Saun 3, 708
Cycres, outside of Ne’Haer
Off Topic
Continued from Part One, here.
Someone from the Order was thankfully with them, a young man in a green cloak with a calming smile. He’d accompanied the Blades and while he was armed with a weapon of his own, was clearly there to care for the wounded along with a few other healers in cloaks just like his.
The hazel-eyed man put a hand on Pash’s father, asking the man to sit as well, "You, too, ser."
And then he began to set his medical kit to one side, beginning to unpack his things. The smith was upstairs in his own room, being treated by the green cloak’s superior. His wounds had been much worse than bruises, or a dagger in the leg, or even a broken arm. Traek complied, shifting his youngest son so that the boy could curl into his lap and yet leave his wounded thigh free for the Order acolyte to take care of.
While Pash sat somewhat dizzily, he’d wrapped his arm and kept it still. His father was bleeding, the silvery stuff staining his pants leg and the boy couldn’t help but stare at the shimmery, stardust-like liquid. It made him feel more nauseated, but as the green cloaked young man turned to block his view while he cut away more of the fabric to clean and care for the wound, the eldest Vy’ryn was grateful. He closed his eyes and listened to his youngest brother sniffle and sob, realizing that while he hadn’t shed a tear, he’d been no less terrified. His heart still raced against the hull of his chest, and as much as he wanted to calm down, the muted, muffled sounds of Traek in pain did nothing to assuage his fears.
His father did his best to not cry out at the cleaning and cauterizing of the stab wound in his thigh, obviously for the sake of his sons. His efforts were commended with a wordless, sympathetic smile from the acolyte, who admired the older Biqaj’s endurance. Once he’d bandaged the wound, he dug out a few pieces of candy from a separate pouch and offered them to Ioyas with a smile,
"You were both brave today. Share some chocolate with your da while I help your brother, alright?"
The boy shyly accepted the small wrapped confections, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his tear-stained features. Traek shifted to move closer to Pash, to be next to his eldest while his youngest was persistent about not leaving his lap. The boy greedily shoved an entire chocolate into his mouth like a starved rodent and his eyes flashed tauntingly at Pash before the Order acolyte obscured his view,
"Let’s take a look at your arm, son." The young man said softly. Pash nodded, feeling dizzy and strange, but he tenderly held out the swollen, painful right forearm for the acolyte to examine. He was careful to unwrap the arm, and once the bandage had been removed, the hazel-eyed man gingerly explored the boy’s forearm with his eyes as well as his free hand. Pash’s dull grey gaze saw blood and what may have even been bone, the smith’s mallet having hit him far harder than he was capable of comprehending. The green cloak said nothing, immediately moving to provide a stable surface with a small stool and a piece of clean cloth, maneuvering Pash in such a way as to set him up for care. There was no time to waste,
"Your arm is very broken. I’m going to choose the right tools, okay? You can help me by repeating their names." The acolyte wanted to keep the boy distracted, though Pash’s eyes widened in pain and he whined in sudden panic. Traek realized the immediacy of the moment and scooted closer, moving so that he could lean his shoulder against his son’s, placing his warm, calloused hand on Pash’s free hand. Perhaps it was both a form of comfort and a restraint, but the shipwright’s son didn’t immediately make the connection.
"This is a scalpel. These are tweezers. This is a clamp." The acolyte was instructing, also holding up some jars and bottles, explaining what was an antiseptic and what was a numbing agent and what was a salve to help the wound he was about to clean heal faster. He also brought out a splint, made out of wood, and some thick, stiff-looking bandages which he explained would help keep Pash’s arm still so that the bones could knit back together. The young Biqaj watched him warily and repeated the words as he was told, perhaps distracted just enough by the activity.
As he began to gently dab the areas of broken skin where a bit of bone was visible, preparing it for the widening of the wound he would have to do to remove smaller, dangerous fragments, Pash hissed in pain, but somehow managed to exhale a question, "Knit back together?" Always curious, the boy was somehow convinced the green cloak was promising magic,
"Aye. Your bones grow with your body since they are also alive and when put back into place, they will reach out for each other and repair themselves. But, they can grow back together wrong if we don’t take care of things the right way."
Pash frowned, wondering what the scalpel and tweezers and strange clamp were for if the hazel-eyed man was just going to be setting his bones. Something else was up, and it probably had to do with the bit of his own bone poking through his skin. The green cloak looked at Traek as if asking his assistance and a heavy anchor of fear dropped into Pash’s stomach. His father moved again, this time setting a placated Ioyas down on the packed earth floor of the smithy to place a firmer hold on Pash, moving to more or less restrain him. While whatever the acolyte had dabbed on his arm had made the pain fade and his skin tingle, he was quickly becoming aware that this was a warning that everything about to happen would hurt,
"Da’at—"
"It will be fine. This man, he has training, yes? And you trust me, right?"
"Qes, but—"
"I’m here. Just relax, qaunobo." Traek breathed quietly and instructed Pash to look away or close his eyes, but the boy refused, watching with his tide pool gaze bright and flecked with gold as the hazel-eyed man set the clamp around the bone that stuck through his skin in a way that tugged at the skin. Pash whined but it didn’t hurt. He just felt the pressure now, whatever the Order green cloak had spread on his tanned flesh having done its work.
The scalpel, though. The scalpel changed his breathing a little and the aspiring musician struggled against his father’s grip, panic racing in his pulse.
"It will be alright." The acolyte smiled assuringly, and then he made his incision. Again, Pash felt the pressure but not pain and his eyes widened, finding himself both terrified and unable to look away. The green cloak made a cut near where his bone had punctured the skin, and he began to explain what he was doing. Looking for bone fragments, he said, picking up the tweezers and realizing that the boy was watching him. He found a few pieces, very tiny fragments, that perhaps only a well-trained eye would have seen. He explained that small pieces could end up in his blood, the silver stuff oozing from the edges of his incision and making Pash feel dizzy watching. He leaned against his father and chewed the inside of his cheek, disgusted but interested.
The hazel eyed man was eventually satisfied, and so he washed the wound and wiped it clean, removing the clamps and explaining that he was going to have to set the bone again before he could stitch the wound and before he could splint and wrap the arm entirely. Setting his broken arm, he admitted, was going to hurt. All of the numbness his salve had allowed for hadn’t penetrated deep enough to entirely eliminate the pain of something broken. Pash whimpered and Traek sighed, shifting his grip on the boy one more time in preparation for the swift, painful motion.
Once the Order acolyte had set his tools to the side to clean, he was up on his knees and moving to take a firm grip on the shipwright’s son’s arm on either side of the break. His fingers rolled over muscle and felt as though they were massaging, searching for how everything was placed. This ached and Pash hissed, resisting the urge to pull away, then, the healer applied more pressure and in a swift motion the bone that had appeared through his skin disappeared and the aspiring musician could only yelp in fiery sudden pain. The hurt was much more than he expected, and he felt fresh hot tears sting his cheeks.
But, amazingly enough, the hazel-eyed man admitted he was done with a gentle smile, that the incision he made was perhaps not deep enough to need stitches if he bandaged everything well and packed the wound with some herbs instead. So, as he retrieved the splint, he explained how he was going to use it to keep the boy’s arm in place. This brought Iyoas over to peer curiously from Traek’s shoulder, timid and no less comfortable around all the blood he’d seen to-trial.
The healer was careful and Traek moved to help him set the splint tightly. The two of them wrapped Pash’s arm and set it in a sling with a bit more discomfort, but finally the shipwright’s son could lean back and relax for a moment. The whole trial was nothing they’d expected, and the boy had perhaps learned more about himself as well as his father than he cared to know all at once.
The sail home would be an interesting conversation, that was for sure.
"I’m glad I could be of service to you both." The green cloak added quietly, giving Traek’s shoulder a squeeze and making sure to smile at the two boys, "May the Immortals turn this around for us all, for it seems as though somehow the three of you succeeded in scaring off those bandits. I will pray it stays that way."
