The Adventures of a Traveling Healer
...
The Adventures of a Traveling Healer
Story One
by RedFox6
It was a pleasant day on the outskirts of Boanye on the planet Sombernoon. Thomas James had been invited to his sister's place for supper. All had gone well until his sister and her husband were called out on an emergency veterinarian call, leaving T.J. to watch over his nieces and nephews and their friends. He wasn't really expecting trouble; after all, this part of the suburbs was fairly well patrolled and secure. Still, he took his job seriously, and kept his revolver on his hip. Plus, it was the best way to keep small, curious hands off it.
All in all, though, hanging out with his nieces and nephews and their friends on a warm summer day, not much could be better.
He heard some yipping from the backyard and went to check it out. Walking around the corner, he saw a small family of foxes playing there. Gesturing to the children with him, he smiled and said, "Oh, come look. But be quiet. Don't scare them."
The children came around the corner, just as he felt the tingle of magic operating.
"Uncle T.J.!" his eldest nephew cried in fear.
He looked down. A Siberian tiger appeared, muzzle gently holding his left arm.
"Drek!" he said, then, "Children, get back in the house and raise the wards!"
As the kids raced back into the house and raised the wards, T.J. slowly began drawing his revolver with his right hand, staring at the tiger all the while. There was another tingle of magic, and he felt hands grabbing the New Model Le Mat out of his grasp. He inhaled the scent of lycanthropy. Looking to his right, he saw a weretigress tossing his pistol into a nearby bush. T.J. winced slightly as it hit the ground, half expecting it to go off on impact.
"Hell," he thought. "A were. Pistol wouldn't do me any good, no silver. At least the kids are safe."
Raising the wards had alerted the local Arbitrators station. Based on the responses they'd be getting from the hysterical children, they would be sending out a heavily armed Quick Reaction Force, loaded for hardcore and coming in hot. It would take major mojo to get through the wards before the QRF got there. He'd installed them himself, and reinforced their power through a nearby ley line. All he had to do was survive until the QRF arrived.
Given the quality of the concealment spells in evidence, he wasn't sure how easy that was going to be. Whoever had crafted them was powerful, and highly skilled. There hadn't even been a hint his attackers were there until they had dropped the spells and revealed themselves.
"We have need of you, Healer," the weretigress said in a deceptively soft and feminine voice.
T.J. felt a temporary transport circle begin forming. "Of course," he thought dryly, watching as the family of foxes ran over and joined the were. "Perfect distraction, get me in the right place to spring their ambush."
The circle was opened, and the party traveled through. The icy cold of nothingness bit deep into his bones for the split second they traversed Otherwhere. Then they were out the other side, in the middle of a small encampment somewhere in the desert. From the looks, it was one of the Neo-Amerindian encampments. The movement had sprung up in the last 50 years or so, as an attempt to get back to their perceived roots. Most of the people in the movement had no Amerindian blood, but felt an affinity for the lifestyle. Others were just posers, there because it was fashionable, and others still were just curious about the lifestyle and how well they would survive it. There were also rumors that some of the people were there because the nomadic lifestyle made it a good place to hide.
"Well, frag," T.J. thought. "Nomads. Just my luck. Even if someone could track the circle, they could be packed up and a hundred klicks away in mere hours. This just isn't my day."
T.J. was shivering from the transit, as the weretigress said, "Please, Healer. You must help us. Come, we will show you."
The were led the way to one of the tepees, with the tiger still gently holding his arm and tugging him forward, while the foxes raced around their feet, yipping quietly. Several of the inhabitants, a mix of humans and anthros, watched curiously as the party walked by.
Peering over his glasses as he waited for them to unfog from the sudden, massive temperature changes, he saw they were approaching a tepee much like the others, save for a circle of protective herbs above the entrance.
Hugging himself, and still shivering from the transit through Otherwhere, T.J. complained, "Damn it! Not all of us have fur. I usually have my coat when I travel by circle. And this is not the proper way to obtain the services of a Healer. There are proceedures to be followed, forms to be filled out."
"We have no time, Healer," the were replied. "She has been attacked, and our powers are only delaying the end. We need someone with the knowledge to lift the hex safely."
"Flattering, I guess," T.J. muttered under his breath. "Well," he said out loud. "Let's see this 'hex'."
Entering the tepee, T.J. could feel it, as if something slimy had scraped across his soul. The hex felt dark, dangerous, and very, very powerful.
The tepee was dim and surprisingly spacious. A small fire of aromatic herbs burned in the center, smoke rising to the smoke hole above. There were the expected bundles and bedrolls, along with a compact ultramodern notebook computer, with cables leading up to a satellite dish and solar power array mounted atop the tepee.
On a cot lay an older calico cat femfur, wrapped in blankets and stirring slightly in the darkness.
He activated his Sight and Looked at the femfur. Right away, he could see the hex, a sickly green globe that lay on her breast, tendrils stretching out to other parts of her body, insinuating themselves under her skin, seeking out her most sensitive spots. There was also a medicine bag on a string around her neck. He could Feel the conflict between the two, the bag fighting against the hex. T.J. could also tell that the power of the bag was slowly but surely being overwhelmed.
"Okay," he said to himself, moving closer to the cot. "Not as good as it could be. Let's see what we have here." He extended his magic senses and studied the hex.
The hex was powerful, the tendrils keeping her paralyzed but in terrible pain while keeping her awake and aware of what was happening. A larger tendril extended down from the globe into her breast, directly into her heart, slowly leeching her life force away.
His professionalism kicked in, and he began with the obvious questions.
"How long has she been like this?"
"She was attacked two days ago, Healer," was the answer.
He Looked again and saw that her llife force was almost gone, despite the power of the medicine bag. The bag had been created by someone who was both powerful and willing to invest a lot of that power into it. Ordinarily, that power would have defeated any normal hex. The fact that it was only slowing this one down caused him to revise upward his estimate of its power.
T.J. softly chanted and went into a diagnostic trance. While he was closely studying the hex and its victim, the nagging feeling that he somehow knew this femfur kept going through his head. It was a distraction, so he firmly pushed the thought aside and finished the job.
When he came out of the trance, he found the weretigress standing next to him. The Siberian tiger was sitting next to the cot, watching him, while the smallest fox cub crouched at his feet, looking up.
"Well," he began. "There's good news and bad news. The good news is that I can remove the hex. It'll take all I have, but it's doable."
"And the bad news?" the were asked.
"It'll hurt, bad." T.J. said. "I can't stop the pain and remove the hex. And when she starts screaming, that pet tiger of yours will come over here and rip my head off."
"Sasha will be kept away from you, Healer." the weretigress said. "But you can save her?"
"I can remove the hex," T.J. said soberly. "But I do not know if she will be strong enough to survive. The hex has badly drained her life force. She'll need extensive care for some time to recover."
"We can care for her," the weretigress said. "Please, heal her now. Sasha will not bother you."
T.J. sat down cross legged, closed his eyes and centered himself. In some ways, this would be easier than most jobs; all he had to do was sever the spell holding the hex in place. There would be no need to repair physical damage.
"Yeah, right," he thought. "All I have to do is sever the spell holding the most powerful hex I've ever even heard of, without killing the patient, catching any blowback, or having an angry, overprotective tiger tear my face off. Piece of cake."
He took hold of the caduceus around his neck and concentrated. He began feeling around the perimeter of the spell, cautiously probing for weak spots.
T.J. found several, and spent some time plotting his attack and marshalling his power. He'd only get one try, and he had to make it good. It would take everything he had, and he wouldn't have anything left for a second try.
Everything was ready. He quelled his anxiety and prepared to strike. He focused his power, took a deep breath and launched his attack. T.J. struck at several points simultaneously attempting to overwhelm the spell. The hex was powerful. and strongly resisted him. The femfur screamed in pain as it began to suck her life force more rapidly, attempting to kill her quickly.
His body reacted, his heart rate went up, increasing blood and oxygen flow, while his adrenal glands dumped a massive load of adrenaline into his system, increasing his power levels as he poured the strength of his life force into the attack.
Sweat broke out on his body as he pushed at the hex. He knew he couldn't keep this up for long, but the hex was beginning to fall. Still, he wasn't quite able to break its hold. Then just as he was about to fail, the medicine bag dumped the last of its power into the attack. It was just enough to break the hex's hold. The spell was severed at the root, and folded up into nothingness, leaving the femfur writhing in pain, but free of the curse.
T.J. fell back in exhaustion, weakness sweeping across his body as it reacted to the aftereffect of the massive amounts of energy he had expended.
Using his Sight, T.J. could tell two things; the medicine bag had totally expended its power and was now no more than a small bag of herbs, and the hex had had a rider spell, hidden among the emanations of the larger spell. T.J. tried to stop it as it flew off, but he had nothing left. It shot off, carrying its message somewhere.
"Smeg," he whispered. "That can't possibly be a good thing."
Hands helped him sit up, while the fox cub climbed into his lap and licked his chin. Sasha was by the cot, nuzzling the femfur gently while others checked her out, running modern diagnostic devices over her body, muttering over the readings they were getting.
"Readings are good," one said to the weretigress. "She is weak, but will survive."
T.J. watched as tension eased out of the were's body. She looked at him and said, "You have done well, Healer."
"It's not over," he replied, exhaustion in his voice. "There was a rider spell on the hex. I couldn't stop it from escaping. Whoever set the hex knows it failed. There will probably be more attacks, soon."
The weretigress looked at him, then turned and spoke what were apparently orders in another language. The others scattered outside, calling out in the same language as they went.
As T.J. petted the fox cub, he could hear the bustle of guards being set and could Feel wards being raised. Two large human males pulling on bodyarmor and cradling nasty looking M54 battle rifles entered the tepee, taking up positions next to the cot. The guards standing there triggered a memory, and T.J. suddenly knew where he'd seen the femfur before.
Before he could remark on it, there was a loud crack of displaced air from outside. The blowback of a powerful transport spell washed over him, followed by an attack spell smashing through and destroying the wards as it came. Outside, he could hear shouts and screams.
He scrambled to his feet as the guards raised their weapons. Some of his power had come back, perhaps enough to help in the femfur's defense. T.J. didn't have his pistol, so he drew his bowie knife out of his boot and moved to stand by the cot. Crouching at his feet, the fox cub growled, baring her teeth.
Outside, he could hear shots, including the high pitched crack of a plasma rifle being rapid fired. He could Feel powerful magic approaching. He watched as Sasha roared and charged out of the tepee to do battle, the weretigress right behind him.
Looking out of the entrance, T.J. could see a large lupine approaching. The wolf anthro was over two meters tall, and heavy with muscles. The lupine's powerful sorcerous wards were sparkling as they shrugged off all attacks. Bullets and plasma bursts alike were stopped without effect. Sasha and the weretigress roared and attacked, but couldn't get through. Their most powerful blows weren't even slowing the attacker down.
As T.J. watched, the attacker picked up Sasha and threw him several meters away. The tiger sprawled out on landing, stunned from the impact. The sorceress grabbed the were with both hands, and snapped her spine before throwing her to the ground. The weretigress screamed and writhed in pain. She would heal, but was out of the fight for now. The figure then casually swatted a warrior who was trying to skewer her with a spear. The warrior flew through the air. Landing hard, he didn't move.
The two bodyguards opened up with their battle rifles. A mix of high velocity steel jacketed slugs and armor piercing explosive rounds from the integral grenade launchers tore into the lupine, to no avail. The rounds sparked harmlessly off of the lupine's wards as they emptied their weapons.
The guards didn't get a chance to reload. The lupine gestured, while chanting nasty sounding words that T.J. couldn't quite make out. Making a throwing motion, the lupine sorceress unleashed her power on the guards. The spell struck them, lifting them off the ground and throwing them through the side of the tepee. Their crushed and mangled bodies sprawled in the dirt, still clutching their shattered weapons.
The sorceress ripped her way through the entrance, as T.J. set himself to receive the attack. Looking past her, T.J. caught a glimpse of the weretigress dragging herself through the dirt, attempting to get to the tepee, snarling in rage. Behind her, others were running forward, with determined expressions on their faces and carrying various weapons. Their shouts filled the air.
Sasha had recovered, and attacked from the rear, but was still unable to get through the sorceress's wards. His frustrated roars echoed through the camp as he hurled himself again and again at the sorceress.
The fox cub growled and attacked, darting in repeatedly at the sorceress's feet, but her attempts were futile and were totally ignored.
T.J. stabbed with his bowie, but the blade glanced harmlessly off the wards. As she continued towards the femfur's cot, the lupine casually backhanded T.J., throwing him against the side of the tepee.
As he was flying through the air, T.J.had an idea.The sorceress's wards stopped anything harmful from getting through, but what about a spell that caused no harm?
He landed hard, feeling his left shoulder dislocate on impact. As he started to go into shock, T.J. cast the first spell Healers ever learned, anesthesia. Just as she reached the femfur's cot, the spell slipped through the sorceress's wards, dropping her in her tracks.
"Good," T.J. thought. "We can capture her, find out what's going on."
There was only one small flaw in his plan. The sorceress's wards fell when she did. And there was this angry, 400 kilo Siberian tiger trying to rip her head off. T.J. watched in horror as Sasha ripped into the helpless lupine. His stomach lurched, and he just had time to turn his head before vomiting. His last sight before passing out was of Sasha tearing the sorceress apart.
When he awoke, T.J. was on a cot. His shoulder had been put back, and wrapped in bandages to keep it immobile. He could recognize the feel of drugs reducing the pain to a mild discomfort. The blankets he was wrapped in were warm and comfortable, and he didn't feel like moving, and definitely didn't want to get out of bed and face the world. Sleeping for a month sounded good, and he wondered vaguely how long he could get away with it.
Eventually, he shifted and jarred his shoulder. The burst of pain woke him up fully, and he decided to chance the world after all.
The first thing he saw was the calico femfur sitting in a folding chair next to his cot. Her eyes were closed as she rested. She looked wan but healthy. Obviously, she was recovering from the curse. Sasha was stretched out beside her, calmly grooming himself, while the weretigress sat behind her, watching alertly.
"I know you," he said in a low voice.
Hearing him, she opened her eyes. "Indeed?" she replied with a warm smile. Behind her, the weretigress tensed slightly, her claws sliding partway out of her fingers.
"But, you're dead," he continued. "I attended your funeral. Hell, it's been, what, three years now?"
"About that," the femfur said. "I thought the funeral was a bit, overblown, but Leroy insisted on all the pomp and circumstance. He's a genius at public relations. After all, that is why I hired him.
"And it did work," she went on. "The treaty passed almost unanimously. After all, it's hard to oppose something backed by a martyr who died for the cause. Especially when that cause is peace."
"I think I can see that," T.J. said.
"Besides," she went on, looking over her shoulder at the weretigress. "after 45 years, I was getting tired of being in the public arena. I just wanted to retire and be left alone."
She studied him for a moment, then asked, "Are you going to tell anyone? This would make a good story, might even be worth some money."
He smiled tiredly, then said, "Healer-patient confidentiality. And even if I wanted to, who the hell would believe me? I don't even know where I am, here." His eyes closed as he slipped back into sleep, muttering, "Your secret is safe with me, Ms. President." His last sight was of the femfur petting the fox cub who was peering over the side of the cot at him, front paws resting on the edge. T.J. could have sworn the cub looked worried about him.
T.J. missed the unspoken message that passed between the femfur and the weretigress. The were gave a short nod and relaxed slightly, sitting back in her chair, claws retracting back into her fingers.
The next day, T.J. was able to concentrate enough to heal his own shoulder. He then spent the rest of the day helping out with the injured. Despite the brevity of the fight, there were several, and he did what he could to heal them and ease their sufferings. The fox cub followed him everywhere, and when he finally stumbled to bed that night, exhausted from the day's healings, she curled up on the foot of the cot, keeping watch while he slept.
The day after, he was able to attend a solemn ceremony honoring the dead. So that their resting places would not be defiled, they were buried in unmarked graves. Their names were called out over their graves, and prayers given to speed their souls into the afterlife. Their actions were declaimed so that their deeds would enter tribal lore and their status would be known when they reached the other side.
Afterwards, there was a much happier and more raucous ceremony, celebrating the defeat of an enemy and the survival of the clan. As a part of it, T.J. was brought before the assembled clan. A cougar fur in full ceremonial dress began speaking. "I know that Healers can have no clan or tribe. But, for your actions, you will always have a place with us. Thus I, Chasing Eagle, elected Chief of the Clan Fox of the Tribe Lakota, with the full consent of the Clan Fox of the Tribe Lakota, do formally adopt you as an honorary member of our clan and tribe. You are now Thomas James Fox Lakota, of the Clan Fox of the Tribe Lakota.
"Further," the chief went on. "in recognition of the fox cub that has adopted you as her Companion, I name you Animal Friend. You are now Thomas James Fox Lakota, Animal Friend, of the Clan Fox of the Tribe Lakota. Let it be so proclaimed across the land."
"I am honored," T.J. replied. "that you have deemed me worthy of inclusion in your clan. I hope that I will uphold the honor of clan and tribe, and give you no cause to regret your decision."
With that, Chief Chasing Eagle ceremoniously clasped an armlet around T.J.'s left wrist, so all would know of his right of clanship.
T.J. spent some time admiring the craftsmanship of the armlet. It was obviously derived from the bow guards the people used, but was made out of finely crafted silver, with highly polished turquoise gems on the outer edge. It truly was a thing of beauty.
As a welcoming gift from the clan, the weretigress presented him with a canvas duster. She'd had it impregnated with spells to keep out wind and rain, resist dirt, and offer protection from physical attacks as well. She smiled knowingly as she pointed out that one spell would compensate for his not having fur by keeping him warm in cold conditions.
The femfur he'd helped save presented him with a finely made, short wooden staff. As she said, "It is traditional that a Healer have a staff. And I think you will find this one useful as well."
She guided his hands to the correct spots on the staff. T.J. felt a sllight tingle as a DNA lock activated, keying itself to him.
At her nod, he gave a tug on the staff. It seperated smoothly, revealing the 60 centimeter long silvered steel sword blade inside. The DNA lock would only allow him to open it without destroying the sheath.
"After all," she said with a smile. "sometimes Healers need more protection in this world than mere tradition affords."
The femfur stooped down gracefully to pet the fox cub sitting alertly at his feet. "And what will you name this one?" she asked.
"That's easy," T.J. responded with a smile. He went on loud enough for all to hear. "For her brave actions against the sorceress, the only name possible is Little Warrior."
The cub looked up quizzically for a moment, then yipped in acceptance of the name. A cheer went up from the crowd, and the celebration started in earnest.
A couple of days later, T.J. had recovered enough to be sent home. Bright lights and loud noises still caused him some discomfort, and he couldn't seem to remember all that had happened during the party, but it was time. He'd been away for too long, and his family would be worried sick about him. The quick e-mail he'd sent earlier had been necessarily short on details, and wouldn't have been all that reassuring, given his rather abrupt departure earlier.
Wearing his new duster and leaning on his staff, he thought, "She was right. This thing is useful. I'm not sure I could stand without it right now."
Little Warrior sat at his feet, giving him an amused look that said quite clearly, "Stupid people, abusing yourselves that way. You deserve everything you get."
Bleary eyed, T.J. watched as the weretigress set the tranport circle to take him home.
Just before she closed the circle to send him home, he said, "You never did tell me your name. Or show me your human form."
She smiled mysteriously and said, "No, I haven't. Yet."
She went on, more formally, "You have my thanks for saving my mate. Be well, Healer."
Then she completed the spell, and T.J. and Little Warrior transited Otherwhere on the way to the public transit circle near his sister's house, with his gifts, a new Companion, some new secrets and a serious need for a really good explanation of where he'd been for the past several days.