Ragnarok: Creed of the Forbidden Guild

Binding Promises

Sleep now, my child, sleep well...

Ride the moon's slumber streams...

Close those little eyes now...

Let the night cradle your dreams...

-o0o-

Faulkner's left hand throbbed again, painful enough to jerk him awake. If not for his latest injury, he would conclude everything that happened this morning was all just a bad dream. Maybe it was just a bad dream. The Fire Pillar disappeared as if it didn't exist at all. Those happen in dreams, right?

But there was Elysa sleeping soundly on a chair, her head rested on her arms at the right side of his bed. Not far from her was that acolyte who healed him, also asleep on a bench by the wall. It was not a dream, it really happened.

The haunting image of the giant Fire Pillar flashed before his mind, his left hand simultaneously felt a sharp pain. He closed his eyes tightly, as if the memory of the spell and the ache from his limb would be locked outside his reality as long as he kept both of them shut.

The pain did subside after some time, but it wouldn't go away. Now, it hurts just like a lingering sting of a pinch, only the pinch was made by fingers on fire. Faulkner decided it was bearable enough, so he slowly opened his eyes.

He wasn't a stranger to the college infirmary, in fact, due to his wizarding "accidents," he had been its patient a few times more than most students. One time he was hurled against a wall by solid ice when he tried to cast a Frost Driver. In another, he hurt himself and a few others when his faulty spell ricocheted against the classroom's wooden door and the impact sent splinters in every direction. He wasn't allowed to cast magic inside enclosed spaces or within a few feet from another person since then. But his growing familiarity with the school clinic hurt his pride more than the restrictions.

Every time he was sent here, he swore he would never again see the infirmary's bare walls and limited furniture. He would never again spend the night looking at that solitary flower in that bland-looking vase on the table. That he would never again need the help of the Academy priest to heal his injuries or the nurses to clean his gash. How many times had he sworn these words? He couldn't keep count.

And now, he was again lying on one of its beds, a new wound gained from another of his erratic magic castings. Faulkner had never doubted himself more in his life than this moment, in this familiar room. Maybe this course is not for me? Maybe I'm just wasting years trying to become somebody I couldn't be?

The loud commotion outside broke his thoughts. People started coming in the room. There were guards carrying a man naked of his shirt, then a priestess, a physician and an alchemist immediately followed. The unconscious man was carefully placed on the bed next to Faulkner's as the physician gave instructions to the priestess and alchemist. Elysa started to stir from her sleep but the acolyte was fully awake by then, already joining her superior's healing prayers.

"Hey Faulkner, how are you feeling?" Elysa asked, sleepiness quickly disappearing from her eyes because of the many activities in the small room.

"I'm better than that man over there, at least," Faulkner replied, his attention still fixed on his fellow patient.

"Now we need space to work," the physician said while gesturing the soldiers to step out of the room. Then he faced Faulkner, eyeing the student head to foot. "What are you here for, son?"

"Just this burn," Faulkner said, raising his left palm for the physician to see.

"That looks terrible, but you don't need a whole bed for it. A walk would do you good, too. We may have to operate on him, believe me, you two wouldn't want to be here when that happens."