A Doctor Without Borders [Healer | Slow-Burn | Medical Fantasy]

The next day moved fast. The end of the tunnel was left untouched as any further excavation risked opening a path for monsters to escape. However, that still left plenty of work on the traps. Dorian, along with other Ættir, designed the traps and defense structures. Mining this vein carried more uncertainties than the previous. The high-grade crystal created dangerous pockets around our tunnel. While their frequency lessened as we moved away from the main vein, the risk never vanished. The constant care with each strike and the Energy used to shape the stone for the traps taxed Dorian. It left him far too grouchy. Though the company had finished all the traps in the tunnel and had even started on defensive berms and walls by the end of the day, the work didn't suffice. I couldn't get him to view anything positively, not when anything less than two to three times the current defenses struck him as inadequate.

We parted that evening without another word, and any hopes of seeing him in a better mood were dashed by the end of breakfast. I eyed his half-uneaten meal before risking stealing a few bites.

No response.

I sighed. "You think they are going to breach today?" He nodded. "Do you think we will have support?"

He just shrugged. He didn't elaborate, and we finished our meal in silence. Not once did Dorian express frustration or anger over the possibility of breaching this early, and I couldn't tell if that was from anger or resignation.

Maybe he expects other companies will be invited?

Yesterday, we had discussed the state of the defenses. If we breached alone, the defensive structures we had finished would suffice. However, if we brought in one or possibly two more companies, we'd need half a day's work to build enough structures to support everyone, and that estimate was on the conservative side. According to Dorian, we could get it all done before the second half of the shift if we didn't take any breaks.

On my walk over, my stomach fluttered with a familiar, nervous energy. While I did not have much experience with them, mass casualty incidents weren't exactly a new experience for me. For good or bad, I had a couple under my belt before I left the surgical path behind. The anticipation while waiting for the arrival of ambulances with people riddled with bullet holes or crushed limbs near the edge of salvageability was almost as bad as the ensuing stress of actually keeping people alive.

However, now another feeling—or thirst?—had joined it. Though its effects remained subtle, it ran deep. I had felt it after each level up, but it had always disappeared. In hindsight, maybe it was just going dormant. Since hitting Tier II, it never receded, and this close to a chance to use my skills amplified it. It left me jittery, yearning for something out of my control.

I grew by treating people—the worse the injuries, the better. In the typical state of affairs, my offers of help ended in rejections—the injuries not severe enough, or my Humanity repulsive. While I could never agree with the latter, I begrudgingly had to accept the former. We had limited resources after all. That did little to stop the desire or the stray dark thoughts of if the injury had only been a bit worse…

Today, I might see those more severe injuries, and something inside me knew that.

Each ping of [Sense Injury] acted as a tease, eroding my natural caution. I found myself more open to decisions that might let me utilize my powers. At least I had better control of it than my newfound anger. Still, I didn't like it. I would need to talk with Dorian to better understand why this was happening. Just not today. Today, the Ættir would need me. For once, I wouldn't have to fight their prejudices. I would save lives, and I would level. I just had to survive.

The first suggestion of things going off the rails was the lack of other Ættir on our way to our mining site. Ættir from other companies should have joined us to help with the defensive structures, if only to familiarize themselves with them. The second was finding Eiræk and the Verndari standing alone, facing each other in the center of two half circles of Ættir behind them. On Eiræk's side stood the rest of our group, conspicuously missing one. Behind the Verndari waited two of the other hærliðar and a few of their groups. Everyone looked relaxed, hands loose by their sides, but I couldn't help but think this calm as nothing more than a paper-thin facade waiting to be torn apart. Of course, if things hit the fan here, it would not go well for our group.

Eiræk had to know this. I had spent enough time at this point with the Ættar that I could read some of the subtlety hidden underneath his stiff decorum. He stood rigid without display of threat but also without signs of deference. The words he spoke were too soft to hear, but each one made the Verndari's smirk grow wider. Any closer, and I bet I would hear the cracking of teeth.

The third suggestion that things were going poorly was when the Verndari's smirk turned into a malicious smile, which happened as soon as he had caught sight of me and Dorian. He motioned for us to join them without a word.

"Do we have a choice?" whispered Dorian as we approached.

"I doubt it. Try not to say anything to make this worse."

Before Dorian could respond, the Verndari called out. "Oresian, the preparations are complete. It is time to initiate the breach."

We both looked around the cavern. Since yesterday, some of our company had come in early to construct a few more defensive berms, but we had nowhere near enough for one, much two, more companies.

Dorian arrived at the same conclusion as I did. Unfortunately, while my blood ran cold, his went hot. His face turned red, and his fist balled, yet somehow, he held back the extent of his fury. "I will be ready when the rest of the breaching team is here."

The Verndari smirked. "The rest of your team is here. Your hærlið has volunteered your group for holding the monster back long enough for your traps to work."

I swore internally. Dorian had been on the knife's edge, and that comment pushed him over.

"You must be joking. This is a huge strike. It will have things that could be the death of everyone here."

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"Your lead has made your fears clear to me. However, you forget who you are talking to. We are Ættir, and I run this company."

"You a—"

A wave of power filled the room, causing my knees to bend. It differed from when the Vísir or Kyria Rhaptis had flexed their might. It had none of the subtleties, but it still screamed the same threat: death.

Verndari's voice dripped with barely contained malice. "I would think very carefully about your next words to your superior."

I didn't let Doran respond. I straightened, tall and rigid, in my best impression of an Ættar at attention. "We are honored that you chose us to take the lead in this strike."

The Verndari just snorted in amusement. Dorian, on the other hand, stood quiet—too quiet. My gut twisted as my mind filled with ways this could go off the rails. I had put a pause on Dorian's rant, and I didn't relinquish my momentum.

"Dorian only spoke up out of a sense of honor to his team and company. We may have laid out more traps with just our company."

The Verndari's face darkened, but he couldn't call me out on my lie. The wounds from the last battle lingered in the minds of too many, and more than one Ættir behind the Verndari gave a slight nod. However, I couldn't push too hard. I was a Human currently lying through my teeth. The Verndari didn't have cause to strike me down now—probably, but if I kept it up…

"However, we trust your judgement. We still stand with the rest of our company and hold the line."

The Verndari's eyes narrowed, and in my periphery, I caught the Ættir around me stiffen. The cavern grew quiet as I, a Human, uttered those weighty words.

I swallowed. Had I made a mistake?

"You will not hold it alone." Rægnor's voice came from behind me, almost causing me to jump. He had been the one person missing when I had arrived—a strange occurrence. He always arrived before me and Dorian.

Rægnor's words—or arrival—proved enough for Eiræk. "Let's go."

I waited for more, but nothing came. And why would it? This wasn't some movie in which we made a rousing speech that would save us. The Verndari had painted us in a corner, and we were going into that mining shaft to face whatever came out.

Our small group headed to the tunnel in silence. The rest of the company looked on, not saying a word, though a few inclined their heads in respect. I didn't bother tossing a look back before we crossed the threshold, but by the sounds, the rest of them were preparing for the upcoming onslaught.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Dorian asked as soon as we were out of earshot.

He still seethed. I may not be the direct cause, but I still made a great focus.

"Which part?"

"Everything."

Had I crossed a line?

"You—we didn't have a choice. Arguing would get us nowhere and cost you everything. He was going to order the excavation of the vein no matter what you said."

"This is suicide."

"It isn't," our hærlið answered. "He used your own knowledge against you. I told him of the outcomes of similar circumstances, but Ættir can hold their own against Oresiani four to one even without being a higher level, which we are. A place like this and with your traps, we would have the advantage."

"Four-to-one? I would give you two- or three-to-one odds at best, but that's with you being fully geared. You have cloth for armor and pickaxes for weapons. Your [Healers] aren't present. We could end up taking terrible losses."

"I know," he sneered, "but he is within his rights even if I disagree. I just didn't think he could convince his hærliðar."

When Dorian didn't ask the obvious questions, I did. "How can anyone be on board with this? Also, how can he think this is a good idea? If we lose too many people, this company will need to be dissolved. Won't he lose his command?"

"He is overconfident," muttered Rægnor.

One of the Ættir with us let out a sharp grunt at Rægnor's comment. Rægnor's head snapped in his brother's direction, anger plain. However, Eiræk cut them off. "The Oresian stands with us. I think he has earned a bit of truth."

Eiræk looked at that other Ættir, and when no one argued, he continued. "He is confident in our prowess, and some would indeed say overly so. However, he has yet to be wrong." He raised a hand to stall Dorian's rebuttal. "There is more to it." Eiræk took a deep breath. "We are not a monolith, and our involvement with this expedition barely came to be. A deal was cut, against the wishes of the Verndari, but his tribe had lost too much honor to argue. Our Sæmdarskati choice saved many lives, but unfortunately, his support remains tenuous. Our Verndari wants to end this deal and, of course, redeem himself, but Sæmdarskati's deal limits his options. He will push us, in an attempt to 'earn' enough to redeem our honor as quickly as possible."

Dorian frowned. "Will the Alfa allow that?"

Eiræk snorted, and he wasn't the only Ættir who did so. "Oresian, we remain here at the behest of our Sæmdarskati, not the Alfa. When our leader states our debt has been paid, we will leave—Alfa be damned. Alas, until then, we must deal with the bickering I had hoped we would be free of with only one [Shaman]."

Politics. Always politics.

I sighed. "And let me guess. This other major faction prefers isolation from others in this area as well as extermination—excuse me, curtailing—of Humans to prevent another Sundering."

Eiræk's eyes widened a fraction as I finished, but he only said, "Yes."

I shook my head. "Just my luck."

Dorian put a hand on my shoulder. "You don't have to be here."

After all that, he still put my safety first.

"But I do. I spoke for you. I can't be seen putting you in danger without putting myself in the same position."

Dorian threw up his hands. "That is ridiculous. Can't I just go and clarify—"

"No. It won't work."

Rægnor nodded in agreement. "It would be a great loss of honor."

"Dorian, coming into the tunnel was a foregone conclusion. Admit it. You were never going to walk away from this group. I just stopped you from saying something that would have resulted in your getting thrown out of the company. It would have been in the Verndari's rights, and I can't imagine that would have been good for your long-term aspirations. Tell me I am wrong." Of course, he couldn't. "I'm also here because I need to prove myself. If not for me, then for our group."

"You didn't have to do that for us," Rægnor said.

"Yes, I did. You are here because of me. The Verndari needed a full team to lead this, and ours was the obvious choice. "

We walked in silence the last few steps that brought us to the end of the tunnel. Our hærlið rested his pick against the wall.

"Rægnor, you should listen to Daniel's words. Everything he intuited was correct. He made the best out of a bad situation. It is impressive given how little you know of our culture. If you were an Ættar, you could have the makings of a [Shaman]. Still, the Verndari erred. He assumed we had no other recourse. Rægnor, did you reach the Sæmdarskati?"

"As best as I could. The Sæmdarskati was deep in the mine. I could not talk to him directly, but I got word to somebody you trusted."

"Good." Then Eiræk addressed the rest of the Ættir in our group. "I know it was above my station, but it was within right. I will accept any blame for the decision if I am wrong. We just need to delay. He will come."

A kernel of hope—which Dorian crushed with his next words. "Guys, I don't think the Verndari will let us take our time with breaching."

Everyone's gaze shifted to the tunnel's end. We had all missed it when talking. In hindsight, it was glaringly obvious something had changed. Far more crystals studded the surface, and dust fell from a multitude of cracks and fractures that ran through the tunnel's walls. More telling, a few large rocks propped against the tunnel wall were shifting of their own accord, dust twirling in tight spirals from the cracks—carried by unseen currents.

"How long do we have?" asked Eiræk.

As if in answer, a thump hit the other side of the wall. More dust puffed out from the crack only to streak to the floor as Dorian activated his skill.

Dorian's grip tightened on the pickaxe. "Not long. Not long at all."