by Tim Waggoner
Her cheeks reddened. “Of course. Sorry.”
Paeon looked at her for another moment before turning back to Bill. He withdrew the caduceus from his coat pocket, but he didn’t extend it toward Bill right away.
“I want you to keep in mind that treating your condition won’t be as simple as healing a human illness or injury. I will have to counter Blight’s power with my own. It will not be easy, and I’m afraid it will be far from comfortable for you.”
Bill looked scared, but his voice was steady when he replied.
“Do what you have to do.”
“If this is going to hurt, maybe we should give him something for the pain,” Lena said.
“You have nothing that will help. You told me this is not… How did you put it? ‘A general practitioner’s office.’ Because of this, you have little medicine in supply, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And even if your practice held every medicine known to humankind, none would be able to relieve this man’s discomfort. His is not an earthly condition, and because of this, your remedies would have no effect.” He looked at Bill. “You will just have to do your best to endure, I’m afraid.”
“I understand,” Bill said. “And I’m ready.”
“Good. Lie down, please.”
Lena stepped forward and removed Bill’s coat and turtleneck from the table. She placed them on one of the chairs in the room while Bill swung his legs onto the table and lay back as Paeon had instructed.
“Let your arms rest at your side and close your eyes,” Paeon said.
Bill did so.
Paeon raised his caduceus, but instead of touching it to Bill’s body, he held it a foot above the man’s chest. The instrument began glowing with a soft light, and Paeon moved it slowly back and forth, as if it were some kind of scanning device. He frowned as he performed this procedure, and Lena didn’t know if that was because he was concentrating or because he didn’t like what the caduceus was telling him. Maybe both, she decided. After several moments, he spoke to Lena while continuing his scan.
“Come over here, please. I need you to hold him down.”
Lena got a pair of rubber gloves from the cabinet—no way did she want to touch Bill’s infected skin without protection—and then joined Paeon at the examination table. She stood behind the man’s head and reached down to place her gloved hands on his shoulders. She hoped he wouldn’t move much. He looked to be strong, and she didn’t think she’d be able to keep him down if he was determined to sit up.
“Ready,” she said.
Paeon acknowledged her with a nod, and then—without any obvious command from him—the caduceus began to glow more brightly than Lena had ever seen it do before. So intense was the light emitting from the object that she had to avert her gaze.
Bill’s eyes snapped open, but then he squinted and turned his head to the side. When he spoke, his voice shook.
“I don’t think I’m ready—”
Lena could still see well enough to make out Paeon flipping the caduceus around in his grip until the end with the wings and snake heads was pointing toward Bill. Then without hesitation, Paeon slammed the magical object down into the man’s chest, and Bill let out an ear-splitting shriek of agony.
“You’re killing him!” Lena shouted.
“Nonsense,” Paeon said through gritted teeth. “I’m attempting to free him.” Lena had the impression that it was a struggle for him to keep the caduceus inside Bill, as if another force were working to push the object out. Paeon’s jaw muscles tightened, and for the first time since she’d met him, she saw beads of sweat form on his brow.
Bill’s body stiffened and he tried to sit up out of reflex, but Lena kept him pinned to the table. It took all of her strength to do so, and as she continued to fight to prevent him from rising, she watched with horrified fascination as Paeon slowly began to pull the caduceus out of Bill. But the caduceus didn’t emerge from the man’s body alone—it pulled the gray-green fungus with it. Slowly, as if he were performing the most delicate of operations, Paeon continued raising the caduceus higher, drawing more of the disgusting growth upward. Lena realized the caduceus wasn’t simply peeling the fungus away from the man’s skin. It was actually removing it from inside his body through a process that she didn’t understand. But then, she didn’t have to understand it. It was magic, and all that mattered was that it was working.
Paeon continued raising the caduceus until his arm was pointing almost straight toward the ceiling. Thick, ropey strands of green-gray muck stretched from the mystic object down to Bill’s chest. Lena saw no wounds on the man’s body. There was no sign of where the caduceus had plunged into his chest, and the strands of fungus created no tears in the places where they were drawn from his flesh. The strands were, however, capable of movement, and they fought Paeon, pulling away from the caduceus back toward the body that up until a few moments ago had sheltered them. The growth is like a parasite, Lena thought. What if Blight, Paeon, and the rest of their kind were nothing more than high-order parasites that fed off humans? But she was so caught up in what was happening that the thought flickered through her mind and was gone. Bill was convulsing now, and it took everything she had to keep his shoulders pressed down against the table.
Paeon’s arm shook with the effort of holding onto the caduceus, and for a moment Lena thought that he was going to lose this battle, that the gray-green strands would yank the caduceus from his hand and slither back inside Bill, taking the mystic object with them. But then Paeon bared his teeth, released a roar that was as much animal as human, and flung the mass toward the other side of the room. The muck came free from Bill’s body with a sickening schlurp, struck the wall with a heavy splat, then fell to the floor with a moist smacking sound. There it lay motionless in a large greenish-gray mound that was about as big as Bill himself.
Lena tore her gaze from the muck to look down at Bill. Amazingly, the man’s chest was not only clear of fungus, but the skin was smooth and unbroken. He lay still, eyes closed, and Lena pressed two fingers to the side of his neck to check his pulse, fearing the worst. She couldn’t help thinking of the old joke: The operation was a success, but the patient died. She needn’t have worried, though. His pulse was weak, but steady. He’d simply slipped into unconsciousness, probably because the pain had been too much for him. She was glad. She couldn’t imagine how much that must’ve hurt. Passing out had been a blessing.
Paeon breathed heavily and sweat trickled down the sides of his face, but he was smiling. He still held the caduceus in a stabbing grip, but the object was no longer glowing. The light had winked out the instant the muck had hit the wall.
He looked at Lena. “How is he doing?”
“I think he’s going to be okay.”
“Excellent. Tend to him, if you don’t mind. My work isn’t finished.”
Before she could ask what Paeon meant, he turned and walked toward the mound lying on the floor, flipping the caduceus into its normal holding position as he went. He stopped when he was within a foot of the muck and gazed down upon it. As bad as the stuff appeared, it smelled even worse, Lena thought, like a gangrenous wound slathered in pus. Paeon made no move to go any closer to the greenish-gray mass—she didn’t blame him in the slightest for that—but she was more than a little surprised when he began speaking to it.
“You might as well drop the charade. I know who you are.” For a moment, nothing happened, but then the mound began to move. It rose upward, growing and reforming itself until it had assumed a roughly humanoid shape: blocky head, no neck, broad shoulders and chest, thick arms and legs, hands large as anvils. It possessed only the most rudimentary facial features, dark depressions that were mere suggestions of eyes and a mouth. In its right hand the figure gripped a length of broken tree limb that was covered with the same fungus-like substance that formed his body.
“I am Blight.” The creature’s voice was a thick gurgling, the sound a clogged kitchen disposal might make if it could talk
.
“I gathered as much,” Paeon said drily. “Did Bill know that he was carrying you, or did you use him without his knowledge?”
“What does it matter? He is mine, and I can use him however I choose.” Blight’s mouth widened in a grotesque approximation of a smile.
“I don’t understand,” Lena said. “What’s happening?”
Paeon didn’t take his gaze off Blight as he explained. “Blight wishes to challenge me, but since I haven’t left the building all evening—”
“I decided to come to you,” Blight finished. “Surprise!”
Lena frowned. “Why reveal yourself this way? Why not attack when Paeon was distracted?”
Both gods looked at her then. Blight’s face was hard to read, but Paeon’s wasn’t. He wore an expression of absolute disbelief.
“It’s simply not the way it’s done,” Paeon said, sounding offended.
“Yeah,” Blight agreed. “You humans can be pretty dumb sometimes.”
Lena sighed. Magic might have some advantages over science, but she doubted she’d ever come to understand it.
“Very well,” Paeon said. “Since you’re here, we might as well get this over with. The sooner I finish you off, the sooner I can get back to work.”
“Sweet racket you got going here,” Blight said. “You heal humans, and every one of them is so grateful, they practically beg for you to let them follow you. Great way to pick up worshippers fast, I’ve got to give you that.”
Paeon ignored the mocking compliment. “Come, let us step outside and do what we must.”
Blight’s suggestion of a mouth stretched wide again. “You might care about what happens to the humans in this building, but I don’t. I’m challenging you here and now.” He paused, and when he spoke once more his tone became formal. “I am Blight, and in the end there shall be One.”
Lena had the sense that she was witnessing the beginning of a ritual, but Paeon wanted no part of it.
“You may speak the words as many times as you wish, but I refuse to—”
That’s as far as Paeon got before Blight attacked.
The muck creature raised his tree branch and rushed toward Paeon. The creature moved so swiftly that Lena wasn’t sure, but it looked as if his feet didn’t move, that he instead oozed across the floor. Before Paeon could react, Blight swung the fungus-covered tree branch at his head and the wood struck his temple with a sickening thump. The impact knocked Paeon sideways, and sent him staggering toward the wall. He managed to press his free hand against it to steady himself and avoid falling to the floor, but Blight didn’t give him time to retaliate. The creature came at him again, tree-branch club held high. Paeon was prepared this time, though. As Blight swung the club toward his head, he ducked to the side. The club smashed into the wall, knocking a large chunk out of it, but Blight was so strong and had been moving so fast that the impact caused that entire section of wall to collapse, and Blight fell into the hallway outside.
Lena had been so stunned by the swiftness of Blight’s initial attack that up to this point she hadn’t been able to do more than stand and watch. But the sight of blood trickling down the side of Paeon’s head snapped her out of her mental paralysis. She started toward him, intending to help, but before she could do more than take a step in his direction, the caduceus—which he still held—glowed briefly, and the blood reversed back into the wound, which then sealed itself. As if sensing Lena’s intention, he gave her a quick glance.
“There’s only one way you can help me.” He nodded toward Bill. “Stab that man.”
And then he raced to the opening in the wall and stepped into the hallway to confront Blight.
Lena was stunned. Had she heard Paeon right? Had he really told her to stab Bill? It made no sense—Paeon was a god of healing. Mutilation and killing should be abhorrent to him. Confused, she quickly checked on the still-unconscious Bill to make sure he was all right, then moved cautiously toward the hole in the wall. She feared that one or both of the gods might come flying through and crash into her, but that didn’t happen. Instead, she heard sounds of fighting coming from farther down the hallway: bodies slamming into walls, grunts of pain and anger, screams from terrified staff and patients… She risked sticking her head out to take a look and saw Paeon and Blight facing each other. Blight kept swinging his club, trying to land another blow on Paeon, but the other god blocked each strike with his caduceus. Lena couldn’t believe Paeon’s mystic object, small as it was, could deflect a blow from Blight’s larger weapon, but it did. Magic has its own rules, she reminded herself.
Each time the club and caduceus came in contact, there was a flash of energy—half gold, half greenish-gray—and Lena realized that regardless of what appearance the gods’ weapons took, they weren’t really fighting with physical objects, but rather concentrated energy. This was a time when size didn’t matter; power did. But if that was the case, how were gods ever supposed to win battles like this? Paeon and Blight seemed too evenly matched, but from what she understood about the Apotheosis, only one god would remain standing when it was over. So there were ways for one god to triumph over another, and that meant Paeon could defeat Blight. Cunning and skill didn’t seem like they would be enough, not with the kind of power they wielded.
She tried to think of the situation analytically, drawing on diagnostic skills honed during her years as a doctor. Maybe there was something in each god’s essential nature—not exactly a weakness but a specific quality—that could be exploited. Paeon was a god of healing, Blight a god of… what? Disgusting green-gray gunk? She tried to remember what Bill had said about Blight.
Blight talks about bringing people together by marking us with… this. It’s supposed to connect us somehow. But all he really cares about is spreading his influence and increasing his power.
When Blight had appeared in the examination room, she believed that he’d somehow gotten inside Bill and hidden there. But what if Blight’s followers were all connected to him, and vice versa. Maybe the growth on Bill’s chest had actually been part of Blight, and the god was able to transfer his consciousness to any part of his larger self and form a body to serve as an avatar. But what if the connection went both ways? If the growth on each of his followers was a part of Blight’s overall substance, then not only could he reach out through them, maybe others could reach in.
Then she understood. That must have been why Paeon had told her to stab Bill. She turned and walked back to the examination table.
Bill remained unconscious, and for that Lena was grateful. It would make what she had to do easier—for him, at least. She could hear the sounds of Paeon and Blight fighting, but she tuned them out so she could concentrate. She went to the cabinet and found a pair of regular scissors and then returned to the table. The scissors weren’t exactly surgical equipment, but they’d have to do. Blight had left no residue of his substance on the wall or floor after Paeon had extracted him from Bill’s body, but Lena felt confident that something of Blight remained within Bill. She still wore rubber gloves, although she would’ve also liked to have a surgical mask, along with a pair of goggles. She didn’t have either on site, though, so she’d just have to hope she didn’t become contaminated.
Lena looked down at Bill’s bare chest and took a deep breath. Any injury she inflicted on Bill would be only temporary, she told herself. Paeon was a god of healing, and he would never ask her to harm someone if he didn’t have a good reason—and if he didn’t intend to heal that person afterward. She was a medical oncologist, not a surgical one, and the last time she’d cut into a body was during med school. Still, it wasn’t going to take much skill to perform this procedure. She picked a spot on Bill’s chest, raised the scissors in a two-handed grip, and took aim.
“Sorry about this,” she said softly, and then brought the scissors down as fast and hard as she could.
Bill’s eyes flew open the instant metal pierced his flesh and he cried out in pain. Blood spurted from the fresh wound, but Len
a kept a firm grip on the scissors, which were buried in his body all the way to the handles. He thrashed on the table and clawed at her hands, trying to get at the scissors so he could pull them out, but she held on tight, doing her best not to think about the fact that she had just mutilated a patient.
“Shhh. It’ll be okay, Bill. I promise.”
Paeon can fix this, she told herself. He will.
But what if Bill died before Paeon could treat him? The caduceus was a powerful magical instrument, and from what she’d seen tonight, it could cure all manner of injury and illness. But was it powerful enough to cure death? She hoped she wouldn’t have to find out.
She’d purposely avoided the heart, but from the bubbling, wheezing sound of Bill’s breathing, she knew she’d punctured one of his lungs. Blood ran from his wound onto the table, over the side, and splattered onto the floor, but he was also bleeding inside, and she wondered how long it would take for the injured lung to fill with blood. She had no idea, didn’t have the surgical training and experience required to make an estimation.
Just hold on, she mentally urged him.
From the hallway, she heard Blight roar in what sounded like frustration. There was a loud crash, as if another section of wall had been destroyed, and then an instant later Blight came back into the room, gliding across the floor in that eerie way of his. Lena realized the sound she’d heard had been made by Paeon. Most likely Blight had knocked the other god aside when he sensed what Lena had done to his follower. He still held his club, and he brandished it at her as he approached.
“What have you done to my servant?” he demanded.
Lena released her grip on the scissors and moved away from the examination table. She’d hoped that by wounding Bill she would also hurt Blight, kind of like stabbing pins into a voodoo doll, but the god appeared to be unharmed. All she’d managed to do was draw his attention and enrage him. He came at her, club raised, clearly intending to bring it down on her head and crush her skull, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it except stand there and die.
