Book 4: Chapter 54: Checking In |
“You’re a freak,” said Carmen standing a few feet away from him having just completed his physical.
“Can I get a second opinion?” Michael responded dryly.
“No one would have a better one than me,” replied Carmen, stepping closer to look at his hair again and shaking her head. “You’re physically fine. Stronger than any olympic athlete with a resting heart rate that should be impossible. You could probably hold your breath for an hour without difficulty, and your heart could be used to pump blood through an elephant if it needed to. Yet, you have external signs of age and damage, though uneven. Full white hair, but only mild wrinkles, and a few other cosmetic changes.” She sighed. “I’m going to record exactly the changes so far. I want you to come in tomorrow, and any time you return from sealing a rift or even just doing some healing to see if I can detect any changes. Understood?”
“Understood. I’ll likely be dropping by the infirmary first thing whenever I return anyway.”
“Yes, yes. You need to wave your golden hand and make me unnecessary.”
“Even if everyone in this world was in perfect health you’d still be necessary,” he replied.
She frowned at his sincerity. “Go and spread your faith or kill monsters,” she said with a shooing motion.
He nodded, hopping off the exam table he’d been sitting on. He grabbed a cloak he’d hung up against a pole and slipped it on, pulling his hood up over his face. His ability to travel uncovered was severely limited within the camp. It had only been one day since he’d arrived and he’d already been swarmed a half-dozen times with requests for prayers, blessings, or even just conversations. He’d been striking before, but now that he had a full head of white hair it was even harder to stay unnoticed. He welcomed it normally, but he had a few things he wanted to do that day that were more private.
He walked carefully through the infirmary tent which sat empty since he’d arrived, and pushed his way out into the busy and muddy paths between the tents. He wasn’t sure of his exact destination, so he used his Eyes of Love to act as a general compass. There were magical marks guiding people to certain special tents such as the infirmary, but they didn’t cover everything.
He saw Trina kneeling in front of one of them, her eyes closed in prayer. He muffled himself to keep from disturbing her, and knelt next to her, bowing his own head in prayer.
They sat like that for several moments, before Trina opened her eyes and acknowledged him with a hug.
Michael returned the gesture, giving her a firm squeeze.
“It’s good to see you,” he said as he released her.
“You too,” she replied with a soft smile. “I’ve been praying for your safe return.”
“I’ve been praying for you as well. I’ve heard good things though. It seems that your healing and strength have grown a lot.” He didn’t need to divine her to feel the touch of the gods on her.
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“They have. I’ve been able to help a lot of people,” she glanced at the grave. “Not everyone though.”
“We can’t save everyone,” he replied, sighing heavily. “Doesn’t mean we don’t feel terrible about it though.” He gestured to the grave. “Who was it?”
She hesitated to answer and Michael’s heart caught in his throat as he realized it was someone he knew.
“Lys. She died the last time we were out closing rifts.”
Michael felt his heart drop from his throat to the pit of his stomach, tears welling in his eyes. He’d cared for Lys. She’d been a friend and more to him. He could see her wavy hair streaked in gray, feel her lithe form laying against him, and hear the mirth in her voice when she gave a dry reply to a foolish question.
He inhaled deeply and let it out slowly as he steadied himself. He knew there were going to be deaths and he wouldn’t be able to predict them. Davi’s death had taught him that. Still, he hadn’t even been there this time. Maybe he could’ve done something.
As if sensing what he was thinking, Trina placed a hand on his shoulder.
“There’s nothing you could’ve done had you been here. A cleaver was thrown from a closing rift. It cut her head from her shoulders in the blink of an eye. There’s nothing you could’ve done.”
Michael frowned as he remembered saving his daughter-in-law from that exact fate, but he gripped Trina’s hand and squeezed it so she wouldn’t think her attempt at comforting him had failed.
“I’m sorry, you shouldn’t need to comfort me. I know you were very close with her as well,” he responded.
“I was, but I’ve had some time to get through it. I’ve been able to distract myself with the infirmary… now that you’re here I suppose I won’t have as much to do there.” She smiled as she spoke.
“I’m afraid it’s been fully cleared for now,” he replied.
“That’s okay. I made a new friend last time I was there. Maybe now I can join him for a drink.”
“Oh?” asked Michael with a slightly scandalized expression.
She laughed. “I healed him yesterday. He was a Stent Knight. He seems…sad. Like he needs a friend as much as I do.”
Michael frowned as he made a guess that Tain was who she was talking about. The young man certainly did need a friend.
“Get that drink with him. It’s the kind of thing Lys would’ve wanted you to do.”
“She would’ve encouraged more than that I think.”
He chuckled. “Probably. Though she would’ve made a point of telling you not to try to fix him. I’d say the same, but coming from me it would come across as hypocritical given what I’ve spent my new life doing.”
“True.” She looked again at the grave. “Do you want to pray a little more?” she asked, holding out a hand.
Michael took it. “I do.”
They sat together for some time, sharing their prayers to the divine.
Once they were done Michael gave her one more hug, telling her he’d meet up with her again soon so that they could train together, then he made his way back into the camp. He kept his hood up, finding himself in no mood to deal with anyone he didn’t need to. As he walked the sorrow he was feeling over Lys’s death began to shift to rage. The fresh dirt of the graves he’d seen filled his vision as he imagined each person within them. They were all brave men and women who’d fought to end a threat to their world. They had friends, family, lives that they’d been willing to lose to protect others, many of whom would never know their sacrifice.
He reached the tent and placed on his armor, strapping his shield to his arm. He could hear Durand whispering in his ears as he did so. Once his armor was on he draped his cloak of it since even that was enough to identify him. He had just enough presence of mind to leave a quick note for the others by his bedroll, then walked out of the tent making his way swiftly toward the edge of the camp. Even with his helmet and face hidden he must’ve radiated some kind of menace because all those that may have been in his way gave him a respectful amount of space as he moved.
He managed to make it without drawing too much attention. He ignored the stables since he’d be able to move more steadily without a horse and didn’t want to have to focus any energy on tending to one. He extended his senses outward, feeling the immediate sting of dread from the massive rift in the distance. He pushed that to the side and located all of the smaller rifts, taking note of each of them and planning out a route in his mind. He needed to hurt them. It wasn’t a pretty thought, but it was a righteous one.
Once he had everything settled, he started running, heading for the nearest of the rifts with Durand’s cheers turning to a roar within his ears. He could feel flickers of smite starting to dance against his armor as he ran. He wouldn’t stop until all of them were sealed and all those that had spilled out of them destroyed.
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