A hush fell over the street, broken only by Andre's distant cries. Ashlyn and the young resonant locked eyes, both stunned by the outcome. Teresa's scream pierced the air, but Ashlyn couldn't afford to look away; every instinct warned her not to turn her back on the resonant.
The older man accompanying the young attacker seemed to snap out of his daze. Stepping forward with a trembling hand on the boy's shoulder, he faced Ashlyn, his elegant demeanor betrayed by fear.
"Please forgive us, Mistress," he began as his voice steadied. "My Master acted rashly. He meant no harm or disrespect." The man bowed deeply.
"Wait... Dietger, what are you doing? I did nothing wrong!" the young resonant interjected, his tone brash and entitled. "Those unringed were in my way! You have no right to apologize for me..." His spoiled protest hung in the air.
The older man's plea to the young Master was tinged with urgency and fear. "Please, let's return. She... the Mistress... she blocked your attack. Consider the implications," he urged in a hushed tone, desperately trying to reason with the impetuous youth.
"I can defeat her! She's only mastered a second ring. She shouldn't be..." the boy retorted with undiminished arrogance.
"That is precisely the point, young Master. She blocked your attack with just a second ring," the older man insisted, his voice barely above a whisper, dreading the possibility of the boy taking offense.
The revelation seemed to unsettle the young resonant. He turned to Ashlyn, his face changing from confusion to fear, which he quickly masked with a sneer. Realizing that Ashlyn wouldn't engage, he finally relented.
"Humph! Let's leave. This is beneath me," he sneered disdainfully before retreating to the carriage, followed by the older man.
Ashlyn exhaled a shaky breath as the carriage departed. Only then did the gravity of the situation hit her. Teresa was injured. She spun around to find the merchant attempting to staunch her wound with a coat, her complexion ashen, her eyes wide with shock and pain.
"I'm sorry, Ashlyn. I didn't expect... I didn't want this... I shouldn't have..." Teresa's voice broke as tears welled up, her words dissolving into sobs.
"Hey, it's okay. Don't apologize now. We'll talk later. Right now, we need to focus on getting you help," Ashlyn said steading her voice to try to instill confidence in the face of Tess's growing panic.
At that moment, Mr. Morey emerged from the Inn, drawn by the commotion. His gaze quickly assessed Teresa's condition, but it was the sight of his son, Andre, lying motionless nearby, that nearly shattered his composure. The usually polite innkeeper's face contorted with shock and fear.
"Andre! What's happened?" he cried out, rushing to his son's side, but then he stopped and shouted back towards the Inn. "Natalia! Bring the first-aid kit, quickly! Andre's hurt!"
He knelt beside Andre, frantically searching for injuries. Then, turning to Ashlyn, his voice wavered as he struggled to maintain his composure. "What happened here?" he asked, the professional facade giving way to a father's desperate concern.
As the resonant cradled the injured Teresa in her lap, applying pressure to stem the bleeding, she inhaled deeply, gathering her thoughts to respond to Mr. Morey's query.
"It was a resonant... He attacked them," she began, her voice slightly trembling. The events had unfolded so rapidly that it still seemed surreal to her.
"A resonant? But why?" Mr. Morey's disbelief was evident in his voice.
"I think... the cart was blocking his way, and he just... lost his temper," Ashlyn explained, her tone reflecting her own disbelief. How could anyone resort to such violence over something so trivial?
"What?" Mr. Morey's shock momentarily distracted him from tending to Andre's wound. "That's... possible. But why did he stop the attack?" His voice cracked, the pain of imagining his son's potential fate weighing heavily on him.
Ashlyn swallowed hard. "I intervened. I blocked him. Then, they left. I think he didn't want to confront another resonant."
As she spoke, Ashlyn couldn't help but wonder what Mr. Morey would think of her, knowing she was a resonant. Tess, at least, seemed grateful for her intervention. Although she hadn't managed to completely deflect the attack, her actions likely prevented a more severe injury to the merchant.
"I see... Thank you, Mistress," Mr. Morey said, his gaze lingering on Ashlyn with gratitude and deference.
Suddenly, a frantic voice cut through the tension. "Oh my God! My baby... Julian, what's happened? Is Andre okay?" Natalia, a slender brunette woman, rushed desperately toward her husband and son.
"He's alive, for now. We need to stop the bleeding, Nat," Mr. Morey's voice steadied somewhat upon her arrival.
"Julian, who did this to our boy?" Natalia demanded, her emotions oscillating between despair and anger.
"Let's focus on saving him first. We can discuss what happened later," he replied, though his voice wavered, hinting at the complexity and potential ramifications of the situation.
The urgency in Natalia's voice was palpable as she assessed Andre's injuries. "We must get him to a healer, Julian. This wound... it's too severe," she implored, her hands working swiftly to wrap dressings around the young man's torso and shoulder.
Julian Morey's response was heavy with resignation. "Natalia, we can't afford a healer. They would demand… more than we can pay for a wound like this," he lamented.
"Could you... possibly do something, Mistress?" Mr. Morey asked hesitantly, a flicker of hope in his eyes despite his efforts to keep his expectations in check. Natalia, assisting with the dressing, looked up in disbelief.
"Mistress?" she echoed softly, to which he gave a solemn nod.
Ashlyn felt the weight of their gazes and expectations. Her knowledge of herbs could potentially aid in stemming the bleeding, but none were immediately available. She might have something to prevent infection in her travel bag, but that would be of little use in the face of life-threatening injuries.
Even without looking, she sensed Tess's eyes on her. Her lineage might have destined her to be a formidable and dangerous resonant, and her natural field was considered unique, something only the most powerful casters were said to master. However, she was untrained and inexperienced, barely understanding her own abilities. The thought that she had successfully blocked the attack earlier seemed more a stroke of luck than skill.
Troubled by the gravity of the situation, knowing she couldn't simply dismiss their plea without considering every possibility. The life of a young man hung in the balance. Her natural field, which could ‘Materialize’ QS material, wasn't suited for healing. She could possibly use it to seal the wound, but the risk of making it worse loomed large in her mind. Her only other viable option was the school of Alignment, specifically the ‘Assemble’ ring, which didn't seem appropriate for medical treatment.
After a quick consultation with the Neuroenhancer, she learned that Alignment was commonly used in medical care, often coupled with concepts from the school of Abstraction, which was beyond her skill set. The Neuroenhancer, usually reserved in its guidance, pointed out a concept from Alignment – Connect – that might be applicable in this scenario. It was accessible at her level, but she could only use it after some training. Learning a new concept under such pressing circumstances would be challenging, to say the least. Could Andre afford the time it would take for her to learn?
An idea struck her – what if she could 'Assemble' the wound closed? It was an unconventional approach, but it might just work to stop the bleeding and give Andre a chance at self-healing over time.
"I can’t heal him," she began, her voice heavy with the responsibility of her words. "But, I might be able to do something that could help him heal on his own. It's a long shot, and there's a risk it could worsen his condition."
"No!" Natalia's cry was a raw blend of fear and maternal protectiveness as she clutched her son tighter.
"Nat," Mr. Morey interjected softly, his gaze locked with hers. "He's dying. Our boy... he doesn't have much time. I need to tell you something, but you must promise to just listen and not question. Andre needs help now."
"I... Okay, Julian," Natalia responded, trying to control her emotions.
Julian Morey's voice carried a somber weight as he recounted the recent events to his wife. "Another resonant attacked Andre and that girl over there, over something trivial. Mistress Quinn," he nodded towards Ashlyn, "intervened and drove him away."
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Natalia, absorbing the gravity of the situation, turned to Ashlyn with a determined look. "Please, Mistress, we implore you."
"I will try, but I must warn you, it's risky, and it might not..." Ashlyn began.
"Please, just try, Mistress," Julian interrupted, bowing deeply.
Feeling the weight of the expectant eyes around her deepen, including those gathered on the street, Ashlyn suggested, "Let's move them inside. This could take some time."
The Moreys, understanding the severity of the situation, quickly enlisted the help of acquaintances to move Andre and Teresa indoors. Julian's efficiency returned as he orchestrated the relocation of the injured to a ground-floor room with two beds. Under normal circumstances, the propriety of having a young man and woman in the same room might have been questioned, but the urgency of their condition rendered such concerns irrelevant.
First, Ashlyn handed over her anti-infection herbs to Julian, instructing him to prepare a salve. The basics of wound care were common knowledge, and everyone sprang into action. Teresa's wound was swiftly cleaned and dressed, while Andre awaited Ashlyn's unconventional intervention.
Aware that exposing Andre's wound might cause further bleeding, Ashlyn decided to wait until she was fully prepared before instructing the parents to proceed. She stood over the injured, mentally readying herself, then signaled for them to begin. Andre's parents carefully undressed and cleaned his wound, causing the blood to flow once more, though slightly less profusely than before. Ashlyn tuned out the activity around her, focusing solely on her rings. Casting the zero ring, forgoing her natural field for the perception of Alignment, came easily. The challenge lay in the first ring, which would tie the effects to a target. This step, usually straightforward, now presented a significant hurdle in her untested theory.
As she prepared to attempt the impossible, her mind replayed the earlier events, analyzing her unexpected success during the attack. She realized she had somehow managed to Materialize the air slash into QS material. The baffling part was how she had selected the attack as a target, which should have been beyond her capabilities.
Months of using the rings had given Ashlyn an advanced understanding of each step in casting. The first ring typically bound the cast to a target, requiring a basic conceptual grasp of the target itself. In the heat of the earlier confrontation, her instinctive casting had demanded a target, and in a moment of near panic, she had unknowingly let her instincts select it, fully expecting the attempt to fail. Miraculously, it had succeeded.
Now, standing over Andre, she hoped to replicate that feat. Her plan was to go beyond merely joining the visible edges of the wound. She intended to also ‘Assemble’ the internal damages caused by the attack, a far riskier and more complex move. Simply sealing the external wound wouldn't be enough; the internal injuries would prove fatal long before any natural healing could occur.
When the first ring began to form, Ashlyn allowed her instincts to take over once more. She provided the general concept – 'parts separated by the wound, both internally and externally' – but left the finer details to her subconscious understanding. The ring's formation was agonizingly slow, inching its way towards completion. Sweat beaded on her forehead, but she remained steadfast. She willed the ring to work, channeling every ounce of determination and confidence she possessed.
Finally, her efforts bore fruit. The ring completed its formation, overcoming the barriers that had initially impeded it. Ashlyn felt a wave of relief wash over her, but she quickly reined in her emotions, knowing that any lapse in concentration could cause the delicate cast to unravel. She then carefully initiated the second ring, focusing on the slow effect, to avoid causing damage. Lowering her hand towards Andre's wound, she signaled for the others to step back. The rings needed only to be within a certain proximity to take effect, a distance she intuitively recognized as her mental energy began to draw upon it. There was an initial strong tug, followed by a pained groan from Andre.
"Andre!" Natalia's cry was full of anguish, but Julian restrained her gently, directing her gaze to the wound on Andre's shoulder-chest. Before their eyes, the cut began to slowly close under the influence of the rings. Andre's moans suggested internal changes as well; the rings were either successfully joining the separated internal parts or exacerbating the injuries. The true outcome would soon be apparent. Given Andre's critical state, any further harm would likely be fatal.
Ashlyn maintained her focus, blocking out the tense atmosphere around her. Gradually, Andre's cries subsided, his expression easing into one of relative peace. Natalia, overcome with emotion, turned to Ashlyn with tears in her eyes, her thanks conveyed in a look of profound gratitude. She sensed, perhaps more acutely than anyone else, that Ashlyn's intervention was having a positive effect.
Still, Ashlyn knew her task was far from over. The interference field was merely stabilizing the injuries; actual healing would require time and the body's natural processes. Hoping for a full recovery, she prepared to proceed. The initial phase of the casting had been about pulling Andre back from the brink, demanding a significant expenditure of mental energy. Moving forward, however, required a more sustained, less intensive effort.
The resonant afforded Andre a few more moments of this intense healing before adjusting the energy drain to the minimum level, one she could maintain over an extended period. Her resolve was clear - she would do everything in her power to ensure his recovery.
Ashlyn, now radiating confidence born from her success, nevertheless struggled to convey the harshness of the situation. "I need to clarify something. Right now, I'm just keeping his wounds stabilized. His body needs to heal on its own, and I can only maintain this field for so long. Even with my efforts, there's no guarantee of success," she explained clearly.
With a deep understanding born of maternal instinct, Natalia responded with gratitude. "What you've done is already more than we could have hoped for. We are in your debt, Mistress."
Cautiously, Ashlyn offered further instructions. "I think you can continue cleaning and applying the salve now. Just be very careful – any rough handling could reopen the wound."
Natalia nodded and resumed tending to her son. Watching her gentleness, Ashlyn felt a pang of sorrow as she remembered what she had lost. The memory of her own mother's care stirred within her.
The day's events had given Ashlyn a glimpse of the formidable power wielded by her enemies. But rather than diminishing her resolve, it only served to strengthen it.
----------------------------------------
As Teresa, propped up comfortably in bed to avoid straining her superficial but potentially dangerous belly wound, contemplated her meal. She turned to the resonant with a light-hearted query. "Do you think the quality of the meat has improved, Mistress?" she asked, eyeing the hearty chunks of meat and vegetables in her soup.
Despite her injury, Teresa had recovered well after a restful afternoon. Ashlyn, however, felt the weight of exhaustion. She had sustained the rings for over eight hours, a feat that left her mentally drained. Sitting comfortably in bed and being served delicious meals was a small consolation, but it did little to replenish her mental energy, which could only be restored through actual rest.
Nevertheless, Ashlyn remained steadfast in her commitment to maintain the rings as long as she could. Andre hadn't made the best first impression on her. A conversation with Teresa, now more talkative than ever, had shed light on Andre's flirtatious and somewhat off-putting behavior. But Ashlyn's resolve to save him wasn't diminished by his actions. In her eyes, saving a life was a tribute to her parents' sacrifices, a meaningful act amidst her pursuit of revenge.
"It's definitely better... could be a finer cut, or maybe a completely different meat," Ashlyn replied thoughtfully, savoring the tender, flavorful morsel. Grateful that she could sustain the rings with one hand, freeing the other for eating, she focused on finishing her meal. Opportunities to enjoy such fine food were scarce, and she intended to make the most of it.
Playful Tess chimed in with a joke. "Seems like saving the cook’s son has its perks. Maybe you should consider doing it more often, Mistress."
Ashlyn felt annoyed at Tess's more formal address. It felt distancing, but she could sense a deeper admiration and intimacy in Tess's words than before. Letting go of her irritation, Ashlyn allowed herself a small smile, appreciating the bond that had formed between them.
Teresa set her bowl down with a thoughtful sigh, her gaze shifting to the bandaged wound on her belly. "What am I going to do now?" she mused aloud, a hint of resignation in her voice. "I don't think I can go back to my deals any time soon with this..."
Ashlyn paused, the right words escaping her. "We'll figure it out, Tess."
Tess acknowledged this with a half-hearted nod, seemingly struggling to accept the situation.
As the night wore on, Ashlyn fought against the pull of exhaustion. At one point, she nearly succumbed to sleep, the rings faltering momentarily. Sensing her struggle, Mr. Morey thoughtfully brought her a glass of water. Ashlyn had been avoiding drinking to minimize the need for bathroom breaks, but the need to stay alert was paramount. She lacked the mental energy for conversation, focusing entirely on maintaining the rings. Mr. Morey and others took turns watching her, ready to rouse her should she drift off.
The rings flickered again, but she steeled herself, determined to push her limits. Teresa, meanwhile, slept soundly in the adjacent bed, her peaceful state providing a small comfort to Ashlyn.
At some indistinct point, someone – Ashlyn couldn't discern who – returned, placing the cup to her lips. She was too drained to drink on her own, relying on their guidance. Thankfully, she managed not to choke, her body functioning on autopilot for the simple task.
Time blurred, day and night melding into one continuous stretch. The sound of more people entering the room suggested morning had arrived. Her hazy thoughts were soon interrupted by someone offering her a bowl of porridge. Something about this mundane action sparked an unexpected surge of mental energy within her. Gratefully, she accepted the bowl and began to eat on her own. The morning light streaming in through the windows lent a rejuvenating brightness to the room, aiding her in regaining some alertness.
As the day progressed, Ashlyn found herself in a haze of fatigue, barely aware of the passage of time and her surroundings. It was only when someone gently pressed a spoon against her lips that she realized another mealtime had come. The spoon was nudged into her mouth with a kind persistence, but she barely registered the taste or texture of the food. Someone was asking her a question, but the words were lost to her, drowned out by the singular focus she maintained on her casting. Her entire being was devoted to sustaining the rings, her resolve unwavering despite the mental toll.
By the time night fell again, Ashlyn's grasp on consciousness was slipping. She couldn't tell the exact hour, but the quietness suggested it might be after supper. The Inn was silent, or perhaps her exhaustion was too deep to perceive any sounds.
Her ring disappeared in unexpected calmness. Yet, she continued still, gazing into nothing. Then, a voice broke through her stupor, "He is okay!" Natalia's words reached her, carrying a tone of relief and gratitude. Ashlyn, supported by Natalia's steady hold, mustered enough strength to turn her head towards Andre. He lay there, his breathing steady and peaceful. His complexion, though still pallid, showed signs of improvement. The wound remained closed, defying her worst fears. There was hope for his recovery.
Exhaustion weighed heavily on Ashlyn as she was guided to a nearby table with a bowl of broth. She managed a few sips before being escorted to a room not far away. The moment her head touched the pillow, she succumbed to a deep, restorative sleep, her body and mind finally granted the rest they desperately needed.