The Tent of High Healing

Chapter Five: The Healer and the Dragon

Her journey home was a blur. The words of the sheoling echoed on her mind, "the one you seek dwells in Dyvik." How could that be possible. Dyvik was destroyed after the Long War ended. That night she dreamed of those wings again, Those beating wings. And the shoelings milky eyes. Dawn broke as did her slumber. Her head was pounding and her arm stung. Five curved lines marked her arm. Reminding her that yesterday happened. That it was not some nightmare.

She bolted down the stairs of her apartment, and desperately hailed at rickshaws. She arrived at the Tent of Healing with minutes to spare, out of breath. She ran down the gleaming white hallways, her robes billowing behind her, until she entered the trauma wing. And gingerly made her over to the head healer, Rafyah's desk and vied for the assignment sheet, hoping not to catch her attention. Her attempt failed, and Rafyah scowled at her, with a tsk, and muttered something about her being late.

She had been assigned to a newly admitted patron. She was told during report, he was a dragon rider for the Imperial Guard, the military faction affiliated with the International Order of Peace. His fall from his dragon had resulted in a severe C7 spinal injury.

However, as she read the patient file, a name caught her attention. Rhyder Xanatos, from Drakor. Drakor. The name itself sounded evil. Her parents' faces flashed before her. She decided she would not heal Rhyder Xanatos from Drakor. Instead she went to the head healer and asked to be reassigned.

"Rafyah, please reassign me, I do not wish to be involved in the care of this so-called dragon rider from Drakor." Rea stated.

"You are late. You look like a mess... And we currently have no one else who specializes in spinal cord injuries." Rafyah chided her, giving Rea a pointed look. It was true, with the disappearance of healers, the Tent of Healing was chronically short staffed, especially for specialist healers like her.

"He's from Drakkor--he was likely involved in the border attacks. I have held the hands of patrons who left limbs behind on that border. Patrons who lost family there, to men like Rhyder Xanatos. I do not think I can heal him, at least not when I want to do the opposite of that." 

"You are the only one we have and the imperial army ordered that we have our best healers on his case. You are that healer." Rafyah chuffed.

Rea made her way across the hallway and stepped through the arched doorway of chamber IX. She saw him then, splayed across the bed. His shoulder-length black hair tousled, his hazel eyes half-closed, linen sheets draped the length of his body, clinging to every bit of lean muscle. She saw his chest rise and fall in low shallow breaths and felt her face begin to burn. This was not her typical patient.

She pinched herself and hastily removed her eyes from him, scanning the room for the necessary equipment and monitors. Looking for anything to keep herself busy, preoccupied, and not looking at him. She had never seen a dragon rider before, and this was not what she expected. She expected a huge hulking brute of a man, a cruel creation of the imperium. Instead Rhyder looked as if he was sculpted by the gods.

She was adjusting the settings on his monitors when she noticed him stir, his hazel eyes wincing in pain while his body lay motionless.

She turned to him and said, her voice clipped, "my name is Astrea Stormwind, and I am the healer assigned to you today. I need to assess the extent of your injuries."

Rhyder scoffed, his voice strained as he replied in a breathy whisper, "An Ashrah healer, come to save me. How fortunate." He turned his gaze to hers, lingering for a moment, his hazel eyes half shut in pain, as he panted, "do what you must".

Rea took a deep breath, trying to maintain decorum. "Fortunate or not, I've been assigned to you. To start, I will need to remove your sheets.

Rhyder's eyes widened at the thought of her touching him. It was not her appearance that bothered him so much, she was in truth beautiful, she had skin that looked as if it was made of moonlight, violet eyes, and dark brown hair that dropped at her slender waist. No, he could look at her all day. It was that she was from Ashrah.The people deemed more worthy than his own, to live in Lumaris. The people, the imperium had uprooted his people for, for whom everything he knew and loved was broken—-who stood before him now claiming she would be the one to fix him. It seemed so ridiculous that he began to laugh, causing a jolt of pain to spasm down his back.