Chapter 27
Note: I need you to use some imagination picture-wise when reading about a certain blanket. :P
April 10th - Grythen
Kismette
The tenth day of April blew a gentle breeze on her cheek. Kismette stuck her head out of the window of the army’s infirmary and looked at the endless blue sky lovingly. It was so clear she thought she could see right through to heaven. Distant shouts of command and simultaneous stamping of heavy boots rang out from the training ground at the other end of The Academy, and she pondered briefly if Zaelem was one of the soldiers there on the field, marching under the blazing sun.
Her task at hand was completed without a hitch. Healing real patients had not been that bad. In fact, it felt so natural to be healing that she didn’t have to give much thought to it. Jeremy reminded her again and again to conserve her energy but she couldn’t resist letting the suffering chap recover fully. The army lads never complained about their pain, but their faces couldn’t hide it.
“Closing their wounds will be more than enough to hasten their recuperation,” Jeremy nudged her hand away from the soldier. “Make sure that you’re still in control and can restrain your ability if need be,” he had warned, “You don’t want to be healing somebody when you don’t intend to.”
Kismette tried to repress the small, defiant voice sowing dissidence in the far corners of her mind. She didn’t want Jeremy to think she was disobedient or, worse, insolent, but she couldn’t help thinking that maybe she knew better than he did. It felt dissatisfying to stop the instinctive flow of her magic, and she wondered if people thought she was incompetent.
The head nurse of the army’s infirmary went over to shake hands with her mentor. She watched as the nurse thanked him for bringing the healer over and they chatted for a while.
Kismette let out a deep breath. Everything went well, it seemed, and it was time to go.
One of the patient sat up suddenly and shouted, “What do we say, warriors?”
“Thank you, Mistress Larazest!” the rest of them answered, “Goodbye, Mistress Larazest! Have a nice day, Mistress Larazest! We love you, Mistress Larazest!”
The chant ended with a blend of wolf whistles, laughter and clapping. Kismette widened her eyes and covered her throat in surprise. She stood there dumbly, not knowing what else to do, or say, other than to match the brightness of the grins on their faces. Jeremy laughed and patted her back comfortingly, indicating a job well done.
As they exited the ward, Jeremy stopped in his tracks suddenly as a thought came to him. “Why don’t you try healing terminally ill patients in another two days? You seem to have quite a gift in healing.”
“I do?” Kismette asked excitedly, looking down to hide her smile.
“It’s okay to be happy and feel proud of yourself, child. You did something great today,” Jeremy smiled in his grandfatherly way. “The few healers I’ve ever met in my life took months of training to have as good a flow of energy as yours. But along with increment of outflow, they had very good control of their power, which is something you need to keep in check.”
"Okay, Jeremy," Kismette sighed softly.
I am meant to heal.
Evelynn
Oh, bummer.
Evelynn groaned inwardly when she saw that Janice and Dollie were already in the practice room. She had hoped for some solitude in honing the techniques Mejaine taught her, the little details that would make her a cut above the rest. It certainly wouldn’t be clever to reveal these secrets to anyone else. And it irritated her even more to see that they were not using the room to practice, but to spread silly things on the floor.
Janice waved at her through the mirror while Dollie simply stared, uninterested in her appearance. “Hey, Evelynn,” Janice smiled, “Wanna buy some of our collection?”
Evelynn raised her eyebrows and gripped her music CD tighter, determined to have some decent practice for the day. “What collection?” she asked politely.
“Our Chairon collection. We’ve got quite a few repeats of these cards but we can’t bear to let his face touch trash bags,” piped the other dancetress who was twirling her black hair with a finger. Her voice was very high-pitched like a toy, and Evelynn cringed every time she had to talk to her.
“Yea, Dollie and I thought of selling them to other fans,” said Janice.
The two turned to look at each other and squealed in unison, “Spread the love!” before breaking out in giggles.
“Did… did you mean young Master Viken?” Evelynn breathed. She found herself on the floor beside the other two girls within two seconds, her CD left on the floor haphazardly.
“He likes his fans to call him Chairon,” Janice corrected her. “Here are the cards we’ve picked out. We’ve got some magazines which he was featured in, too,” the dancetress pointed to the items on the floor, keen on the business.
Evelynn poured through the forsaken articles very slowly, scrutinising at each and every one of them carefully, printing every detail of her idol’s face on her heart. Chairon was The Most Eligible Bachelor; The Best Wesarsh of The Academy; The Sexiest Man Alive for ten consecutive years. He was the essence of heart beats; the embodiment of divinity; the incarnation of Adonis.
Chairon was the hero of her world.
“I’ll take all of them,” Evelynn finally said, her eyes still glued to Chairon’s face.
Janice and Dollie exchanged glances. Slowly, grins spread across their faces.
“That will cost… a month’s salary,” Dollie squeaked in her shrill voice hesitantly.
Evelynn nodded, expecting the handful of photo cards and magazines to be worth no less. She looked at Dollie and smiled pleasantly with her eyebrows raised, as if to say, “What’s wrong with that?”
April 12th - Grythen
Kismette
Kismette bit her lower lip to prevent herself from sighing aloud. The trip to The Academy probably wouldn’t be so formal and nerve-wrecking if Master Highbridge hadn’t decided to come along to check her progress. It was the same infirmary, just a different area which she never got to explore two days ago. The elevator door opened and a woman curtseyed to them as they stepped out.
“My greetings, Master Viken, Master Highbridge and Mistress Larazest. I’m Mae, the overall in-charge of this department,” the woman said. She nodded gravely as the men bowed. Kismette followed suit and curtseyed at Mae hastily, wondering if her face could get any more sombre.
“The other two patients whom I was telling Master Viken about left us yesterday and this morning,” Mae said grimly, gesturing for them to follow her. “Luna’s grandchildren took her out, so there’s only Old Freddy left today. His sneezing never stopped even though it’s getting warmer now. I fear it might be his time soon.”
The party entered a ward and came face-to-face with the grumpiest man on earth.
“Go away, idiots. Let me die,” the old man muttered. He sneezed violently before coughing so hard it sounded like a steel pipe was stuck in his throat. The old man covered his mouth as he coughed, and then grabbed his blanket dotted in dull reddish brown. Kismette smiled at the sentimental gesture. Someone very dear to him must have gave him that.
“I sincerely apologise for any disrespect he shows. He was abandoned here by his wife and children, which probably gave him such a temper,” Mae whispered to them behind her hand. The little act of secrecy only worsened the man’s displeasure and he started spewing vulgarities at the visitors, coughing even harder with each breathe he took.
“Calm down, Freddy! She’s the healer you saw on the news the last time. They’ve come to see if there’s anything we can do for you,” Mae grabbed his hands and patted them as she spoke. Freddy threw her hands away.
Kismette stepped forward and smiled, confident and eager to prove her capability to Deinja. “Hi, Freddy,” she said cheerily. “I’m Kismette, the healer. I’m here to help you. It won’t hurt a bit, I promise. You just have to-”
“You little muck! Do you think that I need your sympathy? Do you think that I’m a little kid who just needed some coaxing?” Fred screamed. “I don’t need this!” He covered his mouth to cough again and wiped his hands on his blanket, adding another red spot to the fabric. Kismette stared in shock at the blanket as she realized that it was not simply printed with dots and Fred was not being sentimental.
“So what if you have magic?” Fred continued his tirade. “Sure, you’re the great healer, you mend wounds. But you can never fix this pain-” he jabbed his chest forcefully at where his heart was “-right here. I don’t want to live, so stop forcing your will on others!”
“I never-”
“To hell with The Great Healer! Did you even care about how I feel? You’re just superficial like all of them-” he paused to breathe and pointed a shaky finger at Kismette, “-Su-per-fi-cial!”
The words stung profoundly like a hard slap on her face. Kismette stood quivering like a sharp high note, shrill and thin. Already, tears were gathering in her eyes.
Freddy continued shouting, but Kismette was no longer listening to him.
“Well,” Mae sighed, holding her hands together, “why don’t all of you take a break at the staff area? He’ll begin to throw his magazine or the heart rate monitor anytime soon and I won’t be able to guarantee your safety.”
Kismette swallowed as Jeremy steered her away by her shoulders. How could anyone detest a healer?
***
Jeremy handed her a cup of water. “Here, drink some water. The weather is getting warmer these days.”
Kismette took a sip, but nothing more. She shuffled uncomfortably to the window and stared through the glass soullessly.
A dark figure walked by and leaned back to see through the half-opened door before continuing his journey, as though he recognized somebody wrongly.
“Zaelem of Dragonoir!” Deinja called out. The sound of footsteps stopped. “Why are you here?”
“Zaelem?” Kismette spun around immediately.
The dark figure reappeared at the gap in the door and bowed.
“My greetings, Master Highbridge. Lunchtime,” he answered in his blank expression, averting Deinja’s eyes. “My greetings, Master Viken and Mistress Larazest.”
“And you actually have to walk past here to reach the canteen?” Deinja cut in before Jeremy or Kismette could reply.
Zaelem pushed his tongue momentarily against the inside of his cheek. “Shortcut,” he replied with a slight shrug. His gaze flickered over Kismette’s face before resting on the chessboard.
“A detour more likely,” the Segaris barked, tearing the warrior’s excuse up like a thin sheet of paper. “This direction only leads you to the stairs down to the other side of the block. Maybe you’d like to tell me what you specially came for.”
Again, Zaelem’s eyes flew to Kismette fleetingly and continued to look around in no particular interest, seemingly thinking for an answer.
At this crucial moment, a loud growl broke the uncomfortable atmosphere. Kismette gave a rueful laugh and covered her stomach. “Uh… Sorry,” she apologized in a feeble voice.
Jeremy cleared his throat. “Kismette, you may go for your meal now. Since Zaelem is going to the canteen, you can ask him to show you the way. Remember to eat well.”
Deinja stopped the interrogation, unsatisfied. Kismette bounded past him without noticing his displeasure.
“You gonna have lunch too?” she turned her bright eyes on Zaelem.
The warrior nodded dumbly. He had wanted to apologize for being mean to her the last time they talked at the corridor outside her apartment, but it seemed like she had cleanly forgotten about it. It seemed a lifetime ago since they last talked to each other.
“Great! Bring me out to eat. I haven’t ventured much in Grythen yet!” Kismette shook her fists excitedly while Zaelem widened his eyes and opened his mouth to reject the idea. Before any words of protest could escape his throat, she quickly grabbed his wrist and dragged him down the corridor.
So sorry for the long wait! I hope this chapter didn't disappoint. :) Anyway, I kinda realised that I may have to put up hiatus regularly, according to my school timetable. Gosh, I wonder how long this story is going to take to complete. 8|
And, of course, a little picspam is in due. ;)
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Next: Chapter 28