practice and their magic gone wrong; given a choice medicine was a safer bet. Few people opted for magical healing except in the most dire of circumstances.
“And the dragon? The Inquisitor?”
“Easy now.” She sighed. “They put up a fight but when the fight turned to our favour he turned tail and fled on the dragon. Flew right across the ocean.”
“Any idea which direction?”
“Aren’t you getting a bit ahead of yourself?” She chuckled to herself. “Why don’t you tell me what happened to you?”
So they spoke for a while as Claire recounted the tale of the wolverine and the trek through the mountains as more injured Caelites and monks were found beds and treated by the priests and priestesses. Cynthia sat attentive and listened, eager to catch up with her old friend. As children they’d been close but the years and differing life styles let them drift apart. After the tale was told Cynthia shook her head in disbelief.
“You’re still rushing headfirst into danger even after all these years.”
“Did you hear a word I just said?” Claire countered, the pain in her abdomen spiking without warning. “I couldn’t walk away, not when I was close enough to help.”
The Caelite shrugged and they watched two healers carry in a wounded Caelite on stretchers and taken into the siderooms.
“I shouldn’t be here I’m taking up a bed I don’t need. I’m fine.”
“It’s a precaution. Still when you’re better Knight-Commander Rhae wishes to speak with you.”
“I’ll live. Where is she?”
Cynthia’s eyebrow raised in her usual told-you-so expression. “That wound still hurts doesn’t it. You’re trying to hide it but I can tell. Give it an hour or so, she’s still in a meeting with the Captains.”
The Caelite rose and grabbed her bag and with a side-along glance. “Still, it was good seeing you again.”
“You too. Lighten up, you’re beginning to sound like captain Reiner.” Claire smiled watching the horrified expression on her friend’s face.
“Nonsense. He’s a good captain and I won’t hear otherwise.” She replied louder than usual. Cynthia surreptitiously checked around the crowded hospital room for eavesdroppers and leaned closer, her voice now a hushed whisper. “Does that man ever smile? He’s so driven to excel - I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone so serious.”
“In that family I think his brother inherited their entire share of humour, but he does smile sometimes. You’ve just got to catch him off-guard.”
She bade her farewells and left as the revered sister Elisa stormed towards her. Elisa was a tall powerfully built woman with greying curled hair and dark brown skin and high cheekbones. She walked with a slight limp and wrapped in the purple thick robes of the monks lined with white trimming and religious symbols stitched into it.
“Good you’re awake. Let’s take a look at you.” With a firm hand she guided Claire back onto the bed and investigated the bandages. “Hmph. Looks like that’s healed nicely. How do you feel?” Elisa’s narrowed brown eyes bored into her unblinking and focused.
“Aches a bit but nothing serious.” Claire conceded. It was clear Elisa would get the truth from her one way or another so there was little point in fighting it.
She stood up straight, her shoulders back and proud. “Good. You seem fine to me, you’re free to go. If the wound reappears or you have any other problems you come see me, you hear? I can’t be having with rampant sorcerers roaming around casting who knows what on my patients. You understand?”
Claire nodded and thanked her as she left the hospital. She saw little reason to defend herself or explain she hadn’t chosen to be healed by Razakel or as a slight towards her. Elisa was an old and proud healer, famed for saving hundreds of lives over the decades and feared for the lengths she’d go to defend her hospital or practice.
“One last thing.” Elisa called out. If ever there was
“And the dragon? The Inquisitor?”
“Easy now.” She sighed. “They put up a fight but when the fight turned to our favour he turned tail and fled on the dragon. Flew right across the ocean.”
“Any idea which direction?”
“Aren’t you getting a bit ahead of yourself?” She chuckled to herself. “Why don’t you tell me what happened to you?”
So they spoke for a while as Claire recounted the tale of the wolverine and the trek through the mountains as more injured Caelites and monks were found beds and treated by the priests and priestesses. Cynthia sat attentive and listened, eager to catch up with her old friend. As children they’d been close but the years and differing life styles let them drift apart. After the tale was told Cynthia shook her head in disbelief.
“You’re still rushing headfirst into danger even after all these years.”
“Did you hear a word I just said?” Claire countered, the pain in her abdomen spiking without warning. “I couldn’t walk away, not when I was close enough to help.”
The Caelite shrugged and they watched two healers carry in a wounded Caelite on stretchers and taken into the siderooms.
“I shouldn’t be here I’m taking up a bed I don’t need. I’m fine.”
“It’s a precaution. Still when you’re better Knight-Commander Rhae wishes to speak with you.”
“I’ll live. Where is she?”
Cynthia’s eyebrow raised in her usual told-you-so expression. “That wound still hurts doesn’t it. You’re trying to hide it but I can tell. Give it an hour or so, she’s still in a meeting with the Captains.”
The Caelite rose and grabbed her bag and with a side-along glance. “Still, it was good seeing you again.”
“You too. Lighten up, you’re beginning to sound like captain Reiner.” Claire smiled watching the horrified expression on her friend’s face.
“Nonsense. He’s a good captain and I won’t hear otherwise.” She replied louder than usual. Cynthia surreptitiously checked around the crowded hospital room for eavesdroppers and leaned closer, her voice now a hushed whisper. “Does that man ever smile? He’s so driven to excel - I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone so serious.”
“In that family I think his brother inherited their entire share of humour, but he does smile sometimes. You’ve just got to catch him off-guard.”
She bade her farewells and left as the revered sister Elisa stormed towards her. Elisa was a tall powerfully built woman with greying curled hair and dark brown skin and high cheekbones. She walked with a slight limp and wrapped in the purple thick robes of the monks lined with white trimming and religious symbols stitched into it.
“Good you’re awake. Let’s take a look at you.” With a firm hand she guided Claire back onto the bed and investigated the bandages. “Hmph. Looks like that’s healed nicely. How do you feel?” Elisa’s narrowed brown eyes bored into her unblinking and focused.
“Aches a bit but nothing serious.” Claire conceded. It was clear Elisa would get the truth from her one way or another so there was little point in fighting it.
She stood up straight, her shoulders back and proud. “Good. You seem fine to me, you’re free to go. If the wound reappears or you have any other problems you come see me, you hear? I can’t be having with rampant sorcerers roaming around casting who knows what on my patients. You understand?”
Claire nodded and thanked her as she left the hospital. She saw little reason to defend herself or explain she hadn’t chosen to be healed by Razakel or as a slight towards her. Elisa was an old and proud healer, famed for saving hundreds of lives over the decades and feared for the lengths she’d go to defend her hospital or practice.
“One last thing.” Elisa called out. If ever there was
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