Penitent-Chapter 71: Cowardice

Michael and the others didn’t have to wait long until a sergeant left the command tent and moved toward them.

“The Knight-Lieutenant will be some time with this meeting. I am to escort you all to the Penitent part of the camp. He says that one of you is a healer?”

“I am,” said Michael.

“After I show you where to set up your tent I’ll be escorting you to the infirmary.” He gestured to the Carrion King. “Leave that here, we’re going to have him taken immediately to the fletcher to start using his feathers for our arrows.”

The sergeant started moving, and they all fell in line behind him. They knew where to find the Penitent part of camp themselves at this point of course, since all the camps were standardized, but they also knew that the point was more that they were accounted for than anything else. After that was done, Michael left his pack with the others, and followed the sergeant to the infirmary tent.

While most of the troops he’d seen seemed relatively fresh, the infirmary tent was full. He could see that every bed was occupied, with a large number of men actually being treated on the ground and some beds being doubled up. He saw dozens of arrow wounds, intense burns not only from magical flame, but also from what seemed to be burning oil, limbs crushed by rocks dropped from the walls, bodies smashed from high falls, and even a handful of deep slashes from long blades.

Michael resisted raising his hand to start to heal all of them at once. There were too many, and if he ran out of energy too quickly it could mean there would be some he wasn’t able to heal. He started to move toward the nearest person, a man with a shattered arm, but felt a sudden sharp pain in his neck. It ended quickly and he whipped around to see the sergeant showing the control brand on his own arm.

“Wait for the medic to give you orders.”

Michael gritted his teeth as he heard the man he was moving toward moan in agony, but waited.

The medic appeared shortly afterward, it was a lean man wearing spectacles with the sleeves of his uniform rolled up and his hands bloody.

“We’re a little too busy to be dealing with a Penitent right now Sergeant,” he said, moving quickly to one of the men on the ground and slapping his face. “Stay awake idiot, or you’ll die.”

“This Penitent is a healer, I brought him here for you to put to use.”

The bespectacled medic actually smiled for a second. “Oh, I have the perfect person for you to heal first,” he gestured for him to follow, and Michael did so, though he didn’t like being pulled away from some of those that seemed to need immediate help, he could sense that they had some time.

The medic reached a bed where a young man had his foot elevated, it seemed to have been crushed by stone, but he was otherwise unmarked.

“Good news Kaise, we have a Penitent in camp whose a healer,” said the medic with a bit of cruelness bleeding through his voice.

“What!?” said the young soldier, looking at the medic and at Michael. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

“He’ll be able to fix you up so you can get right back to storming the walls.”

Kaise started to hyperventilate, “no…no no no.”

“Go ahead and do it,” said the Medic gesturing to Michael.

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He raised a hand, feeling heat spread through it as it began to glow and moved it toward the soldier’s foot.

“No! Please don’t heal me! I can’t go back there! The man in front of me on the ladder was melted by oil for divine’s sake. Please don’t heal me!”

Michael hesitated for a moment, but felt a sharp pain in his neck again.

“Do it. This coward broke his own foot, I’m sure of it.”

Michael still hesitated, and his brand was activated again, causing him to stumble a bit. This time it wasn’t just a jolt, the medic held it active for a full minute.

“If you don’t heal him, we’ll have him executed for cowardice anyway,” said the medic, trying a different tactic.

Michael gritted his teeth and brought himself back to his feet. He touched his glowing hand to the young man’s foot and felt it as the bones were moved back into place after reforming.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured as he pulled his hand away.

The young man wept.

“Good,” said the medic. “Now that he’s done you can start on this end and work your way to the tent exit. These over here have the most minor injuries.”

Michael nodded, moving on to the next injury. He could hear the young soldier weeping until he finished with the last wounded and left the tent.

…

When he was done Michael made his way to the other Penitents feeling physically and emotionally drained. He’d managed to heal everyone in the infirmary, but their injuries had been horrible and seeing them so close had taken a toll on him. He found the others all standing around holding bows and firing them at a target nearly one-hundred feet away. He watched as Marcus drew back a string and let one fly where it sailed perfectly into the center of the target. That was no surprise, he was near as competent with a bow as he was with his rifle. What was surprising was when it was Davi’s turn and he made the exact same shot, his arrow nearly sinking into Marcus’s.

Michael whistled. “Damn, good shot.”

Davi held his bow out to him. “You give it a try.”

Michael held up a hand shaking his head. “No, I think we all know that would be the best way for me to somehow kill Bayle across the camp and get us all executed.”

“Seriously, give it a shot,” said Davi gesturing again with the bow.

Michael sighed and took the bow and the arrow. The bow was normal, but the arrow felt strange. Light and solid in a way he didn’t expect. He looked at it closer seeing faint gold letters drift off the feathers on the back of it. It was one of the arrows made using the Carrion King's feathers. He frowned and notched the arrow. He aimed at the target, then drew back the bowstring and loosed it.

It hit the target, landing just a couple of inches above Davi and Marcus’s arrow.

“Hot damn!” said Michael, it was the best shot he’d ever managed. “These were made with the vulture’s feathers?”

“Almost makes it worth hauling the stinking thing all this way, yes?” asked Pyotr.

“Almost,” replied Michael with a smile as he handed the bow back to Davi. He wondered what would happen with the rest of the beast. Its beak and talons would definitely make fearsome weapons as well if the feathers from it had this kind of impact. It didn’t seem likely that any of them would ever see the benefits of its materials though. He was surprised they were even getting to use some of its feathers.

“Is Bayle still in the command tent?” asked Michael as he found a place to sit.

Ollie was juggling small balls of light, lazily making them drift hand to hand. “Yeah, he came out for a second to call the under-general a moron, then went back in.”

Michael raised an eyebrow.

“He wants to take the castle himself,” said Crick who was sharpening the tip of his spear. “That’s why we’ve got all these fresh faces around here. They just got fresh troops and a resupply. He thinks now that he has new bodies he can make another go.”

“Wouldn’t it save a lot more time and effort to try Bayle’s plan and see if it works?” asked Davi.

“He wants the win,” said Pyotr. “Wants to have it all to himself.” He chuckled. “I knew many men like this back home.”

Michael nodded, he was familiar with that type himself. Wasn’t quite as high stakes in an office as it was in a warzone though.

As if summoned by their conversation, Bayle appeared with a look of annoyance on his face. “Stay armored. We’re going to be leaving for the entrance to the sewage line in an hour.”

Ollie let out a groan, “Fuuuck.”

“The fool is going to start running men into the wall again tomorrow morning. He refuses to wait for us. Either we do this tonight, or we lose hundreds of men in the morning.” He ground his teeth, his jaw clenched tightly. “Eat something and get what rest you can. I’ll try to get you something else that will help give us the energy to get this done.”

He left, heading toward the infirmary.

“What do you think he meant by that?” asked Michael.

“I hope it’s fantasy cocaine,” replied Marcus notching another arrow and taking aim at the target.