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Nyxis's heart pounded against his chest as he watched wounded after wounded pour out of the upper floors. If they were able to round up the wounded, it seemed like the enemy retreated.
He was in the throne room when he heard they were going to bring in the wounded. Just those since the dead have long ago shattered into a million crystals, or so he was told by an ice sprite in charge of the healing quarters like he was.
Nyxis liked the guy too. During the hours when the siege took place, Nyxis taught him some of the pain-numbing potion recipes he had come to memorize. Fortunately, the ice sprites had stocks of cetasame fur and cata-cata claws. Feltid leaves could easily be replaced with liriope seeds which Nyxis had in huge amounts somewhere in his satchel. He had never been so happy in getting rid of the vial that he impulsively bought during his travels.
The ice sprite, whose name Nyxis had come to learn as Dalan, shook his hand and welcomed him to the healing quarters. Together, they brewed for hours and chatted about their lives. Nyxis learned that there were two-hundred and six floors to the Ice Capital and that the enemies couldn't possibly conquer them all.
Nyxis also knew that the rest of the populations that chose not to fight were stashed in the most bottom floor where a secure escape tunnel would take them as far as Cardina. He didn't bother voicing the thought aloud but his mind whirled with the possibility that it could be connected with the tunnels underneath the Human Palace. His mother couldn't have built that during her short reign, right?
Then, he asked Dalan about a stronger scar remover and the man came up empty. Nyxis stuck his bottom lip out. Bummer.
That's when the doors to the healing hall shimmered with blue light and Geradine stepped through. Blood painted her armor in elaborate splatters. Relief washed over him when the General snapped at him that it wasn't hers. But his relief soon drained from his system when he saw the bout of wounded soldiers that came after Geradine. Some were carried by knitted stretchers and others half-carried, half-dragged through.
Nyxis set to work. He spent the entire day going like that. He poured potion after potion into mouths. He bound wounds, stitched some. He set broken bone back into place. He sawed a finger or two since they were unfortunately exposed to some foul poison curse. Their enemies were capable of that? That's one of the advanced Escuira loivistais.
By the time dinner was about to be served, Nyxis collapsed against a wall, spent and bone-tired. He could just sleep and sleep. He closed his eyes but the horrific scene was the one playing against his lids. Gods.
There were at least three hundred wounded soldiers and Geradine didn't tell him how many had died when he asked. Nyxis kind of understood why because the man he had been attending to wouldn't stop whining about pickles that Nyxis had to strike a nerve in the neck to sedate him.
"The Council awaits us, come," Geradine's voice tore through his peace. He opened one eye to find the ice sprite general's hand stretched towards him. He sighed. Here goes nothing. He accepted the General's hand. Geradine had to steady him as she pulled him up. "Lead the way," Nyxis said through his hazy vision.
