Eliona's War 2: Veiled Healer

Chapter 6

He finally spotted Rasin just ahead. The older man was down on one knee, one hand clasped to the side of his neck. Blood seeped between his fingers, pooling on the ground beneath him. His face was white as a sheet, but he'd managed to fell four Free Traders before he'd gotten hurt.

Rasin glanced up as Severance approached. He raised both eyebrows, taking in Severance's bloody form.

"Well," he rasped. "Looks like you've had fun."

Fun? Was this fun? Severance pressed his lips together tightly, before flourishing his war fans.

"Earth Dance." Abruptly, the electrical blue light morphed into green healing winds, warmth suffusing him from the inside out. It actually soothed his nerves a little, chasing away some of the edge of the battlefield.

He gathered warm light about his fans for a moment, before releasing them. "Mend."

A pale green breeze spun about Rasin, drifting towards his injured neck and sinking gently into his skin. The blood stopped flowing.

Rasin pulled his hand away from his neck, revealing an ugly red gash that had just stitched itself closed. Severance eyed it, then decided to play it safe with a second large heal. "Mend."

Grunting with the effort, Rasin got back to his feet. "Thank you, Severance. They had me cornered for a while there."

Severance gave him a wordless nod. He half turned away, war fans clutched tightly, his attention returning to the party list.

Rasin was near full, Nedra was untouched, and Bian was down a third. Dhin also was taking small amounts of damage, tipping his health bar towards orange.

Severance focused on that, letting the carnage fade into the background. Healing was important, a task that he needed to do. If he concentrated on that, then it was easier to ignore the other, more ugly details surrounding him.

He trotted towards the last areas he'd seen Bian and Dhin, vaguely aware that Rasin was following behind.

The Free Trader forces were down to half, and the remaining few were dwindling fast. The ground ran red beneath his feet, turning dry dirt into warm mud. It was impossible to avoid stepping in offal, his boots squelching sickeningly as he passed the heavy wagons. Their wooden frames dripped with splattered blood, though their contents remained protected by thick canvas covers stretched over them.

Severance came across Dhin, who was locked in an ugly wrestling match with a wiry Free Trader. They scrabbled on the ground, rolling in mud, clawing and grunting as they tried to gain the upper hand.

A flash of silver drew Severance's attention to one of Dhin's blades, discarded out of reach of the combatants. He couldn't spot the second blade anywhere nearby, but it didn't really matter at this point.

Pale green winds swirled to life around Severance's fans. "Mend," he softly said, and watched as vitality refueled Dhin with newfound strength. His victim realized what had happened, spitting out a foul curse even as Dhin managed to pin him in place. Legs locked around the Trader's torso, Dhin pressed his forearm into the Trader's throat, leaning in with most of his body weight.

The Trader bucked and snarled, but he was exhausted from the struggle, while Dhin had been refreshed. The victor was already decided. It was just a matter of time now.

Severance turned his back on the spectacle, a sour taste in his mouth. This was just part of the game, he knew, but it still disturbed him. All this death for mere provisions.

Violet motes of light drifted up from the fallen Traders, an ethereal spark of beauty born out of the ugliness of death. One body glowed violet, then disintegrated into a storm of purple sparkles. They soared skyward in a flurry of little stars.