Saræ had been off duty when a stableboy ran into her office. The kid was too winded to give his report for several gasping breaths.
What was finally given pulled her away from a breakfast of porridge and dried fruit. It quickly became clear she would not get back to it any time soon.
Saræ finished her prayer to Nala and opened her eyes. The wounded woman laid out on the cot before her showed no signs of consciousness.
That was not surprising. The slash on her patient’s calf festered with a cocktail of pathogens only found in the Dark Moors. Saræ did not know what half of them were, but could easily see the ravages they had wrought on the body.
Her magic had killed off the majority of the invaders and done what she could to give the body a fighting chance. Normally, she would expend everything she had on an injury like this.
The wound had been severe to start with. It had then been continuously exposed to the stagnant waters of that gods forsaken place.
The forced march for survival had not even left amputation as an option. Now, it was up to the arcane warrior’s physical reinforcement to help her through the night.
Saræ could not do more, or she would have nothing left for the others. She quickly stepped to the next cot.
“Alve.” The mage assisting her immediately responded. He placed a palm at the nape of her neck.
Magic flowed into her. It was not enough to replace everything she had expended. Not even close.
Alve grimaced in pain. “That’s it. I’m tapped dry.” Saræ nodded wearily at the force mage.
“Go get some rest. I am sure I’ll need you again in the morning.” She did not see him nod back. She was already casting.
Her mouth moved in prayer to her god as her mind guided spell work. As a senior acolyte, she could heal without the prayers.
But, it would focus and strengthen her spell. It was also how she was trained. That gave the action a degree of comfort.
The man had lost a chunk of his side, and his arm was cleanly severed from just below the elbow. The stump had been partially healed over by a weak healing item.
The missing piece of abdomen was a greater concern. She worked to keep the organs in and weave enough flesh over the wound to keep him stable.
The pain of running dry stabbed through her focus. The prayer stumbled and spell ended. That was it.
Her body ached in a way not physical in origin. A wave of disorientation hit as she straightened.
The medical pavilion was filled with a dozen injured alma. Most were either unconscious or in no condition to object to the potions being forced down their throats.
If they had been expecting a returning party, there would have been more than enough healing potions. But, the outpost was a week away from resupply.
All that was left was a few minor potions kept in case of accidents. Those would reinforce her work and increase the odds of survival.
They had not been prepared for an expedition because this was not their expedition. It was not even from Rojin.
The half dead group that dragged themselves far enough from the tree line to be spotted was from the Rillan Empire. The neighboring nation had an outpost just across the border.
With how close that was, the desperate attempt to escape the Dark Moors alive ended on their side. That was unfortunate for the acolyte who had to keep them alive.
The citizens of Rojin were not on the best terms with the Rillans. It had been under two hundred years since the rebellion that led to a chunk being carved off Rojin to form Rillan.
The view of Rillan citizens was that of uncivilized rebels hunching in a chaotic and impoverished young nation. It did not help that the annexing of Rillan had caused an economic decline in the much larger Kingdom of Rojin.
Rillan was between Rojin and the coast. It also blocked access to the wealth of the merchant kingdoms.
The blow to trade bred the negative stigma. Even so, they were not actively at war.
Rojin was going to reclaim the fledgling empire when convenient. But, Saræ would not ignore the dying due too nationality. Luckily, enough of the outpost agreed.
Her wavery gaze landed on the two cots pushed to the back. She still could not save them all.
No, the two men were not dead. At least, not strictly. But, there was nothing she could do for them.
They had been the first brought in and were obviously the worst. Normally, she would start with the most injured and work towards those more stable.
The number of injured and shortage of healers had changed that. She just could not help everyone.
Alve helped, but he had no experience healing. All he could do was donate his stored magic.
Almost every member of the party had been injured in some way. A few could wait, but most would not survive the night without her.
The old man who led the group suffered severe internal damage and a head wound. His intestines and stomach had ruptured and the infection was invading the other damaged organs.
If he was her only patient, she might have saved him. That was not the case. Saræ refused to sacrifice all the others for their leader’s life.
The occupant of the neighboring cot had slightly better odds. His left leg was broken and the arm on the same side was simply gone.
That would not have been hard to heal, but an unknown infection had put him into a state of semi-delirium. It was running a fever that would cook his organs soon.
Saræ had spent the magic needed to realize she could not cure whatever abomination had infected him. The Dark Moors contained a endless supply of nightmare fuel.
Much of that came from blasphemous undead monstrosities. But, just as much could be found in the poisons, pathogens and parasites.
She could have stood by his bed and continually repaired the damage until the infection passed. But, that would have killed everyone else just as much as healing their leader.
No, all she could do was sleep and hope the regained magic would help those who survived the night. Remaining here just delayed that much needed recuperation.
Saræ passed one of the assistants working there way down the injured. The woman was one of the many laborers appropriated as emergency hands.
A hand on the arm caught her attention. “Feed the remainder to them over the night, but not the last two. It wouldn’t do any good.” It might have been the exhaustion in Saræ’s voice, but the command was received with a solum nod of understanding.
She noticed a familiar horse standing next to the pavilion’s canvas wall. The animal had a habit of standing around her place of work.
She would often greet the white and brown creature by petting its mane when entering or leaving. It was certainly not there every time, but the odd animal seemed to like the spot.
The morning came all too soon. That was a common symptom of excessive casting. Magic restored faster while asleep, and the body knew it.
A mere fraction of her total capacity had been restored by the time Saræ returned. Only one of her helpers was still watching over the injured.
That was not surprising. The non-casters could not do much once the potions were expended.
“How are they doing.” Saræ did not bother with niceties and got right to the point.
The drooping man startled at the question. “Oh, sister. I… uh, I am not sure.” It was more than apparent he had not slept. In fact, she thought he might have been there at the start of the night.
“Its fine.” She sighed. “Get some sleep. I will be find here.” The young man gave a grateful smile and thanked her before leaving to pass out wherever he could.
Wishing she could return to her bed and do the same, Saræ entered. Her worst fears were quickly dispelled.
Every one of those she healed were still alive and stable. A few had even woke and chatted with her while she examined them.
It was more than she could have hoped for. Most were far from healed. She would have her work cut out for her over the next few days.
Her check ups found a few complications that could have gotten bad if unaddressed. But, she had barely expended anything by the time she got to the end.
There she found something she never expected. The two in the de facto hospice were still alive. Not just alive, but the gnarled group leader was conscious.
She new the man. Or rather, the manager knew him and had shared a little.
The brief report of the injured group had mention Rekon, their leader. Apparently he was somewhat renowned amongst those who dared the Dark Moors.
To be exact, the manager called him that bastard Rekon. She inferred the man had not left a good impression.
The younger man was still asleep, but was visibly resting easier. So, she stepped up to Rekon’s bedside.
“Good morning. I am Saræ, your healer. How do you feel?” The man she guessed to be in his sixties blinked at her.
His unfocused gaze and difficulty processing her question was not a good sign. Testing the effects of his head wound was an incentive behind the question.
“I… not great. Hi, Saræ.” It was a little out of order and held a disoriented tone. But, it was a conscious response.
“Hello Rekon. I am happy to hear that.” She prepared to cast, but was distracted by the mumbled response.
“Am I… Rekon?” The tone was both unfocused and uncertain. That was not a good sign.
A quick scan found the head wound to be worse than she thought after her first detection. The skull had hairline cracks, but the really concerning part was the signs of bleeding.
Brain damage was fixable with prolonged healing. But, she lacked the skill to heal it directly.
Prayer accompanied deeper study. The results were… strange. He really should have been dead.
The damage was wide spread. The stomach lining had ruptured enough to let the contents erode surrounding tissue.
Several other organs had minor to severe damage. But, the worst was the obvious effects of a widespread infection.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Yet, the damage was not progressing. Without any sign why, the bacteria that had clearly overpowered the body were simply gone.
Even stranger, none of the ravaged organs were breaking down farther. The cells that should have been dying in a toxic soup of inflammation and failed supply chains were alive and functioning.
It was as if the gods themselves had commanded the body to live. Necrosis was just not happening, and there was no reason Saræ could find.
That did not mean she could not help. Her magic when through and removed the unneeded inflammation.
Damaged tissue was realigned and filled in with newly created cells. It was not going to solve everything now.
That would take a few more days. Even if he was miraculously not getting worse, getting better would require her help.
She eventually realized that she should not spend everything now. Habit dictated that such injuries must be healed immediately for a chance of survival.
That just did not apply to a patient that seemed shielded from death. It would be better to do what she could for the head wound.
Whatever caused it was only stopped by hitting bone. Even then, it had enough force to cause internal bleeding.
The brain had been compressed for longer than was reasonable. The excess fluid was easy to remove, but the damage was harder to reverse.
In theory, she could heal this without a problem. The damaged and dead cells could be replaced. That did not mean the harm would be undone.
Saræ did not leave this repair unfinished. Half of her current reserves went into restoring the dead neural tissue.
When she reopened her eyes, Rekon was watching her with more focus than before. “Thank you. I think I owe you my life.” His voice had a sincerity that made Saræ hold back a cringe.
Most of this room could say they owed their life to her. But, she had nothing to do with his survival.
“No need, you did the surviving yourself. I only finished it off.” He nodded, seeming preoccupied by something in his own head.
“Do you know where you are?” She needed to establish if her repair had solved the mental damage.
“I don’t. I’m having trouble… There are a few things I can’t quite… find.” That was not a good sign.
“What is the last thing you remember?” Hopefully the damage was only a passing problem.
“I’m not sure. Nothing seems… clear, I guess.” He was obviously lucid, but just as obviously distressed.
“That’s fine. I’ll leave you to rest. We can see how you feel after.” The expression of internal worry was briefly replaced by that look of gratitude that felt oddly undeserved.
“Thank you. I suspect I could use it.” She returned his smile and moved to the neighboring cot.
The second inexplicable survivor was not quite as strange. Still, the results of her arcane investigations were odd.
The refusal of death was not present. Cells continued to succumb to damage and failed supply of resources.
The anomaly was the complete absence of the unfamiliar bacteria that had overrun the body. They were just gone.
The body was still damaged and straining to handle the waste products from the battle. That was much easier to repair.
She also managed to correct the fractured tibia. The missing arm was a problem for months of regular flesh sculpting.
The stump was healed over and nerves repaired enough to remove active pain. Farther work was not her responsibility.
“How is he?” The question startled Saræ. She had finished her healing prayer. But, the state of focus accompanied with healing had not yet faded.
She turned back to her elderly patient. Rather than resting, he was watching her work with a look of sympathetic concern.
Saræ wondered briefly why the outpost’s manager disliked this man so much. He had been nothing but polite and respectful.
“It has not been easy on him, but he should be just fine. I extended his sleep to help his body clear everything.” Rekon nodded at her explanation.
“Were you close?” She was curious about his interest. It seemed like simple concern, but the little she had been told about him made empathy sound out of character.
He shook his head in response. “I don’t know. He looks a little familiar. But… I am not sure who anyone is right now. I’m not even sure who I am.” The last bit was quieter, as if spoken to himself.
She did not know how to respond. It was apparent the replaced braincells had not completely solved the issue.
She was far from an expert on the interaction of the central nervous system and soul. What lessons there had been said that the brain was a receiver for the soul.
It would not matter if the entire brain was destroyed and replaced with new cells. The cells just had to be healthy and functional.
However, she had heard the soul could fail to reattach properly. The stories said such injuries could cause memory loss or mood swings.
Even the disruption of motor functions had been mentioned. Wisdom said the problem would solve itself. But, she still felt concerned.
“The prospects of your whole group look very good. The best thing you can do is rest and give your body time to recover.” He seemed relieved at her words and relaxed into his cot.
Saræ did another check of the wounded before leaving. Nothing new or requiring her intervention presented itself.
I watched the healer leave the pavilion. I had been worried for a minute when she scanned Rekon for injuries.
Life and unlife animus were obviously different things to me. But, that was after I spent centuries studying them on and off.
The short healer had not even cast a spell to analyze animus. I did not need such a thing to get a vague image.
Either that was different for alma or she was not as used to distinguishing one from the other. If she suspected anything, she was doing an excellent job hiding it.
The plan had come to me when I and several other horses were saddled and ridden out to the forest. There, we help bring back a group of a little over a dozen alma.
A few of the alma were nearly unharmed. But, most had injuries that were killing their fragile bodies.
Some of them had forced themselves this far out of desperation and will alone. Others were already unconscious and had been carried by their companions.
The idea to kill and reanimate one of them came as we pulled the wounded back on a me drawn cart. The question was how and which one.
The second came down to the two most likely to die. One was a wisened alma I now knew to be named Rekon.
The other option was a still unnamed man sleeping next to me. Both were clearly going to die.
Even the healer had no hope for them. I could have just waited. However, they might have died while one of the casters was watching.
I had to make sure the target died when I was ready to replace their source and my actions would not be noticed. That meant in the middle of the night.
My plan started by soaking one of my flies in a vile of whisper spider venom. I already knew the stuff was deadly to the central nervous system of creatures fueled by life animus.
More importantly, it took a lot of it to erode unliving flesh. This amount would be harmless.
It had been a bit of a trick getting the vile out of the nearest orifice. But, once dropped to the ground, a hoof cracked the fragile clay bottle and let the fly free.
I then flew it to my target and dug into the open head wound until venom touched the blood stream. I had decided against the alma with a missing arm.
I would rather take the body that was intact. Regrowing the limb would just be a matter of extensive healing magic.
But, I could not do that without the reanimated alma standing next to the horse for suspicious periods. It was also unclear how suspicious regrowing limbs was to other alma.
The elderly alma did not even twitch as he died. I quickly got to work. The spell was as complete as I could make it in the few hours available to work with.
A link formed to the recently vacated place where a source should have been. Having learned from my horse, I slowly eased into the full draw.
More of my essence became animus and pored into the dead soul at a gradually increasing rate. This was about my limit.
Making essence is not hard or normally a problem. But, I could only grow it so fast.
I could have reanimated a few more small animals. I was certainly not going to be able to do another horse. Even another alma was out of the question.
The body came to unlife, and I gained greater awareness of it. The damage was not significant.
The bacteria creatures with life animus had in their intestines had escaped. It was taking advantage of the partially crushed organs to spread and feast.
The acid in the stomach had also escaped. That added to the organ damage.
In other words, things that did not matter. The soul now recognized the bacteria as harmful and foreign. It quickly destroyed them.
The organs continued to function despite the systematic failure that should have been taking place. It would have been fine if they did not.
A soul running on unlife animus could create everything each individual cell needed. It would keep them together and functioning as a greater whole even when they should have died.
I did not need to remove the venom. Whisper spiders can harm gam and creatures with unlife animus.
In the quantities their bite inject it, the cells dissolve completely. That is unlikely to kill a gam. But, it is quite problematic.
The effect of shutting down the nerves of anything with life animus was just an odd quirk. I discovered it when an expedition guard got bitten by a spider that had not yet replenished its venom.
Despite the tiny amount injected, she died almost instantly. It only took the time needed for blood to reach vital nerves.
The fact it was damaging cells put it on the souls target list. The venom was completely destroyed in no time.
I left my new puppet body unconscious for a time. It felt unwise to jump up and act completely uninjured.
I considered leaving with my horse and real body within. However, my curiosity got the better of me.
I did not have a lot of essence available. But, that only mattered if I tried something costly.
Spell augmented senses showed me something interesting about the neighboring alma. I recognized the infection.
We called it skin rot. There were not a lot of bacteria that used unlife animus. Skin rot was one of the few exceptions.
It was highly aggressive and could replicate without the need for physical resources. The only thing that stopped it was its dependence on animus.
As far as I could tell, it had the ability to absorb and store unlife animus. That was harmful because the loss of unlife animus caused flesh to degrade and die.
An infection was not fatal, but it caused weakness. Of course, it acted completely different in the gam.
We had no animus. However, our bodies looked close enough to the disease’s normal targets that it would try to infect us anyway.
The result was a bacterial infection that lasted until the rapidly replicating cells started dying from animus depletion. They would brake apart and end the infection.
Unfortunately, the dying bacteria released a caustic chemical that destroyed local cells. So, the gam’s flesh would become blotted with necrotic patches.
It was not fatal for us. Still, the effect was irritating enough that we developed a way to harmlessly destroy the bacteria before it could die off naturally.
This was the first time I had seen it infecting something with life animus. The result was distinctly different from unlife or essence creatures.
The infection was feeding on the life animus as it did for unlife. However, it appeared to be toxic to the bacteria.
It absorbed the soul’s fuel and replicated rapidly with it. The problem was the bacteria were dying off after they absorbed more than a seemingly arbitrary threshold.
The result was a small but continuous release of corrosive waste. With how fragile the alma was, it was rapidly killing him.
Half hoping to help and half curious if I could, I slowly wove the spell that treated skin rot into his body. It was slow going.
I had very little essence to spare. That did not prevent me from doing work like this. It did require me to wait for more essence to be created before I could finish.
The final product swept through the unknown alma’s body. As it went, bacteria began a cascade that ended with a harmless death.
The first sweep killed off most of them. That would not do much good. Not with how bad his body was at fighting them.
I kept at it until nothing was left. Each sweep took everything I had. But, my essence could recharge faster than the bacteria could recover.
Soon, his body was devoid of infection. It was still not very happy. But, I doubted even an alma could die from the remaining damage.
The next hour had been spent meditating. However, I became bored after my focus and essence was replenished.
Curious and bored, my attention turned to the other wounded. The remainder of the night turned into a lesson in alma healing.
I walked my horse around the edges of the building. As I went, I explored the damaged alma and tried to fix what I could.
The horse and my body within was taken to paster before morning. I was already acting differently from the other horses.
The alma’s willingness to ignore oddities from the animals was impressive. But, better not to push it unnecessarily.
I lay back and watched the ceiling with Rekon’s eyes. This was going to be a test of my capacity to deceive.
I recalled that alma could be mentally affected by damage to their brains. It came up when discussing resurrection.
I just hoped I understood well enough to fake ignorance. Luckily, disproving ignorance was as hard as disproving a negative.
If I claimed to know nothing, they could not prove I was wrong. With luck, they would even teach me.