Zasha's Capture (manxman)

Chapter 9

Hours later he had finally attended all the wounded that had been left to his charge. He walked to healers tent and fell asleep as soon as his body hit the cot, surrounded by the sound of soft breathing from the other healers.

A deafening explosion woke him. Shrieks, screams, and an awful acrid smell assaulted his senses. His ears were ringing and he felt dizzy, as if he had taken a blow to the head.

The healers were panicking, running here and there. Zasha dashed outside of the useless protection of the tent.

And stepped into total chaos.

An enormous ball of fire was burning right in the middle of the healers encampment. Zasha saw the bodies of soldiers lying everywhere.

"Wounded! Heal the wounded!" Zasha was trying to get the attention of other healers as he ran towards the body nearest him.

It was too late for that soldier.

He ran to the next, searching for those who were not beyond his help. The number was too few. He lay his hands on every soldier he could find with even a tiny bit of life, pouring his power and energy into them.

Zasha could hear the sounds of battle ringing out around him. He ignored it, focused on the task at hand. Around him, other healers began scrambling toward the wounded. 

He knew tonight the limits of their powers would be tested, as more burning orbs rained from the sky. They were enormous, standing a head over Zasha. They bounced and rolled before stopping, leaving trails of a burning substance in their wake.

The stench of burning flesh assaulted Zasha as he searched for survivors, each one he healed moving towards the battle as soon as they were able.

Looking up, Zasha called out to a healer, pointing her to the direction of a prone soldier. She ran to him, kneeling beside the body to heal him. Zasha knelt at another soldier, not ten yards away, before looking up to see the healer crushed along with the soldier she was healing.

The ball of fire that crushed them left nothing but smoldering remains as it rolled a bit farther. Heavy drops rained down Zasha's front, he dared not inspect them too closely.

It felt as if he had just walked into a nightmare.

Even though it was his feet and his hands that were feeling everything, his antennae that were hearing everything, it seemed as if he were moving in a dream. 

As he fell to his knees beside what turned out to be another lifeless body, he wondered how long he could keep this up. How long his energy would last as he kept searching among this horror for those who could be saved.

He had a responsibility. He was a healer before all else. He had been Touched by Areala Herself. He could not fail Her now.

He would heal until he could not. It was all he could do.

He moved to another body, burnt almost past recognition, barely alive. Zasha touched deep into that pool of innate power inside him, pouring out that energy like water from a pitcher.

The face being brought back from the ruins of savage burns was one he knew.

"Zasha." He recognized Taran's voice. "You have to go back to the castle! If you are captured-"

Taran stopped speaking abruptly and shoved Zasha to the ground. Only just healed, he stood, grabbing the sword from his side and moving between Zasha and an attacking Garkian.

The presence of the enemy here meant the front line had been broken. Zasha sat on the ground frozen, watching Taran and the Garkian battle.

It was awful. Zasha had never witnessed the front lines of the war first hand. He had seen the results, but never the actual sight of someone being run through with a sword.

He saw it now, as the Garkian thrust its own through Taran, blood dripping from the end of the blade that exited Taran's back. The blade was jagged, made to destroy the flesh when it thrust in. The Garkian laughed, turning to smile at Zasha, where he watched in horror from the ground.

Zasha did the only thing he could, he lay hands on Taran's leg and healed him where he stood, pouring more of his power into the injured man. Taran kept his feet as the confused Garkian pulled its blade from his body, horrid ripping noises and a new river of blood accompanying the exit.

He felt the spray of blood as Taran used his own sword to sever the creatures head. It ran down his face, mingling with the blood that was there from countless others, before dripping off his nose and chin.

The head plopped down, followed by the crumpling of the Garkian's lifeless body.

It was the first Garkian he had ever seen up close.

It was hideous.

The creature would have been huge, if the length of its body weren't stooped over. It looked remarkably like an overgrown, deformed frog, even down to its hands. Its skin looked as if it would be slimy to the touch, not that he had any intention of touching it. It had a huge head with a round, bulbous eye set on each side, and a long wide mouth with thin lips. It was shades of green, but not like the plants and forests that Zasha loved. Instead, the colors reminded him of putrid wounds and decaying vegetation.

Zasha was dragged from the ground, glad to leave his macabre observation behind.

"We have to get you out of here." Taran was trying to pull him from the encampment.

"No! Put me down! There are others who need healing!" Zasha struggled in Taran's grasp. He could not abandon men to die that could still be saved!

"I cannot do that. You cannot be captured!"

Zasha did not understand.

Until he looked across the burning field and saw Garkian's grabbing healers. He felt his blood run cold as he watched swirling portals open before each of the Garkian's with a healer in their possession. Once they stepped through, the portals snapped closed before anyone could follow.

It seemed this attack had a specific purpose.

The army would be at a terrible disadvantage without Areala's blessed. Zasha stopped struggling as Taran lifted him over his shoulder before running to the edge of the encampment.

It was a miracle that they encountered no more enemies. When they reached the woods, Taran set Zasha down and began to drag him along. Zasha just followed behind him, feeling an impending sense of dread settle over his heart, as he thought of the healers who were now in the hands of their enemies.

Taran pulled a white pebble from somewhere inside of his armor and chanted a word before throwing it on the ground. A silver portal opened before him, and he once more lifted Zasha and stepped through.