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73 - Book 2 - Chapter 22 - Help in the Tents

“Quickly now, come here!” Doctor Quill demanded.

Rep and Zalan made their way to her side next to a patient breathing faintly on a cot. His chest was bare, his clothing cut open by the doctor. The patient was almost unresponsive, not reacting to the checks Doctor Quill made.

“He is so cold. Can either of you start a fire?” Doctor Quill asked.

Rep held a small flame just above the man as Doctor Quill put a damp cloth on his head.

“Keep that close to his chest. I do not understand what has occurred within his system. All of them! It is as though something slowed their internal organs to a crawl. Their heartbeats are scarce and hardly able to be felt,” she placed a hand at the man’s neck. She waited, holding her breath. She sighed, dejected.

“I can no longer feel his heartbeat,” she declared solemnly.

Zalan felt cold, witnessing the man in such a harrowing state. Was this the kind of state he never got to see his mom in? Was this all he would see if he visited her in the hospital? Pain on her face and death at the door? Tears were in Doctor Quill’s eyes. Zalan felt strange at the sight. Doctor Quill was feeling forlorn over a total stranger. He didn’t even cry when witnessing Fran die. He couldn’t.

“Thank you,” Doctor Quill said to Rep, allowing him to put out his fire. “I am glad you learned to use your power in such a way that allows you to assist others. Most others limit their learning to combat.”

Zalan blinked suddenly, a thought coming over his mind. He stepped toward the man and raised his hands.

“Let me try something. Stand back. Don’t touch him,” Zalan instructed. His mom taught him about this once and he never thought he would have to use it. He placed one hand on the man’s upper chest and another just below his chest on the other side. Doctor Quill watched with concern and Rep was interested.

Zalan sent a small electric shock through the body. It jerked upward, but the man’s face remained unmoving.

“What are you doing?” Doctor Quill said, horrified.

“Stay back,” Zalan repeated firmly. “I’m trying to restart his heart.”

Zalan felt for the man’s pulse through his neck. Nothing. He did a few chest compressions, then put his hands in place again.

Another electric shock. The body convulsed.

“Stop it! You are desecrating the dead!” Quill protested.

“I… I think it worked,” Zalan said, astounded. He didn’t trust himself to assess whether the heartbeat had started again or if his own heartbeat was running loud in his ears. He thought it was a total long shot that acting as a defibrillator would work. He stepped back and let Doctor Quill look the patient over.

“Dear Lord,” Quill whispered as she felt the reawakened pulse. She placed her head close to the man’s mouth. “Dear God, he is breathing!”

She looked up at Zalan, astonished. She was looking him up and down, trying to find some tool that he used.

“Was that an Artifact? How did you do that? You brought him from the dead!”

“Not back from the dead,” Zalan shook his head. “I restarted his heart. You can’t do that if they’re already dead.”

“But how did you restart a heart! Did you place your hands and make a prayer to God? How does one reanimate a dead heart?” Quill asked, looking incredibly curious. Zalan saw how much she wanted to learn. It would make her a better doctor.

“I ran an electric… I mean, I ran a small amount of lightning through him,” Zalan said.

“Lightning!?” Quill was flabbergasted. “Your Elemental Power is lightning? And you can use it to bring people from the brink?”

“I guess so,” Zalan shrugged.

“Absolutely amazing,” Quill said. “That is the most incredible power I have ever heard of. What amazing utility.”

For the first time, Zalan felt like his power could be used for more than just fighting. Maybe he could be a great doctor. He didn’t really believe that, but it was nice to know his power was something more than a big beam of painful energy. He felt warm, with an overwhelming feeling of gratitude. His power had a good reason to be used outside of combat, just like everyone else.

“Once again, you have proven that you are more incredible than you let on,” Rep said. “How did you know you could do that?”

“Something I learned from my homeworld,” Zalan said. When Quill gave him an odd look, he corrected himself. “Err, I mean homeland.”

“I never understand the things you learned from there. You said there were no Elemental abilities where you were from, yet you were instructed in how to use yours in this manner?” Rep asked.

“I mean… kinda?” Zalan said, shrugging. “My mom taught me everything she could when she was learning to become a doctor.”

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“A doctor? You never told me she could practice medicine,” Rep said, pleased to learn new information.

“Yeah. I guess I wasn’t sure you would recognize the profession in this realm.”

Zalan began looking around the infirmary tent. It was filled with people who never had the opportunity to become fighters. His eyes landed on Verum. He was still very much alive, but looked catatonic.

“Do you know what happened to these people?” Rep asked Quill, looking at all the others who were ambushed before entering the tournament.

“No. It seems warmth is helping them the most,” Doctor Quill shook her head.

“What about him?” Zalan pointed at Verum.

“His state has baffled me,” Doctor Quill said. “He exhibits many of the same issues that these others have, but I was told he was struck once in the stomach. The strike to the stomach has not done any visible damage. He is not even bruised. Yet here he lies.”

“So… whatever happened to him might have happened out of combat?” Zalan asked.

“I would presume so,” Quill nodded. “Though what happened, I do not have the slightest idea. It vexes me.”

Zalan made his way over to Verum. He was shaking and staring into space.

“Did Slauson do this to you?” Zalan asked him.

Verum continued to quiver. Zalan started to wonder whether Nold’s comment was right. Maybe Slauson was so intimidating that it left a lasting effect on his opponent. But what could he have possibly done? It frustrated Zalan to no end to be left in the dark like this.

“Why are you so fixated on Slauson?” Rep asked him. “There are many fighters in the tournament. He may not even be the strongest one.”

“Yeah, but he’s a huge jerk,” Zalan said. “You saw him out there.”

“I fear you created an unhealthy obsession with his downfall when he slighted you in Naverforth,” Rep said. “Why is that? He did so little to you.”

Once again, it felt to Zalan that Rep had the uncanny ability to read him like a book. He knew deep in his heart that his view of Slauson was irrational. At worst, Slauson barely made a disparaging remark. But below the surface, Zalan burned with rage and anger toward the realm. He was stuck and he hated it. All of that rage and hatred was being directed toward a single person. It used to be Madam Hikma, but Zalan got over that idea. It had been too long since he had seen her and he was second guessing his idea of betrayal. It was Slauson that was more of the manifestation of everything he hated in this world. And he wanted to have power over that which he hated.

Instead of giving Rep any of that insight, he just shrugged toward Rep.

“I don’t know, he just seems kinda lame,” Zalan offered.

Rep frowned, greatly dissatisfied with the response.

“But I think we should go tell Umdarr about all this,” Zalan said, waving his hand over the tent. “Look how many fighters are missing. They’re probably the ones that would have been necessary to have the Level 10 and Under bracket be separated from the Level 5 and Under.”

“I agree. It seems someone is trying to sabotage the event. These fighters were hurt to be prevented from entering the ring,” Rep decided.

They bid farewell to Quill and headed to the tent’s exit.

“I hope not to see you back in here,” Doctor Quill said, waving them off. “Unless you intend to help again, then it is fine!” she added quickly.

Rep and Zalan rushed to the arena to locate Umdarr. A fight was underway. The two fighters were throwing rocks and fire toward one another, both taking on significant hits. The crowd was going wild for every hit, losing their minds to the brutal battle. Zalan and Rep ran around the base of the arena, ducking under a small pile of rocks spilling over the side. They finally saw Umdarr who was sitting in a wall of air, bouncing any errant attacks away from him.

“Umdarr!” Rep called him.

Umdarr looked over at them, annoyed, then waved them away and paid attention to the match.

“Umdarr, we need to talk to you!” Zalan called.

“Not during a fight,” Umdarr replied.

“It is important! We believe someone is rigging the tournament,” Rep said.

Umdarr’s irritation grew, but he quickly waved them over.

“What? What? Be quick. This had better not be a joke,” Umdarr said, his eyes not leaving the match.

“We just came back from the tent. It is filled with would-be fighters that were ambushed and sabotaged before the tournament began,” Rep said.

“And Verum looks like he might have been affected by the same thing. It triggered in combat and made him unable to fight,” Zalan added.

“Right,” Umdarr sounded disinterested. “I am hearing theories. What is the proof?”

“All of the people in the tent were going to join the tournament!” Rep said. “The lack of their presence may be why we do not have the Level 5 and Under group. It must have been a deliberate attack!”

“You say ‘must have,’ but offer no justification?” Umdarr noted.

“So you think all of that was just a coincidence?” Zalan snapped.

“I think you have not supplied me proof as to why this would be sabotage to the tournament. It is possible they fought a monster that left lasting injuries or played with an Artifact they did not expect to cause them such limitations,” Umdarr said.

Rep and Zalan looked to one another, hoping the other would have a good justification. Rep bit his lip and Zalan ran his hand through his hair in anger.

“Don’t you at least want to investigate this a bit instead of having a tournament be controlled by some cheater?” Zalan protested.

“Not without proof! I am not a detective, I run the tournament. If you can bring me evidence like an Artifact being used for sabotage or a particular source for these injuries, I might find it more credible,” Umdarr said, leaning forward as one of the fighters punched with a rock fist. It looked enough for the other fighter to remain on the floor.

“But people were clearly hurt on their way here,” Rep said.

“None of my concern if they are not in the tournament,” Umdarr shrugged.

“But—”

“Get away from the lower arena. I won’t be held responsible if you get yourselves hurt outside of a battle,” Umdarr said. He stood and leaped impressively with the assistance of his wind power. “We have a winner!” he called loudly.

Zalan ran his hand through his hair again, enraged at being discarded so easily when he had such important information.

“How is it that I feel so stuck right now?” Zalan breathed out frustrated.

“Zalan?” Rep asked, a shocked and worried look on his face.

“Come on, let’s just go find Nold,” Zalan said briskly as he stomped away to the stone stands.

“But I think I remember where I know the name ‘Slauson’ from,” Rep said. “It was in the Castle of Docrun.”