“I’ll cover basic restoration. You have proficiency in this matter, focus on the venom.” The grumpy Acolyte wriggled his thick mustache but could see that the old man was funneling celestial Essence into the wounds, slowly allowing them to close. With half of his problem accounted for, the Acolyte focused his efforts on this pain-in-the-ass venom.
By the time both of them had cleared and stabilized the Initiate, four more had been laid in cots. The young ones looked equally haggard, many of them pale and resisting the slow call of death as paralysis spread through their vitals. As soon as this one was stable, Artorian hurriedly followed the healer to the next man to save. Artorian had his bloodied hands pressed to the wound as the injuries bled without clotting.
With the healer checking for venom, Artorian was silently allowed to continue providing basic restoration, matching the healer’s pace and stride. Not a word was spoken between them as they moved from patient to patient efficiently until they finally reached the eighth person. Two more healers ran into the tent, bloodied and dressed in the regalia of the expedition group. The mud and grass still sticking to their clothes was a clear giveaway that they too had freshly returned from the battle.
Relieved at their arrival, the heavy-mustachioed healer collapsed from Essence exhaustion. Sweat stained his clothing, and the ragged breathing betrayed just how much he’d overexerted himself to get this far. Artorian was beading sweat as well but had his wits about him. With the practiced clarity of a battalion commander, he forced the new healers into position. “Venom removal is priority! Two-man teams on an envenomed Initiate—dedicate one healer to venom and the other to restoration!”
He’d made this call based on the priority order he’d seen the healer apply. Artorian didn’t question the healer’s choice of pattern, so he adopted the trend from the person that did this for a living. Initiates with small injuries were in pain, but they were going to live. Larger injuries needed attention, but they had longer than the ones with envenomed arrows pin cushioning them. That killed.
Artorian stepped right into it to pick up the slack and was glad to have one of the new healers whisk to the opposing side of the Initiate he was keeping alive. Venom treatment was picked up by the expedition healers, having been given a primer on what to do before arriving.
An Acolyte that was healthy enough to get back up carried the collapsed Head Healer out of the way, laid the stocky man down, then sped off to fetch additional healers so they could save more Initiates. From the complaints and clamor, captured raiders were apparently being tied down one tent over; they would just have to wait until the clerics had been tended to.
Artorian was burning on the inside. His fire corruption was screaming with glee inside of the entrapping ring. Captured raiders meant possible answers, and if he wasn’t focusing his attention on patching up the Initiates… he would have happily taken the role of an Inquisitor. It had been over two years, and there were things he needed to know. Something. Anything concerning the current status or whereabouts of his sproutlings. His impatience to patch himself up to standard had netted him a few setbacks, and he had needed to come to terms with the truth.
Artorian was not going to be able to do anything for his little ones if he was unable to survive. He was going to have to fight once again, and if the current status of these Initiates was anything to go by… he was considerably outmatched and outnumbered. A palm tap on his shoulder broke his train of thought. The Head Healer was behind him, now glancing at the Initiate Artorian still had his hands on.
The gruff voice carried a dwarven cadence. This healer didn’t sound like he’d grown up in a human household. “Oi! Don’ be draining yourself like I did now. Rest if you need teh, or we’ll just be adding another injured body to the growin’ pile. I’m Hadurin Fellstone, Head Healer of this motley expedition crew.”
A strong handshake was shared between the two men. Fellstone had quite the experience under his belt. From the width of his belt, that was a lot of experience. “Artorian. A pleasure, my good sir.”
Hadurin slapped him on the back and pointed at another lad that needed help. “I’ve heard of ye. Heal a soul while we chat. I didn’t think you’d be of any use, given ya have a personal hospice caretaker an all. Now, look a’ this. All capable of caretaking others. Wish I’d have known earlier, would have put ya to work!”
Fellstone released as hearty of a laugh as he could manage with his Essence drained. “Ah abyss, I’m dry as an empty bottle. An’ look here, not a drop in sight. Bleh.”
Artorian chuckled at the words as he tended to a youngster that had serious wounds but didn’t require venom tending. Hadurin had fallen still and was watching with interest. “Ya know yer way around wounds far too well teh just be a wee old lad. That robe isn’t doin’ ya any favors neither. Sore thumbs stick out less than yer blue butt.”
Artorian smiled and chuckled louder. This man had a great sense of humor in him, and the grandfatherly figure was rather fond of the directness. He told the dwarf-raised-man what to do, “Look at my Center.”
Fellstone folded his arms and used a tiny bit of Essence to have a look. The flabbergasted mixture of horror and surprise on his face was more gratifying than the sweetest dessert. “By the cracked bones of the dreaded deeps.”
The Head Healer quieted himself after catching himself say that a bit too loudly. “Yer in the D-ranks, but you’ve got no fractal. Not a single one of yer meridians is open? Somehow, you’ve got yer Aura storin’ Essence like a C-ranker… though it’s not the least bit built or infused. I would have said yer body is a wreck, but if I didn’ know better… I’d say you either infused your eyes or figured out how to do somethin’ even better. I’ve never even seen a C-ranker with eyes tha’ infused. It’s like they’re made of the stuff.”
“I don’t even want to know what that spinny thing is where yer spiral should be. Reminds me of a gyroscope my Pa had me play with as a wee lad. Awful bright in the middle of it though. I can only catch glimpses when none of the circles are in the way. Quit moving, ya wee bastards!”
Artorian’s laughter forced his hands to jerk, almost doing some damage to the Initiate with a badly pushed energy flow. He verbally deflected the healer’s words as he looked down at his own chest, “Keep moving, don’t listen to him. You’re pretty and useful.”
Fellstone was the one to have a chuckle this time. “Oh, now that’s a treat. Ya talk to yers, too? Behaves better when you do that, don’ it?”
Artorian was pleased to have found someone else who talked to their cultivation system and felt the thought that he might be crazy for doing so fade. “Indeed, I do. It makes everything behave much better. I have theories as to why, but nothing I can share just yet. You said quite a few things just now that I have questions about. However, would you happen to know how I could open my meridians without falling over dead? Even I know my heart can’t take it.”
Fellstone had a merchant’s grin on his face. “Oh, sure I do. Depends on what yer willin’ teh trade me for it, Mr. Four-Open-Affinity-Channels and somehow still walkin’.”
Artorian knew that had been coming. It seemed there was really no such thing as a free lunch. He had to simply be satisfied that at least Hadurin hadn’t asked why he wasn’t dead. He was so tired of hearing that. The Head Healer could tell that the old man was taking him seriously. The stare into the distance look showed that Artorian was thinking through his options.
“I believe all I’m able to offer you is my time. I have no goods worth mentioning, and you have knowledge of cultivation past my own understanding. My only bargaining salt is your earlier mention that you’d have me work for you. Let’s not play. I’m aware you can’t draft me nor force me to do work. If I offer… well, that becomes a different matter, does it not? Let’s talk.”
Hadurin was amazed that the old man was so sharp. He’d been expecting a fragile, old dog who could provide some extra healing, but no! Artorian was full of goodies, and all he needed to trade was knowledge? Informat
ion that this sly fox could potentially get elsewhere?
“Aye. I want all teh time that ye can manage to stay standin’ for teh duration. As long as the expedition is here, since I can’t make ya come with after. If ya can do that, I’ll help ye out with yer meridian problem.”
Artorian held up a hand with all his fingers spread wide. “I can give you a hand’s worth of hours each day, but any more and my health will suffer. I am bedridden on paper, and when my caretaker finds out what I’m up to… well… she is going to drag me by the ear to my cot and force me to sleep.”
Hadurin extended his rock-hewn hand. “Aye, that’s a fair trade. I get yer skilled labor when I need it, and ye get yerself a few extra years to enjoy livin’. Not gonna pretend I didn’t notice teh sty of corruption ya got there.”
The old men clasped wrists, firmly shaking on a deal well-struck.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Let’s patch up your sons and daughters. After, I’ll go and see if any of the raiders you brought in are talkative. They may not talk to someone in a cleric’s regalia, but… they may speak to me.”
“Aye, got as much luck gettin’ anything out of that lot as I do findin’ a drink in teh cloister. I’ll be getting teh reports together from this lot.” Fellstone liked this plan, mostly because his new temporary recruit was right. He paused to carefully watch Initiate healers pile into the tent and get to work on the priests with major and minor injuries. He had to get involved a few times to set priorities, but otherwise, the work was assigned in a hurry.
“From what I gather so far, this group of raiders is a splinter faction. Lots of infightin’ in teh clans. Got bold and pushed a surprise raid on Lapis. Bastards didn’t know there was an expedition force next door. They got trounced, we captured a few. Preferably, we need ‘em alive for questioning, but seeing as you won’t be patching up many more people… I’ll leave it up to yer discretion so long as ya can get a good tale out of ‘em or can make one squeal. Come talk to me about yer meridians when you’re nice and full up on Essence. You’ll be needin’ a caravan load of it even with me keeping ya alive as you get it flowin’.”
A strong pat hit Artorian in the upper arm as the Head Healer released him from the area. Both of them nodded as they went to their respective tasks. Hadurin nudged an Essence drained healer and caught his breath. “Lad, ya overheard me. Tell the guards one tent over that Blue Robe over there can talk to the captives. Also, it might get a touch… screamy. Roll with it.”
With a pat to the back, the experienced but drained healer was on his legs. He managed to make his way over to Artorian, and both of them walked the short distance to the guarded captives’ tent. After the healer explained the situation, Artorian was allowed in, and the flap was closed behind him.
Several of the raiders were awake and full of fury. Most of them were gagged. Artorian slid his hands behind his back. He wondered how to introduce himself but found it best to lie and go with an option they might recognize. “Good evening. I am the Elder of the village of Salt. I’m here to take care of you.”
The raiders grunted, not buying the story. They communicated in sets of muffled sounds and angry whines through their gags. Artorian just stood there and felt himself dip into the sea of fury splashing around his heart. His voice existed in a flat plane of emotion tempered with control… but filled with rage. “I’m only going to ask this once. I don’t particularly care who answers. If you answer one of my questions, you live. Please be aware… I only have two questions. One. Where are abducted children taken when they have been snatched from a village. Two. Why the attack on Lapis?”
The questions didn’t continue, but no answers came. The old man walked to the closest raider, and seemingly without feeling or remorse, broke his neck with a *snap*. It silenced the others, who had previously been laughing at him through their gags. Cold terror suddenly replaced mirth. A muffled reply from the second raider whose head Artorian casually and gently embraced, “Mno… Mno!”
*Snap*!
Silence and the slow pitter-patter of footfalls from the old man were the only things audible in the tent as the second raider was ended.
“Mno! Ait! Unno. Iunno!” The third raider went icy with panic, struggling against his bonds as his head was gently held. Tears almost had the time to develop before a *snap* ended that possibility. A panicked raider near the middle of the room wasn’t going to die like this.
“Uoolf affle! Ufkove Affle! Idf awe achen cho ufkove affle!”
Rather than break the fourth raider’s neck, the pitter-patter closed the distance to the talkative boy, and his gag was removed. “Once more. With clarity.”
Artorian’s voice was flat, cold, and leveled a sense of finality. The panicked breath this surprisingly young raider took shuddered, and he barely got the words out, “Duskgrove Castle.”
The other raiders thrashed against their bonds at the traitor, or at least, the brainwashed majority did. Two weren’t budging, very aware that with only two questions available, only two of them were going to have a chance to live if the rules were ironclad.
“We take kids on orders. The big boss likes them young, says they’re pliable. Whole lot of seasons back, big boss slaughtered a whole castle after posin’ as hired mercs. Place is called Duskgrove Castle. Reaper faction o’ the raider clans flies a high flag. It’s where we’z told to take the lil’ unes. Please dun’ kill me. I was just followan’ orders. I was just… followan’. If I din’t…” His words broke down to chuckled tears, unable to continue. If any of his fellows got out, they’d end him. If the rules that had been set were a lie… then he was about to die anyway.
Artorian gave the broken raider a pat on the cheek. There was hope for this one. “You live, youngster.”
He paced to the flap, tapped on it, and poked his head out. Swiftly, the guards were inside, and the entire cot the raider was bound to was carried from the tent. Talkative raiders were useful; no need to waste them if they thought they were going to get out. That decision was up to the clerics now. With absolute, inhuman calm, Artorian paced back to the thrashing fourth raider he’d ignored prior to the lad answering a question.
*Snap*!
The muffled speech of one of the quiet ones who hadn’t thrashed earlier picked up on the far edge of the cot line. “Oear ab!”
The old man saw fit to remove the gag. The also very young raider quickly stated, “Power Grab! It was a power grab! Why kill my friends? They couldn’t say anything! They have gags on!”
Artorian normally appreciated questions. This was not that time. His grip moved around the raider’s head. “Tut. It’s rather simple. When it comes to things I care about, I’m remorseless in my pursuit of them. To me, you’re not just simple, little raiders trying to feed yourselves. To me, this is war. You see, any society that I consider worth going to war with must have social aspects that so violently conflict with my nature… my view of the world… that your ‘suppression’ is inadequate.”
“I don’t hold the view of war being a ‘minor disagreement’. This is not ‘he took my sock’. It is the willful understanding that the beings I have designated as enemies are so anathema to what I believe in that it warrants their utter destruction. In the event something ought to be destroyed, it, therefore, ought to be destroyed in its entirety.”
The raider died with the tone of a sharp spinal *crack*.
“You’ve all seen fit to knowingly make everyone else’s lives miserable… for the simple benefit of yourselves. People may change, but patterns really don’t. The amount of effort it takes a person to change is sizable and also requires the desire to do so. Merely saying you’ve changed is irrelevant. It must show in your behavior, your actions, for years to come. Frankly… I don’t have the luxury of time. My response now is that I see your intent to destroy all I love and hold dear. You have no desire for diplomacy, or you would have attempted it. I see no way for you to thrive in life alongside me without me risking everything. Therefore…”
&
nbsp; *Snap*!
He strolled to the next raider. “Therefore, with much sadness in my heart, I declare that you—and all who take part in the eradication of that which I cherish—must be eradicated in turn. I don’t despise you for your choice. I merely tell you that this response is the outcome I am willing to live with. This is my peace, as I now send you to yours. I condemn you.”
*Snap*!
The bonds of the raider that hadn’t thrashed began to fray. Releasing the head of yet another dead raider, Artorian turned and cycled some Essence. “Oh, how curious. A cultivator?”
The raider buckled against the restraints, getting both his upper arms free at the same time. Maliciousness burst in the raider’s eyes, but it simmered to a pale chill as both his hands were grasped firmly by the old man. Artorian was holding the straining hands with his own, still having a look deep inside the man. “That’s quite some progress you’ve made! If you get any more freedom, I believe you’d have the upper hand. You know… today, I am not a good man.”
The raider bit through his gag and spat out the scrap of cloth. “I’m going to tear you apart, or I am not Alphas!”
“Hush now. I’m knowingly and willingly doing some awful things. I must thank you for the opportunity you’ve provided me. In truth, I’ve been dying to know how this interaction worked.”
Essence built against the raider’s right hand, and a void pulled at his left. Being stuck on the cot, the raider saw an opportunity for free Essence. He tried to siphon from whatever technique the old fool might be building.
Alphas the raider had the best Chi control of any of the secret cultivators in his raiding clan. He was a proud F-rank nine. Overpowering an old man was going to be no effort at all, and now he’d even be able to steal some free Essence from the pathetic old man’s skill. A vicious smirk snapped into place as he pulled at the Essence the old man was pushing. Power poured into him with the force of an ocean, and he willingly accepted the conduit link. He started laughing as he was immediately pushed to… F-rank… ten? That didn’t exist!
Axiom Page 25
