by Pirateaba
The soldiers began to level up as [Field Medics] or [Assistants]. Geneva saved more lives. She watched more slip away. But she clung to each thread until it snapped. Death still walked by her side, but slowly, Geneva began to pull ahead.
—-
“More wounded!”
Geneva heard the words and looked up. She was taking a break with Okasha and a few wounded soldiers. There hadn’t been any more seriously wounded for a stretch. Now more were coming in, but the soldiers she’d trained were already triaging for her. And she needed a break; she had been working nonstop for three hours and she had to rest or she would make mistakes. Okasha had told her that and because she was right, Geneva had agreed to rest now and then. So Geneva sat and listened to Okasha.
“The Centaur tribe has hit every camp. They launch night raids, sneak attacks…sometimes they strike even if it means taking hundreds of casualties. Just to destroy our potions stock.”
A Dullahan whose head Geneva had stitched up grunted. He cradled his head carefully in his hands as he spoke.
“Bastards. They’ve got no honor.”
Another Lizardfolk nodded. Non-humans were the ones most willing to talk with Geneva right now. Clara, Lim, Fortum and the others had given her the cold shoulder, and a lot of the Humans thought she was betraying their kind by working on other species first. The Lizardman spat as the severed stump of his tail twitched.
“If we make it out of this mess, you’ll bet there will be hell to pay. Even if the Magehammer Company didn’t participate in the strikes themselves, they’ll be in trouble for letting the Centaur tribe get away with it. No mercenary will work with them.”
“But we are pushing them back. They are outnumbered, and if their mages fall, they will lose their edge.”
Okasha grinned as she said that, but Geneva could only imagine the slaughter. The Selphid stared at the lines of wounded and grinned. The soldiers in this group weren’t as badly injured; they had superficial wounds mostly, but Geneva saw one stump she knew she would have to tend to herself.
Two soldiers dumped a body on the ground. Geneva saw a Centaur, half-man, half-horse, bleeding deeply from an injury in the side. Someone had thrown a spear and it had broken off inside of him. He would die soon if she didn’t move.
She stood up. Okasha stood too, and Geneva strode towards the Centaur. They had him in the operating tent first. It was a difficult procedure, cutting the spear out and stopping his bleeding. But they managed it. The worst moment was when the Centaur woke up and realized he was being worked on. He screamed and thrashed and it took eight soldiers to hold him down.
“Easy. Easy. I’m a [Doctor]. I’m going to help you.”
Geneva said the words very slowly to the Centaur, looking into his eyes. His chest heaved; he tried to break free, but slowly he relaxed.
“I won’t hurt you, I swear it.”
He nodded at her, but didn’t relax. He flinched while she extracted the spearhead and only hissed as she sewed his skin together. When it was done Geneva had to help carry him out; he was extraordinarily heavy.
But as they were bringing him to an area that had been cleared for the wounded to lie in, Geneva heard a shout.
“Enemy soldier!”
The people around her raised their weapons. Geneva saw Thriss thrusting people aside. He pointed a finger at the Centaur, and Geneva felt her patient stiffen behind her.
“That’s not one of ours! That’s an enemy!”
He had his mace in his hands. The Centaur raised a hand weakly, but Geneva stood in Thriss’s way. He glared at her.
“Move aside.”
“No. He’s going to die. I am going to treat him.”
Thriss’ jaw clenched.
“He’s an enemy. We interrogate him, and we’ll find out what his lot are up to.”
Geneva didn’t move. Thriss tried to shove her aside, but she stepped in his way. She spread her arms.
“I have sworn an oath. If you want him, you have to knock me out. And if you do hurt him, I will not be able to heal any more soldiers.”
She raised her voice so everyone could hear her. Thriss paused as other soldiers looked her way. He gritted his teeth.
“You’re bluffing.”
Geneva met his furious gaze calmly. She spoke as loudly and as she could, knowing every eye was one her.
“If my oath is broken, I will no longer be a [Doctor].”
She felt it was true. And Thriss didn’t have the courage to test her, she knew. Every soldier knew they were out of healing potions; if they were hurt, Geneva was the only one who could fix them up.
Thriss advanced on Geneva.
“He’s one of the lot who smashed our potions! He’s been shooting at us throughout the battle! Him and all his damn tribe!”
“Then let him go. He can walk—barely.”
Geneva knew the Centaur might not survive the night in the camp, no matter what she said. She stared at Thriss.
“Let him go. I am a [Doctor]. This is my patient.”
Thriss pointed a finger that shook at Geneva.
“I could have you executed for aiding the enemy.”
I will not use my medical knowledge to violate human rights and civil liberties, even under threat.
Geneva gritted her teeth. She stood in front of Thriss and stared the big man down.
“Do it if you must.”
“You swore to obey orders!”
“I answer to a higher oath.”
The [Doctor] and [Sergeant] stared at each other in the center of the camp full of wounded and healing soldiers. He was the first to look away.
“Damn you. Get him out of here!”
The Centaur slowly got to his feet with Okasha’s help. He stumbled, and Geneva insisted on making him a rough crutch before he left. He looked back twice at her. She watched him go. Then she went back and continued to operate.
—-
The next day, Geneva set up her tent further away from the 4th Battalion’s headquarters. And she put up a flag. It had a cross on it, red, painted with the only substance Geneva could use. She hung the flag high in the air on a piece of white cloth. Okasha asked what it meant.
“Healing. Safety.”
“Then why is it red? And why a cross?”
Geneva had no answer for that. But it was a symbol nevertheless. She hung it over her tent, and more than once she found soldiers waving flags with crosses of their own as they brought their friends to the tent. She never asked what side they were on. She just tried to save lives.
Each time someone died, it was like a bit of Geneva went with them. But when she pulled someone back, when they thanked her, a bit of her came back to life as well. She ate and slept and did all the things her body required, but Geneva lived on the operating table. She lived to help other people live.
They all had names, all had families and dreams. They asked her not to let them die, but they couldn’t pray because the gods were dead. So Geneva prayed with every cut of her improvised scalpels, and every stitch of her needle. She prayed that she would save them. She prayed to the science she’d been taught, the lessons she tried to remember, and to medicine herself. She prayed that she was making a difference.
They’d just begun operating on a man, when Geneva heard a thump and felt the explosion in her bones. She stumbled outside to find the camp was under attack.
A woman hovered in the air, blasting people with fiery orbs that exploded, and tremors that engulfed her victims. She was coming towards the tent.
Geneva grabbed the flag she had planted, and stood in front of the lines of wounded. She held the flag up as the [Mage] approached. The other woman glanced left as an arrow broke against her skin, doing no damage, and pointed. A fiery inferno engulfed the archer who’d fired. Then she saw Geneva.
The [Doctor] stood coughing as the smoke from the fires reach her. Her eyes watered, but she held the flag in front of her. It was a poor shield, made of cloth and blood, but it was all she had.
&nbs
p; The woman paused when she saw the flag. Her eyes flicked to the red cross, and then the wounded soldiers who were trying to crawl away or lying comatose on the ground. Then she looked at Geneva.
Their eyes met through the smoke and flame. The woman was smiling in the center of all the death and destruction, untouched. Geneva’s heart was pounding; her hands were still covered in the blood of the people she’d tried to save.
Slowly, the [Mage] turned away. She walked into the air, and away from the tent. Geneva collapsed onto the ground. Then she pushed herself back up and ran into the camp. That night she worked late, tending to burn victims and trying to make skin grafts. Many died. But she saved a few.
—-
The last day of the war in the jungle came when Okasha sat next to Geneva at breakfast. The Selphid still hadn’t regained use of her right side, and Geneva didn’t think she ever would. But the creature was smiling with her body’s lips.
“Do you know, the soldiers of both sides know who you are?”
Geneva blinked.
“They do?”
Okasha nodded.
“They call you the Last Light. You shine to them, the dying. Yours is the last face they see, and you drag so many back from the other side. They open their eyes and see you standing in the light.”
“That’s silly.”
“They call you that. And you have saved countless lives. I think that once we are done here, I will join you. Perhaps I can be a [Doctor] too, or at least an [Assistant], even if I only have one arm.”
Geneva stared at Okasha.
“There’s still fighting going on. This is no time to think about the future.”
The Selphid shook her head.
“The Magehammer Company has taken heavy losses. Three battalions managed to flank one of their divisions and we broke through and got their lead [Strategist]. Without him, they’ll have to pull back.”
“What?”
Someone was cheering in the camp. Geneva looked around. Okasha looked pleased with herself.
“I overheard one of the officers talking. The news is spreading even as we speak. The battle is nearly won.”
Soldiers were beginning to celebrate, laughing. Geneva stared at them and just felt empty. She looked at Okasha. The Selphid smiled.
“Perhaps afterwards you can heal those not on a battlefield. There are many people too poor for healing potions or who are hurt in ways they cannot be healed. Maybe—”
“Attack! We’re under attack!”
Geneva heard the galloping before she could move. Arrows flew, and suddenly Okasha was falling. An arrow had caught her in the throat.
“Okasha!”
Another arrow flew past Geneva as she caught Okasha. The Selphid wasn’t speaking, wasn’t moving. Was she dead?
Geneva looked up. Centaurs were running through the camp, shooting wildly. Soldiers fell around them as the Centaurs ran past her. It was another surprise attack on their camp.
One of the Centaurs saw Geneva was still alive. He raised a bow, and hesitated. He stopped and stared at her.
Geneva saw an ugly scar on his side, and looked at a bare-chested young man. He slowly lowered his bow as she looked at him.
Then, he shouted something at the other Centaurs. They paused, and he shouted again, pointing. They whirled, and began to gallop out of the camp.
The Centaur remained behind. He stared at Geneva. Slowly, he walked towards her. He stared down at Okasha, and Geneva stared up. He opened his mouth to speak—
“Die!”
The Centaur’s head caved in as a mace struck it from the side. Geneva screamed and Thriss pulled his mace back and struck the Centaur again. The young man fell to the ground silently, and the sergeant turned to Geneva.
“You.”
She opened her mouth but he struck her with one hand. She fell face-first to the ground and then heard him roar.
“Traitor!”
She tried to stand up, but she couldn’t. Something hit her back, so hard the world flashed white. Thriss had struck her with the mace, so hard she felt her spine cracking.
“Traitor!”
He raised the mace and brought it down on Geneva’s back again. She screamed and felt something breaking. She tried to move, but suddenly she couldn’t.
Thriss spat on Geneva from above. He raised his mace and gasped as a blade burst through his chest. Okasha twisted, and Thriss choked as he fell forwards. The mace fell from his hands and splashed on the muddy ground.
Okasha pulled the arrow from her throat, ignoring the damage it did as it pulled out of her dead skin. Geneva stared up at her.
“I’m dying. My spine is broken.”
She couldn’t move. The Selphid stared down at Geneva and said something. Geneva grinned. She couldn’t hear anymore, either. No one was screaming. She was the only person in need of medical attention right now, but that was fine. There was no one for her, and she didn’t need help anyways. It was growing very dark.
She closed her eyes. Geneva felt everything fade.
She died.
—-
And then she woke up again. Geneva’s eyes snapped open and she sat up. She sat up?
She stared around. She was lying on the ground. Water was falling on her face. She looked up. Rain was falling between the cracks of the jungle canopy. It was mixing with Thriss’s blood, pelting the corpse of the Centaur.
Slowly, Geneva raised her left hand. She flexed it slowly, and tried to raise her right arm. It wouldn’t move. Geneva stared at it.
“I could not repair everything.”
A voice whispered in her ears. No—inside her ears. Geneva paused. The voice was familiar.
“Okasha?”
Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Geneva felt something…twisting inside of her. Something was in her.
“I am here now. I had to bridge the gap to make you move. You will not bleed to death, but you require healing.”
Geneva wanted to throw up. Her stomach heaved, but something was in her as well. It held back the reflex.
“You had to live. There was no other way.”
It must have only been a few minutes. Geneva stared around the camp. It was in ruins, but she could hear the screaming. Men and women and people of other species were still alive. Some had been hit by arrows; others had been trampled.
And that’s when Geneva heard the rumbling, and more shouts. She looked over and saw covered carts rolling slowly through the jungle. Teams of soldiers in bright, untarnished armor marched around the wagons, pointing and shouting as they saw the devastation in the camp.
Geneva began to laugh. She heard a sound in her head.
“What is it?”
“The supply wagons have finally arrived.”
Soldiers were swinging themselves out of the wagons, and those on the ground were rushing towards the fallen. Geneva willed her legs to stand, and they did. But she could feel something else had helped them move.
“I am sorry. This is forbidden, but it was all I could do. But there is no reversing it. I can—”
She could hear them screaming again. Geneva shook her head.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“What?”
She willed her feet to walk. They moved reluctantly, but they did move. Geneva stumbled towards the wagon. The soldiers stared at her in shock, but Geneva grabbed as many potions as she could carry.
“Let’s go.”
She strode into the battlefield, leaving Thriss and the dead Centaur behind. The air was hot. Insects crawled over the living and the dead, and screams split the air. Geneva ran with a potion in hand, trying to ignore the agony of her own body, the howling in her mind. People called out her name and she ran towards them, healing their wounds. But it was never enough. Geneva could hear the screaming in her head. One more. She turned over bodies, staring at arrows, feeling for a pulse.
One more. There had to be one more. A voice were speaking to her, and someone was trying to make her rest. Geneva
ignored it. One more. She had to find—
One more. But every face she turned over was blank and staring. Geneva ran on. She was so tired. She had to sleep.
Slowly, the [Doctor] fell to her knees. Mud and blood ran together as she fell into it. Geneva stared ahead, searching for bodies, but now she could no longer move. Slowly, her eyes closed.
The young woman lay still on the ground. Soldiers ran around her, tending to the wounded. Geneva slept. For once, she couldn’t hear the screams.
It was pleasant.
Quiet.
She slept, as the Selphid in her body made her walk to a safe place and lie down. In the jungle, the Magehammer Company retreated and ceded the rights to the mine to the Burning March company. The Ravarian Fighters reformed their shattered battalions and there was peace.
In one small place. But Baleros bled, and the jungles ran with blood which fed the insects. There was always war. War, and more war. But word spread from soldier to soldier as mercenaries travelled and rumors flew like birds. They spoke of a red cross, and a class that saved lives rather than took them. They told legends that the soldiers clung to in hope as they marched to war or lay dying. The soldiers spoke of a woman who could save lives, of a place that took no sides. They told stories about her. A healer, a savior.
A [Doctor].
3.06 L
Pawn knew he had to return to the Hive after leaving the inn. He knew that. But he found the food Lyonette had given him was disagreeing with his stomach a bit. It must have been the eggs. Antinium didn’t usually experience food poisoning, but that didn’t meant they couldn’t get sick.
Therefore, Pawn decided that before he went back into the Hive and talked to Revalantor Klbkch, he should walk around the city for a while. So his steps slowed, and Pawn took the time to walk down side streets, peek down alleyways he’d never entered before, and admire the sights. He was just doing it for his stomach, but really, it was very important to look around. There were so many things Pawn would miss if he hurried!
For instance, had he ever really appreciated the wonders of the hamburger flipping Drake who stood on the side of the street, calling out to potential customers? The craze over the new food had swept through the city and burned itself out—now people were just as likely to go to the other hot food stands at this time of night. And yet, there was something graceful about the way the yellow-scaled Drake flipped the sizzling patties of meat.
