by Pirateaba
“—Fine.”
Pisces nodded. Ceria looked over at Calruz, who tilted his head imperceptibly.
“We’ve got a deal then.”
“Very well. And the injured party I’m to heal?”
This time all the Horns glared at him. Ceria pointed at Ryoka’s bad leg. Pisces glanced over and sniffed.
“Of course.”
Ceria let out a sigh that spoke to Ryoka of long suffering. She gestured at the inn and grasslands.
“Where do you want to cast the spell?”
“There’s no need to move. Now that we’ve agreed, let’s begin.”
Pisces pointed at Ryoka’s legs. She felt something begin to shift inside her leg and bit back a shout of surprise.
“Pisces!”
Ceria shouted and the other Horns reached for their weapons. Calruz clenched his fist and loomed forwards ominously, but Pisces didn’t look around.
He was shifting his finger as he stared hard at Ryoka’s leg. And something was moving around in there. Ryoka could feel multiple points of contact as the skin on her leg rippled and twisted.
It didn’t hurt. But it felt more unpleasant than anything she’d ever experienced. For once, her body was not in her control and Ryoka didn’t like it one bit.
But almost as soon as it had started, the feeling stopped. Pisces glanced up from her leg and narrowed his eyes at Ceria.
“I would appreciate no shouting during the process. You know how much concentration this takes even without interruption.”
The half-elf stepped forwards and jabbed Pisces hard in the chest, making him wince.
“You idiot! At least have her lie down before you do that!”
Pisces shrugged insolently.
“The comfort of the patient is of no object to me. Regardless…I’m done. Where’s my payment?”
The other adventurers stared at him incredulously.
“Already?”
“Impossible!”
Gerial strode forwards and jabbed at Pisces angrily.
“You can’t have finished so quickly! You must be lying!”
Pisces stepped back rather than let Gerial get near him. He sneered at the older man.
“You may doubt all you wish, but I believe my fellow student can attest to my competence. Besides which, any spell would confirm the veracity of my statement. Tell them, Springwalker.”
Ceria nodded reluctantly.
“It’s true. He’s restored the bone to normal.”
The Horns of Hammerad exclaimed in surprise and shock. They immediately appraised Pisces again, all except for Ryoka. She was still staring down at her leg.
“Fine, then. Your money.”
Ceria looked at Calruz. The Minotaur grunted and fished at his belt pouch. He tossed Ceria a small sack of coins. She caught it and upended it over her palm. Gold coins poured out—far more than the bag should have contained.
Pisces waited until Ceria had counted the coins out. There were more than could fit in her hand, but as the coins poured out, Ceria’s hand shimmered with faint green light and they began to float in the air.
The gold coins flew upwards and then resolved themselves into four perfect stacks of ten standing straight up in the half-elf’s hand. She handed it to Pisces with a face as if she were plucking a tooth. He smiled as he poured the gold into a pouch at his side. Ceria whirled away and the Horns of Hammerad retreated to confer around Ryoka’s leg.
“I have plans for this gold. Not least, it will help shut up a certain annoying innkeeper—”
He stopped when he realized no one was listening to him. Pisces glared around, turned, and walked away.
—-
“Sorry about that.”
Ceria apologized once the Horns of Hammered had moved out of earshot. She sighed and rubbed at her brow.
“I’d forgotten how annoying Pisces gets, and I remembered quite a bit.”
Gerial was close to tearing out his hair. He snapped at Ceria while glaring at Pisces’s back.
“If it was that simple, why couldn’t you have done that? The entire spell barely took seconds!”
“Exactly.”
Calruz grunted. A large vein was throbbing in his head as he clenched his fists.
“That little runt of a human was mocking us the entire time. We travelled all this way and paid all this coin for a spell that any one of you could have done? Explain yourself, Ceria!”
Both captain and vice-captain of the Horns of Hammerad glared at their mage, but she was at least equal to them in projecting ire.
“I couldn’t have done that. And that was no spell—at least, not any spell written down.”
Calruz paused. His massive face wrinkled up.
“What do you mean?”
“Pisces was moving around each of the shattered bones and knitting them together. He could sense where they are and he knows how to reassemble them. That isn’t something any normal mage could do.”
One of the other mages shivered.
“Ceria is right, Calruz. I wouldn’t know where to begin with an injury like that. But the speed and precision of that necromancer…and you say he’s only Level 22?”
Ceria twirled her staff in her hands as she took her time responding.
“Pisces is a genius. He possesses an intimate knowledge of human bodies. No one but another necromancer could have done that so easily. If a normal mage tried they’d fail—and I wouldn’t recommend trying.”
“And it worked?”
Now the adventurers stared at Ryoka’s leg. It seemed…unchanged, at least under the bandages. That was to say, the bandages were so red and dirty that none of the actual flesh could be spotted underneath. At least the leg didn’t appear swollen.
“The flesh is still probably broken, but the bone underneath should be repaired if Pisces is right. He doesn’t know healing spells, but he could easily reinforce and repair the bone.”
Ceria peered at Ryoka. The girl hadn’t moved the entire time—since Pisces had begun changing her leg she’d been frozen, staring down at it.
“Ryoka? How do you feel?”
No response. It was as if Ryoka were lost to the world. Ceria frowned, worry crossing her expression.
“…Ryoka?”
—-
“…Ryoka?”
Someone is calling my name. And I want to answer them, I really do. But something else is occupying my mind. If you put the second coming, Armageddon, an alien invasion, and Elvis Presley rising from the dead right in front of my face I wouldn’t be able to look up.
Because I can feel it.
The magic on my leg is still there, but I can feel it. The flesh may be broken, but the bone is whole. My bones are whole.
I. Am whole.
“Ryoka? Are you okay? How do you feel?”
What kind of question is that? How do I feel? Am I okay? How could—how could words, mere words describe what I’m feeling at the moment.
It took just a moment, but the difference between the me of now and then is—is the difference of a lifetime. I am healed. I am me again.
“Ryoka?”
Ceria puts a hand on my shoulder. It brings me out of the moment, just for a second. And it’s annoying because this is a moment I wish could last forever. If I could capture this feeling—if I could remember it, I would never despair again. This is what it means to have hope fulfilled.
But she wants an answer. How do I feel? Am I okay? What a stupid question. But I have to respond with something. Something…something pithy, like ‘how do you think?’
I open my mouth, and something changes.
…What?
For once there’s nothing angry in me, no heart full of rage and hurt. Instead—instead, as I open my mouth I hesitate. The bitter, harsh words stop on my tongue and refuse to come out. And something inside of me asks: why? Why, and when?
Why was I about to lash out at the person who saved me? Saved. Me. Why would I ever do such a thing, repay all her kindness with rudeness? Am
I that kind of person?
When did I forget gratitude? When was my first response always anger? When did I forget what it meant to say ‘thank you?’
Who am I, and where did the girl who smiled go?
I don’t say anything. I swallow the bitter words unspoken. Instead, I turn to Ceria and look her in the eye. Her eyes are gold, the molten core of suns and burnished gold. The color of wheat fields in the fading sun and caught in their depths is a glimpse of something deeper, something greater. A bit of eternity.
I bow my head, low. It’s been too long since I looked at my own two feet. I can feel the surprise of the people around them, but it’s only natural. It’s the least I can do. Should do.
“Thank you.”
Again, surprise. But I keep my head bowed. I can’t look them in the eyes just yet. The ground is blurry. So I repeat the same words.
“Thank you. Thank you, thank you. Thank you.”
Insufficient words. They’re not enough. How could words ever be enough?
The Japanese—the people that make up half of my heritage—they have a type of bow they use for apologies. It looks like prostration, and that’s what it translates to in English.
土下座. Dogeza. I once swore that I’d never do that for anyone. Not kings or queens or even God if he existed. But I’d do it now if I knew it wouldn’t make them feel so awkward. But I do it now, in my mind and soul. Thanking the people who gave me back what matters most to me.
My legs. My wings. My ability to fly. So I thank them in every way I can.
“It was nothing—”
I look up. Ceria is blushing. And on her face, it is truly cute rather than beautiful to see. I smile, and turn. Calruz blinks down at me. Surprised? But I think I know how to thank him, and it is differently than Ceria.
“I am truly grateful. And I’m sorry for my rudeness earlier. I owe you a debt I can’t repay. But I know the Horns of Hammerad now, and I know what defines you.”
I stick out my hand towards him.
“Honor.”
Calruz pauses again. But then he seizes my hand and grips it tight. His eyes were deep and blue—I hadn’t guessed. We shake hands.
“Honor and duty above all. Without it we are animals.”
I turn to Ceria and shake her hand next. And then Gerial’s. And the rest of the adventurers. How long? How long since I properly shook hands and acted like a decent person?
Firm grip, look them in the eye. Just like dad taught me. And they smile in return. They smile, and I feel it again.
Trust.
“My name is Ryoka Griffin. I am in your debt. Whatever I can do—if ever you need me, just ask.”
I stand straight and tall. Whole, once more. And my mind continues where my voice stops.
Ryoka Griffin. Freshman in Columbia University, or—I would have been. I never got to set foot on campus. Accepted with a Track and Field scholarship, specializing in the 400-meter run. 3.89 GPA average, hobbies include hunting, sports shooting, and reading. Not decided on any particular major. A fan of Youtube videos and playing video games, but didn’t put that on the college application.
Ryoka Griffin, runner, unfriendly daughter who doesn’t like her dad, 4th Dan in Muay Thai although I like Parkour a lot more. Refused Mensa membership, kicked out of two high schools. Angry girl. Lost soul.
Loves songs she can run to, a huge fan of rock and an enemy of pop, techno, and opera. Favorite artists include Meatloaf, Imagine Dragons, Fueled by Ramen, Lady Gaga*, and…Five for Fighting.
*Not all pop songs are bad, okay?
Currently—
Grateful.
1.29
When they removed the bandage from Ryoka’s leg, the other adventurers flinched back. All except for Ceria and Calruz, that was.
Ryoka stared down into the bloody, ripped mess of skin and once again was profoundly grateful for the numbing magic they’d put on her leg. Gerial looked pale as he gathered up the bandages. They were soaked with blood and grime, but they were still valuable.
“The flesh—”
“It’s fine.”
Ceria reassured the others. She fished out a red potion and uncorked the bottle.
“That’s what happens when you move bone around. But now the leg can be healed properly since the bone is repaired.”
Carefully, she poured the healing potion over Ryoka’s leg. It was a stronger, more expensive potion so the effects began instantly once the liquid hit her flesh. Ryoka watched with nauseous interest as the flesh and sinew began to re-knit, shifting around like a bunch of worms. At this point most of the Horns of Hammerad had to look away, but she kept watching. It was her body after all.
After about a minute, the top layer of skin began to close. Ryoka saw her flesh flow together to become smooth and whole. It was the most satisfying sight she’d ever seen.
Ceria tapped the bottle for the last drops of healing potion to fall out and then tucked it away in her belt.
“Looks good. I’m going to dispel the magic now. Ryoka, how does it feel?”
Ryoka shrugged.
“I can’t feel anything. But it looks good. Go ahead.”
Ceria nodded and grabbed the staff at her side. She muttered a few words and Ryoka winced. The words—they weren’t part of any language she’d heard. The half elf’s voice seemed to resonate, and the sounds, or rather, the meaning conveyed in the sounds made her head ache to hear them.
After a few seconds of speaking, Ceria raised her staff and brought it down lightly. Then she stared at Ryoka’s leg. All of the adventurers crowded close, alternating between staring at Ryoka’s face and her leg.
For a few seconds Ryoka’s face was blank. Then, slowly, she stood up. She rested her full weight on both legs, and then on her bad leg. She took one step, and then two. Then—
She smiled.
“How’s it feel—”
Calruz nudged Gerial and cut the other man off. He watched as Ryoka took another step, and then stretched her leg out. She gingerly tested her leg by taking a few forceful steps. Then she hopped up and down.
Ryoka spun on one leg. Then she jumped, and kicked out with it, before landing and doing a pivot-kick that cut the air. The adventurers blinked, impressed.
Hop, spin, kick, jump. Ryoka leapt about the grass like a monkey, or a martial artist if you wanted to be flattering. She did a cartwheel, and then a spinning back kick. At this point Gerial and the other adventures were gaping openly, and that was before Ryoka started doing back handsprings and front flips.
“I take it you’re feeling better, Ryoka?”
The young woman stopped and grinned at Ceria. She flicked some sweat off her forehead.
“I’m great. Better than great.”
This time Calruz was the one who was lost for words. Gerial had plenty, though. He stared openly at Ryoka.
“How did—I’ve never seen anyone do that.”
The other adventurers nodded in agreement, but one of the mages shook his head.
“I have. Tumblers and performers have those kind of skills. Do you have the [Performer] class, Miss Ryoka?”
She looked at him, mildly insulted.
“No, I’ve just got skill. You should see me do parkour.”
“Par—what?”
“It’s a type of running. Or—I guess you could call it a type of martial arts.”
Again, Ryoka had lost her audience.
“Marital what?”
“I’ve heard of that.”
Ceria nodded and smiled at Ryoka.
“You are full of surprises, aren’t you? And your leg doesn’t hurt? You don’t feel any twinges or pain?”
Ryoka smiled.
“None.”
“Pisces did his work well, then. I thought he would. He might be an idiot, but he’s a competent one.”
Gerial cleared his throat.
“I’m glad. Well uh, what should we do now? It’s been a long trip and there’s the inn or Liscor…Ryoka, did you want to uh, do anythi
ng?”
The Horns of Hammerad stared at Ryoka. She was practically vibrating with energy, unable to sit still.
“I’m going to run back.”
“What?”
“I’ve gotta run. Sorry but—”
Gerial and the other Horns of Hammerad exchanged glances. The male warrior nodded and grinned at her.
“We understand. I’ve broken bones before, too.”
Ryoka nodded. She was already looking at the wide, open plains. But then she looked back and hesitated.
“I don’t want to get in your way. I can probably find my way back on my own if you want to stay—”
“Nonsense.”
This time it was Calruz who interrupted. The Minotaur snorted.
“We’ll follow in the cart. There’s over a hundred miles between here and Celum. Even I—you couldn’t run that far.”
She gave him a grin.
“Wanna bet?”
But then Ryoka paused, and tried to adjust her words.
“Um, thanks anyways, though. But if you need to rest—I know you were up all night.”
“We’ll give the horses a stamina potion, don’t worry.”
Ceria smiled at Ryoka.
“If you’re going to run, stick to the road. Monsters around here are fairly dangerous. Stay away from the big rocks. They’re actually giant monsters in disguise.”
All of the other Horns of Hammerad eyed Ceria, askance. But Ryoka just nodded. Her entire body was coiled like a spring. But again, she paused before running.
“Thank you. I really mean it.”
Calruz snorted.
“Enough words. Run already!”
Ryoka nodded at the adventurers. She gave them a rare full smile, and at least a few hearts in the Horns of Hammerad skipped a beat. Then she took off.
Calruz must have had the idea to run with Ryoka, at least for a while, because he took off with her. He got ten steps before she’d left him completely behind. Ceria whistled softly as she saw Ryoka blaze through the grasslands.
“Let’s tend to the horses and get on the road if you want to follow her, Gerial. It looks like she’ll go at least forty miles before she runs out of steam.”
Gerial nodded and began ordering the Horns around, although they already knew what to do. Calruz stomped back, looking half-pleased, half disgruntled.
“Fast. But that’s why she is worthy.”
