Role Playing Fan Fiction ❯ Purifying Hand of Flame ❯ Chapter 2

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Disclaimer. This story was created in the setting of White-Wolf's Exalted. Characters created by White-Wolf and not myself will be credited in notes. Reference to White-Wolf canonical storyline and published work will probably not be bothered with; it's part of the setting, which I admit to stealing whole cloth. I, Magical Savior, do not own this series and am not affiliated with White-Wolf in any way. Moving on.

*** Chapter 2

My eyes moved up abruptly to the face. Two eyes looked into mine fearfully, glazed and dazed and terrified. I looked back down to where I bandaged the wound, put a wad of cloth under the knot I tied on top of the cut.

Pressure dressing was what I thought was needed, this close to a major artery. A person could bleed out in minutes through their legs.

I said, "Don't move. You're hurt. I don't know how bad. I've been doing what I can. Don't speak."

Looking up, I saw the person make a shallow nod. As I felt for further injuries, I heard another gasp of pain. I must have found one. The calf. Most likely it was the shin, possibly broken.

"Do you know what happened to you?"

The person, their jaw worked, but very little sound was forthcoming. I examined the face again. The lips were swollen and split in several places. There was a trail of blood from the nose, the cheeks were bruised and one side greatly swollen. Speech would not be possible.

"Don't worry about this," I said evenly, "You're going to be okay. Can you move your fingers? Move them, don't try to shift around."

I saw the fingers move as I bandaged another cut, this one on the calf. "Good. Just don't move. I'm helping you, you're getting help."

There was only one shoe on a solitary foot. The other foot, badly cut. I bandaged it. Wrapped cloth from the person's pants around it, tied it off. The bleeding, it came first. It had to be stopped. Though the cloth might be dirty, it was that or nothing.

There was no choice.

Besides, if there was an infection, I could deal with it. I could always deal with it, now. What I couldn't deal with was this injury. Blood loss.

I rifled through an outside pocket of my rucksack until I found a tightly closed ceramic, sealed with wax. I split the seal with my thumb and continued my work. First aid came first.

The extremities were mostly dealt with. I moved back up to the person, examining the face again. There were splits and shallow cuts, but it seemed the majority of it was blunt hits. Fists, probably. Hands had been put up in self-defense, person was pummeled, but those hands were bandaged now. Those had taken the brunt of it.

I spread salve on everything I could on the face; it was likely painful.

"An... ah..." The person was trying to speak, but their voice was cracked and too soft.

My eyes met this person's, and I saw their color. The eyes were red. Not red-rimmed; the iris itself was the color of blood. One eye was swollen but not shut. I saw the eyes go back and forth, searching my face. I realized that the hair, where it wasn't matted with blood, was almost white. The skin was too pale, but I had thought it was lack of blood. No skin color.

Night had fallen. Everything was dark, black, sightless save my own light. There was no moon.

I reached into my ruck for water. Pouring a small bit in my hands, I put it on the person's lips. It wasn't enough to drink, merely moisten. I wasn't done, they couldn't be allowed do drink.

"An...a..." The person, they tried to speak again. At the sound of that word, I felt fear. I feared at that moment what they were trying to say, that they would say a word I never wanted to hear again. I couldn't stand that. I waited, silent, the water in my hand. Their lips glittered wetly in the light I cast.

I renewed the light with a finger to my head and a moment's thought.

"An... ain..gel..." My head sank in relief. Tension melted from me, the fear for myself was gone. I returned to my task. Better to hear that, better this person think that. Better by far.

"Yes," I murmured. "I'll save you. I'll help you. You'll be alright." What should I have believed? The Immaculates, their blasphemic church? I came here to get away from that. Why should I find it here, of all places? But I knew. I knew they could be anywhere, that their damned heretical hunt was never far from me.

Using my hands, I lifted the body gently, carefully. I felt for blood or injury. The cloak had spared her back the worst cuts, and it was a clotted mess of dirt and wooden splinters. But it was clotted.

I turned my attention to the torso. It seemed mostly unharmed. I was about to cut open what I thought was a shirt and see if it was injured, but when I reached for it, it came away thickly with blood. Not good. I almost said it aloud.

Looking up briefly; the person was unconscious. I looked and examined what I could, slowly peeling the shirt back. The blood I could see was nearly clotted, but I might have reopened it. The wound.

Where was it? I could see a thin line of wet, fresh blood. I peeled back the shirt the rest of the way. The wound was thick with clotted blood, and I could see where it welled up fresh.

A woman. That was my patient. The clothing had been slit up neatly from base to neck before I'd ever touched it. There was a gash from the stomach to the across the center of the chest.

Blood flow had nearly stopped; moving her had opened it slightly. But there, on the left side, five dark circles were around where no mark should be without permission.

There were other bruises. Hand prints. Open, black marks. A solid, curved outline of a boot. It was placed over the cut on the stomach. Deliberately.

I felt sick... Whatever harm might have been done by rough hands and burst bladegrass, a greater harm was not. The pant legs I cut open were intact, up. Her legs weren't broken, except maybe one lower leg, where she had gasped when it was handled.

Still, the corners of my mouth curled up in disgust.

Human animals. I could skin them all. Maybe it was the divine wrath in me. But such treatment of other human beings... It would bring a red rage to my eyes if I saw it happening. I could kill them without mercy. I'd done it before.

There may have been eight, ten, twelve at most. I could see where they had scattered. They would have left a clear path in their flight, easily followed through the trampled bladegrass. I could take vengeance for what they had tried. Right now. This very moment.

I realized I was breathing fast in hatred. This wasn't the time. My hands, they shook. Slowly, I thought of what to do. Had to have a plan. She could die, there was so much blood lost. Had to do something else. This wasn't enough.

As I stood up, I tried to think. Pacing back and forth, my head going left and right, my eyes were scanning, searching. I thought furiously. I couldn't carry her, a town may be far. Couldn't stay here. They may come back. I saw none of their bodies. There was no reason why they wouldn't come back.

Even if she had been left for dead, animals like those people, they would come back. They would have had to...

They would have had injured. What did they do? There was an answer. Some of them, these blasted pointy sticks bursting on them, exploding, they wouldn't have been able to walk. What did they do? Blasted bladegrass.

That was it. That must be it. I ran to an edge of the clearing, slipping on the hard shells of bladegrass. I grabbed where it was rounded near the base of one long, straight plant.

I tried to bend it, lift it, and snap it off. Raised my voice in a grunt of exertion and force. I lifted, I was strong... The muscles on my arms and legs, they strained against what I wore. And then I swore.

Didn't work... Too solidly planted. The roots, I remembered they couldn't be uprooted. Blasted plants could be knocked flat without breaking. They would go back and forth in a hurricane wind.

I drew my sword and focused. I thought deeply, there was a power, it would come to me. I reached for it... Sometimes, I could not call it. But I needed it. Now, this instant. The splintered shards were worthless, but I could use this. I imagined the bladegrass rupturing and bursting outward...

With a blinding flash, I struck out with my blade in a low, shallow arc. My hand went out. Dipping, cutting, up. Power came off the bronze blade in a gleaming, blinding wave. It was an arc of destruction. A wide swath of bladegrass fell soundlessly.

Slowly, a breeze blew again. It cooled me. I felt sweat drip down my forehead, into my eyes. I was wet with it and hadn't realized. My eyes burned.

The stuff was cut closer to the middle towards the down and up parts of my stroke, but I had what I needed. I grabbed two long pieces of wood and ran back to my rucksack. The base of the plant was cut clean.

Reaching my pack, I pulled out my ground cloth and tent. I could wrap the tent around the two splints of bladegrass. It would be a travois, a sledge I could pull. This would work.

Quickly, I untied knots at the corners and pulled the ground stakes from the rope that was put through eyelets in the canvas. Lay tent, lay bladegrass, fold left, fold right, tie. I tied the tent so it wouldn't easily come off the stick supports. Keeping it together wouldn't be a problem; her weight would hold it on. Easy.

I pulled the travois by the rounded bases of severed wood. The bladegrass was flat-sided; it wouldn't cut the tent canvas that easily. I laid the travois by the woman.

Not much more than a girl, really. I couldn't guess size or weight... Too dark. My light was fading. I renewed it with a thought; wondered why I could never just keep focus on it.

I took two more long pieces of wood. Quickly, I began splinting the leg I suspected broken. The bandages already on it would pad it. Had to do this in place, without moving it. Her leg was somewhat twisted to the side.

If it must be set, I could not do it now. Always, always splint a broken bone in place. It wasn't through the skin, but I could see now. It was an odd shape. Quite broken. I hadn't noticed how badly, before. I lined up the pieces of wood as best I could.

One knotted piece of cloth about on the ankle, tied on the outside. One above the knee. One more knot on the lower calf below where I suspected the break. One last knot just below the knee. Loose ends were tucked between leg and splint. Quick check for pulse, found it, not too tightly splinted.

Then, I grabbed the woman's shoulders, dragged her as carefully as I could manage. Got her on the travois.

I laid the ground cloth over her chest, folded it double. Then, I placed down a short length of rope. It might be enough to secure her to it. Folding the ground cloth over again, I tied it to the travois just under her armpits. I tied rope again loosely to keep her arms on the travois, just above her elbows.

The rope went through the eyelets, and the ground cloth would stop the rope from cutting into her.

Out of rope. I took off my pants and put one leg of them under the travois, one leg over. I tied it just above her knees to make sure her legs stayed on the sled. I couldn't let her jostle around too much.

The light from my forehead was going dim again.

I didn't care. It was better gone. I looked around, there must be a town. It wasn't too late. It must be nearby; I had been given directions.

There must be fire. Fire can be seen for miles. I would find this place. A healer was the most important job in a small town. A wise woman, a midwife, a barber. There would be one. I had to think this.

Quickly, before I lifted the end of the travois, I checked the person under my care again. The lips were faintly bluish, the breathing too fast, but the heart beat. I felt her neck... the pulse was sluggish. Too much blood lost. Time was running out, the blood couldn't carry breath.

But the bandages, it would stop the bleeding. I had stopped the bleeding. It couldn't be that bad. I had to believe that, if I wanted to help her.

I knelt down and put my ruck on my back. The salve, I couldn't remember where it was, couldn't find it. It wasn't important. I grabbed the travois and looked around. The light on my forehead finally winked out.

As my eyes adjusted, I scanned the horizon for any sign of light. I could find none. I couldn't remember which way I had came into the clearing. The barely visible, dark holes all looked alike.

I chose one and moved quickly, with the travois in my hands.