DB Lazarus
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68. Complications - II
🕑 Added 2025-04-27 02:00:09 +0000 UTCBefore I started, I gave him another perfunctory warning. “This is not the same as healing. It will be uncomfortable and may hurt. It will also take more time. I will first wash out the wound with cold water. Then I will warn you before I scrub the inside of the wound. That will likely be the most painful part. After that, I will apply the potion. Most do not find that painful or unpleasant, but it can itch.”
“All that for a test.”
“It should be done regardless, but yes.”
“Fine. I’m ready."
I did as I had described. Cleaning the wound took more time than I had expected. The water cleaned out the dirt and debris that had started to cake it, but it couldn’t reach all of the pockets of pus. He had developed abscesses, and it took some force to express them completely. Thankfully, Dorian had obtained enough fresh bandages that I could spare one for my face. I breathed through my mouth. Only years of experience kept me from dry heaving. If I ever gained any power over public health here, I would implement daily or, at minimum, every-other-day bathing.
As with every other Ættar, he didn’t so much as flinch while I worked on him.
"Okay. I am going to apply the test drop. Good chance you'll feel the wound grow warm. If so, that’s just the festering getting worse. I will try to suppress it, but as we discussed, I can’t guarantee success.”
I applied a drop of enhanced potion. With it, I activated [Suppress Growth]. The wounds began to knit, and the results far exceeded my expectations. My warnings about the warmth and induration proved unnecessary. With an act of will, I combined [Enhance Medicinal] and [Suppress Growth]. I met no resistance. An incessant throb didn’t develop. I had complete control. I crushed the infection with one while still having the finesse to heal the wound in a proper fashion with the other. I had wielded the skills as a sledgehammer and a scalpel, channeling far less Energy and ending with far less mental strain.
What a difference a tier can make.
I stepped away from the wound to inform my patient of the results. “Good news. This should work.”
He reached into a pouch and grabbed a wooden vial, his thumb tracing the lid’s edge. He hesitated. Some decisions seemed easy until the consequences became apparent. He had to trust a Human.
I waited, and eventually he handed it to me. “Take what you need.”
I took it and popped the top. He had over half of it left. I wouldn’t need a quarter of it.
I dipped a finger in the red liquid and applied it to the wound. The laceration responded to the full dose like it did with the test drop. I combined the skills, suppressing the infection while healing the wound. I almost took another large dab to heal the wound in a flourish, but I crushed the impulse to show off.
No reason to get cocky.
Thankfully, I kept the slow pace, else I would have missed the discrepancy. The wound had improved. I could see it with my eyes, but [Sense Injury] registered him as getting worse. I stopped, trying to get a handle on the situation.
“Is something wrong?” my patient asked.
I ignored him, trying to narrow [Sense Injury] to focus only on him. The wound had partially healed, but something was definitely off. I could taste it, smell it. I poured more Energy into [Sense Injury]. Something flickered at the edge of my perception. I drove more Energy into my skill, but I couldn’t pin it down. Piqued, I poured in all I could muster. The skill stretched, ballooned until it encompassed him.
My head rocked back—or it would have if I hadn’t activated [Quicken Thoughts]. My thoughts accelerated, and the world became a slow-motion blur. Information still bombarded me—fatigue, contusions, abrasions. Even this far from the company, I picked them up. Rægnor, standing next to me, didn’t help. Yet it all paled to what came from my patient. The details exceeded anything I had previously witnessed—and it all mixed with everything else into an incomprehensible mash.
The load should have brought me to my knees. Maybe it already had, and I was just delaying the inevitable. However, [Quicken Thoughts] gave me the time I needed to parse the results. In the end, I succeeded. I had found what had triggered [Sense Injury].
It was undeniably small, though I had no way to gauge its true size. If I had a CT scanner… I could tell it was nestled in the right lower lung, not far from his laceration. In any other circumstance, that might've explained why I had missed it, but I had poured so much Energy into [Sense Injury]. Even now, I could recall, in vivid detail, a mental image of all stress fractures in Rægnor’s body. That had come before I maxed the skill. Yet, this thing I struggled to pick up?
I dropped the skill, trying my best to hide the backlash, but my ears still rang. A dull ache followed not far behind.
“Are you going to answer me, Hu—?”
Did he bite off the end of “Human”? Didn’t matter. I answered his questions the best I could. “Your wound is healing fine, but there is…something else. I don’t know—”
“Enough with the explanation. Just finish this.”
“I don’t—Fine.” But I didn’t dare rush. I applied just a dab of potion, this time focusing on the anomaly rather than the wound.
The anomaly grew despite residing, in terms of blood flow, the equivalent of miles away from where I had applied the potion. I dared another application, this time adding [Suppress Growth]. My eyes widened as it still expanded. I had to be sure. My head throbbed as I maximized [Suppress Growth], forgoing even [Enhance Medicinal].
I swallowed as the result became clear. Though not visibly different when I used [Sense Injury], the skill wouldn’t let me interpret it in any other way. That anomaly had progressed to something more sinister. I didn’t want to admit it, but I couldn’t heal the wound without exacerbating whatever that thing was. Worse, I didn’t know what I was dealing with.
This is out of my league.
I knew the next step. I had done it plenty of times back home. When the problem exceeded your expertise, you consulted a specialist. Except I had only one expert here, and she hated me.
It doesn’t matter.
"We need to go to a [Healer].”
“Unacceptable,” bellowed my patient. His Marks flared, and his body became a blur. Before I could blink, he had pinned me to the wall with a large, sinewy hand around my neck. He stared into my eyes. “What games are you playing?”
“That’s…not…” I wheezed “what—”
He choked off my words with the barest of movements. I pulled at the vise around my neck to no avail.
Rægnor’s hand latched onto the arm, choking me. “Brother, let him go.”
His gaze never stopped boring into me. “He tries to bring me dishonor.”
Rægnor’s voice took on a deadly seriousness. “If you keep this up, you will kill him, and there will be consequences.” He still didn’t let up. Black started to creep in from my periphery. “Our hærlið named him a trúnaðr.”
My patient flinched in surprise at the title, and the death-grip around my neck vanished. I collapsed to my knees, gasping for air.
He took a step back, still processing the information. “A trúnaðr?”
“Would you expect no less after what he did for him? The least you can do is hear him out.”
I pulled myself back to my feet. “I am not trying to bring you dishonor. You need to go to a [Healer], not because of this wound but because something bad is growing in your lungs. It grew with just a drop of potion, even with a skill that should’ve suppressed it. Maybe if I had more levels…” I shook my head, “but I don’t. However, I am positive that if either of us uses a healing potion, it will get much, much worse, and if left unchecked…”
The two shared a look. Then my patient just scowled. “No. It is just rumors.”
I frowned. “What do you two know that you aren’t telling me?”
My patient spoke over Rægnor. “Nothing I am willing to risk my honor for.” He looked down at my work. The wound had far less inflammation, but it still remained open. "This is not how [Healers] do things.”
"I told you. I am not a [Healer]. My methods are different, but it doesn’t change that I can tell that there is something really wrong in your lungs."
Though I already had asked much of him, I looked to Rægnor for help. Too late did I realize that this might be a step too far. Could seeing a [Healer] also bring dishonor to him?
However, he didn’t hesitate. “I know that he's low level, but he knows more than he should for it. I think you need to listen to him."
"But he's a…"
“Human?” I finished for him. “I know, but it doesn’t matter. I have no history with you or your people. You're also on my team. But even if you weren’t, it wouldn’t matter. My class dictates that I do what is best for you. Right now, that means me telling you that this is out of my league and that you need to see someone more skilled. I don't know why you all loathe requesting a [Healer]’s aid, but I think it’s necessary. And…if you will accept it, on my honor, I will shoulder any blame."
He just snorted. “Do you realize what that means?”
I let out a soft sigh. “Not truly, but I would like to learn more about your culture if someone will teach me.”
My patient just shook his head, but Rægnor came to my aid. “His actions speak louder than his words. Even if he is Human, he has given freely to us. He acts with honor. That's how he's found a place among our group, and that's why I brought you here. You should trust him.”
“Can you blame it on me? Say the Human needed assistance.”
He laughed. “Definitely not. Your group’s progress has inspired some jealousy. My hærlið won’t accept my absence.”
Rægnor clasped his shoulder. “I will take your place. Our hærlið would understand.”
My patient gave me a long, hard look. “You better know what you are doing.”
I just nodded, all the while hoping I hadn’t made a grave mistake.
