The Omens of a Crow [COMPLETE] (Watty 2018 Award-Winner)

Chapter 4

Krow laid the last patient on a rough pallet and straightened, admiring his handiwork. He had scrubbed and cleaned the plank floors, arranged the victims still capable of recovery in two uniform rows atop makeshift cots, and added the corpses that had filled much of the cabin's space to the pit. Some of the living, like the first man, had found a measure of peace on his blade and followed them. The air was lighter now, less dense and revolting to the lungs. He eyed the lessening sunshine drifting through the wide-open shutters and estimated his remaining daylight. The air that rushed into the cottage's confines was refreshing after the oppressive stench, but it was cool. He would need to close the cabin and stoke up the fire before the onset of late evening to keep out the night's chill.

"Thank you."

He leaned over the woman who spoke to arrange bundled cloths beneath her head as a pillow. A rare few of his patients – those sick the longest and past the deadliest stages of the plague – had begun to speak in strained mumbles. This woman's eyes followed his face behind swollen lids, cracked just enough to peer through.

Krow said nothing, but favored her with a thin, close-lipped smile. A reassurance more than anything else. No doubt she needed it, after the days and nights of suffering, with food and water left only safe distances from the cabin, as if anyone was even strong enough to go fetch it. His blood boiled at the thought. Not at the villagers fearing for their lives, trying to stop the spread of pestilence with distance, but the ignorance that made such suffering possible. The cheap value of a small village in a large world.

He removed the woman's rough blouse as carefully as he could manage, scrutinizing her body with dispassionate practicality. She neared the plague's final stages, though she was still weak as a newborn and in pain. The dark swellings that covered her body had long since burst and drained. She'd been fortunate to escape infection in the filth. Now, painful scabs remained, drying and peeling away to reveal fresh, though scarred, skin beneath.

He smiled down at her again, this time with more than just encouragement. Here was one patient that could make a full recovery. She would bear the blemishes of the plague for the rest of her days, but she would live to see them. The woman's eyes flickered, oblivious to his smile, her nakedness, or anything else around her as she drifted into a restless slumber. Krow traced a simple weave in the air with his fingers, then pushed on the charm, letting the numbing effects of the primitive glyph sink into her before pulling an ointment from his pouch. He replaced his gloves, and began to rub the ointment into her scabs, starting on her neck, then moved to the armpits and across her breasts before finishing with the sores on her belly. His touch was soft, performed with light, practiced hands to spare her pain or discomfort in her dreams.

When he finished, Krow packed his medical bag and gave the cabin a last look. It was clean enough now with the fluids of rot and human waste cleared away. He'd fed and watered all the patients. A meager dozen lay on their pallets, a regretful number after the scores that had entered the doors. With proper care, half or more of those remaining might be saved – he was not still a naïve apprentice to think all would survive. He nodded in satisfaction. Five men and four women of various stages of adulthood, a young boy, a girl nearing her first bleed, and an elder. Despite his instincts, he allowed himself to hope most would return to their homes.

The light of evening fell to twilight as Krow shuttered the cottage and stirred the fire, adding more fuel to keep the inside comfortable until morning. He stripped off his gloves and clothing before stepping out. The water from the well was ice cold as he washed, and Krow wasted no time dressing in fresh clothing from his saddlebags when he'd finished. He caught and saddled Namtar in the open field south of the homestead, then turned the destrier toward Bliss.