Guian (A High Fantasy)

Xavier

The horns blared. Gwen snapped up, heart pounding. She heard a thump from next door--most likely Steele's head whacking the low ceiling as he shot up next door. Realizing there was nothing wrong, she ran a hand through her hair and took a few deep breaths.

They have got to find another way to wake us up, she thought, pushing back the covers and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. It was still dark, the sun barely peeking from under the horizon, and the tiny window barely let in enough light for Gwen to find a match. She glided across the room lighting candles, burning the tips of her fingers when her match got too low. She cursed and shook out her hand, fingers stinging.

The room lit, Gwen went about getting ready for the morning. She opened the chest at the foot of her cot and rummaged through it until she found a box of incense. She shook the loose material into an abalone shell and then struck another match to light it. As it began to burn, she walked around the room, spreading the smoke so that it reached every corner. When the room smelled strongly of sandalwood, she placed the shell outside of her door, clearing the entrance. Sometimes Steele would take it from this place and relight it to clear his own room. Closing her door, Gwen headed to a spot on the floor nested with blankets. She crossed one leg over the other and began to vocally tone her body, using different vibrations to address every tiny misalignment and imbalance. Then she meditated on a candle.

When she came out of it, she was energized, ready for yet another long day. She dressed quickly and headed to the infirmary.

***

One of the only things Gwen liked about the infirmary was that it had big windows.

The building had once been an elf meetinghouse, and little hints of its past were everywhere--in the high ceilings, abundant square footage, wood detailing, in-the-middle-of-nowhere location, and huge, huge windows.

They weren't made of glass; the elves scoffed at the fragility of such a human substance. They were a dwarf-made mixture, diamond and something spellbound or enchanted, impossible for even the Queen's strongest magicians to break. From the outside, they just looked like walls. It was only from the inside that their wonder was revealed, and this was exactly the elves' style--they made their building big, airy, beautiful, but only if you were elf enough to get inside.

It was a slow day for Gwen--base was in an in-between lull; River and his team had their heads together planning the rebellion's next move, the rebels were training, and the sun was warm. Most of the residents of the infirmary were sleeping through the day, healing. The few that were awake were reading, eating, chatting softly. Gwen and the other healers on duty attended their stations quietly, administering wet cloths and checking vitals and continuing multi-stage treatments.

The dusty boy was Gwen's again. He was awake, although over the course of the day Gwen had tried almost everything to get him to sleep. The boy was energetic--probably a foot soldier. All of the youngest men were. He had a spirit Gwen had been admiring throughout the day; although he had to still be in pain, he refused to sleep and escape. Instead, he had been tapping his fingers on the sheets and eating since the sun rose, which, granted, was a lot of food, but she thought she owed it to him--the boy had been through a lot in the past day.

It was the dusty boy who stopped her now. He had a narrow, delicate face and fine, dust-colored hair, pushed back from his habitually playing with it. He was lanky, but also muscular, an odd combination Gwen had seen of a lot of the teen rebels, disproportional from age but toned by war.

"Excuse me, miss," he reached out a hand. His fingertips rested on her arm. He grinned. When he smiled, his mouth took up his entire face. "I'm sorry, what's your name? I can't continue without knowing your name."

Gwen smiled. It had been a while since a patient had cared. "I'm Gwen."

The dusty boy held out a hand. Gwen took it. "Xavier. You're the one who got rid of all the ..." he made a sweeping gesture towards his body.

Gwen nodded, smile fading. Was he just saying hi because he needed more attention? "Yeah, all of that. Are you doing OK? Do you need anything?"

Xavier waved her off. "No, no, I'm fine. I just wanted to say thank you. So thank you, healer Gwen, for doing your voodoo and making me better."

"No problem, kid. It's my job."

Xavier settled back on the pillows. Gwen shook her head, smiling, and spoke a soft incantation over his body, coaxing his muscles to continue to mend and the scars on his skin to soften. Xavier sighed as his body relaxed.

Gwen poured him a glass of water from the side table and added a willow bark powder. Xavier took a sip and gagged.

"Do I really have to drink this?" He tried to air off his tongue.

"Sorry, hon." She gave him a sympathetic smile. You need to drink all of that water because I just worked on you, and you need to drink the medicine that's in it so that you can not be in pain anymore. Do you want to be in pain?"

"I think I'd rather be in pain than drink this. Is it really edible? Drinkable? Either?" Xavier took another sip and then shook his face, as if by shaking he could get rid of the taste.

"It is. Drink up, Xavier. The rebellion needs more people like you."