Callie's Heroes

PART I - LIFE-SAVING MEASURES

A small smattering of applause started as Pixyl held her pose. She unclenched her fist, causing the crackling energy sword to fade into a cloud of Ethereal mist. Slowly, the little Pixie collapsed to a sitting position, starting to look a little woozy.

Callie broke from the crowd, ignoring the pain and ringing in her ears, and started to run to Pixy’s aid, her head filled with panic and dread. No this couldn’t be happening! Not to Pixyl! Not to her new friend!

“None of you recruits are to leave. Nobody moves!” Master Trainer Thorn commanded the assembled crowd.

But Callie's fear for her friend made her ignore Thorn’s order, and she ran, sliding to the ground next to Pixyl, instinctively slamming her hand over the Pixie’s bleeding arm. Pixyl groaned in new pain as Callie cried out “Someone do something!”

“Healer!” Thorn commanded.

With a shrill cry, a golden hawk none of the recruits had noticed above streaked down from the sky, landing a few meters away from Pixyl. With a ripple of magic, the hawk became the elder Druid trainer, Rowani. She walked towards Pixyl, pausing just long enough to kick the still-upright decapitated corpse of the Fiend over to its side with a scowl.

‘Where are my baby Druids?” Rowani called out, scanning the crowd of onlookers. “Are any of them here?” She couldn’t see either of her Dwarves, nor the Elf, Wallir. Only the Ogre was present, towering over the other recruits. Sighing, she gestured towards Tazrok. “Ogre! Come heal her injury.”

Tazrok pointed at himself in surprise. “Me?”

“Move it!” Rowani commanded. “The Pixie is bleeding out. Little Gnome, you must move aside!”

The few recruits in front of the Ogre parted instantly as Tazrok dropped his surprised look and rushed towards his fallen friend. “What do I do?”

“Little One, make room,” Rowani commanded in a firmer voice. “Tazrok, you must cast Mend Wound. Put one hand under her arm to support it, but do not grasp it. You’ll likely break it, if you do.”

Tazrok dropped to his knees to get closer, and one could swear the earth rippled as he did so. Tazrok didn’t know what to do. He had no idea how to cast Mend Wound. He didn’t know how to cast any spells. The only reference he had was his Berserker and Barbarian abilities, but they weren’t spells. Tazrok still wasn’t even sure what mana was. Vanis had said something about it being all around and that a caster stored it, but that just sounded like Elf gibberish. He looked at his hands in confusion. “How?” he asked in a frightened voice. He was scared for his friend, and scared he couldn’t help her.

“Little Gnome, I said move aside!” Rowani commanded.

“She’ll start bleeding again!” Callie snapped.

“Move aside!” Rowani commanded again. She didn’t need a Command Aura pulse to get her point across, but that was surely going to come next if Callie didn’t get out of the way.

Callie glared hard at the Beastkin, before letting go and scooting behind Pixyl to her left side. She took the Pixie’s bloody left hand in her own. Everything was covered in red. “We’re here!” Callie cried to her friend. “You’ve got this.”

“I got it?” Pixyl said, looking towards Callie with a dazed expression. “It’s dead right?”

“Yea, you got it,” Callie said, her throat feeling as if it might choke in worry. “Everyone is safe.”

“Good.”

“I will tell you how to unlock the skill,” Rowani said quietly. She leaned in and whispered in the Ogre’s ear. “That is all you must do.”

But Tazrok had a panicked look on his face. “I do not understand?” he cried.

“Just do as you are told,” Rowani snapped. “Quickly!”

Tazrok swallowed hard and took a deep breath, trying to center himself enough to do the query. He shook his head in frustration, and opened his eyes, catching Callie’s look. He remembered back to how she had helped him to meditate and took a deep breath again. It took another moment, but his face finally lit up. “I understand!”

“Good! Hold your other hand over her wound, but don’t touch it.” Rowani commanded Tazrok as she pointed. The Ogre was still confusedly staring at his own hands. “Hand. Over. Her. Wound!” Rowani repeated tersely. “Now!” she added for emphasis, pulsing her Command Aura to focus the Ogre’s attention.

Without any more delay, Tazrok did as he had been instructed, holding his one hand under Pixyl’s arm, supporting it, and his other a few centimeters above. “Now what?”

“Clear your mind and cast Mend Wound,” Rowani growled. “Don’t think about it, just do it. Your time is running out.”

Callie noticed Tazrok’s hand was shaking. “Breathe, Tazrok. You can do this.”

Tazrok quickly nodded and tried to relax again , drawing in a big breath, before blowing it out. “Mend Wound,” his deep voice said as calmly as he could muster.

Nothing happened.

“Again!” Rowari chided. “Clear your head.”

As Tazrok took another deep breath as Rowani waved her hand, creating a small piece of red fruit in it. Reaching down, she shoved it into Pixyl’s mouth. “Eat this!” she commanded. “Bite once and swallow.”

Instinctively, Pixyl bit into the fruit. It was incredibly juicy and exploded in her mouth. Before she could swallow though, a gush of red liquid erupted from her mouth and nose and she started to gag. Pixyl spit the piece of fruit out, where it continued to gurgle out a sticky red liquid.

“Dammit!” Rowani said. “Here’s another, one bite and swallow fast. It will help with your blood loss.” Again Rowani waved her hand and shoved the summoned fruit into Pixyl’s mouth. “Bite once and swallow immediately!” she ordered again.

Pixyl nodded in understanding. She bit once, and before it could explode out of her face again, she swallowed it down, gagging as it burst in her throat, but managing to keep it from coming back up. A small part of Pixyl’s brain noticed it had a surprisingly pleasant, sweet taste to it, as her body felt slightly refreshed.

Meanwhile, Tazrok was trying to do his breathing exercises. Breathe in. Blow out. Breathe in. Blow out. What was he doing! His brain slug had just told him the rules to healing, but he had no idea how to cast a spell. He wasn’t a Healer! He was supposed to be a Berserker! He was supposed to be a Barbarian!

Right?

Tazrok’s mind floated back to the day before. It went back to when the Tree Lady told him he was a Druid. What did she call him? A ‘beautiful hybrid of Scout, Warrior and Healer classes’. In a mad rush he tried to think this through. Hybrids were more than one class. He mostly understood that concept. Tree Lady said he was in fact three classes in one, and that one of these classes was Healer! And Kitty Lady said he was one of her baby Druids. So that meant Kitty Lady also said he was a Healer, even if he was only a baby one.

And Healers … healed.

In fact, Kitty Lady had made him get healing rules from the brain slug!

This must mean … he could heal. That made sense, right? If the people that knew what was true said he was a Healer, who was he to argue? Healers healed, and part of him was Healer! Could he actually do this?

Tazrok again looked down at the little Pixie, her face and tunic now covered with a bright red sticky goo, nearly matching the color of all the blood. The Little One, Callie Gnome, was holding her hand and seemed so afraid. Pixyl’s face was starting to look a little flush. She wasn’t dead yet, but she was bleeding; she was dying! There was so much blood for such a tiny thing. He had to heal her, but he knew he could, because he had been told he was a Healer and the sluggo had told him how. More importantly, now he believed he was a Healer. And Healers healed!

MEND WOUND

The call to power streamed across his mind almost unbidden, and Tazrok felt that energy flow from somewhere in his body and down his arm. It focused in his hand, and then leapt the gap between it and Pixyl’s wound. Tazrok could feel the injury and it was deep. He could feel the torn skin, the sliced muscle, the nicked artery, spraying just a little lifeblood with every terrified heartbeat of his tiny friend.

He directed the power as if by instinct and it wrapped around that bleeding vessel. His magic forced the little gash closed and sealed it for good. He moved up a layer and started to weave the muscles back together. Tazrok forced it anew, one sinewy strand at a time. A Healer heals and he was doing it!

Pixyl gasped in new pain and felt the urge to pull her arm away, but the Ogre’s hand supporting it tightened just a little in reflex, and she resisted. The pain ran deep, though and she bit her lip to hold in the scream, while squeezing Callie’s hand tighter than she thought possible.

One muscle fiber after another, Tazrok repaired them all. He stitched them together as if they had never been torn. The spell continued and Pixyl’s nerves and skin, unseen under all the bloody mess, began to knit together. Tazrok had now closed his eyes and was calmly directing the power where it needed to be, guided by an unseen hand. The power of healing poured out of him as Pixyl’s skin bonded itself whole. He was doing it, and his friend was going to be fine.

After what seemed like minutes to Tazrok, but was really only a few seconds, the Ogre opened his eyes, locking them with Pixyl’s. He smiled. She smiled back. “You are fixed,” he said in a low, quiet voice. “And you are mighty.”