Michael Manning - The Archmage unbound

I sighed, “I don’t have a dungeon and even if I did he’d probably sicken if I kept him there. From what I can see he lost a lot of blood before he stopped his leg from bleeding. James says he was pinned under the portcullis for a short time.”

“You only need him conscious and awake for as much time as it takes to find out what he knows,” he replied implying that I would have the wizard executed shortly after that.

“I don’t intend to execute him,” I said simply. Harold looked shocked and given my behavior the day previous I couldn’t blame him. I had been close to doing much worse than mere execution. The memory made me shudder for a second, and I had to struggle to suppress the visions of fire and torment that still seemed somewhat attractive to me.

Harold stood, agitated, and after a moment he spoke. I was quite certain he had thrown out the first several sentences that came to mind. I had to admire his self-control. “I assume you have some particular reason for putting him up in a soft bed and nursing him back to health.”

“I do. I intend to put him to work on my behalf. I believe he may be more valuable to me alive than dead, though only time will tell.”

Harold’s eye twitched. “What about Lord Dorian? What about your wife?”

My temper snapped and I stood up to face the young man Dorian had left behind to serve me. With two strides I came face to face with him, our noses nearly touching. Harold was a tall man, for his eyes were nearly level with my own, and his shoulders were much broader. “Don’t test me Harold and be damned sure you don’t suggest that my feelings for my wife or my friend are insincere or lacking in some fashion.”

He held my gaze for a second before looking down and away. “Pardon me my Lord. It was not my place to address you so.”

I regained my balance quickly. “Someday it will be Harold, someday it will. I respect your honesty, but you do not know me well enough yet.” I put a hand to his shoulder, “Help me get him out of his clothes, they’ll be bringing in the hot water in a moment.”

His eyes widened, “Shouldn’t we let the maids do that?”

I almost laughed but I kept a serious face, “Hmm you may be right. I’ll ask Lisette to undress him. Perhaps she could help bathe him as well.”

He shook his head, “No that wouldn’t be right either.” After a few minutes we had him stripped down and ready for the tub. Our prisoner’s eyes were open now and he seemed more awake though whenever he tried to speak nothing but gibberish came out. Harold was looking at the man’s right leg, which was bent and swollen. A long silver scar marked where it had been pierced by the portcullis. “That looks bad,” he observed.

“You’re right about that,” I agreed. “I’ll see what I can do about it. Don’t let anyone disturb me until I’m finished.”

“How will I know when you’re done?”

“I’ll be looking around and talking to you,” I said, giving him a wink and a smile. Harold shook his head and I knew he wanted to comment on my being a smart ass but he held his tongue. I sat down by the bed and closed my eyes, turning my vision inward and then shifting my focus to the man lying on the bed beside me.

His heart was beating strongly but his body was hot with fever. His wound was obviously infected but I wasn’t entirely sure what to do about that. Instead I examined his leg and the tissues around his wound carefully to see if there were any obvious problems. His femur was broken and had begun to heal at a bad angle, next to it an abscess had formed around something foreign.

I shifted my focus, examining the area more closely. A small piece of stone had lodged there and the infection had spread from there, creating a large pocket of pus and fluid around the bit of rock. It might take a while, but eventually the infection would kill him, if the abscess weren’t drained and the stone removed. If he survived that he would most certainly be lamed by the badly healed bone. Luckily both problems were things I could easily deal with.

I decided to fix the bone first. Draining the wound would be a messy process; it could wait until after the bath. Briefly I considered letting him feel the pain when I straightened his bone. The man was conscious enough that the pain would be intense. After a brief moral struggle I damped the nerve impulses from his leg and carefully straightened the bone. An audible ‘click’ could be heard when the part that had already begun healing came apart again and I sensed more than heard Harold’s gasp beside me as he watched. I aligned the ends and then carefully knitted them together. It wasn’t quite as good as it would be after a month or two healing naturally, but the join was strong enough he would be able to walk on it without fear. The swelling and pain from the infection would probably make that a moot point however.

I opened my eyes and looked at Harold, “All done… for now,” I said.

“That made my skin crawl,” said the big warrior.

I chuckled at that. “Help me get him into the tub.” Harold got behind the wizard and put his arms around the man’s chest and then lifted him up by main force, leaving me to lift his legs and guide them into the copper bathing tub. “Mind his head, I’m not sure if he can keep it above the water,” I cautioned.

Surprisingly the fellow sat up on his own, so we didn’t have to work too hard to keep him from drowning. His mouth worked and strange sounds came out but I still couldn’t make sense of anything he said.

Half an hour later we had him back in the bed and he smelled much better. “How strong a stomach do you have?” I asked Harold.

He grimaced, “I considered myself strong stomached before, but I have a feeling I’m not up to whatever it is you have in mind.”

“I need to drain the pus from his wound and clean it out.”

“I’ll get Joe to help you. He’s done a lot of minor doctoring for the soldiers and his belly is as strong as any man’s I know,” he said.

“That’ll be fine,” I said and twenty minutes later I had Joe McDaniel beside me instead.

“I’ll just wait out here in case you need me,” said Harold as he stepped out of the room.

“Find Lisette for me,” I called after him. “I’ll need more hot water and some towels. After she brings those she can wait with you… in case we need anything else.” I smiled to myself, might as well give them some time to chat. That pleasant thought was followed by a sharp pang as I realized I’d not be having any more chances for small talk with Penny. Gritting my teeth I pushed that thought aside and concentrated on the task at hand.

I looked into the wounded man’s eyes, “I know you’re probably still confused, but I need to clean out the wound on your leg. Do you understand?”

The man nodded and grunted something. He was half bald and the hair remaining showed some grey already coming in, if I had to guess I would have judged his age at around forty. I glanced at Joe, “I need you to keep the towels and water handy to clean up the fluids when I drain his wound.”

“Don’t you need to heat up a knife first?” he asked.

“Not my way, just watch. You’ll see an opening in a minute,” I told him. Closing my eyes I relaxed and then drew my mind sharply into focus. Working within his leg I created a channel from the abscess to the surface and then opened a hole in the skin there. Then I began drawing the small piece of stone outward, following the channel I had created. As it moved pus began flowing out of the hole and a putrid smell threatened to break my concentration.

Ignoring the stench I gently eased the stone out and then helped the rest of the pus and sanguineous fluids to exit the abscess. When I had finished I left a small opening in the skin so that the fluids that would collect in the wound afterward could drain as well. His body would have to heal the infection on its own; I had done as much as I knew to do at that point.