Using my knowledge of how hearts work – the electrical pulses that cause the muscles within it to contract and relax, shoving the blood through the body – I force it to restart. Similarly, I quickly infuse magic into Grower’s diaphragm and external intercostal muscles, forcing them to work too, filling and emptying her lungs. Fortunately, a samuran’s body isn’t so different from a human’s in that respect.
With her body operating under my magic, much as if she was hooked up to a life support device, I now have a little more leeway to actually start shoving the poison out of her system.
Making a small cut at her wrist, I force the remainder of the poison to make its way out of her bloodstream. Unable to be as careful as I normally am, blood spills along with the poison. That’s not ideal, but it’s a small amount being lost; getting the remaining poison out is more important.
Once all the poison is out of her system, I get to work on healing the injuries that it has caused to Grower’s cells, allowing the underlying code of her body – her DNA – to guide my magic in the right directions. I find more debris being flushed out of Grower’s system via the exit point in her wrist – remnants of the poison that will only continue to harm the samuran.
Finally, I carefully release my control over Grower’s heart and respiratory muscles, moving gently and only doing one at a time. I don’t want to accidentally send her into another cardiac arrest.
To my relief, they continue functioning even after my magic pulls away from them. I did fear that I might have been too late and that I was keeping her body artificially alive when her soul had already departed. That her systems are now working properly by themselves is a good indicator that she is still alive in all ways. Though, it’s not a guarantee that she will wake up with no permanent damage.
Opening my eyes, I see the slow rise and fall of Grower’s chest, her own eyes closed. I push myself to my feet, staggering slightly. Someone catches me before I accidentally face-plant. I dart a look and see that it’s Catch – ironically. Bastet comes up on my other side and presses herself to me in support.
“What’s going on here?” I hear Wind-whisperer demanding, but I don’t have the energy to respond. I’m completely tapped – both mentally and magically. Healing of that level would be bad enough, but coming after ten battles as it has, I’m exhausted.
A large hand engulfs my shoulder, heavy even through my armour.
I will explain, Honoured Markus. Rest. And…thank you.
Shrieks is gone before I can respond verbally, but I send him a sense of gratitude down the Bond. He returns it tenfold, almost taking my breath away.
Together the three of us move to the side and Catch eases me down to the ground, Bastet helping. Reassured that they will warn me if anything happens, I close my eyes and dip into Medium Meditation. Bastet knows how to alert me in that state, and I really need the opportunity to rest and recuperate both my mental energy and my magic.
*****
When I resurface some time later, I find that the situation seems to have calmed somewhat. Runs-with-the-river is fighting with Joy; Wind-whisperer is fighting with Wood-shaper and, from what I see of the fight, running rings around her. The herbalist is sitting off to the side, alternating between watching us and watching her sisters.
Grower, my newest Bound, is sitting not far from me, looking pale and rather under the weather, but alive. That’s better than I feared might be the case, despite my hard work.
“How are you doing?” I ask her. She turns her head towards me, seeming a little startled. I guess she hadn’t noticed that I was awake again – she seemed to have been watching the other fights with interest.
I am not in full health, but I do not feel that it’s anything some rest and food won’t solve.
That’s a good point. I pull a few chunks of meat out of my Inventory – I’m low on actual carcasses, but still have meat that I’ve prepared for my own cooking. Suspecting they will be better for her if I fill them with mana, I quickly shove a couple of hundred units in. I’ll get them back in a few minutes, my mana rate plus Light Meditation bonus more than up to the task.
“Here. Eat something.”
Grower looks at the offered meat in surprise and hunger. Delicately, she takes the chunks and snaps them up in her toothy jaws. Surprise ripples through her spines.
Tasty, she comments and we sit in silence for a little as she gobbles down the food. I pull some chunks of cooked meat out to join her in eating, my own body needing the nutrition almost as much as hers does.
“So,” I start once we’re both done. “We were due to fight next,” I say leadingly. Grower looks back at me.
I would have died without your intervention, she says with a frisson of fear that flickers through her spikes and across the Bond. Even had I not accepted your Bond and still somehow survived, I would have conceded the match to you. As it is, I agree with my kin who earlier said that a battle between us would be rather pointless for the sake of proving who is the superior. Not when you can end it without a single word. We must only meet in the ring to make it official.
“Alright,” I say, rather relieved despite myself. I might have recovered my mana and a good portion of mental energy with my Meditation earlier, but having one fight less is good news for me. Especially considering I still have three to go.
Since both of us are newly mobile, we officially deal with the bout between Grower and me, taking just as little time as the similar official process took with Joy. We quickly return to our previous position of rest, taking advantage of the ‘battle’ being over so quickly.
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Before too long, though, the sound of someone approaching draws both our gazes. The herbalist has apparently noticed that we are free and has come over to join us.
She’s not looking great. Obviously someone healed her, but she’s looking pale and unsteady on her feet. A Warrior to her side steadies her every time she almost falls over, but she sits down near us with obvious relief.
I’m a little surprised she still looks so bad. Her forehead isn’t bleeding any more, though there’s a small dent in it which I don’t remember being there before. However, even at this distance I can see that her pupils aren’t equal – a symptom even I know indicates a concussion. It seems likely that her lack of balance is linked to the same cause. Wouldn’t her healing potions have dealt with those?
“What’s wrong with you?” I ask, eyeing her. She gives me a level look.
“I was hit in the head with a rock. Several times.” She doesn’t even look at Grower, but I still sense the Pathwalker next to me bristling, irritation and indignation flowing over our Bond.
“You almost killed me! What was I supposed to do?”
“Realise when you were outclassed and concede, you idiot,” the herbalist snaps, then raises a clawed hand to her forehead. Sick-looking yellow ripples through her spikes, an indication of pain according to Animal Empathy and experience with samurans. “I would have given you the antidote and there would have been no harm done. But you kept going when you shouldn’t have and we ended up in a mess.”
“Exactly who was declared the winner?” demands Grower, her own spikes filling with crimson.
“Chews-a-bone was in error,” growls the herbalist. “You would have died long before I would have, and then your roots would have withered.”
“How would you have fared if Runs-with-the-river hadn’t known your storage system and given you the right healing potion, though?” asks my newest Bound stubbornly. The herbalist flicks her tail in a gesture of nonchalance.
“I would still have woken up eventually,” she says with irritation.
“Though you might still have died,” I interject ‘helpfully’. “Concussions can be fatal.” I think. Bleeding and swelling in the brain is never a good thing, right? The herbalist glares at me. “Anyway, why did you come over here?”
“I….” for the first time in the conversation, the herbalist looks uncertain. “I wanted to ask for your help. To heal my injuries. The potions I have on hand have not done as good a job as I had hoped they would.”
“My help?” I ask with a little surprise. “Even though we’ll be facing each other in the ring in a short space of time? And that these injuries could almost be considered self-inflicted given the situation?”
The herbalist looks away for a few moments, then returns her gaze to me levelly.
“You spoke of helping the weak, of a different way of doing things. Does that not apply to this?”
I hesitate. If she had been worse off, I would have healed her with no more questions asked. As it is, she’s mobile and clearly verbal.
“It’s not the same thing,” I say slowly. “I’ve fought far more battles than any of you have, but I don't see anyone making any allowances for my fatigue. If my own mana regeneration wasn’t enough to cope with the short pauses I have between fights, or my stamina couldn’t recover quickly enough to continue fighting, would I be given a longer break? Or expected to fight regardless?”
The herbalist is silent and looks away from me.
“No,” answers Grower for her. “Endurance is an implicit part of the challenge. Herbalist has historically done well in these fights because she is able to heal her wounds in between bouts. The rest of us have had to deal with only having serious wounds healed. Unless Herbalist deigned to spare us a potion.” She glared at the samuran in question.”How is it getting a taste of your own potions? Having to ask an opponent for help and being in the position that he might refuse.” I sense a certain amount of history in the sheer satisfaction which flicks across the Bond from her.
“You little-” Grubs-in-the-dirt mutters before cutting herself off, shooting a look at Grower which, if glares could kill, would have seen her stone dead a moment later. “Then you will not heal me?” she asks with a sense of resignation in her voice.
I consider it for another moment.
“I’m not willing to use my energy and mana against an opponent who’s going to try to defeat me in the next few minutes, putting myself doubly at a disadvantage. If I heal you, then we should first undergo a different type of Battle.”
The herbalist eyes me carefully.
“The same type as you evidently had with Grower – that made her concede her fight to you without a single exchange? The one that has clearly converted her to your side, as with Weaver?”
“That’s the one,” I confirm. The herbalist seems to consider it for a moment, then twitches her tail in refusal.
“No. I will first meet you in the ring and test your strength, even if I have to do so at a disadvantage.”
“Alright,” I reply, not sure whether to be happy or not with the answer.
The herbalist summons the Warrior closer with an imperious gesture, then uses his support to get back to her feet, walking slowly towards the edge of the closest available ring without another word.
It’s not long after that that I’m asked by the presiding Warrior to face the herbalist – since we’re both free, there is no point in their eyes to delaying the battle any longer. Since I’m as recovered as I’m going to get without having a good sleep, or at least a much longer rest, I decide that I might as well.
She glares at me across the ring, still looking slightly unsteady as her supporting Warrior has to leave her side.
Bastet has joined me, and I sense that she’s eager to face the one who caused so much pain and hurt to Lathani – she’s as fond of the nunda cub as I am. Though I’m trying to keep my mind away from revenge since that’s not going to be productive in the slightest, I can’t help but feel a bit of glee at facing the herbalist in battle finally.