Collecting Legends
by Shadowy Star
Legend Nine
Doctor Elisa Denari sighed heavily. Her shift was almost over. All she had to do was checking on her patients one last time before she could finally, finally go home. She opened the door to the first room to the left.
The only patient here was a man of about twenty-five, if that. He'd been brought four days ago by a group of tourists who all looked as if they'd just escaped a nightmare. Which, as they'd told her later, was exactly what they had. She sighed again. Erna was still far from being safe, even if the fae no longer responded to humans' fears. There were still enough of demonlings out there to make getting rid of them a many-generations work.
She frowned as she looked down at her patient. The handsome face was still pale due to blood loss but not as pale as back then, those four days ago. Little wonder if you got a lot of cuts across various parts of your body. Add to that a minor head injury and a nice little infection and you have someone unconscious for days. Well, the infection was already ebbing due to a generous usage of antibiotics, and most of the cuts, though varying in size and depth, were nothing of real importance. The worst was a cut across the man's ribs but that, too, had already started to heal. The head injury had been more difficult to get by but they managed that as well. So, the young man should be awaking anytime soon. He would have already –and hadn't been unconscious for that long at all– if she still could use the fae.
Elisa was an Adept and had worked as a Healer before the Second Sacrifice had robbed her of her powers. And now she was reduced to her profound knowledge on non fae-based healing methods. As were all Healers, Adept or not. She felt silent fury rising inside her again when she thought of that. Stupid men! Did anyone of them ever give it a thought what taming the fae would mean to all those Workers who used it to Heal? To all the Healers and nurses and mid-wives? Or what it would mean for all the buildings which stability based upon quake-Wards? She'd treated too much victims of crumbling houses already. In last consequence, sealing the fae against human influence probably meant the end of civilization as it was. Welcome to the Middle Ages, she thought angrily. She used –and had faith in– technology in her work but she couldn't force herself to believe technology could evolve rapidly enough to sufficiently replace the fae. When would technology be able to repair a broken bone in a few minutes? When would technology supply humanity with methods to seal a cut without so much as a scar in almost no time? When would technology develop techniques to support open heart surgery?
She shook her head. Such thoughts changed nothing. What was done, couldn't be undone. She concentrated on her patient again and her frown deepened. Why wouldn't he wake up?
As if her thoughts had willed him into that, his thick dark brown lashes fluttered once. Poor man, Elisa thought, his head will feel like splitting for a while. To open his eyes seemed to be an effort the man was unsure if it was worth trying.
She smiled.
"Good evening," she said.
The man opened his eyes, and Elisa saw they were the color of green jade. Apparently the man had decided being awake was indeed worth the effort of waking up. Though for all it seemed it had taken almost more than he had to ascend from the unconsciousness.
He blinked a few times, undoubtedly chasing away the layers of fatigue. Then his eyes focused. Elisa used that moment to check his pupils that, thankfully, were of the same size, indicating that there was no swelling to the brain matter due to the contusion. Good, she thought and allowed herself a satisfied smile.
"Where am I?" The man's voice was rough with days of disuse and he sounded as if he wasn't sure whether it wouldn't fail.
"'Central Hospital' in Sattin," she explained friendly.
"How did I get here?"
"A group of tourists brought you, all of them in bad shape though not as half as bad the shape you were in."
The man sighed, obviously relieved. "So it worked out, then."
"If you're relating to your fight against a horde of demonlings that outnumbered your party trice if not more, then well, I think it worked out," Elisa said sternly. "What almost didn't work out is you surviving that fight!"
Then she stopped. Her patient was … grinning? She watched the man take in the sterile white-painted ceiling every room in every hospital had and then his eyes dropped to the equally white and disinfected bedding.
He shook his head as if in an attempt to clear his thoughts and winced.
"I remember being wounded in that fight," he said then. "I don't remember getting here."
"That's because you were unconscious back then," Elisa said, with emphasis.
"So I will retain no ill effects of that head injury?" the man asked.
"No. But you should consider yourself fortunate. That contusion could have been much worse – if what the tourists had told how you got it is true."
The man waved it off. "How long did I…?"
"Four days. And it's close to a miracle that you'd awoken at all. Your head injury, added to the blood loss and all the cuts… You're stubborn, you know?" she said.
"That's been said," he grinned again. "What else injuries did I get beside the cuts I can map? Any internal damage?"
"Again, no. And again, you're very lucky," Elisa felt she had to point out. "Are you a Healer yourself?" Something about the way how he'd asked…
"Used to be," the man answered absentmindedly and then froze, as if in pain or realizing something.
"Pain?" Elisa asked concernedly.
The man's body was rigid, and his face bore an expression as if he waited for something terrible to happen. Whatever it was, Elisa supposed it hadn't because her patient relaxed, exhaustion obviously overwhelming him.
Not that he would let that stop him. That very stubborn look reappeared on his face, and there was something else behind that, something like heart felt relief. Well, Elisa thought, the sheer fact of him being alive after a fight like that was indeed reason enough to be relieved.
"I have to go," he said and rose to his elbows.
"You're going nowhere," Elisa said with all authority of a Healer she could muster. "You'll collapse after five steps!"
"We'll see," the man said stubbornly, and carefully, got to his feet.
He looked like he needed one second or two for the room to stop spinning around, therefore Elisa knew his body must have renewed most of the blood lost otherwise he would have needed probably much more. His legs only slightly shaking, he gritted his teeth and managed to let go of the frame and stand without support.
Elisa raised a skeptical brow.
The man grinned faintly again and took a step forward. "One," he counted. "Two. Three." A deep breath. "Four. Five." At that he turned to Elisa and give her a triumphant smile. "Six."
"Wait!" Elisa exclaimed angrily. "You can't leave right now!"
"Why not?" That came somewhat strained, and Elisa grinned herself.
"That's why. I know your stubborn warrior breed, all of you'd rather die than confess the possibility of being exhausted!"
The man burst into a violent fit of laughter.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Elisa warned belatedly.
Then he coughed and gripped his midsection, probably literally painfully reminded of his injuries. "Agree with you completely," he finally managed with a lopsided grin. "On both statements."
"I told you that much!" Elisa couldn't help but smile widely in triumph.
"Though I'm not as stubborn as … a friend of mine."
Elisa could tell there was so much more behind the words. She was used to sense pain in her patients.
"I'd suggest you go to sleep. Erna would still be here tomorrow. Or do you have some imperative business to attend to?"
The green eyes instantly went sad and for a moment so brief it was nearly beyond perception, they were open windows to a pain that had nothing to do with a hurting body.
Elisa's heart clenched in sympathy.
"No," the young man said almost inaudibly, eyes unreadable again, "no, I don't."
Next morning, after a discussion whether or not his condition would go well with horse riding –which Elisa lost, wondering a lot at his eloquence in the process–, she handed an envelope over to that impossible patient of hers, left by the tourists for him. There was no letter in it, she would have sensed it if there were one. Instead, it felt like small pieces of paper in there, obviously banknotes. Made sense, that. Because one of the first questions she'd been asked five days ago was where to find the bank. She didn't dwell on it, he'd saved those stupid tourists' lives, after all.
Now how does a Healer become that good at rhetoric, she mused absentmindedly instead. There was something she just knew she should remember, something about Healers who were not only that but she couldn't figure it out for dear life right now.
"For me?" he asked, looking down at the item in question.
In irregular capitals one word was written on it. Legend. There wasn't any name.
Elisa frowned at that. Could that be? Could that young man with kind green eyes be the one hunting demonlings up and down the road north? Many travelers were spreading that legend lately…
"Who else," she said, waiting curiously for his reaction.
He frowned, too, at the addressing but nothing more and Elisa felt disappointed and intrigued at same time. No way he wasn't aware of his popularity and he didn't deny it but… It was almost as if he didn't seek popularity at all and at the same time Elisa knew he could have prevented those rumors to spread. Odd, that.
He put the envelope into one of his pockets without opening it.
"If you were a Healer once you're maybe interested in being one again?" she asked. She would have asked him yesterday had he been less tired. The hospital was in desperate need of qualified staff. Most of those who'd been Adepts coped badly with the loss of their powers and thus had left some time ago.
"You offering me a job?" For the briefest of moments there was a tiny bit of regret in those jade green eyes.
"Yes," Elisa nodded.
The regret in the stranger's eyes deepened. "I'm sorry, I can't do that," he said softly.
"Why?" Elisa asked simply. He must know he was suited for the job. Most of the injuries treated in Sattin were acquired in fights.
"I'm not going to deny that the perspective of a constant job without too much adventure does tempt me at this period of my life and working once again as a Healer would surely be nice but I'm … just not ready yet."
Elisa didn't think that was what he'd first intended to say. After a few seconds of silence she understood he wouldn't add more.
"Be careful," she said, as if he was one of her teenage nephews.
"Thank you," he answered, picking up his saddle bags.
She watched him all the way to the doors, noting all the reasons why he shouldn't be leaving in his step and posture.
"I wish for you to find whatever you're searching for."
TBC…