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

The Vísir stepped forward, kneeling next to the Ættar. Around us, the battle continued, but the older Ættar moved with utter calm. It wasn't just hurt. The space around us had taken on a new air as if she could bring peace to an area by force of will.

The Vísir reached forward, feeling the air coming from the tube. "What you've done is barbaric."

She was right. It was barbaric—given the tools she had available. However, not all of us had access to magical healing.

"It's a stopgap," I said through gritted teeth. I almost couldn't say the next words, but I had to. My patient needed it. "It needs fixing sooner rather than later. I need to help him breathe as long as it is in there."

She said nothing. She removed the tube with one hand and held her other near his throat. Activating [Sense Injury] for a second was all I needed to tell that she had already healed the most severe injury.

The sheer ease was a punch to the gut. Yet, he now lived and would soon be well enough to throw himself back into the fray so that I could do this again. Just the thought of that almost let the fatigue overwhelm me. I couldn't begrudge their healing, not after what I had seen. They needed it. And, they needed me right now.

That gave me the energy I needed. "I'm going to go help those who were injured…unless you need me."

Whatever that attack that killed the burrower and shade stalker had caused collateral damage, though less than I expected. No one was critically hurt, but some could use more urgent attention.

"I don't. But if you believe yourself capable of service, you may stay. They will bring the injured here. Even if it isn't with traditional methods, you managed this wound in the stomach without rampant festering."

The expected accolades didn't follow, and I failed to keep the bitterness from my voice. "I must have gotten lucky with the potions then. Because, as you have so frequently reminded me, I am not capable of being a [Healer]."

I should be building bridges, but I had my limits. And for the record, there had been only minimal bacterial growth in his abdomen. She was being petty, and I too was equally capable of that. It was stupid. I had a lot to learn, but I couldn't fathom a world in which she would deign to teach me anything. Her observation was case and point. Even without any visible signs of injury remaining, she had somehow deduced exactly what I'd done to heal his abdomen. I left no complications, but she could only offer me judgment.

The arrival of more Ættir with their wounded brethren cut our ever-so-productive conversation short. None had registered as critical with [Sense Injury], but plenty bore quite severe wounds. They required my full attention, which had the wonderful byproduct of keeping me from dwelling on my relationship with her.

Minutes passed as we worked. Despite our mutual dislike, we fell into a natural rhythm. I worked on those with potions, and she helped the most severe. She, of course, always did a far better job than I did, but I liked to think I did a fair job of imitating the superior product.

By the end, I worked on more Ættir than she did. Some of it was pure triage. It was far easier to stabilize the more severe injuries than to heal them. However, some of it was the continued strange dynamic between her and the other Ættir. Practically every Ættir showed an inherent reluctance to utilize her powers. More than I expected preferred to burn potions rather than ask her to heal them. That was even before knowing that I could enhance the potions or let them ignore potion tolerance.

It did help that, to make a point, a few Ættir came forward to let me use [Enhance Medicinal] when it wasn't strictly needed. I hadn't missed the looks Ættir from outside my company each time I helped one of their people nor the subsequent increase in requests. However, even all that didn't seem enough to explain the discrepancy. The animosity between Humans and Ættir ran deep, but it seemed to take a back seat to whatever indecorum kept Ættir from utilizing her skills.

The Vísir stood up. "I am done here. You should return to your company."

I blinked in surprise, but a quick survey was enough to confirm she was correct. No one else needed help. Somehow, no one had died. It didn't seem possible, but I would take the win.

Following suit, I stood up. That was a mistake. My head had started throbbing at some point from overuse of my skills, but standing had added a wave of lightheadedness. I blinked away spots. I would need some time to recover.

When I refocused, the Vísir had not walked away, though she was not struggling with any of the same lightheadedness I was. She was staring at the figure walking towards us.

The Ættar, who somehow outmassed Rægnor and the Verndari, walked straight towards us. He had the confident movements of a man who gave orders and expected people to follow them without question. This could only be one person: the Sæmdarskati.

All around him, Ættir stepped back to give him space as he approached. As they did so, I couldn't help but notice that he left someone sprawled on the ground. I had almost taken a step forward to go check on him when I recognized the person—the Verndari.

Something had happened between him and the Sæmdarskati because none of his hærliðar moved to help their downed leader. I instinctively activated [Sense Injury], which, to my surprise and disappointment, only showed minor injuries.

But were physical injuries the true goal?

Given what I had seen, the Sæmdarskati had the power to beat some sense into him, but that wouldn't be a true punishment. I had learned enough of Ættarsk culture to know that shame of public upbraiding would hurt far worse than any of the Sæmdarskati's blows. Would it be enough? As much as I wanted to see him hurt, I would take a change in behavior over everything else. I had too many firsthand accounts of the results of his reckless decisions.

The Sæmdarskati didn't slow as he approached us. His clothes were no different from any of our company, but intricate patterns marked every part of his visible skin. I stood still, waiting for others to show respect, but no one had bowed. No one moved. The Vísir just stood slightly straighter. Her permanent scowl softened slightly to match the imperious presence of the Ættar walking toward us.

He stopped a few feet away from us and gave the Vísir a slight bow. "Thank you for your service, Vísir. I have witnessed your actions and the lives of my men that you saved."

She did not bow in return. She stood without giving a hint of deference. "We live in service."

He then turned his attention to me. "I would like to thank you for your service as well."

He didn't bow, but I didn't miss the nod. As subtle as it was, there was no question that it had happened. And it meant something. No one moved or said a thing, but the Vísir started staring daggers at me.

None of that helped me come up with what to say. I had the head of the entire Ættarsk group here, and I had no clue how to address him.

I bowed deeply. "Thank you for the respect. However, I only did what was expected by being part of my company." I paused for a second and then added, "And please forgive me if I failed to address you properly. Until coming here, I had no interactions with your people. I, therefore, must plead ignorance and beg forgiveness for any unintentional slights."

He gave me a long look. Had I gotten too far? My language was so stilted it felt fake, but they were stickler for respect.

"Most Humans know how to address a Sæmdarskati."

I spoke slowly and carefully. "I am not your typical Human."

He looked between an empty potion vial I had forgotten to pick up and a few of the Ættir carrying signs of injuries on the clothing but no longer on their bodies. "I can see that." He then paused, turning to address the Ættir around us, "I see a much that needs harvesting."

Everyone understood the subtext. People scattered and got to work—somewhere else.

"Come with me."

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

The Sæmdarskati headed for the tunnel to other caverns in our section. The Vísir complied, and I did the same.

"I would like to be a part of this discussion."

The Sæmdarskati stopped and turned slowly. Eyes narrowed, he appraised the person who interrupted him. "In what capacity?"

I hadn't seen Dorian behind the wall of Ættir, but he stood, not bending in the slightest, as a pressure filled the room. No one else stopped their new activities. If anything, people made even more space around the solitary Oresian.

"As a friend."

A frown flickered across the leader's face. "Your people's friendship always comes with additional ties, but you have earned respect." The Sæmdarskati looked at me and asked, "Do you consider him a friend? "

I didn't hesitate. "Yes."

"Yet you did not ask for help when needed."

Just how much did he know about my situation?

"I value him too much to drag him into my mess."

Dorian flinched in surprise. "Daniel, what are you talking about?"

I didn't answer, but it was still enough for the Sæmdarskati.

"Another mark in your favor. Kyrios Petroryphos, you may join us."

Dorian flinched at the title. His eyes darted to me, but I just gave him a small smile.

I am not dense, Dorian. I had long ago figured you came from privilege.

My lack of surprise reassured him because his spine straightened, and he gave a slight bow. "Thank you, Honorable One."

We backtracked in silence through the tunnels until reaching the far edge of a cavern, empty save the shadows cast by the light stones and glittering Aether crystals. Then he stopped and studied me. Dorian stood next to me while the Vísir found a spot between him and the Sæmdarskati.

I tried to hide my discomfort. We had removed the majority of the crystal in here, but the Aether density still outstripped the other caverns. It was tolerable so long as I actively managed it and didn't activate any skills.

Finally, the Sæmdarskati spoke. "Why did you not ask for a boon?"

It took me a second to realize he was talking to me. "A…a boon? Why would I do that?"

"I would have lost a company if not for you."

"Forgive me if I disagree, but I don't think I was the reason the company survived."

"You do yourself a disservice. Stop hiding behind false modesty. As you can see, I am not a Human."

False modesty? What did he want me to say? I had a role in the battle, but pivotal?

Face impassive, he stood there waiting for my answer.

Was this a test? He would have had time to ask about the battle. Focused on my patients, I certainly wouldn't have noticed it if he did. I still had no idea how the fighting wrapped up.

"I don't know what you want. If you are talking about that despair aura—or whatever that was, all I did was enhance Dorian's potion."

"Enhance?" the Vísir asked.

Dorian snorted. "Yeah. All you did was enhanced a high-tier potion." I gave Dorian a questioning look. He'd always been the one warning me to stay quiet, to stay low. This…this was anything but that. However, he didn't shift his gaze form the Sæmdarskati. "He doesn't understand his value, but I think you do."

"Yes. A Tier II somehow managed to break an aura that immobilized most of his company from a monster multiple tiers above his own. He then brought three of my clan from the brink of death."

"The brink of death?" the Vísir snapped in disbelief. "He is no [Healer]."

The refrain was getting old, but I couldn't argue it. "I never claimed to be."

The Sæmdarskati was having none of that. "Those three should have died." He shot the Vísir a silencing look. "Yes, I inquired while you were working. It is not often you see Ættar letting a Human heal them. One of my men was no longer breathing. Another's heart had stopped beating. Both returned to battle. The last was choking on his own blood, yet he lives."

The Vísir pointed a finger toward the still bloody tools on the ground. "Did you see what he did to achieve that? It was barbaric. He told me that he cannot heal, and he has proven that when he first woke up and just now."

"Yet it got results. Could you have save them all at his level?"

She sneered, but it shut her up.

The Sæmdarskati turned back to me. "What you did should have been impossible. So what are you?"

At least a foot taller, he towered over me. Every part of him, from his jaw to his arms and legs, was chiseled. Even without using Energy, he could destroy me with a single punch.

I swallowed. "I'm just a Human. One far from home."

"Just a Human? Not a Human [Healer] or [Cleric] or [Alchemist]?"

The Sæmdarskati shook his head. Then he pulled out a knife and filled it with Energy. Dorian stepped in front of me, but the blade had already moved in a blur. The only indication of the action were dark red beads that quickly turned into a long, deep-red line.

"Heal it."

"What?"

"Heal it."

He should have been kidding, but of course he wasn't. I searched my pockets, but came up empty. "I can't."

He fished out a vial with iridescent red liquid. "And if I gave you this?"

"Yes, but you would be wasting a potion if she is here."

However, the Vísir did nothing.

"Fine." I took the vial, muttering, "What is it with you guys and self-mutilation to prove a point?"

The pools of blood had grown large enough to spill down his arms in rivulets. It wasn't a bad wound. He had missed any arteries, but its depth ensured that he would still lose a decent amount of blood quickly.

I popped the cork and dipped my finger in it. My finger instantly started to burn as if returning from a numb state. No potion had ever leaked this much Energy into my body. Was there another tier of potions?

I ran my fingertip across the container's edge, wiping off all but the smallest amount of the potion. Even a minute amount was too much. [Enhance Medicinal] practically screamed to be used. I didn't hold back, and the wound stitched up with minimal work. Something about this potion made it different. I had achieved far more with far less Energy. Almost an exponential increase, if I had to hazard a guess.

"There."

The Vísir scowled when she saw it. "A waste."

"Was it? It was just a drop. Not even that. We both know it would have needed much more if I did it on my own."

The Sæmdarskati wiggled his fingers and then wiped the blood off with his other hand, leaving behind unblemished skin that I had expected.

The Vísir grabbed his arm, pulling her face close to it. She inspected it closely before releasing it and turning on me, eyes narrowed and lips drawn. "Is that all you can do?"

I struggled to keep the annoyance out of my voice. "Like you said. I am not a [Healer]. All I do is use potions."

"No." She snapped. "There is more. You shouldn't have been capable of healing that gut wound with just a potion. It should have festered. You don't have the Projection to stop that. What are you hiding?"

I took an involuntary step back at her vehemence. "I have a skill for that. It lets me suppress any infect-–festering-–from occurring while still enhancing the potion's effects."

That barely mollified her, but when the Sæmdarskati looked in askance, she answered as if each word pained her. "It is possible."

"Did your Verndari know about your skills?" the Sæmdarskati asked.

"Maybe? I—" Did I admit I had been lying low? The metaphorical cat was out of the bad. I was still alive, and they owed me. I went with a version of the trust. "He wasn't fond of me, but Eiræk knew." I mentally cursed at the Sæmdarskati's raised eyebrow at my name drop, but I just continued, "He may have told him. It was no secret that I was offering my services to the company. I needed levels, and we needed to conserve potions. Few took me up on the offer."

"Foolish. We wasted an asset and almost lost good people. It stops now." He turned to the Vísir. "You will take him on as an apprentice."

Her eyes flashed with anger. "I will not."

Their Marks flared. Hues of reds, blues, and purples spread across the stone walls. The hairs on my skin began. As they continued to flex their powers, the air thickened until the pressure forced me backward. I didn't resist, but Dorian grabbed my arm as I stepped back and shook his head.

I stood, bracing. Then, in a blur, the Sæmdarskati's hand shot forward, grabbing the Vísir's neck. She didn't move, but the power filling the air vanished.

"You dare lay hands on me?"

"It is not I who exceeds my bounds."

"He is Human!"

"I don't care what he is. He has shown his value, but more importantly, he has proven himself worthy of respect. He is clearly not allied to the Humans here. So, you will teach him so that he can better help us. You can present your disagreement to the Council of Elders when we return." He tightened his finger, and her face took on a reddish tinge. "Until then, you will remember your place."

He let go, and she let out a small gasp. She stepped back rubbing her neck. When she looked at him, anger filled her eyes. Unfortunately, that was nothing in comparison the when she turned to look at me.

Lovely. She was going to be my teacher…

I could empathize with her. Her people's enemy had just seen her get humiliated. It didn't make me any more confident that we would ever find common ground. How easy would it be for me to have an "accident?"

I was about to object to this arrangement when Dorian spoke up. "These decisions are a bit presumptuous. He is not part of your tribe. He deserves a say. His debt is separate from your own. Taking him from the mines will prevent repayment unless, of course, you plan on telling the Alfa of his…talents."

The Vísir scoffed at his word choice, but Dorian would have none of it. "No. He may require tools, but he is a [Healer] in all but name. To offer him nothing—"

A soft boom echoed through the cavern as the ground beneath the Sæmdarskati cracked. "Dare question my honor again, and you will regret it." The air calmed as quickly as the Sæmdarskati's anger. "Oresian, you presume that you can speak for him, but your tongue does not have the right nor his protections. Only he has earned them—just as only he has earned the ire of the Volki. While he has some protection, I will make sure it is absolute."

I could almost see the cogwheels in Dorian's head turning as he tried to make sense of my situation. He wanted to help, but he just didn't have a clue about the mire I found myself in.

Of course, the Sæmdarskati knew that as well. He smiled. "I prefer good relations with our…administrator. She did us a favor by sending him to us. Since I know how much you Oresiani love to negotiate, why don't you talk with the Quartermaster and see if she can recommend a better option." He then addressed me. "Know this: I will subsume your debt. You will no longer be beholden to the Expedition. When you realize that what I offer is the best choice, the Vísir will be waiting for you tomorrow morning to begin your training. You can always return to the mine in the afternoon."

With that, he strode off, leaving the three of us behind.

The Vísir watched him go before whirling to face me. I tensed, but she only spoke through gritted teeth. "I should have let you die when you first arrived." She then spun and stalked out of the cavern.

"So much for flying under the radar."

Dorian put a hand on my shoulder. "I may not have exactly understood that, but I get what you mean. Just so you know, it could've gone worse."

"Could've gone better, but I guess that's just today's theme."