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

Esper sat at a small table in the back room, the dim lights not a bother to her sharp eyes. She worked at grinding her latest batch of herbs. Her hands ached from the repetitive movements, though in truth, her work strained her more mentally than physically. The constant infusion of Energy took its toll. Her Master could have eased the toll, but the old [Shaman] had no love for potions, "a mark of an inferior [Healer]."

Her lips pinched. She had not quite reached the point at which she never needed to rely on a potion to bolster her healing after a long day. However, even when she did, she would not forsake such a valuable tool. She had learned her lesson. If things continued like they were going, even her Master might need to reconsider. She tried to hide it, but there had been more than a few days recently in which she had been taxed. Better to supplement with poultices and potions than to fail on a day filled with emergencies.

The sound of the door opening did little to interrupt the tedious work of grinding herbs. It might not be the most common time for a visitor, but it wasn't uncommon either. Many foraging or hunting groups returned earlier or later than expected, depending on their success or failure. On a successful day, some dropped off herbs to curry favor. On a less successful day, a group may be carrying a member who sustained injuries. However, no frantic rush of movement or a call for her assistance came from the other room. When she reached out with her senses, she didn't register any injuries. Only her Master's angry voice filtered through the closed door.

"You are not supposed to be here until tomorrow. Of course, if you would rather not come at all, I won't complain. I have enough burdens to handle."

That comment was enough for her to put down her pestle and pay attention. Typically, these conversations ended quickly with, at best, the slam of a door or, at worst, sounds of begging or cries of agony.

Anyone dumb enough to provoke her Master deserved it.

She waited, but none of the typical sounds came.

"I guess you'll be disappointed. However, that's not why I'm here."

Though she could not quite place it, the voice had a familiar sound. The more she thought about it, the more it didn't sound like an Ættar at all. It had none of the depth and timbre.

"I need to speak with Esper."

The mention of her name caused her to give up all pretense of work. She pushed back her chair, cringing at the small noise it made. Hopefully, her Master hadn't noticed. Dallying on her herb preparations, not to speak of eavesdropping, would be more than enough to earn her a verbal reprimand—if she was lucky.

However, the conversation didn't lose a beat. "She is not available."

"Doing what exactly? I don't need much time."

He definitely was not Ættar. None, save perhaps the Sæmdarskati, would challenge her. Even he knew to hide any exasperation at her Master's intransigence. For this arrogance alone, this person was a fool. Didn't he know one of the ways Ættir became such good [Healers]? They practiced on every wound they could. If there wasn't one available, they made one. Using one's own body was acceptable, but it was far easier to find those in need of punishment, or, as she had learned the hard way, find a way to annoy a [Shaman].

She pushed out her senses once again, waiting for the inevitable injury, but none came. Somehow, he remained alive and uninjured.

"We take care of people who are ill."

"There's not a single person in here who is sick. I just need five minutes of her time."

He wasn't wrong. They had released the last injured warrior back to work yesterday. Yet, the guest spoke with such conviction that he hadn't taken a guess. And her Master didn't refute him. So a skill? If so, that could only mean that he was a fellow healer. But why would someone want her when her Master was available?

A myriad of reasons popped into her head, but none made much sense. She might not know the full extent of what was happening out there, but her Master needed to remember that she didn't control every aspect of her life. Facing the consequences of disobedience was tolerable if it helped reinforce her independence.

She pushed open the door to the back, interrupting the conversation. "I am available…"

She stopped, her voice dying out at the sight of the person standing in the doorway. A Human had talked to her Master like that and lived? However, as recognition dawned, her shock vanished. A memory flashed before her eyes. A bedraggled man writhing with fever dreams. Unmarked, then not. Then, despite everything she had done, risked, his first words uttered were her greatest shame. Her heart started pounding in her chest, and she worked to unclench her fists before she drew blood.

Him?

She opened her mouth to tell him to go back and die in the Wilds, when her Master said with a cruel smile, "I guess she has finished her task. I'm sure she'll have some time to speak with you now."

She wanted to scream at herself almost as much as the other two. It was never wise to give that woman anything she could use to torment you, and in her foolishness, she had done just that. For a second, she had let her guard down, and in failing to control her reaction, she revealed too much. The crone had been trying to send him away, which meant she had misread the situation between her and the fool Human. However, after such a blatant tell, the [Shaman] now knew the truth. The woman hadn't risen to power without being able to bend when the winds suddenly shifted.

The world wanted to spite her twice over because, for some reason, that fool Human still lived despite his disrespect to her Master. Now her Master's anger needed a new target, and who better than her unwanted apprentice?

The wretched Human's eyes darted between the two of them, taking in the situation. Those blue eyes now contained an intelligence—and an understanding—that they lacked when he first awoke. Somehow, it only incensed her further. Unfortunately, her Master left her with no choice.

"What are you waiting for, apprentice? The Human waits." She started walking toward her. "Also, take all the time you need. I'm sure I will need the time to review your work and give you copious pointers on how to improve."

If only she had the power to wipe that cruel smile off her Master's lips. Unfortunately, mentally cursing her and the Human would have to suffice. She walked towards the open door, for she now had little choice. The Human stepped back, giving her space. She closed the door after she passed the threshold. Her Master could still hear, but she didn't need to see whatever emotions crossed her face.

She waited, not moving a step from the door, and she took that time to finally study the Human that had brought her such grief. Gone was the plain face. Unmarked—well, no one would ever think that now. Her Master had believed it impossible at his age, but she knew what she saw. She hadn't imagined the lack of them when he lay in the cot at the brink of death. She also couldn't forget how he responded to the brew for babies that struggled to connect with the Mother.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Now, he had Marks like any other Human—no, they were not typical with his history. He had not only survived the mine for weeks, but he had breached the second tier. His Marks showed no hint of stunting. They had a vibrance that hinted at power.

The Mother was truly punishing her.

Once she got past the surprise of his Marks, she took in the rest of the man. Gone was the bedraggled person that she had met. He was actually tall, at least for a human. He was short for a male Ættir, but he stood eye level to her.

He gave her a smile, but it faltered at her frown.

What? Did he expect her to help after all he had done to her? She would rather face lashes than give him the satisfaction of her help.

He stood there silent.

Where was his backbone? How had he survived the mines? Because it was clear he had been there. Dust coated his hands, face, and neck, though strangely, the white coat he wore remained pristine.

She tried not to marvel that he still lived. By all rights, he should be dead and buried. Even ignoring his strange lack of Marks when she met him, he still had not found his path—like so many other Humans. He was essentially a child, and no Ættarsk child could withstand any time in those mines. That didn't even take into account that he was soft.

It had been apparent when she tended to his wound. Gaining back some of the weight he had lost hadn't changed anything. Sure, he was leaner and probably stronger. She didn't doubt his hands now had callouses from swinging a pickaxe. Still, he was soft. He had no scars, no lines from worrying about where the next bit of food would come from.

He finally found the nerve to speak. "Thank you for taking the time. I didn't expect to…I seem to bring you trouble." She almost slapped that rueful smile that appeared right off his face. "I came to apologize for my behavior when I first woke up here. It was a bit of a shock—" He cut off, not finishing the excuse. "It doesn't matter. You rescued me when no one would, and I'm sorry that I offended you, the person to whom I owed such a debt."

Her eyes widened when he knelt down on both knees, head bowed. He wasn't—

"I ask for your forgiveness and a chance to clear my honor."

She sucked in a breath at the last part. Never in all her years… And a Human? It took her a second to respond, and even then, it was a whisper. "Do you know what you offer?"

He spoke the words as if he understood, but that was a far cry from truly understanding. With what he offered, she could bind him for years to her service. He would not be a slave as with those damned Volki. She would need to feed, clothe, and train him or find someone who could. However, he would be bound to help her. Where she went, he followed.

Though the more she thought it over, the downsides to him were fewer. The years with her might not be wasted, as with most [Warriors]. He was not a combat class, and if he had some talent with healing, as she suspected, he might actually learn something. However, he would have to come with her when they left this cursed place and met up with her tribe. Life in the plains would be…unpleasant. As a half-breed, she knew only shame, and his presence would only further it.

Even in asking for forgiveness, he brought her trouble.

"I do. I have learned much in my short time here. This is the right thing to do. As I said, I am grateful. I wouldn't be here today without you. This world seems to have few people who care for others, and what I did was the equivalent of spitting in your face."

She sat there staring down at him, her anger dying slowly.

Who was this Human?

He wasn't from here. It didn't make sense, but it had to be true. Everything about him was too foreign. If that was the case, could she then hold him accountable?

Yes.

But should she? Mother, why do you curse me so?

She was ridiculed for her compassion, but she wouldn't be here without it. A kindred spirit could be kneeling before her, but…he was Human. If it had been anyone else…

She stood ready to pass judgment when she took a moment to study the Ættar standing by. He had the bulk of a true [Warrior], but he had no wounds to justify his presence. He also watched them too closely. She recognized him, though only in passing. Her Master left her little time to socialize, not that it mattered when she was shunned in all but name. She had caught the glances, the lingering stares. Yet, none sought her company even during Mother's Bloom Festivals.

"Who is that with you?"

"Rægnor?" He craned his head to confirm. "Yeah. He wouldn't let me out of his sight."

Her eyes narrowed. He called her kinfolk by name and was being watched over. Again, who was this Human?

"Did you do something wrong?"

"Not unless existing counts."

It didn't to her, but she knew from personal experience just how many felt differently. Because of her heritage, she had been on the receiving end of hatred for a long time.

As if realizing his joke could be taken the wrong way, he rushed to explain. "It's more for my protection. I think it's likely unnecessary, but I would not let myself be the cause of another loss of honor. As I said, I already owe an Ættar a debt."

Was he implying…No, that made no sense. None of it did. How would a Human's injury cause a loss of honor? A Human bound to another Ættar because of honor? It also didn't matter. In good conscience, she could not hold him responsible for ignorance, and after all, he did not have to come.

"I forgive you." She could give him that compassion. As for the debt…"I free you from any obligation. You have cleared your debt of honor with me."

"Thank you."

He stood up. When she said nothing, he nodded and turned to walk towards the waiting Ættar. He had taken no more than a few steps when a snippet finally made its way to the front of her thoughts.

"Human, what did my Master mean when she said you aren't due here until tomorrow?"

He stopped and turned around slowly, shaking his head as he muttered something under his breath. Still, he answered her question. "She did not tell you?" She just snorted at his naiveté. "Ah. Well, I am to train with her."

"What? How?"

He gave a long sigh. "It is a long story, but suffice to say, it is at the will of the Sæmdarskati."

He stood there for a few seconds watching the shock spread over her face, but then he just smiled as if amused by her reaction. "Yeah. It surprised me, too." He started to turn when he stopped. "Also, I am more than just Human. My name is Daniel."

He didn't hide the anger in words nor did he care to see her reaction to his words. He just walked off, leaving her standing in front of the lodge, cheeks burning.

How dare he? As if she didn't know what it meant to be judged for her heritage. She just forgave him, and now he slaps her in the face?

The heat in her became nothing compared to the raging inferno he had rekindled inside her. Her eyes narrowed, power flowing through her channels. She wasn't at the level of her Master, but she knew ways to make people suffer.

Then she noticed another power building. Her eyes shifted from the obvious culprit to the actual one. The Ættar down the hill had readied himself. The stare and stance he gave her left nothing to question. He would stop her—or at least, try. He wouldn't succeed. It just took one nick. However, his point was clear. Even she, one of the few [Healers] in this camp, would regret any move on that Human.

She let her power go. She had enough trouble as it was building ties within the tribe. She stepped inside the hut. Her Master was in the back room checking on her progress, or more likely, delighting in how little had gotten done. Instead of rushing to come up with excuses, she stayed put, pushing her Perception to the limit.

Few would have been able to tell, but she had the range. She was gifted after all. And that Ættar, Rægnor, if she remembered correctly, didn't release his power until they had walked all the way down the hill.

Just who was that Human to deserve such protection?

Then the person who probably had a better inkling than she did walked back into the room. Her Master just tsk-tsked when she saw her.

"You disappoint me, apprentice." Esper had learned long ago that interrupting her to get clarification—or, Mother forbid, defend herself—only made things worse. "Now, how should we remedy that?" She tapped a gnarled finger against her dark green lips. A large, sinister smile spread across her face. "Like you, that Human claims to be a [Healer] and has somehow convinced the Sæmdarskati that he deserves teaching. Since you seem to have grown bored with simple tasks like herb preparation, perhaps it is time you took on something more complicated. He will be arriving here tomorrow for teaching. I think it is time you learn what it means to take on an apprentice. With your 'talent,' I am sure the Sæmdarskati won't mind, especially when he hears that you insisted on it."

"You can't—"

"I can." Her Master flared her power to emphasize her point. Esper's head throbbed. She could fight it, but what was the point? Her power paled in comparison to her Master's. She could hold her off, but only for so long. Her Master would grind her down until she remembered her place. She had learned the price of defiance long ago.

She bowed her head in defeat, and her Master relaxed. "It is good that you don't forget your place, apprentice. Now go finish the tasks that I assigned you."

Esper fled into the back room, pulling out the chair and picking up the pestle. She drove it down with enough force that the mortar threatened to break. Without a doubt, her Master was going to spread rumors when they returned to their people. Most wouldn't believe all her lies, but enough would take root. How many years of work would be undone?

Why had she saved him?

She should have just let him die.