Iric watched as the wizard’s fingers danced across the body of the wounded man.
The mage was only a red-robed apprentice, and yet young Iric could not help but be amazed as he mended the shattered bones of the middle-aged blacksmith. White and green lights weaved between the wizard’s fingers, lancing out like threads, tying shut the gushing leg wound. For Iric, it was all beautiful, mystical nonsense.
The older man had been at his forge when the roof beams had collapsed down upon him. The massive timbers had pinned the man to the ground by the waist and thighs. The man’s son Burhred—a village nuisance—had run for help and only found the fledgling watchman.
Iric had done his best. He managed—with help, of course—to get the heavy beams off the dying man. But the extent of the man’s peril was only revealed afterwards. The blacksmiths femur and knee were shattered, the bones ripped out of their fleshy casing. The blood…the blood ran like a river. It was more inner human content than Iric had ever seen. He had felt dispirited and hopeless about the man’s survival.
That was, until Aldwyn the wizard apprentice had arrived and promptly went to work. Now the blacksmith’s bones and blood were being returned to his body in a magical dance of green and white sprites. As far as Iric knew, the lights were little faeries doing the work with little faery hands.
Aldwyn’s attention was fixed on the wounded man; he did not flinch or even seem to blink. The wizard was sweating heavily in the residual heat of the forge. Iric wiped the mage’s brow as he frantically works. It was all he knew he could do.
Iric didn’t like feeling so helpless. He determined to learn more about healing and medicine in the future.
“He’s stable now,” Aldwyn said, leaning back and breathing heavily. “He will probably be unconscious for a good while. He body needs to shed the ambient magics before it can recover its strength. And he still has a lot of internal trauma…that is much harder to mend with magic and beyond my abilities. But his body can take care of itself from here on.”
“Thank you, thank you milord!” Burhred said with tears in his eyes.
“I’m no lord, kid. Just a wizard doing his job.”
“The sentiment is not misplaced, though,” Iric added.
“You deserve some of the credit, watchman,” Aldwyn said. “If you hadn’t dragged him from the forge, I wouldn’t have been able to keep up the necessary effort. We’re lucky the whole place didn’t go up in flames.”
“I wish I could have done more myself…”
“If you’d like, I could come by the watchhouse and give you guys some first aid tips.”
Iric stared into the older wizard’s greyish-blue eyes. Most wizards he had met were aloof, or kept their noses so high they didn’t notice the people on the ground. He thought it would be good for the watch to have a mage they could rely on.
“Sure,” Iric said. “I think that would be nice.”
Previous volumes of “The Adventures of Iric” can be found here: