Once they reached the deeper waters of the Sea of Silence, the air grew much colder. Joe closed the Porthole and found his little cabin was not too uncomfortable. He opened the door to look out at the people on deck and saw that they were huddled together trying to stay warm. The sun had set making the air even more frigid. He could hear coughs and children crying. He closed the door and sat down on the floor. Kaid would kill him if he knew what he was considering, but Joe knew he could not just hide away while those outside suffered. He dressed himself and gathered his belongings.
When he stepped outside he brought up his aura sight and looked over the passengers on deck. The first thing he saw was a deep red enveloping a man being held by a woman wrapped in shawls and scarves. Joe headed straight there first.
“Excuse me. I have some healing skills,” he announced as he stepped up to the couple. “Would you mind if I looked to see if I can help your man there?”
“We cannot afford …,” the woman began in a thick accent that sounded very different from the speech of the people he met in Crowfield. She looked up at him and Joe saw a pair of curled horns under her head scarf. She had caprine features, including a goat’s bar-like pupils.
“I am not asking for coin,” Joe interrupted, “but I think we need to move quickly or he may soon be beyond my abilities.”
The woman nodded her horned head.
You have restored 25.2% of Yago Shale-Walker’s lost health. His current health is at 32.5%.
“Ok. That will stabilize him. Can I take a look at the wound? I don’t see any infection but I want to make sure it’s clean.”
“Thank you. I am Parla.” Together they peeled back the sodden cloth. Yago was a very hairy man with a hefty minotaur-like build except that he, like Parla, had more ram-like horns and features than those of a bull. As soon as Joe got to the lowest wrappings the wound site became a mess of blood-soaked hair and cloth stuck in the forming scabs.
Joe looked around. “Does anyone have any clean water or strong spirits?”
A few people blinked at him. He could see they had bottles of water but were reluctant to share. He could see fear and guilt on their faces. Having lost so much, Joe assumed they worried about losing anything more.
“Hey, boyo,” called out a familiar voice. “Which is better, water, whiskey or rum?” The sailor who had given him advice earlier was standing there, holding a flask.
“I think any will work thanks, Mister …?”
“Ah briny deep, boyo. Don’t be givin’ me no airs with mistering me. Names Wakely. Whiskey I got, so that’s the closest.”
“Thanks, Wakely. Probably the best of three if I had to choose.” Turning to the man, “Yago, this is going to sting a bit and I will have to pull at your wound. Can you handle that?”
The big man’s eye rolled towards Joe and he gave a slow nod. Joe poured a fairly large shot of the booze onto the area where the bandage had stuck and slowly worked the cloth out of the wound. He kept saying “sorry” over and over every time the man winced but eventually the healer was able to ease the sodden fabric free from the wound. He layered on two more of his [Healing Touch] spells. Yago was fully healed, hanging at almost 83%, but Joe was not sure how many of the refugees would need his spells. He did not want to spend his mana too quickly.
“Hey, Wakely. Is there an empty barrel you can grab?” Joe asked looking around the deck. There were plenty of casks in sight.
“Sure. What for?”
“I have something that can warm and heal a lot of people at once but it looks like fire. I promise you it is not. I figure if I stick it inside a closed barrel it is less likely to freak everyone out.”
The sailor scratch his chin and, even though his perpetual grin remained, he looked a bit pensive as well. “I think these folk could use a bit o’ warmth. Gotta run it by me First Mate but I reckon he’ll see it yer way. Be right back.”
As Wakely walked off, Joe began to move among the people on the deck. Most were gray with weariness but where he saw red or black he used his spells to move them back to blue. He knew he could push back their exhaustion with [Efferous Endurance] but he could already feel his mana pool had taken a good-sized dip. As much as he would have liked to perk them up, Joe knew he didn’t have the mana to spare.
While he was tending to the broken arm of a white-furred cat-man with snow leopard-like spots, a deep voice cleared its throat behind him.
“So you want to put a fire in a barrel?” Kyllean stated in his gravelly tone.
“It’s not fire. It just looks like one,” Joe answered without lifting his hands from the furred limb.
“If you say so. Just know, if that barrel starts burning, both it and you are going overboard. You still certain about this?”
Joe turned to look over his shoulder, spotting the barrel-chested first mate, with his arms crossed, looming over him. Wakley stood a few steps behind the man carrying the barrel. The mate’s expression was as ominous as a thunderhead. Joe swallowed hard but he knew the spell couldn’t actually catch anything on fire. “I’m sure,” he affirmed.
“Yer funeral. Stick it there Wakely,” the man grumbled, pointing at an open spot on the deck. “Be ready to toss it if ya need to.”
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Joe understood that bonfires and ships were not compatible so he didn’t take the threats personally. When he dropped the [Heart Fire] inside the barrel the cold air quickly warmed. Kyllean and Wakely both held their arms above the flames for a second. Slowly they lowered their limbs until they had their hands in the middle of the blaze.
“That’s a nifty trick,” the first mate said. “Let’s put out a couple more.”
“Sorry, I can only have one going at a time. But I can swap them to different spots every hour or so so no one will be left cold for too long.”
Kyllean nodded while staring at the flames, clearly thinking. After a second, he turned to Joe and gave him a bob of his head as well. “Too bad we can’t have more. Still, it is better than nothing on this cold night. Good job, boyo.”
Joe looked around and saw smiles breaking out among those nearby. The warm air was pushed back towards the aft of the ship so even those outside the direct area of effect felt some warmth reach them. Only those too far forward were unaffected. Joe decided he would place the next barrel that way.
As Joe moved around the group he suddenly felt a little light-headed. He looked at his mana and saw it was down by over half. He had only cast a few heals and a [Heart Fire]. He should have plenty of mana left. Then he saw his pool tick down another point. He hadn’t cast anything else. Why would he be losing mana? He worked through the problem and came to an unpleasant conclusion. While he had used the passive heal of his [Heart Fire] to ease several people at once in Crowfield, it had never affected this many at once. Here the spell was warming dozens of people, most of whom also had some form of injury. The spell needed more power, and so was drawing heavily on Joe’s mana.
“Crap,” Joe swore. Wakely and the officer looked at him questioningly. “There are too many here that are cold and hurt,” he explained. “I need more mana. Maybe when everyone is healed up I can maintain the heat but doing this much healing and providing warmth is quickly draining me dry.”
“I might be able to assist you there, young healer,” breathed a soft voice. Joe turned to see the white-skinned woman standing a couple of yards behind him. She was still dressed in her sleeveless duster and crop top shirt, which made Joe cold just looking at her.
“Don’t you dare, Hah’roo! We don’t truck with those that break Phealti’s law.” The dwarf stepped out from behind her. His gaze locked on Joe and his face curled into a rictus of loathing.
“But Myrrhcee tells us to aid the weary, wounded, and unwell, Azbekt. That is what this boy is trying to do. Surely even Phealti would not support suffering when aid can be given.”
“If the aid comes from one unclean, it is not aid. It is corruption.”
The winsome woman’s expression scrunched into a dismissing frown. “Look at the spell, Azbekt. It is a classic hedgemage or healer skill. There is nothing otherworldly about it.” The woman sighed and in doing so somehow caused her coat to flare out dramatically. “You do as you wish, Sir Paladin. I would see these people receive what comfort they can get. If that means we must end our contract together, then say the word and we shall be done with one another here and now.”
“Nay,” the stern dwarf barked. “Our concord stands. But I need not remain and witness your folly.” After glaring once more at Joe, the charcoal-skinned warrior turned on his heel and marched back to the front of the deck.
“I must apologize for his behavior. He is a good man but rigid in his morals and reasoning,” the woman named Hah’roo sighed. She watched the angry man stomp forward across the deck before turning back to the crowd around Joe. “Now did I hear you say that you could continue to aid these people if you have more mana?”
Joe did not know what to think. The dwarf, Azbekt, was a paladin of Phealti and so surely must want to take him into custody, but he hadn’t done so. This woman was clearly an ally of the paladin and yet she was offering to help him. Regardless he could feel his mana draining. If she could help, why not? “Yes, please. I have never used this spell for so many people at once. It is eating through my mana quickly.”
Hah’roo drew a string out of a pocket in her duster and began tying an intricate set of knots into the thread. “Your wrist, please.” Joe considered this might be a trap for a second, but the woman seemed truly sincere. Additionally, Joe doubted he had a chance against either of them if they wanted to capture him. He held out his arm to her. She looped the cord around Joe's wrist and began to close it with an elaborate knot.
“This will do for a start,” she huffed in her oddly breathy voice. “I’ll work on a stronger one while you tend to these people.” As soon as she finished knotting the string around his wrist, Joe could feel the drain on his mana slow down.
Item [Charm of Renewal] (Wrist - Common): Increases the target's natural mana recovery rate by 20%. Single Use.
“Thank you. That helps a lot.” Joe swept the crowd looking for those with the worst wounds. He figured [Healing Touch] would be more efficient on the larger injuries than [Heart Fire] would be. He moved to a girl with a badly sprained ankle and once he received permission he used his gift to repair the damage. He healed three more refugees with serious injuries, then flopped down on the deck for a minute, wincing from the headache building behind his eyes.
“You should let the fire go out for a few minutes, Healer,” the woman's feathery voice suggested. “You will do no good by over-reaching your abilities.”
“I think it’s balancing out now. Your charm is a huge help.”
“Then take a slug o’ this, Boyo,” Wakely interjected. Joe still had his eyes closed but he felt the sailor clap a flask onto his chest. “Fix ya right up.”
Joe doubted it but he couldn’t imagine it would hurt. He unscrewed the cap and tipped a large mouthful past his lips. The whiskey was so coarse it lit a fire straight down his throat and slammed into his gut like a boot. Joe snapped up into a sit, hacking uncontrollably. Wakely gave him a few pats on the back. “Told ya. Ya got yer color back.”
“Holy … cough. Did you brew that abomination yourself?” Joe barked, still choking.
“I wish. Nah. I know a guy in Weaver’s Ridge, Dole Goakum. He makes it. I usually grab a keg when I sails into the Reef but they didn’t have none this time. Dole musta had a problem with his still.” The sailor looked at his flask and gave it a measuring slosh. “Hope that is all it is. I’m getting low. Besides the booze, the best reason to buy from Dole is the stories. Never knew any bloke who almost blew hisself up more than Doley.”
“Excuse me,” one of the women in the group interjected. “Did you say Weaver’s Ridge?”
“Yessa I did, ma'am. Ye know of it.”
“I am so sorry, sir,” she replied with a husky voice. “Weaver’s Ridge is gone. The Red Army burned it to the ground two weeks ago.”
Joe felt a tremble undulate through the passengers. Suddenly the air around him was filled with pain and anger. It radiated from the outcasts like a heat. Whoever this Red Army was, it clearly was the cause behind the plight of the refugees. Joe regained his feet and looked for the next most wounded. While he did so, he was waiting for the explanation he could sense was coming.