While Parla helped Joe with another deep cut, she spoke of the hardship her people were facing. She had great instincts for the work they were doing together. The aresa, which is what her ram-like race was called, pushed the skin closed on a long cut that ran from a human’s forehead down to his ear. The wound sealed, leaving less of a scar than if Joe had just used his [Healing Touch] alone. Wiping away the last of the blood with his endless supply of bandages, Joe listened to the story behind the refugees’ plight.
“We are from the Karabast Mountains, the range that separates the Kingdom of Duskurg from the Horned Plains. We watched the Red Army spread across the Plains, thinking that once they had conquered the lowlands they would be satisfied,” Parla stated in a voice filled with sadness. “We were wrong. In less than a year, troops under the Blood King’s banner began to assault the villages on the mountainsides, climbing ever closer to our homes in the highlands.”
“This had never happened before,” remarked an older human sitting with his family. “The Plains have been ruled by a single leader many times. It never lasts. Sooner or later, their union breaks apart and they become separate tribes once more. Never before has any ‘King of the Plains’ looked up at our Highlands and tried to bring their rule to us. We are too high and too tough. We thought their assault was bravado and folly.”
“Our villages were strong,” Yago said, taking up the tale. “The monsters in the mountains are very dangerous. Only the boldest live in the Karabast Highlands. Our people are many races. The jotun and fomori giant-kin. My clan the aresa. Hardy humans and peak-gnomes. The pardus and roca,” he added, before pausing. The large aresa must have noticed Joe’s speculative look as he tried to remember if he had seen those names among the race menu. “The snow-leopard and eagle folk,” Yago clarified. “All of these mighty warriors. We held red soldiers back until their champions came. We then had to face the greatest heroes of the Plains as they came at us under the red banner. We then were undone.”
“Wait,” Joe interjected. “Are you saying the most powerful Plains heroes switched sides? They joined the Blood King’s army? Why?”
“That is the power of the King in Red. He steals the hearts of men and women and makes them his. He fights the champions and no matter how the duel ends, the Blood King wins. If he is killed, he rises again. If he wins, the champion becomes another of his generals.”
“How long has this been going on?” Joe had paused his healing, enthralled by this tale.
“We heard of the Shieldmark’s fall about three years ago,” the hairy ram-man replied, clenching his hands into fists. “That was the beginning of the tales of the Blood King and his endless army.”
“Is Shieldmark on the plains?” Joe asked trying to get some sense of where these events were taking place. “Sorry, I haven’t learned the geography yet.”
“The city is on the coast on the edge of plains,” Hah’roo explained from above them while her fingers danced through a series of strings. The white-skinned woman was balancing effortlessly on a rope line that ran over the heads of the group. “It was an independent city. The people of the Plains were not a unified kingdom at that time. Tribes and townships. In the end, they tried to band together but the Red Army was too strong at that point.” She stopped her knot work and looked back in the direction the ship had sailed from. “Duskrug should fare better as it has an established standing army to fight back with.”
“Then, why are you all leaving the kingdom?” Joe asked the folk around him.
“Duskrug is not a welcoming land for many of the mountain folk,” Yago replied. “They accept some of the highland races but the fomori and aresa are treated with disdain. Better to move on and find a new home among the cliff and clouds to the east than be treated as curs by the soldiers of Duskrug.”
“Duskrug is one of the more conservative kingdoms,” Hah’roo added. “The fomori are a brutish folk in appearance. Tall like the Jotun but broader and often coarser of features. Many people unfairly relate them to ogres.” Joe glanced around but spotted no one who looked anything ogre-like.
“You won’t find any here,” Parda interjected, seeing Joe’s inspection of the refugees. “The famori do not like deep water. I have never seen one travel by ship.”
“As for the Aresa,” her husband continued, “we too closely resemble the satyrs of the Fey. The Order of the Golden Edict has close ties to the Eagle Throne of Duskrug. This allows the paladins of Phealti to spread their stigma of anything relating to the Feylands across the kingdom. Many races like us, such as sprites, silkies, even many of the elven clans are too fey for their liking.”
Joe scowled as he stood up and cracked his neck. Here was something about this world that he didn’t like at all. Prejudice, aggression, and war were just as big problems here as they were on Earth. Joe was not naive enough to expect this world to be all sunshine and rainbows, but finding racial bigotry this quickly left a sour taste in his mouth.
His headache was almost completely gone now that those close to the [Heart Fire] were no longer cold and wounded. The string charm he had gotten from the huntress overhead had died out, but he was ok for now mana-wise. Before when everyone was in bad shape, he would have never been able to keep up with the demand. This is why he had not yet headed forward to the other group yet. He was waiting on the woman seated on the rope for a new charm before he moved his clinic to those at the front of the ship.
Wanting to think on his own for a minute, Joe began to disengage from the group. “Ok. Everyone scrunch together for a bit to keep warm. I’m going to move the fire so those up front can warm up and see if they have any wounded. I’ll bring it back in half an hour or so.”
“Before you go, let’s get this on you,” Hah’roo interrupted. The blue-haired woman slipped off the rope and dropped lightly to the deck beside him. She removed the lesser cord and tied on the newly finished one. The knotwork on this band was far more elaborate than her first one. He could see chains of densely packed knots that looked like spiraling streams. There was a sense of motion to the charm that made Joe think of flowing water.
Item [Greater Charm of Renewal] (Wrist - Uncommon): Increases the target's natural mana recovery rate by 45%. Single Use.
“Nice!” he exclaimed after reading the charm’s description. “Thank you, ma’am. How long will it last?”
“Hah’roo is fine and that depends on how much mana you use. Being a simple construct, it will bleed mana over time but the more you draw on it the faster it will disenchant. You should be able to get an hour or two out of that one given what I have seen of your healing.”
“Thanks again, Hah’roo,” Joe remarked as he grabbed his staff and backpack. He looked over the group once more to see if he missed anyone but there was no one in too bad shape.
Joe lurched his way toward the front of the ship on very unsteady legs. Wakely walked beside him moving as one with the rolling deck and smirking. “Ye’ll get it boyo. Just takes a bit o’ practice. I know yer plans are to get off at the Hahber …”
“Hahber? Harbor? Peregrine Harbor?”
“That’s what I said, boyo. Don’t get all lubbery on me.”
“Sorry. What about the Harbor?”
“A good healer ain’t no small thing aboard a ship. Ye got the making to be a right good ship’s doc. If ye might consider staying on, I could put in a good word with Kyllean who’d bring it to the Cap’n.”
“Huh. Let me think about it, Wakely. I’m not much of a joiner but this ship does have its appeal.” Joe looked up at the endless star-filled sky. His moment of reverie lasted barely a second before he lost his balance, almost pitching over backward. Wakely’s hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of his shirt, getting him square on his feet again.
“Thanks,” Joe breathed.
“Yer a welcome. No stargazing for ye yet, boyo. Get yourself some sea legs first before ya try searching the wide wandering heavens.”
Paying attention to his footing, Joe made his way toward the front of the main deck.
Your skill [Steadfast] has increased to rank 3.
Just like that the motion of the ship made more sense. Joe's gait smoothed out. He was not perfectly in synch with the wavering boards, as Wakely was, but he felt steadier than he had a moment ago. He stepped around the forward mast and saw the other half of the homeless highlanders.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
The people here were huddled together in a large mass, all except one figure. Sitting alone by the rails, the armored dwarf stared daggers at him as he approached. Azbekt was glowering at Joe, arms crossed, the perfect picture of hostile disapproval. Joe’s steps ground to a halt under the weight of that unforgiving gaze.
A sneeze snapped him free. He shook off the willies tickling his spine from the paladin's scorn and moved to the second barrel Kyllean had set up for him. The first mate agreed that while the spell was harmless, planting an open blaze on the deck would be distracting for the crew. He thought the idea of hiding it out of sight was a good one.
As soon as he filled the barrel with [Heart Fire], Joe felt his mana start to drain again. These people had been cold for quite a while. Thankfully none were seriously wounded anymore. Those with urgent injuries had already been brought to him when he was healing at the aft end of the deck. That is not to say that there were not plenty of non-life-threatening injuries here that needed attention.
The knotted charm made a huge difference. Just watching his mana for a few moments, he could see it draining and filling rapidly. At the moment he was losing a bit more than he was gaining, but once people warmed up, he was pretty sure the charm would keep him filled with mana. Within a minute the mass of passengers began to spread out, allowing Joe to use his aura sight to look for injuries.
“Ah Healer, I was wondering when you would make your way forward,” announced a large man with a thick black beard. “I am Vaugon Bredalli. If you would be so kind as to come this way I believe I have your first patient for you.” The man pointed to an older elven gentleman seated against a crate. Red spikes were radiating from the side of his chest. “He fell a few days ago and must have broken or cracked some ribs. We felt he should be the first to be tended to once you arrived.”
Joe was a bit taken aback by Vaugon’s abrupt take-charge attitude, but the elder elf was clearly in pain and Joe did not see auras in worse shape.
“Hi, my name is Joe. What is your name and would you mind if I tend to your injury?”
“That is Zelphiel Inajorandra. Of course, he does not mind,” the loud bearded man exclaimed.
“I would prefer to hear it from Zelphiel, Vaugon. Everyone has the right to choose what is done to them, even when the answer seems obvious,” Joe retorted firmly. “I’ve known too many people who had to endure what families and friends thought was best for them even if they didn’t want it. He gets to choose whether he wants my help or to be left alone.”
As the elf assented with a nod of his head, Vaugon loudly scoffed, standing over Joe. “Folly! You would let a man die if they did not permit you to heal them.”
“If they are unable to answer, then, of course, I would try and heal them,” Joe explained as he examined the man's ribs. “But if they can communicate and they tell me not to heal them, then I would honor their wishes.” Joe turned his head away from the elf’s cracked chest and looked the intrusive man straight in the eyes. “Now can you please let me work?”
“My apologies, healer. I shall be right over here with your next patient whenever you're ready.”
Joe made an incredulous face at the domineering man’s demeanor, which caused the elf to chuckle and wince.
“Sorry, Zelphiel. You definitely have a broken rib. I can see the two pieces are not fully touching anymore. I’d like to push them together before I try to heal the break. It might hurt.”
“Do as you need to, young human,” he wheezed.
“Can I help?” Hah’roo’s breezy voice spoke from beside Joe. He turned and looked to see her crouching down at his hip. Having watched her fine-boned fingers dance through her knotwork, she would be perfect for what he had in mind.
“Are you following me?” Joe asked, only half-jokingly.
“I came back to check on my sullen ally but I heard your words as I was walking by.”
“Fair enough. I think I could use your help, Hah’roo. I’ll direct you and if you can hold the rib in place, I will try and knit the bones. If that is ok with you, Zelphiel.”
“The galeling is welcome,” Zelphiel whispered. Joe guessed that that was the name of Hah’roo’s race.
Joe took a deep breath. He did not want to hurt the elder elf but he imagined this was about to be quite painful. Just as Joe wished for some novocaine, he realized he was being an idiot.
“Oh duh,” Joe said, tapping his forehead. “This does not need to hurt at all. I have something that should make you much more comfortable, Zelphiel.”
Joe cast [Deaden Flesh] on the man’s side. He felt the spell hit Zelphiel’s resistance but when the man let the spell pass through the relief on his face was immediately apparent. The elf stopped wincing. Immediately, the elder began to draw in a deep breath.
“Zelphiel don’t!’ Joe blurted quickly. “Keep breathing shallowly. That pain was telling you there was a problem. I just made the pain go away, not the problem yet. I don’t want you to move that rib so much it pokes through something.”
Turning to the woman beside him, “The break is right here,” he explained, holding his finger just above the man's shirt. “The pieces are almost touching, just not quite. I can see a tiny gap in the red aura. If you could push them together I will cast my healing.”
“Very well,” she stated. With a confident surety to her movement, the pale woman pressed just enough for the pieces to meet. Joe used his [Healing Touch] to bond the bone back together. It took two uses to shift the area from red to a periwinkle aura.
“How does that feel, sir?” Joe asked.
“Still numb, son.”
“Oh, that's right.” Joe opened his [Assess Creature] skill and saw a status icon that looked like a white hand with the fingers halfway colored black. He saw the word “Numbness” when he focused on it. Joe tried to dismiss the icon with his thoughts.
Your use of [Deaden Flesh] has imparted the [Numb] condition on Zelphiel Inajorandra. Do you wish to end this condition?
Joe chose to end the effect and saw the gentleman grimace slightly before taking a slightly deeper breath.
“Oh that is much better,” Zelphiel exclaimed. “Can I take a real breath now?”
“Yeah. Go ahead.”
“Ahh, wonderful. It feels like forever since I have been able to draw a good deep breath. Thank you, both. Here please give this to Master Bredalli, for me. I would like to sit here and enjoy this moment for a bit longer.” Zelphiel handed Joe a pair of gold coins.
“What are these for?” Joe asked.
“For the healing, of course. Vaugon saw how I was suffering and directed your services to me as soon as you arrived, as agreed upon.”
“But I am not charging for my healing.”
“Regardless. I agreed to pay for my place in your ministrations and it was worth it. I have no complaints. Please give those to him for me.”
“This is bullcrap!” Joe swore. He bounced up to his feet and saw the portly man speaking with a group a few feet away.
Vaugon noticed Joe’s movement and his face broke out into a large smile. He made a ‘one-moment’ gesture to the group he was talking to and stepped towards Joe. “Excellent. I have someone right over here for you, Healer. It is likely something rotten that was eaten on their journey to Heron’s Reef. Her name is …”
“What gives you the right to charge these people for my healing?” Joe barked loudly.
“I am not charging for your healing,” the man replied with an obvious affront. “I am simply facilitating an orderly progression of customers for you. This is what I do best. Why would I not collect a meager sum for my efforts?”
“These people have suffered enough. I am not charging anything for my healing. Stop bilking them for something I am freely offering.”
“Again you insult me, Healer. I am no shyster, stealing what does not belong to him. If you choose to ignore my advice then I will happily refund my fee. But tell me this. Was Master Inajorandra not the most seriously injured of those here? Then Ladtaga here? Is she not the next most infirmed? Followed by Mahkav Flowers over there?” he said, pointing to another group nearby. Joe used his [Assess Wounds] and, even though he hated it, he had to admit that would have been the order he would have addressed those hurt.
“Still I did not ask you for assistance. I would have arrived at the same conclusion with the skills I offer for free. Stop taking what little some of these people have for a service no one asked you to do.”
“Nay, Outlander,” the grinding voice of the paladin seethed. “Do your charity and stop interfering with the accords of law-abiding citizens.”
Joe saw Azbekt, rise from the keg he had been sitting on and stomp toward him. Even though the dwarf only took a few steps, Joe felt like a truck was barreling down on him. Joe found himself withering under the paladin’s detestation.
“Vaugon Bredalli has promised nothing but to assist in bringing order from chaos,” the dwarf continued. “For that, he should be paid and praised. Your effort to impune his service to the greater good is repugnant.”
Joe felt trapped by the forceful presence of the paladin backing Vaugon’s collected confidence. It was pretty clear the rotund man had already assessed the most injured passengers. Healing them out of order, just to spite the overbearing pair, would be an incredibly petty thing to do. Joe considered asking each person if they would want to save their coins and wait a minute for his healing while he treated someone else, but that seemed like an overly convoluted solution.
Before he could come up with a better idea, Joe watched a taloned hand reach over and grasp the ship's railing. Something large and scaly was climbing up out of the sea.