The Breakers

Chapter 6: Clinic Mania

Raelle's POV

I had been in Bredset for two days, barely leaving the clinic. The man was still asleep the entire time, and I made sure to keep an eye on him while dealing with the rest of the craziness in the clinic. The Archmage wasn't kidding, it really is out of control. Many of the other healers ignored me and didn't bother with any low-borns. Most of the beds were taken by other Healing Mages, Warders, Battlemages, and Seers, the ones that could afford the best care. I didn't give a shit what class these people were in and worked on everyone else.

After my father's battle with Tantra, I studied everything I could about it. The best spells to heal the boils and stop infection from spreading throughout the body, and all of the necessary potions to bring down everyone's fever. I'd dealt with it a bit in Strathe when the Lower District had an outbreak but it was nothing like in Bredset. The disease started in the Upper District here, and quickly spread to those of lower birth. The high-borns could handle the disease much easier than most, mainly due to their magic capabilities. The more magic you had, the quicker you could fight off infection.

Most of the high-borns only stayed for a few days, quickly getting better and returning to the Gold District. The low-borns, however, were here for weeks. Enchanters especially had a hard time. They didn't have much magic in them, and all of it was being used to heal wounds. I hadn't lost anyone yet, and I didn't plan to.

I was making my rounds with broth to make sure all of my patients were well fed. I was giving the man I saved nourishment potions as he had yet to wake up and eat. It worried me that it was taking so long for him to wake up. Even inexperienced Enchanters were only unconscious for about a day when they were injured. Twice I changed the man's tourniquet, and his wound was starting to look slightly better but not by much. He would need to be cared for for at least a month at this rate. His fever broke, thankfully, and he was sleeping more peacefully. Whoever this man was, he was a fighter.

I stopped my fussing over the man to speak to one of my younger patients, a small girl by the name of Avalain, who lost both her parents to the disease before I arrived.

I sat down on the floor next to her, tucking a piece of hair out of her face to provide some comfort. "Avalain, my dear, you must drink your broth. I cannot help you get through this if you do not get something in your stomach."

"B-but I miss my mother," she cried, her voice breaking.

It was heartbreaking to see her like this. I couldn't imagine if one of my siblings was as sickly as she. "I know, sweet Avalain, I know. But you must be strong for them. You're going to grow up and make a fine Nature Mage someday."

This brought a smile to the young one's face and she replied, "You think so?"

I nodded my head and continued, "I know so. You remind me a lot of my younger sister Seren. She's a few years older than you but she is wonderful with her magic. She grows all kinds of flowers to bring smiles to other peoples' faces. Someday, you will too. I just know it." I grew a flower from the palm of my hand and tucked it into her ear, kissing her forehead before holding the broth out to her once more.

Avalain nodded, wiped away her tears, and finally accepted the bowl of broth from my hand. After she finished it all, she went back to resting.

That evening, after all the other healers had gone, I sat down next to the man. Something about him intrigued me, but I wasn't sure what. Maybe it was the mystery of it all. I couldn't even begin to understand why this man had been stabbed. He didn't look like someone from a rebel group, but I supposed he could be. And hardly any beasts or creatures in the forests could have made this kind of wound.

Suddenly, he began to stir. I brought my hand to his forehead to check for a fever. He hadn't stirred in days, so I was worried maybe he took a turn for the worse. But the man surprised me. He opened his eyes. I was elated, there was hope for him yet!

He blinked a few times and, realizing I was watching him, jolted up into a sitting position and backed as far away from the wall as he could. The motion hurt him and he clutched his abdomen, looking down at his wound with curiosity. He must have thought he was going to die on that road.

"I am not going to hurt you," I softly explained, holding my hand out to help him lay back down. He groaned a bit from the pain, but did not move toward me.

The man just stared at me, utterly confused, and did not take my hand. I pointed at his wound, sighed and continued once more, "What is your name? I am Raelle. I've been taking care of you."

Looking at his wound and back up to me, he seemed to understand. He finally replied, "Volar seti et?"

What? Does he not speak the common tongue? I thought, perplexed. It took me a few moments to discern what he said to me, as I tried to recall the language some low-borns spoke in. Thankfully, most of my early spell books for my affinity were written in Ocetari so I could somewhat understand him. He said, "You saved me?"

I nodded, put my hand up to gesture for him to wait, and went to grab some parchment and writing supplies. I was much better at understanding Ocetari in writing, and I was horrible at speaking it, so it would be more beneficial for us to communicate this way.

I sat down and wrote, Cul, volar entu. Nima Raelle. Roughly translated, it meant "Yes, I saved you. My name is Raelle."

He took the parchment and began to read, then gestured for me to hand him the quill so he could reply. Nima Elydis. Ristu drahmi? And handed the parchment and quill back to me.

It took me a moment to translate, and I got slightly frustrated at how long it would take for me to communicate with the man this way, but I didn't let it show. Elydis wanted to know where he was and it wasn't his fault he didn't speak the common tongue. Instead, I wrote out my reply, Drahm frontegis. Cresti magicre drahm? "You are in the clinic. Which magic class are you?"

He took the parchment from me once more and read it several times over, looking like he didn't know what to reply. Did I translate incorrectly? It's been years since I've had to use one of the battered spell books from the Lower District but I thought I'd done alright.

Finally, Elydis looked at me and shook his head, shoving the parchment back at me and looking like he was ready to bolt out the door at any moment. This confused me more than anything because he looked...frightened?

He wasn't able to get very far with his wound so I helped him lay back down on the ground and put a comforting hand on his arm, trying to make him understand I would not hurt him.

I continued writing on the parchment, keeping my off hand on his arm to keep him close. Etar niva morteri sen. "You don't have to be afraid."

Hesitantly, he sat up, read the line and decided to finally reply. He paused and looked at me several times while he wrote, seemingly judging me, though I couldn't figure out why.

Elydis handed the almost crumpled parchment to me and I read, not quite believing the words on the page. Niv cresti magicre. Hulat niv glina seti et. "I'm non-magical. Please don't hurt me."

Phew. Coming up with a language is not easy. Do you guys think it sounds alright? I spent a long while on this chapter, trying to make my Ocetari language flow and I'm pretty proud of it. You'll see more of it later because Raelle and Elydis have a lot of interactions to come. I can't wait!

-Jay