DB Lazarus
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41. An Offer Accepted - I
🕑 Added 2025-01-23 05:00:02 +0000 UTCDorian’s skepticism was well-founded. On the following day, more, not fewer, Ættir sported wounds. They had conserved potions despite facing new battles, but I couldn’t see how this pace could persist. Yet, somehow, it did. The Verndari continued to push the company to excavate more despite the consequences. More and more Ættir walked around with visible injuries, but he got results. Based on the number of carts full of terrorvole bodies I had cleared, they had struck at least one sizable lode.
By the third day, I couldn’t take it anymore. I shook my head and muttered, “I can’t call myself a [Physician] if I don’t even try.” I had sworn an oath, and this went too far.
Dorian stopped mid-bite at my muttering. “You sure about that?”
“Yeah. I can't sit back and watch this anymore." They weren’t doing any wound care. The oldest bandage had visible brown and red stains. Not all of that had come from dirt.
“Do you want me to go with you?”
“No.” I wouldn’t say it, but diplomacy was not his strong suit.
I walked over to the group that included my one-time mining partner. Their conversation stopped immediately as I approached. The hærlið gave me a hard look before asking, ”What do you want, Human?”
An auspicious start. Every step toward these giants had made my stomach tighten, and the hostile reception roiled it even more. From afar, they almost appeared normal, albeit jacked and with green skin. However, up close, I couldn’t ignore the sheer insanity of their physiques. Muscles on muscles. Even without magic—Energy—they could snap me like a twig.
“I want to offer my services. I have a skill that can make your potion more effect—“
"We don't need your help, Human." He intentionally drew out my heritage to emphasize the point.
However, I wouldn’t leave this situation without giving it a reasonable try. “I’ve been watching. Your wounds are stacking up, which only increases the chance of a more serious injury. I am part of the team, and I can help everyone be more productive.”
I paused. No one showed any hints of interest. Just how far does the distrust?
I brought up the elephant in the room. “I may be Human, but I am not from this area. I don’t—“
He stood up, emphasizing the difference in our sizes. Ættar put most Olympians to shame, and he was bigger than most. “Do I need to repeat myself, or does your brain struggle with understanding Common?”
My jaw tightened, but I let the insult slide off my back. Retorting would get me nowhere, and by this point, I had dealt with much worse. However, while he had made his view clear, none of the others had spoken. They had all paused to listen, but they could give poker players a run for their money. I addressed my audience, making sure to meet the gaze of each of the Ættir seated with him. I repeated my offer, keeping any heat out of my voice. “Fine, but if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” The others didn’t have to suffer because of their boss’s prejudices.
He just snorted, and I barely refrained from stomping back to Dorian, who handed me what remained of my food.
“Told you: honored-bound idiots.” He muttered, almost to himself, “Only reason this place works.”
That didn't make it any better.
***
I slammed my pickaxe against the rock face. “Their pride is unbelievable,” I muttered.
Two more days had passed since I first offered my skill to enhance the potions. In that time, injuries had compounded as my teammates abstained from using a potion. However, they kept rejecting my repeated offers at lunch. Dorian claimed honor was at the heart of their culture, but this behavior was far beyond normal. It was pathological. They were literally willing to risk infection and death instead of trusting a Human to help.
What were they going to do when things got worse? Rush to a [Healer] for them to fix everything? My face twisted into a sneer. Actually, the [Healers] probably could. But, I had yet to see one come down. Having a [Healer] gave them a false sense of security. They would get themselves killed.
My vision reddened. My pick slammed into the wall, which exploded into shards of stone. “Crap,” I yelled, spinning away. Fire scoured my face. “Again?”
I knew better. Drawing in Aether impacted me. Sure, I had a temper, but I had never been this volatile. And yet, I continued to be idiotic, and, as I fumbled with the pouch at my waist and pulled out a corked bottle, a hypocrite. So easy to fall into the trap of recklessness when one could eliminate the consequences with a single dab or sip of a potion. With three quick swipes, all evidence of losing control over my anger vanished.
Magical potions aside, I still needed to blink the dust out of my eye. Dorian still hadn’t returned from scouting out a new tunnel. Without his [Dust Suppression], every strong strike sent up a huge cloud of dust, filling the tunnel with an earthy musk that lingered. I hadn’t quite managed to get the grit out of my eyes when a deep voice echoed in the dim tunnel. “Human.”
I jumped back at the word, pickaxe raised for a strike. I took it as a point of pride that it was humming with Energy and I didn’t tremble…too much.
Even with my vision blurred by tears, I made out the speaker. A beast of an Ættar. An inch taller and he’d have needed to duck to advance in the stone shaft. He stood in the center of the tunnel no more than six feet away from me, and I hadn’t heard a thing when he had approached.
People that big shouldn’t be able to walk so quietly.
I relaxed as I registered the familiar voice. I rubbed my eyes clear of the tears and dust and confirmed my suspicion. My one-time mining partner had sought me out. There weren’t that many Ættir on the team with his build, and even fewer with his tier. Even without seeing his face or hearing his voice, I would have recognized his Marks. An intricate pattern similar to tribal-style tattoos from home covered most of the skin on his arms. With their iridescent red sheen, they looked awesome—at least by Earth-standards. Here they lacked the complexity of many of the other Marks. They had none of the subtle fractal patterns found in high-level people. I put him somewhere in the third tier. That put his status not much higher than mine…if we disregarded the whole me being Human.
“I have a name. I told you mine, not that you told me yours.”
A slight smirk on his green face faded so quickly that I wasn’t sure I had seen it. “This is for you.“ He held out a bag. “Put some of your ore in here. They’ll need to be tested now that you are getting closer to the vein.”
“I’ll take care of it. Thanks.”
I grabbed it, trying to hide my annoyance. Bringing a bag was considerate, but it was also completely unnecessary. I had a bag for this reason already. It was also too early. We still had left hours in the day. I wasn’t Dorian, but I still enough left in me to make more progress on this tunnel. Not to mention, taking the ore for testing made no sense. Dorian had a skill that let him gauge the grade, and he would return before the end of the shift. Bringing me the bag made no sense at all…which explained why he remained standing with an indecisive look on his battle-scarred face even after giving me the bag.
I sighed. “Just ask me.”
“I didn’t believe you, but I saw what you just did to the wounds on your face.”
“How long—“ While creepy, it didn’t matter. “I can enhance healing potions. Do you need something?” He nodded despite the lack of obvious wounds. “Then show me.”
He grabbed the bottom of the tunic and lifted it. I barely suppressed my gasp. His midsection supported a large bandage that had been wrapped around his torso multiple times. Even then, dark brown patches in a long line spotted his right lateral abdomen.
“Are you okay?” Stupid question. He couldn’t be, yet he stood as if he had a small scratch.
“This wound refuses to heal. I’ve tried potions, but it had limited the effect. I can’t afford to use more.”
I grimaced. It wasn’t fair really, but as I had come to learn, he wasn’t high enough level to warrant an early resupply like some of his teammates. He could use what he had, but then he would have nothing for an emergency. At their rate of excavation, they would hit another monster nest soon. In the last few days, Dorian had put down four terrorvoles and a juvenile crystalline assassin spider. The master [Leatherworker] did not lie about their danger. Even with an advanced warning from a skill, it had injured both of us.
“Have you gone to the [Healer]?”
“I cannot burden them.”
“But—“
“I cannot burden them. Not with something so trivial.” Trivial? Even without seeing it, that laceration would qualify as life-threatening. “If you cannot help that’s fine. It would be…expected”
I bit back a retort. He came here despite his pride—excuse me—honor. “I can’t promise that I can help, but I will look at it.” He nodded. With that, a familiar switch flipped in my mind. I was no longer a miner. I fell into a routine that I had long ago burnt into my mind: history, physical, and assessment and plan. Questions rattled off my tongue in rapid fire.
“You obtained this when we opened the last vein?”
“Yes.”
“How did you get it?”
“I was holding the front line. When the terrorvoles rushed us, the horde pushed us back. One must have slipped between my legs. When the line gave ground, I tripped and fell backward. Another of the beasts went for the kill, jumping onto my chest and going for my throat. I pulled it off me, but it had already sunk its claws in.”
Okay. Gruesome but straightforward. One of those claws would be sharp enough to make the injury especially if he had added his strength to the rodent’s rake.
“Do you think you were bit?”
He shook his head. Good. Less risk of some brewing infection.
“How much of your healing potion did you use?”
“About three-quarters.”
Which explained how he didn’t have a new opening to his abdominal cavity.
“Any other minor wounds left?”
“No, but all but this one healed up.”
That explained why he still sported a significant wound. The potion didn’t prioritize.
“When did you last clean the wound?”
“Cleaned?” His tone was puzzled, as if the concept were foreign. “No, it’s been bandaged since I was injured.”
I grimaced. “Have you looked at the wound to see if it is getting better?” He shook his head. My jaw clenched. “Have you ever replaced the bandage?”
This time, I couldn’t hold back my scowl at his incredulous look. Four days. Four freaking days since we had found that vein. It was long enough for an infection to set in, and…he knew that.
For the first time, he let his stoic visage crack, and I caught the fear on his face. I paused, kicking myself. Two weeks. That’s all it took for me to forget about using bedside manners. For the first time, I took a moment to see my patient. He was huge and scarred, but he was young. The fear made him look even younger. I stopped myself from applying my priors. Even if he wasn’t a grizzled veteran, he had seen battle. He had probably had friends die on him. Except now he might have an enemy that a sword couldn’t kill.
I put on a reassuring face. “It probably isn’t so bad if you have been this functional. I will be able to tell you more when I can see it.” He nodded, and the fear disappeared with it. “Can you unwrap it on your own? I need to get some supplies.”
Without a word, he started unwrapping the soiled bandage, and I took that as my cue to grab my improvised medical pack. Sadly, it contained nothing more than freshwater, some bandages, and a small vial filled with some of my healing potion. Not much, but it would have to do. When I returned, he had uncovered his torso, giving me my first look at his wound.
Comments
tibbish
Good to see him finally getting to strut his stuff!
Ruben B
Thank you for the chapter!
