From a haze of darkness, interrupted only with flitting visions of dragons—both good and bad—I feel a presence and open my eyes. There’s a stone ceiling above me. Confused, I peer around. I’m tucked under the blankets on my cot, which has been returned to the medical room, and set in the corner. At my side is a woman with a few strands of gray in her blonde hair, and the faint wrinkles on her cheeks and along the corners of her eyes deepen as she smiles at me.
“Good morning, Estelle! I’m glad to see you awake. I’m Jaye.”
“Hello, Jaye,” I whisper.
Jaye holds up a ceramic plate with fried eggs on a biscuit, along with apple slices. “Are you up for some breakfast?”
I push myself up and take the plate from her. I’m too upset to want to eat, but I know how important food is for a recovering patient, so I make myself take a bite of one of the apples. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome! I’m sorry your entry to Adytol has been strenuous,” Jaye says. “Ward Veremund told me this has all been a bit of a shock to you.”
I nod, eating silently.
“Do you want to see Astralux?” Jaye asks.
Astralux is the last person—or dragon, I suppose—I want to see right now. I can feel a faint pressure on my heart, and I ignore it as much as possible. “No.”
Jaye’s large hazel eyes widen a little more, but then she blinks and gives me a smile. “Can I get you anything?”
Maybe it’s because she’s the Head Nurse. Maybe because it’s the first older woman who I’ve met since Malick’s tribe. But Jaye reminds me of Mom, down to the way she asks the question. A surge of emotions overwhelm me and I burst into tears, hiding my face with one hand.
“Oh no, it’s alright.” Jaye sweeps away my half-eaten plate and sits on the edge of my cot, wrapping an arm around me. “You’re just fine, darling.”
But Mom’s not fine. Nor are the people of Inizion. And my heart aches for them as I sob into Jaye, furious for abandoning them and full of guilt. All made worse by the weird situation I find myself in now, accidentally bonded to a dragon that’s part of a group of fighters. I’m a medical assistant. A nurse. A healer. I’m no fighter.
Jaye tries to coax an explanation out of me, but I eventually stop crying and shake my head. “I’d rather just talk about something else,” I whisper. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s quite alright, I understand.” Jaye encourages me to eat a little more, and pats my arm approvingly when I get another bite of apples down. “You’re doing a great job.”
Job. That’s what I need to do—I need to do something productive. A job, something to take my mind off my own sorrows. “Do you need any assistance?” I ask.
“Assistance? What do you mean?”
I explain to Jaye that I was an assistant to Mom, who was our town’s only healer. “I don’t know that I learned all her trade knowledge, but I was doing my best.”
“You’re a healer?! You’re the first Ward I’ve ever heard of being a healer.” Jaye presses her lips together. “You didn’t by chance have any practice in surgery, did you?”
“I read a couple of books,” I say. “And I helped my mom with stitching often. We never had to do a surgery—at least, none that she let me see. Perhaps she had one when I was very young.”
“Well.” Jaye sighs. “My next patient after you is a man who had an accident cutting down trees. Karen’s working to sedate him as best as we can. His leg’s badly mangled, and I want to see if I can salvage it. But we only have a theory book on surgery. And the couple I’ve tried haven’t gone well. So any other knowledge you can bring would be beneficial.”
“I’d be happy to help,” I say.
“Are you well enough?” Jaye asks.
I move my legs to the side of the bed and stand slowly, waiting as the dizziness subsides before I lean off the wall. I take a step and flex my knees, making sure my footing is good. “Yes.”
“Let’s get you dressed, and I’ll find you an apron,” Jaye says.
Once I’m dressed in a simple lavender shirt and gray slacks, my feet in the smallest leather shoes Jaye could find—and my toes still wriggling with way too much freedom—Jaye hands me a white apron similar to the one she wears over her pink floral patterned white shirt. I quickly find the pockets stitched on the front, checking their depth to determine what I could and couldn’t pocket.
Jaye chuckles. “You’ve definitely been a medical assistant if the first thing you notice is your apron’s pockets!”
I smile a little. Having a mission is helping me to focus on something besides my own shock and sadness. I follow Jaye through the door into a large hallway, and peering around as we walk towards stairs at the end.
“Are there no other patients up here?” I ask.
“This section is dedicated to the Wards,” Jaye says. “It’s a bit more isolated to help with the increased senses. And, most Wards find that they like to be higher up.”
Certainly not me. But then again, I’m not really a Ward.
Pushing such thoughts from my mind, my ears pick up the groans of someone in pain. By the time we make it to the bottom of the steps, I can hear Karen’s voice as she tries to encourage a man to drink something. Probably whiskey or brandy, if I had to guess.
“You sure about this?” Jaye asks, watching my face. She leads me to a wooden door, behind which I can clearly hear the patient moaning. “You’re still recovering yourself.”
“I’m sure,” I say.
“Alright.” Jaye knocks once and then enters. “Karen, Boyce? I’ve brought along a little help.”
Karen stares at me. “Estelle! How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.” My eyes sweep over Boyce’s mangled leg, the man placed on sheets laid over a wooden table. Jaye’s right: it’s in bad shape, twisted at the knee, the flesh all torn up down to his ankles. My improved vision picks up splinters all over the place. They’ve wrapped up most of his leg in bandages to help with the bleeding, but now I see why Jaye wasn’t sure if they could salvage his leg. It was on the cusp. I pat Boyce on the shoulder and walk around, peering at his leg. “We should elevate this; it will help slow the bleeding even more.”
“Good idea,” Jaye says.
Karen glances at Jaye, but then finds a small block of wood to slip under Boyce’s leg. I take the washcloth Karen had been dabbing Boyce’s face with and whip it in the air to cool the water off before laying it on Boyce’s forehead again.
“I think the first thing we should do is scour for woodchips and then set it,” Jaye says.
I nod in agreement. I have a feeling Jaye knows exactly what to do but appreciates the confirmation. Spotting a wash basin nearby, I head over, cleaning my hands thoroughly before drying them on a towel set to the side. Jaye is holding out a pair of metal tweezers, and I accept them before coming around to Boyce’s leg.
Karen wipes Boyce’s face. “You just take it easy, Boyce. Try to think of your wife and kids. They’ll be so excited to see you again!”
Boyce takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Jaye and I set to work, pulling out woodchips. With my enhanced vision, I spot specks of wood I would never have noticed otherwise, and after a painstaking hour I step back to the wash basin to re-clean my hands, a bowl of bloody splinters being dumped in a trash basin by Karen.
“Great work!” Jaye says.
“Are you holding up alright?” Karen asks Boyce.
“Is it over yet?” Boyce asks through gritted teeth.
“Hang in there,” Jaye says.
I glance at Jaye but realize that unlike with Mom, I don’t know what Jaye’s thinking. Her gaze is on Boyce’s leg, which is now laid bare so that we can set it and work on stitching it up. There’s a slight furrow in her brow, and I feel the worry on her. I walk back to the table to stand beside Jaye. “You can do this,” I say quietly. Mom always reassured me when I was nervous. “You clearly have lots of practice. And, you’ve got steady hands. That’s very important.”
Jaye grins at me. “Look at you, being all encouraging! Thanks, Estelle. You’re right. Okay, let’s get started, and share any thoughts or knowledge you have—anything will help.”
Setting the bone isn’t too bad. Boyce even handles it okay, but as Jaye and I compare notes on what we know about human anatomy and stitching him up, we come across a few differing opinions. I always concede, wanting Jaye to feel in command, but she acts on my suggestions and recommendations, a bit to my concern. Still, I can tell that what we’re doing isn’t completely off, because Boyce’s leg starts to look normal.
Boyce, on the other hand, is suffering something immensely. When Jaye starts to work on his ankle, he gives a scream and tries to bolt up, shoving Karen to the side.
“Boyce!” Jaye says, her needle half-embedded. “Stop!”
I grab Boyce’s shoulders and push with all my might—and slam him into the table so hard he loses his breath. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” I gasp.
Both Jaye and Karen bust out laughing. “I rather like having the assistance of a Ward!” Karen says. “The most petite girl is strong enough to take on full grown men!”
Boyce’s eyes focus on my face. “A Ward?”
“Didn’t you hear? Estelle is bonded to Astralux!” Karen says.
“Oh, thank Ariadna.” Boyce grabs my hand, much to my shock, and holds it to his chest, gasping in pain. “A Ward’s here. Ariadna be praised.”
I stare at Boyce, who closes his eyes as Jaye continues her work. His teeth gritted, he still struggles a little under my hand on his shoulder, but otherwise lies still, clinging to my other hand.
This is my first time talking to someone of Adytol who isn’t a Ward or one of the nurses, and I suddenly wonder at what exactly the Wards do, or what’s known about them, that a citizen of Adytol would react like this. I’d never considered what it would mean to the people of Adytol, and now I think maybe I’ve been too rash, assuming that all they did was fight against the Vladykars. Perhaps that was their primary purpose, but clearly they held even more significance to Adytol.
“You’re doing good,” Jaye says to Boyce. “Just a little more.”
It takes us a full two hours, but by the time Jaye is rubbing Boyce’s leg with a healing ointment that smells of aloe, honey, and peppermint—the same as Malick’s tribe—I have hope that Boyce’s leg will make a partial recovery, if not a full one.
“Excellent work,” I say to Jaye.
The woman chuckles as she cleans her hands and then her face. “I’m glad you were here! I don’t think Karen and I could have done that by ourselves.”
“Is it just you two that work here?” I ask.
“No, but our other two nurses are out right now, dealing with other patients, and this happened just before I came to visit you, so I didn’t even ask for help yet. Then you offered.” Jaye smirks. “Thank you, Estelle.”
Karen welcomes into the freshly cleaned room what must be Boyce’s wife, their two young kids, and some of his fellow woodsman, all anxious for him and gathering around Boyce’s table with sighs of relief. The woman grabs Boyce’s hand, and he manages a small smile up at them, looking exhausted but well. I smile. “No, thank you, Jaye. This was exactly what I needed.”
Tamara Rivers 
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