Guided by the Elder, Kyan and Neyra travelled throughout the village saving everyone they could. Kyan unleashed his telekinetic magic, shifting and launching debris and extinguishing flames. Soon an entourage of villagers gathered behind them, rescuing their injured after Kyan set them free.
The injured were escorted over to edge the of the village, where an improvised camp was beginning to be established, housing all the surviving natives as well as any recovered livestock, rations and resources. The camp took the shape of a circle, filled with sprouting makeshift tents and surrounded by a protective perimeter of warriors and body-abled men and women, who Kyan imagined with keeping an eye out for whatever caused this destruction, in case it decided to return.
Kyan followed the Elder over to the centre of the camp, where the injured were being held and treated, seemingly by any villager able to offer aid no matter how medically qualified they were. From experienced medics sowing wounds shut and tying broken limbs into splinters, to others just disinfecting and applying pressure to deep gashes and lacerations and some, even children, just holding and transporting bandages and other medical supplies readily.
An abrupt, gritted cry drew Kyan's attention. He turned to find a women working on a man, who was in what could only be considered critical condition. He winced and thrashed with pained gasps every time the woman attempted to help. Kyan could tell from one glance his injuries were fatal, however, this did not deter the woman, as she desperately tried to remedy his injuries. From her tearful and heart wrenched struggles, Kyan guessed she was family, wife or sister maybe?
The man's entire body was burnt and shredded as if he'd been ravaged by an ablaze bear. However, the main issue was his right leg. It was a twisted, gruesome mess which was leaking a dangerous volume of blood and showed more muscle and bone than skin. And speaking of the bone, not a single one was intact. His femur was snapped completely, splintering up, and his tibia and fibula were completely shattered. In summary he didn't long left, a minute at most.
Kyan crouched down by the medic's side, but in her distraught she didn't acknowledge his presence.
"Are you sure about this?" Neyra asked, sensing his ambition. She joined him down on the ground. "This is a drastic injury, and your capability is still far off perfect, you could cause more harm than good"
"He's dead either way," Kyan said. "At least this way he has a chance."
"I was referring to you. Healing magic is no exception to the laws of magic, if cast incorrectly it can deliver catastrophic recoil to the mage. An injury of this magnitude, you could accidently kill yourself," Neyra said sternly.
"Then what do you suggest?" Kyan snapped. "That I do nothing?"
"No. I'm saying make your head is screwed on straight or not only will you kill yourself but everyone else in the camp," Neyra replied, in such a sombre tone, a cold shiver danced down Kyan's spine.
Kyan silently nodded and unclipped the tome from his waist. His eyes dropped down to the relic, as he prepared himself. Its black, leather skin and gold, metallic spine and edges were worn and ancient through centuries of use. Engraved into the cover, in amethyst gems, was the family crest, millennia old however, now lost to time. A shattered star encased in a cracked ring.
Wasting no time, he began channelling mana around his body allowing it to form a continuous circuit and convert his body and soul into what Neyra liked to call a 'magic battery'. It drew a constantly from incorporeal organ at the centre of his body called a mana soul. An organ he still didn't truly understand. It allowed him to control the flow of his mana and therefore utilise his magic and cast spells.
Just as he had when using telekinesis, Kyan allowed his magic to flow out from inside his body. He guided it directly into the tome held within his hands.
The easiest way to understand what a tome represented to a mage, that Kyan had found, was that it was similar to a multi-use mechanical appliance. Neyra had to explained to him as, his body and soul where the power source that provides mana, the tome is a device that allows mages to easily channel their mana in specific ways and techniques to perform vast and various amounts of functions, said functions being spells.
A faint purple glow appeared around the relic's edges. Suddenly like it had been possessed, it began to levitate up from his hands and floated before him in the air, like it was being held by unseen hands. The tome burst open, and its pages rapidly flipped back and forth. Eventually it halted and snapped open wide. The pages depicted the ancient, cryptic runes, belonging to the old language of Primordia. Each word was inscribed with pure magic, capable of bringing forth unimaginable, reality bending phenomena, to give birth to life and just as easily steal it away.
Kyan released more mana from his body, he felt his magic engulf his body like invisible armour. It pushed against the atmosphere and soon the same violet glow coated his skin, and his attire and hair began to ripple like wind was constantly rushing through it.
Kyan held out his hands over the ravaged leg, a magenta aura burned softly around each one. Invisible, fluid-like tendrils of mana streamed out from his tome, they latched onto and cradled the man's body.
With preparation set in place, Kyan brought his breathing under control, deep and concentrated breaths flew in and out of his lungs, bringing his mind closer to serenity.
In the corner of his senses, he noticed Neyra manoeuvre round to opposite to side of their patient and placed her hands with his above the man. Instantly he his mana flow with greater efficiency and his dominance over it grow, as Neyra once again supported Kyan using her vast experience to guide the process and perfect his technique.
*Kyan we need to begin now. He's growing paler by the second.*
Kyan began. The runes along the tome's pages lit up and fed his mind the instructions. No matter how many times he'd now been through it, the experience was bizarre. It was like suddenly remembering lost memories that you never had, which was then followed by the baffling process of attempting to apply that theory with your body, that when you begin has no experience in doing so. It is true the more you practice a spell the easier it gets until its practically instant. Eventually an veteran mage won't even need to use his tome to cast a spell, but at the beginning of your journey with magic or when learning a new type of spell it felt like a borderline impossible task.
This was by no means the first time Kyan had utilised his healing magic but by no means would he class himself as experienced, nor had he ever worked on such a critical wound.
The spell's knowledge filled his mind guiding his actions. With pure determination and ambition, Kyan manipulated his magic it began to sow the small cuts and lacerations which stained the man's entire body back together, rebuilding muscle and flesh and healing bruised skin. Once the minor injuries were remedied, he turned his attention to the true monumental task, the gruesome appendage that was once a leg. Kyan's tendrils began to shift muscle and bone, as they dissolved into the limb.
The man cried out in pain, he suddenly began to twist and jerk in resistance to the invisible force. It took everything ounce of concentration and grit Kyan possessed to maintain control over the spell. Sweat began to stream down the mage's skin and his hands trembled as the strain continued grow with the man's violent thrashing.
"Tiginu!" the Elder bellowed. Instantly two men arrived by Kyan's side and restrained their fellow native.
As soon as the spell was no longer at risk, Kyan got back to work without delay. He began with the bones, shifting the misaligned and shattered pieces back into position, fusing the cracks and gaps back together until eventually the leg's foundation was whole once more.
Kyan gave himself a moment. Through a soft smile he released a relieved sigh, even if he stopped treatment now the man would most likely live, now his femur wasn't snapped and piercing through muscle and blood vessels.
*Stay focused,* Neyra ordered. *Loose concentration and you could just as easily tear the man's leg apart rather than mending it back together.*
Kyan's lips tightened. She was right, there was still a job to do and a man's life at stake, he couldn't afford to fault now. Steadily and thoroughly he streamed his mana into the tome, providing adequate fuel for the spell. He rebuilt the limb layer by layer, from muscle to fat to skin, making sure to integrate blood vessels throughout the leg filled with enough crimson life force to ensure survival.
By the time he was finished, Kyan felt like he'd been working for hours when in reality not even a single minute had passed. Sweat made his skin glisten and his hair damp, transforming it from ash blonde to a dark gold. With an exhausted breath he collapsed back and embraced the refreshing, cold air.
"Not bad Ky," Neyra whistled. "Not bad at all."
Kyan looked down at his work. A grin forced its way upon his face. The leg looked brand new, its hairless skin looked a tad weird beside his other leg but apart from that it was perfect. In fact the man's entire body was healed, as if he'd never been caught in the surrounding destruction, and it had even regained a healthy glow.
The native man's body shuddered, and his breathing returned to a stable rate. His eyes slowly opened, as if he was waking from a peaceful rest. A smile cracked across his face as he locked eyes upon his fellow native villagers. The women who'd originally been caring for the man burst into tears and collapsed upon him into a loving embrace.
Kyan stepped back towards the Elder giving the villagers some space and privacy.
The Elder's gentle hand grasped hold of his arm.
"Qujanaq," she said.
*Thank you,* Neyra translated into his mind.
"Erm … Your welcome," Kyan replied. Neyra quickly translated his words, hopefully without his awkwardness.
Suddenly, Kyan found himself pulled into a constricting embrace. The female medic had wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug.
"Qujanaq! Qujanaq! Qujanaq!" the woman wept joyfully.
Kyan's body seized up, baffled on what to do. Eventually he ended just lightly patting the woman on the back until she released him. He caught a glimpse of Neyra struggling to stifle her laughter and instantly shot her a glare
One of issues with spending your life alone with only a spectral girl as company is absolutely atrocious social skills. While he could easily handle normal conversation, well he liked to think he could Neyra would argue otherwise, anything spontaneous or unusual would expose his true social ineptness. Or as Neyra liked to phrase it.
*Weirdo,* she grinned.
Ignoring her and composing himself he turned to the village Elder.
"Neyra ask if there anyone who needs our help," Kyan said.
"Are you sure?" she asked, concern leaking into her voice. "That healing spell was greater than any one you've cast before. You'll need some time to recover."
"I can handle it," he said.
With slight apprehension, Neyra nodded and turned to translate his words.
A smile spread the Elder's wrinkles but then she shook her head before calmly replying to Neyra.
"She thanks us for our offer … but says we've done more than enough. They can handle their people themselves from here on," Neyra informed.
Kyan glanced around, the camp and regrettably the Elder's words were true. Anyone who was as critical as the man he'd just saved had unfortunately passed before Kyan could reach them. The remaining injured were stable and could be resolved by the village's supplies.
The Elder continued to converse with Neyra.
"As a … I think thank you … yes! As a thank you they wish to offer us whatever they can. Food, water, shelter for the night."
Kyan glanced around saw the desperation and anguish of the villagers. He had no desire to take anything from them, when they'd already lost so much.
"I appreciate the offer but no thank you," Kyan stated. "But ask her about one last thing. What in the hell caused all this?"
Neyra repeated his words and instantly the Elder's expression turned dark.
Inomed was the only word Kyan managed to pick out from their conversation, due to the Elder's grave tone when voicing it.
"Daemons," Neyra said sternly.
"How is that possible?" Kyan questioned. "Daemons haven't walked the plain of Mazica for over a thousand years."
"I don't know. They were meant to have been sealed away millennia ago." Neyra said. "But she's certain the creatures that attacked them were the same from the legends of the ancestors. The same horrors from stories they tell to scare the children."
"She said daemons? How many?" Kyan asked pushing aside his scepticism. After everything he'd witnessed, Kyan knew better than most than to declare a scenario like this as impossible, no matter how outlandish. In a world like Mazica, such a plain of thought ascended by foolishness.
"Three," Neyra answered. "They managed to fend them off, but by then hell had already rained down upon them."
Kyan's brows crunched together, and his hand scratched through his hair like it always did when he assembled his thoughts.
"I'm unfamiliar with the species of hellspawn. How do you think I'll fair against three daemons?" he asked Neyra.
"When it comes to daemons it can be subjective, their abilities and strength can vary as much as mankind. But if this village was able to fend them off then the daemons are probably nothing more than foot soldiers. You should be able to handle it."
"Should? I was hoping for a more confident answer," Kyan grumbled, "but it's better than nothing … Fuck it. It has been a while since I made an enemy of a different species, let's go daemon hunting."
Neyra smiled and turned back to the Elder. The old women's eyes lit up, completely stunned. She then turned and gestured out towards the woodlands behind her, but then to Kyan's confusion the women's expression suddenly turned stern again.
"Alright we've got both good and bad news," Neyra announced. "Good news, we know which way the daemons went."
"And the bad news?"
"It's in the direction of the next closest village."
A powerful huff burst from his chest. "Shit," Kyan cursed beneath his breath. He instantly turned and marched off towards the woods. "Let's get moving."
A white flash lit up the night as he brandished his silver straight sword. The blade dropped low, carving a trail through the snow as he strode forward.
The sudden passionate bellows of the Elder brought him and Neyra to a stunned halt. They turned to speaking to everyone in the village. They all turned their gaze to Kyan in unison. Suddenly they all began to cheer and chant raising their fists and weapons high into the air. Kyan and Neyra jolted back in surprise.
'Some kind of tradition or ceremony?' Kyan questioned.
*I have no idea. I think they're calling you their saviour. You should probably say something,* Neyra responded.
Damn, she was right. But what the hell did he say to people who he couldn't communicate with. Kyan stuck up a thumb with his free hand, before quickly marching back towards the wood.
Neyra burst out laughing at his side.
*Weirdo.*