonidas said curtly.

  Kveldulf looked at Jeanne and Cid.

  “I’m not telling him how to do his job,” said Cid shaking his head while rubbing the right temple with his fingers.

  “Don’t look at me,” said Jeanne, shrugging. “I summoned him.”

  Kveldulf looked back to the doctor. Pressing his lips tightly before he finally responded, “I got hit with some crossbolts, then was tossed around by a troll at least once, and honestly I don’t remember much after that.”

  “Well, that connects a few more dots,” Leonidas said, nodding. The doctor looked through the disc once more and moved it around Kveldulf to gauge a better look at the injuries. “Gods, this is something else.”

  “What is it?” Cid asked.

  “He has five broken ribs, his liver looks like it lost a few tavern fights, what with all the bruising, then there’s internal bleeding in a few spots, particularly with his kidneys, and I think he’s got one collapsed lung, and this isn’t including the crossbolts in him,” Leonidas replied bluntly.

  “Is he going to make it?” Jeanne followed.

  Leonidas shook his head. “I don’t know. Usually, a person this injured doesn’t live long to make it off the field, let alone into a bed.”

  “He is a ulfhethinn, if that’s worth anything,” said Cid.

  “A berserker?” retorted Leonidas, with a look of incredulity. “Now that explains a lot more then. Hopefully his body can heal some of the internal stuff on its own once I get the bolts out.” Moving the disc around for a better view of the crossbolts’ impact, Leonidas saw two particular arrowheads within Kveldulf’s torso giving him pause. He pressed his right first finger against his lips as he nodded thoughtfully, turning to Jeanne and Cid. “I’ve got some good news and some bad news.”

  “What’s the good news?” Cid asked.

  “By the grace of the gods, none of the arrows hit anything vital. So, with time and lots of rest, he should heal up. And I can definitely push most of the bolts through without issue.”

  “And the bad news?” Jeanne asked.

  “Two are firmly lodged in a rib bone each. It is possible to remove, but it will require surgery.”

  “Surgery?” Cid asked, his eyes widening.

  Leonidas nodded. “Obviously, there’s always a risk of this turning ill, but if he survived long enough to make it this far, I think he should have a strong chance to make it through this and a full recovery, if I can remove the bolts.”

  Cid and Jeanne looked at each other, Cid pressing his lips together, his nose wrinkling briefly before taking a short breath and saying, “Do it.”

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  “All right, I’ll need some time to prep, and maybe a couple of people to hold him, but I can get started shortly.” He began pulling out items from his satchel before he stopped. “I’m sorry, I will need a plate and bowl from the kitchen downstairs, please.”

  Cid and Jeanne left the room as Leonidas began grabbing a mortar and pestle from his satchel, placing it on the nightstand next to Kveldulf’s bed.

  “So, quick question,” he asked Kveldulf, “You’re not a lycan, by any chance, are you?”

  “No?” Kveldulf responded, confused.

  “Good. I’m asking because I have a concoction that performs miracles with the pain, but if you’re a lycan, it will kill you.”

  “Oh, no no,” Kveldulf replied, shaking his head adamantly.

  “Good,” said Leonidas, placing ingredients into the mortar. “Because you are going to need it for this one.”

  Cid and Jeanne returned as Leonidas gave Kveldulf the concoction. Cid had with him an empty plate and bowl, while Jeanne was carrying two large plates covered in honey with wraps of bandages soaking.

  “Is that the dog killer?” Jeanne asked.

  “Tis’ indeed, tis’ indeed,” Leonidas replied, pulling out his tools of the trade and examining them carefully. He jerked his head back with a surprised look as he saw the plates. “You remembered,” he said softly.

  “You hammered it in enough times in the past,” she replied with a satisfactory smile.

  “True enough,” Leonidas said, chuckling for a moment, before his attention returned to the task at hand. “First, let’s remove his armor, then we’ll move to the two bolts in his ribs, and after that is when the fun can begin.”

  “Should we hold his arms and legs down?” Cid asked.

  The doctor shook his head. “No, not yet, usually if there’s no pain, there’s no flailing. No offense,” Leonidas said, turning to Kveldulf.

  The warrior chuckled in a childish manner.

  “I think the stuff is doing its job just fine,” the doctor said assuredly.

  “How are you going to get the bolts out?” Jeanne asked. “Shouldn’t you push them through?”

  “For most arrow heads, yes, since the flange would start taking flesh and everything else with it. But the beauty of bodkins, when you’re a doctor, is you can pull them out and they’ll merely nudge all of it out of the way,” Leonidas answered.

  “Will the head come off?” Cid asked.

  The doctor titled his head to Kveldulf. “Depends on the arrowhead, since most aren’t attached with adhesive. Usually, a fletcher will use a tang, a hafting, or a compression socket to fit the heads on. And with bodkins they usually use compressions. Which means the shafts can pop out easily if they’ve been soaking long enough. But thankfully, I have a special tool in case that happens. Though I’d rather keep it to just the two lodged in his ribs.”

  Leonidas gripped the shafts of the two bolts embedded Kveldulf’s ribs tightly and slowly twisted it out. Sweat already beginning to bead on his brow and nose before he pulled out the wooden piece, the metal head missing. “Figures,” Leonidas said under his breath before dipping his hands into a bowl of water and drying them with a clean towel. He moved to his satchel and after reaching in pulled out a metal device, two threaded tongs were placed side by side along a long, petite threaded shaft.

  “The fuck is that!” Kveldulf said in a drunken stupor, beginning to sit up as Jeanne and Cid pushed down to hold him in place.

  “My thought exactly,” followed Jeanne.

  “This is a little friend that’s pulled many a metal bit from good folks like you,” Leonidas said to the warrior.

  “It looks like a torture device,” Cid said, leaning back and sinking his head into his neck for a moment.

  “I can definitely see that being the case, probably has been to some sick bastard,” said Leonidas, placing the tool on the bedside table and looking back at the bolthead not lodged in the bone through the disc. “All right,” he said, “I might need one of you to hold him still, just in case.”

  Cid nodded and down Kveldulf’s left side and Jeanne moved over to the right. Leonidas slowly inserted the closed tip of the tool inside. Using the disc to examine the tools slowly descent inside, he guided it into the hollow end of the bolthead and as he gingerly twisted the back knob, watching the screw open up from the inside and gradually press the tongs against the interior of the head. Breathing at a steady pace, the doctor began pulling the instrument back until it arose from within Kveldulf’s torso with the bloody metal piece on the other end. “One down, one to go,” Leonidas said before giving a relieved smile and placing the arrow on the nearby plate.

  Leonidas pulled out one of the honeyed bandages, wrapping it gingerly around the wound. Covering the bottom all the way to the top and sealing the gap with a poultice. “All right,” he said to them, wiping the sweat from his brow, “That was the easy one.”

  “If you can call it that,” Cid responded.

  “With luck this should last one should be quick.”

  Leonidas moved the disc over for a better view of the second arrow. He gripped the shaft of the second arrow and after cracking his neck, began twisting slowly. In a few twists, the shaft popped out and after viewing the end, seeing it was smooth and undamaged, Leonidas let out a sigh. “That part’s done.”

  “Shouldn’t the head come with it?” Jeanne asked.

  “Ideally, but I’d rather it pop out without breaking than splintering within the body.”

  Leonidas, wiping his hands on another towel, grabbed a glowing green rock, repeated the process to make it create a second view disc, taking the red stone and spinning it in place with his fingers. “Now, we have to deal with the difficult one.”

  The red stone generated a red beam of light, and as Leonidas directed it above the open wound, Kveldulf’s blood began lifting into the air, held in suspension a short height above. Everyone, save for Leonidas, looked at the sight wide-eyed, with Leonidas saying, “Eyes on the prize, questions later.”

  Once the blood stopped trickling upwards, Leonidas grabbed a plate, and the blood dropped quickly into the center. Putting it onto the table, he then grabbed his medicus screw and slowly inserted it into the wound. Using the emerald view disc to see inside Kveldulf, Leonidas used one hand to press the screw against the arrowhead, while the other twisted the top and expanded the tongs inside.

  Gaining a firm purchase inside the recess of the arrowhead, Leonidas began lifting the tool and felt a sharp release of resistance. His hair stood on the back of his neck, and he felt his heart beginning to pound heavily while looking down. He felt his body go limp for a brief moment as he saw the arrowhead dislodged from the bone.

  Extracting the arrowhead and placing it next to the other arrow, Leonidas bandaged up the wound with the remaining honeyed bandages, sealed the opening, and said with a tired smile, “We’re good.”

  Leonidas saw the two let out a sigh of relief before turning to Kveldulf, “Well done, Kel, you did great.” The man had closed his eyes and was sleeping soundly.

  The doctor nodded, wiping his hands for the last time before leaving the room for the patient to rest. His hands beginning tremble as he finally let himself relax for a moment, and his legs wobbly from his knees buckling. He sat in the chair nearby and gave himself time to breathe and let himself process everything that’s happened. He had performed many similar procedures before, yet each time felt like it was his first when it was all said and done. He told himself this was a good thing, keeping him from getting cocky, skipping needed precautions before a surgery, making stupid mistakes leads to people dying.

  It reminded him of the ‘healers’ back in The Outlands, a whole continent decreed back in the ages before even the Rubicon Empire where criminals, undesirables and anyone starving for adventure or desperately searching for a new life went to find their ‘salvation’. How these soothsayers used magics they had little understanding as miraculous devices of healing. Not knowing the full scope of the forces they considered themselves masters. He didn’t want to think of all the people whose lives were have lost because some rube unaware of their actual lack of talent put someone in an early grave.

  He felt some relief that this was no longer the ongoing battle he had to wage whenever there was a deluge of wounded during wars and skirmishes. A dual conflict between the turmoil waging outside and the one fought to keep people alive. While others tried to use their skills as a means to conjure a sense of superiority, he simply focused on arresting the hand of death for as much time as he could afford his patients. He felt a pain in his heart as he thought of how those who dedicated themselves to healing felt this was merely an afterthought.

  There was a sadness in how, in a land where survival depended on the cooperation of everyone, hardly anyone was willing to see past themselves to ensure such things. A pained expression came over him as the memories of those he tried to invest his trust in, hoping to find a community and acceptance, were taken away—many in battle, some at the hands of those they trusted, and some he blamed himself for.

  The only way he could keep the agony of such loss at bay was to keep those at a distance. So, when they were taken from his life, the pain was not so harsh, the burden not so heavy. It didn’t afford him many friends, but it also meant there were fewer friends to mourn when taken away.

  As the dark thoughts slowly left him, he felt his muscles regain their strength. He rose from the chair and saw Cid and Jeanne talking to each other outside in the main hall.

  Once out of the room, Leonidas turned to Cid and said, “All right, then. Let’s see to the rest of your people.”