Chapter 23: Good Works

As I sat in my chair after Theran left, running through everything I needed to do, I ended up thinking about the days I’d spent with Asha cooped up in the Steel Flagon, and I frowned. I’d been pretty poor company and the devoted elf deserved an apology. Asha had been amazing. Tired, sure. Emotionally overwrought, definitely. Regardless, she had been rubbing my back at night as I twitched uncontrollably, or tenderly kissing my temple as she stood from the dinner table and, more than once, I had woken from a nightmare to find her cradling my head and whispering sweet words of comfort to ease my thrashing.

And what had I done for her these last four days?

Not a damn thing. I was so caught up in my own self-loathing and waking nightmares that I wasn’t taking care of the one person I had responsibility for.

Theran was right; I couldn’t take care of anyone else if I was still dealing with my own shit and the way I’d been treating Asha was a testament to that.

I flexed my injured shoulder. It was almost healed, still a bit stiff, but after four days of rest it was almost as good as new. Like after the battle with Deriostos, my body’s natural healing seemed enhanced and much, much faster. It would have taken weeks to heal that shoulder back to basic functionality, but I’d done it in a few days. It was superhuman healing, but it didn’t allow me to become complacent. My miraculous, instantaneous healing abilities were obviously meant for others, not as a crutch for myself.

Suddenly, a crash from the kitchen snapped me out of my reverie and brought me back into the real world. In my adrenaline and cortisol-saturated, hyper-aroused state, I leapt up so fast the table went over, spilling my golden ale across the dark, wooden floorboards.

Then came a yell that split through the early morning air, and I raced to the kitchen door to find the place full of smoke and pain. A raging fire was pouring out from the stove and, on the floor, one of the dwarves—I'd forgotten his name—was coated in flames and rolling around on the stone to try to extinguish himself. The acrid smell of burning skin and hair hit me the moment I stepped into the room, though the dwarf couldn’t have been ablaze for more than a few seconds.

Theran pushed past me, cracked open a barrel with his fist, and heaved the contents over his cousin. The effect wasn’t what he expected; it was horrifically worse. The water shoved the fire away from the dwarf but didn’t quench it. Instead, the flames were dispersed and spread from the dwarf and onto everything around him, and I recognised the mistake instantly; a grease fire. The water had turned to steam and sprayed the burning oil across the room. Fire leapt to the benches, to the injured dwarf’s beard and to his clothes.

His cousins rushed into the room with dusty cloths and sacks and started batting out the hearth fire with dirt and sand whilst Theran and I did the same for the dwarf, then dragged him, moaning, out of the kitchen and into the common room. Dwarves were obviously hardy folk. The injured kitchenhand was still mumbling instructions to us on how to put out the fire in the kitchen.

“I need another barrel of water!” I coughed to Theran as I pulled my belt knife free of its sheath and started cutting away his clothing to expose the skin. Parts of the cloth seemed fused in place and I knew better than to remove them; that would have to come later. The dwarf’s arm and chest had been covered in boiling oil, which had ignited. The burns there were worst but I expected that the half burned beard, still smouldering and smoking, hid dangerous injuries to his lips and throat.

Theran returned with a barrel as a small crowd of patrons appeared at the top of the stairs, including Asha, who had been woken by the commotion.

“Get them out of here!” I shouted as the group started edging closer to get a better view. “The last thing he needs is an audience.”

A bark from the crusty innkeeper sent them back to their rooms, except for Asha, who calmly walked down the stairs and started tearing bandages from parts of the nearby tablecloth.

I looked around and grabbed a mug from the bar. Copying Theran from earlier, I plunged my fist through the top of the barrel and scooped water over the burned flesh, first enough to wet it all, and then more slowly, allowing the mug to trickle water over the entire wound slowly. It was a slow process, but I directed Theran and Asha to copy me and the three of us ensured the entire burn was covered in a consistent, slow stream of running water. Both of them looked at me strangely, but I insisted they continue as I assessed the extent of the damage. I used a cloth to blot any areas of congealed oil from the skin and lifted the dwarf into a seated position, supporting him from behind.

The cousins came coughing from the kitchen, where they had successfully put out the grease fire. I would later realise that fires such as this one were the reason the majority of the kitchen was fashioned from stone.

“How’s Gleeson?” one of them wheezed. Ah, Gleeson! That was his name!

“Bad.” I responded.

That was an understatement. It was easily one of the worst burns I had ever seen, both in coverage and severity. I needed to act quickly.

“Get me a blanket. We need to avoid hypothermia. You,” I started pointing at each of the cousins in turn. “Find honey. You, boil water and soak those strips of cloth. Then dry them by the hearth and let them cool. You, if there are any pure spirits in this bar, I need them and another pot of boiling water.”

The dwarves didn’t move. They stared, faces contorted with pain and sorrow, until Theran nodded to them and they moved off to follow my instructions. But I could tell that the older dwarf was humouring me to give his cousins something to do, to remove their feeling of helplessness.

“Son, ‘e’s too far gone,” Theran said quietly as Gleeson’s breath wheezed in his throat, “This sort a’burn kills people, an’ it does it slowly an’ painfully. Us dwarves ‘ave a quicker, an’ much kinder way o’easin his suffering.”

“No!” I snapped. “No mercy kills. Yes. I know he’s still burning inside, the heat is trapped under the skin, but if you keep pouring that water and we can get the wounds covered with honey, I might be able to buy him time.”

“Time fer what, lad? He’s never gonna use tha’ arm again. He’s my dearest cousin, and I want him t’live, but even if he survives he’ll be a’cripple fer the rest o’his days. He’s a proud dwarf. It’s a fate far worse than death for a man like ‘im.”

I just kept pouring water, ignoring the fatalistic dwarf beside me. I knew where he was coming from. I could understand how this would play out in most cases. Infection would set in, the dwarf would go into septic shock and that would be a long painful death.

“What happened?” I asked as I refilled the pitcher.

“‘e slipped backwards an’ flipped the pot of heating oil. Once it hit the stove, it all went up in flames.”

I grimaced in response, then quietly reached out with my senses to see the extent of the dwarf’s injuries. Bambinae showed me the damage; third degree burns everywhere the oil had touched, second degree on his face and throat and heat was still radiating deeper. His larynx was scarred and blistered and I could see he would have trouble breathing soon, his throat was beginning to swell. He was going to suffocate soon. A small whisper of healing, whilst Theran was distracted, stopped the swelling and kept his airway open. Unfortunately, any more than that would reveal everything I was trying to keep secret. But I suggested to Theran that we take him to a room for privacy and thought, perhaps, I could finish the treatment there.

After the laborious effort of lifting the deceptively heavy dwarf up the stairs and into a room, we gathered the supplies from Theran’s cousins and I got to work. We laid him on a clean bed while Asha helped prepare the soaked bandages and thinly smeared honey. Hours passed as I cut away fused cloth, debrided dead flesh, cleaned the wounds and dressed them. The metallic tang of blood filled the air. As each hour passed, Gleeson moved in and, more mercifully, out of consciousness. With no anaesthetic, those agonising few hours must have seemed like days. Even still, Gleeson managed to become lucid enough to ask about whether his cousins were all OK. This was a good man.

Dwarf.

Whatever.

“Master,” whispered Asha, whilst Theran was talking with one of his cousins, “why not just use Bambinae’s power?”

I nodded. “I will, but I wanted to make sure that all the basics were taken care of first. If I’m going to use magic to regrow his muscles and skin, I didn’t want the fused fabric in the way. Also, we’re trying to keep a low profile, and healing him like that is definitely not going to be subtle.”

Asha thought carefully for a moment. “Bambinae spoke through Erica in a crowded inn. She didn’t seem concerned about us keeping a low profile. I think you should do it, Master. Maybe Erica’s speech was not only for the crowd at James Brook, but also to tell you not to hide your gifts at the expense of others?”

Listen to her. The conscience in my head bellowed. Don’t be a coward.

“You’re right,” I capitulated. “I need to do it. I’ve been putting it off because I’ve been scared of what happens if I do.”

I could see her ponder the situation again as Theran walked in just in time to hear the last of my words.

“What d’yer need t’do?” he asked, worried, as he overheard us.

“Never be afraid to do what is right, Master,” the gorgeous elf told me. “It is the right thing to do.”

I smiled at her softly. “Even though it will put a target on our backs?”

She nodded, smiling. “It’s worth it.” And, though I was afraid, I agreed.

“What is?” Theran interrupted, becoming more panicked by the second. I’d given him hope by spending so much effort on Gleeson, now he was fearing the worst again.

“Shut the door, Theran,” I said quietly, “and lock it, please.”

All the hope and life dropped out of the dwarf as he did as I asked. He moved with his jaw set, trying to remain stoic as he grappled with what he thought we were about to do.

“We’re not going to kill him, Theran. Quite the opposite, but first I need you to keep what happens here between us for now. Can you do that?”

The dwarf was understandably confused. “You got some secret ‘erbal remedy or somethin’?” he queried, hopefully. “I’ll take the recipe to me grave, just, save me cousin. He dunna deserve the life of a cripple.”

Gone was the confident, proud dwarf who had spoken to me before dawn and now, in his eyes, I saw a man who had lost too many friends.

Asha gestured for me to continue, so I turned back to Gleeson and placed my hands on his arm and chest. “Stand back and don’t interfere, there’s no way around the pain he is about to endure.”

Luckily, no-one in the inn would question the screams of agony that came from Gleeson as I healed him. The dwarf had been moaning and screaming pretty much all morning, so there wasn’t much change there. I felt Bambinae’s power flow through my body and into the dwarf and heard Theran’s gasp as the room filled with a faint glow.

Once again, Bambinae took care of the heavy lifting, and the knowledge of what to do, and how, flowed through me and into Gleeson. It was tiring, though, as I maintained concentration on the dwarf. I’d healed the cripple in James Brook so quickly, so easily, but this seemed harder for some reason. It was similar to healing Laura in the forest, the power was like a trickle from my hands. It was working, but slowly.

“Bambinae is honouring your decision.” Asha whispered to me. “But she is tired still, and cannot give you more than this.”

Asha was speaking as if she could feel something I couldn’t. But it made sense to me; I didn’t know how much energy it took to manifest through Erica, but it can’t have been easy. I could feel the healing taking something from me too. When Bambinae was tired, or low on divine power, I could still draw it if I needed, but it would cost me. I thought back to the fight with Deriostos, and how I’d been staggered by overtaxing Bambinae’s power. How I’d passed out completely for two days after drawing it to her limit. It seemed that if Bambinae had the power for me, I could use it without a problem. But if she was running low, then I would have to make up the difference.

“Start praying.” I commanded. “We’re going to need all the help we can get.”

In the background, I could hear Asha quietly explaining to Theran what he needed to do, but I was completely focused on the dwarf in front of me. I felt the power pulse slightly as they prayed, but still, the effort was excruciating. I held on, though, knitting muscle to bone and regrowing the tissue, burning away the dead flesh and willing its replacement into existence. I didn’t know at the time how much I had accomplished when the world seemed to fade around me. But I knew I wasn’t done. So I kept going. The world outside Gleeson blanked from existence. I kept going. I wasn’t conscious; I wasn’t technically unconscious, I just… was.

Until I wasn’t.

And everything went black.