Nason looked me in the eyes. “It’s all right. We’ll calm them down.”
I relaxed, berating myself for being so jumpy as Nason joined Boaz and his wife in organizing everyone in the common area.
To my left, I noticed a young mother and father holding their two children in their laps. The young girl and boy looked near the same age Myra and Zadok had been when I left for the war. Both parents sobbed and whispered into their children’s ears. I saw that the effort to fight against the eruption’s symptoms had been brutal on their own physical well-beings, but as parents, they found the resolve to push through the pain in order to comfort their kids.
My chest tightened, imagining me and Lasha in a similar situation while someone who could easily help just stood by doing nothing.
Shame washed over me.
Zadok had been right about his Ma. Lasha never would have turned someone away and she never would have allowed me to deny help to others. As I had already done. My stomach knotted as I remembered Nason saying a couple of people had already died.
I walked over to the family and dropped to one knee. “May I help?”
“Yes,” rasped the father.
“Our children,” whispered the mother.
I placed a hand on the shoulder of each child then asked the parents to grab my arms. They complied. Just as before, the change in their condition started immediately. Others waiting in the room saw this and anyone strong enough to put up a fuss did so.
Nason came over quickly. “By Prax, we almost had them organized.”
“Take off my clothes, will you? I don’t want to move.”
“What? Why?”
“Because the fewer clothes I have on, the more surface area people can touch.”
His eyes widened. “Oh. But uh. . I don’t know how to remove all that stuff you have on. I’ve never worn leather armor before.”
“Boaz!” I called out over my shoulder.
The innkeeper hurried over. “Yes?”
“Go upstairs and tell Dekar to come down here right away.” He’d get me undressed quick enough and without all the dirty comments Ira would make.
“Yes, of course.” He took off.
The two children I touched began to stir, showing more promising signs of life. Tears streamed down the cheeks of the two parents as they thanked me.
I worried about all those I wasn’t helping. “Nason!”
“You don’t have to yell. I’m still here.”
“Start bringing people over here. Drag them if you have to, but find a free spot on my body until Dekar gets down here. Pull off my boots or something.”
“You got it.” He took a step.
“Nason.”
“Yes?”
“Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For coming to get me.”
He patted my shoulder. “Just doing what Lasha would have done.”
* * *
I was in the middle of Main Street when a hand touched my shoulder.
I didn’t have to look to see who it belonged to. I smelled its owner.
“Nason, when this is all over, I’m going to buy you a bar of soap.”
He ignored my jibe, just like when we were kids. “Tyrus, you need to stop and eat.”
I had left the inn not long ago after spending hours helping all that had made it there. I figured leaving would save people the trouble of coming to me.
I shook my head in response to Nason, concentrating on the old woman before me. I didn’t really know if concentration would do any good. I doubted I could increase my resistance just by thinking about it. It never seemed to make a noticeable difference before when I drew away sorcery. But I tried anyway.
“Tyrus, you need some water at least. You’ve been at this all day.”
They brought the old woman to me just a few minutes ago. I had worked on her grandson earlier and once he recovered enough, he took off in a sprint to retrieve her. I don’t know how he managed it, but he carried her all the way back to the center of town on his back. He collapsed from exhaustion in front of the feed store.
The old woman’s gray hair had begun to fall out around her ears. Even her wrinkles had wrinkles. Most marveled that she hadn’t yet died when others much younger had.
Her grandson wasn’t surprised at all. He said that his grandmother had always been a fighter. She had raised him after his parents died, and had outlived three husbands and four children. He was all she had left and it was obvious the reverse also held true.
I pressed more firmly with my hands against her brittle skin, mumbling curses to Molak.
“By the gods Tyrus! You aren’t going to do anyone any good dead.”
My head bobbed.
“Look at you, you can barely support yourself.”
“Just give me some water.”
I tilted my head back and opened my mouth as someone poured water down my throat. I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was until then. I started to cough. My dry throat wasn’t ready for the liquid.
Why was I so worn out? It’s not like I was on a thirty mile march. I guess I had never combated sorcery for so long before. I wondered if the healers in the army felt this way when working on us. Especially when dealing with me.
The grandson began to sob. He sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “I guess she didn’t have enough fight left in her after all.”
My brows furrowed, confused for a moment until I realized what he was saying. The old woman’s chest had stopped moving and no air passed through her lips.
Dead. I hadn’t noticed the change.
I pulled my hands away and looked at them in disbelief. Others had died during the night before I had a chance to treat them, but this old woman who was the center of her grandson’s world, was the first to die after I had come into contact with them.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“It’s all right. I know you did your best.”
Had I really?
He continued. “You move on to someone else, Mister. Someone who still has a chance.”
Panic hit me when I thought of those who still needed help. I couldn’t let anyone else die. Too many had died under my command and I couldn’t fail the people here like I did those in the army. I couldn’t fail Denu Creek like I had failed Lasha by not being here for her. I rose to my feet quickly and nearly passed out as the town spun. I shuffled several steps, not regaining my balance until a set of soft hands grabbed hold of me.
“Take it easy,” came a voice I hadn’t expected to hear. “I have you.”
My eyes stopped dancing, and I stood straighter, gaze drifting down to Damaris’s hands, one on my arm, the other on my bare chest. I had been trying to heal people for so long, I had forgotten that I was shirtless. With trousers rolled up to my knees, I wondered how foolish I must have looked.
Damaris pulled her hands away, her cheeks going rosy.
I cleared my throat. “Where’s Nason?”
“He said he was going to get one of your friends to come talk some sense into you. He asked me to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself.”
“Oh. Who’s next?” I asked.
“No one here.”
I gave her a puzzled look. The streets of Denu Creek were eerily void of people, a stark contrast to the morning when it seemed like beaten earth was the place to be for the dying and dead to reside.
Gods, I guess I was more tired than I thought.
“Where is everyone?”
“Home. Most needed food, water, and sleep since they were in too much pain to do those things before you helped. Some also needed time to clean up since they were unable to move and accidently soiled themselves.”
I turned back to the young man in the street who I left by his grandmother.
Damaris’s father, Sivan, was at the boy’s side. I overheard the faint prayer he led to Xank, the God of Death. It seemed the only time people ever prayed to Xank was in the time immediately following the death of a loved one, hoping he might watch over their soul. A part of me wondered if people quit cursing him during their days and prayed to him instead, if he would stop taking so many lives.
Such a thought seemed contradictory to my incessant cursing of Molak. I wondered if instead of devoting most of my swears to him, maybe I should give Ao her due.