(RoS) Darcy the Healer (Ch. 67) (Patreon)

“I want to kill him,” Cyll muttered.

“Now, now,” Humbol said. “That would be completely inhumane. He’s done nothing more than talk.”

“He sounds like a squeaky toy with a sinus problem,” Cyll complained. “A little killing never hurt anyone.”

“Robbing him would be much more appropriate,” Humbol said. His tongue flicked out as the man involuntarily licked his lips, eyeing the town crier’s bulging pockets.

“Keep your hands to yourselves. Both of you,” Maya commanded. “I already told you once. I’m not getting kicked out of another damn city. Let’s just find the healer so we can get away from this annoying bastard.”

The two of them sighed in unison, glared at eachother, then nodded to Maya. She sighed, repressing the pain pulsing through her body, and scanned the town square for the healer the guard had mentioned.

It didn’t take them too long to spot their target. A white tent, stained brown from years of exposure to the elements, sat at the far end of the town square nestled between two older buildings. The front was pulled open, revealing a young woman wearing a heavy suit of armor tending to some injured men.

“She’s armored,” Humbol observed as they walked towards the tent, their hands over their ears to block out the annoying town crier.

“Maybe too many people tried stealing from her,” Patty said from beside them.

Everyone but Humbol paused, turning to stare at the puppet. She took a step back, tilting her head.

“Did I do something wrong?” Patty asked.

“Of course not,” Maya said. “But did you just make a joke? Like…a good one?”

“That’s certainly a first,” Cyll said, grinning widely. “I guess I’m a good teacher.”

“Yeah, a walking example of a joke for Patty to learn from,” Humbol said, smirking. “Now, shall we continue? I’m eager to get into this dungeon and I doubt our captain enjoys being wracked with pain.”

Cyll rolled his eyes as they all started back towards the tent.

The healer knelt beside a badly injured man as they grew closer. A delicate blue light emanated from her hands, worming its way into the wound and sealing it shut. She rose, turning to face them and cracking her neck.

Her freckled face and was plain but kind, with a firm brow and deep brown eyes. Her hair had been cut short and raggedy, as if she’d done it herself with a knife.

“Another charity case?” She asked. Her words, while sharp, carried no bite. If anything, she seemed amused.

“I’m afraid so,” Maya said, giving the other woman a weak grin. “I had a bit of a scuffle some time ago. I think my eye is the worst of it.”

“Right then,” the healer said. “You’re coherent enough to hold a conversation with, which is more than I can say for most of my patients. My name’s Darcy. Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll see what I can do for you.”

Maya nodded, sitting down on an empty bed beside the healer. Darcy leaned down and gingerly started unwrapping the bandages on Maya’s face. The captain gritted her teeth as the dried blood on the cloth pulled at her skin and the wound.

Darcy finished her task, politely ignoring the whispered curses on Maya’s breath. She gave the wound a quick look over, ignoring Maya’s curious crew as they leaned to get a look at her face.

“Oh boy,” Darcy breathed, grimacing.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Maya muttered.

The healer ignored her. Darcy looked up at Maya’s crew, eyeing them with a thoughtful gaze.

“Which of you did this?” She asked, gesturing to the bandages on the floor.

“I did,” Cyll said, his brow furrowing in worry. “Why?”

“You saved her life, but just barely. Who the hell taught you? Bloodfiber root extract hasn’t been used to treat wounds in centuries because of its burning properties.”

“Ah…It’s been a bit,” Cyll said nervously. “I didn’t know any other mixtures to apply on a gauze for keeping a wound from getting infected, and that’s the one I got from Akrun.”

“Akrun?” The healer asked, her eyes flashing.

“Priest of Akrun,” Maya said, grimacing. “As much as I appreciate the chitchat, my head hurts like a bitch. Do you think you could fix it?”

“Of course,” Darcy said, shaking her head and returning her attention to the captain. “My apologies. I’m easily distracted.”

The healer raised her gauntleted hands over Maya’s head. A dim blue light gathered around them once again, permeating into the young pirate’s head like an icy waterfall. She drew in a sharp breath as a foreign presence washed over her mind. However, this was nothing like the Heart of the Sea. It was comforting, as if Darcy were washing away years of grime.

Maya felt the skin on her face writhe uncomfortably, but the cool sensation numbed her senses to the point where it was bearable. Then, abruptly, it faded. The light dimmed and the pain receded, but it hadn’t gone completely.

“What’s wrong?” Cyll asked as Darcy rose, a deep frown on her face. “Is Maya okay?”

“She’s still a work in progress,” Darcy replied. “But we’re about to be bothered, and I don’t care to be interrupted in the middle of my work.”

They turned to follow the woman’s gaze. As one, lips curled and eyebrows lowered in disgust. The town crier tipped his oversized hat to them and offered a shit eating grin.

“I’ve told you to stay out of my tent until someone causes you bodily harm,” Darcy growled. “Some of my patients need rest. What do you want?”

“My apologies, healer,” the crier said, bowing slightly. Mercifully, the man’s voice wasn’t as grating as it had been before. “I would not intrude so carelessly on a normal day.”

“Oh, get it out,” Darcy said, sighing and waving with a gauntleted fist. “I’ve got work to do, so just say what you need to say and leave.”