26 - Bath

  An older healer stumbled, tripping and falling to the floor. The earthenware bowls he carried on a tray teetered and clattered to the floor with him, and though they didn’t quite break open, their contents spilled over the floor haphazardly.

  Luka’s head whipped towards the sound. Everyone froze. Well, not quite everyone. Tamsin acted with the instincts of a soldier, placing herself between the healer and Luka. She reached a hand down to help him up.

  “S-sorry,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

  “It’s okay,” the knight said, keeping one eye on the monster as she helped him to his feet.

  Bran and Garrick were ready for the breakdown. Their hands rested on their weapons. And Luka…did nothing.

  He rumbled. He blinked and frowned. He huffed and shook his head, clearly bothered by the noise. But he did nothing.

  “Luka,” Maeve said quietly.

  He turned back, offering up his arm one more time for her to finish unraveling the bandages on his arm. Garrick and Bran stepped up to her side just in case, but Garrick noted the way Luka’s eyes immediately locked onto the sweets again, intent.

  “It’s like training a damn dog,” someone muttered.

  An apt description. It was like training a damn dog. Better, it was working.

  “What’s the damage?” Maeve whispered to the healer.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s all gone. Everything we made to make sure the infection doesn’t come back.”

  Maeve’s jaw tightened. Luka seemed to sense her change in mood. If he were truly a dog, Garrick thought, his ears would be pinned to his head. The monster tensed slightly. Maeve forced herself to relax, a steady smile back on her face as she continued to unwrap the arm.

  “Can we make more?” Bran asked.

  “We can,” Maeve said.

  “But not in time,” another finished for her. “It takes time to measure, crush, and mix. We had it all prepared last night because we knew he wouldn’t sit still for an extended amount of time.”

  “We just have to find an alternative,” she said.

  “What alternative? What do we need to do?” Garrick asked softly, careful not to get too close.

  Maeve looked up at him grimly. “We need a bath.”

  Garrick blinked. “You’re not serious.”

  “Very,” Maeve said, turning back in time to notice Luka tilting in his stool, nose wrinkling. “Sit still, Luka. Or I’ll eat one of those.”

  She paused in her work and pointed to the sweet treats before pointing to her own mouth. Luka shook his head, grumbling unhappily. His arm tensed and he winced slightly as Maeve touched a tender spot on his arm.

  “This is pointless to argue about,” Maeve said, her voice maintaining strained positivity, “but if you must know, cleaning the wounds are essential to making sure he doesn’t get sick again, and we learned at the academy that wounds are susceptible to-”

  Garrick held up a hand and quickly ordered, “Tamsin, Bran, help the healers get the bath prepared. I’m assuming you have one in here?”

  “Of course,” one of the elder healers sniffed before running off to get things prepared.

  Garrick leaned over Maeve again. “If I'm right about this, five sweet treats is not a worthy deal. Think he’ll protest?”

  “If he does, I have a backup,” Maeve said. “In that cupboard, find my satchel.”

  Garrick did as she asked. The cupboard smelled faintly of herbs and something sweet. As he pulled out the satchel and peered inside, his brow raised in confusion at first and then absolute disbelief.

  “You’re joking,” he said.

  “Hey, I don’t joke about licorice. I’m making a sacrifice here,” Maeve pouted.

  The last of the bandages unrolled from Luka’s arm, and he pulled it back and flexed it experimentally, chains rattling. Each movement was stiff, each flex pulling at the twisting scars along his body. In the natural light of the infirmary, it looked even more devastating.

  The scars weren’t uniform - they never were. Twisted, puckered skin climbed up towards his shoulder in raised, jagged ribbons where the flesh had once split and boiled. Some patches gleamed faintly, still raw and tender. Angry red. Others were waxy, not quite pale, stretched tight. Blisters had long since burst, leaving behind ripples and ridges that clawed across his body like grasping hands.

  “Damn,” Tamsin breathed, pausing as she passed by with a bucket under one arm.

  Damn was right. How could someone survive something like that?

  But before Garrick could linger on the thought, Maeve quietly said, “I’m starting on his torso. By the time I'm finished, he’ll want his reward. Then, we’ll have to move him straight to the bath. I’ll try to move slowly, but I can’t move too slow.”

  Right. No time for thinking.

  It took a miracle to get the bath ready in time, and a brilliant suggestion from Tamsin.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “I’ve never been asked to use fire magic to heat a bath before,” Lyndon asked, slightly amused as he moved into the infirmary.

  He glanced at the thin partition they’d set up between the bath and the monster, not wanting him to be further spooked by the new movements. They’d moved quietly but efficiently. Maeve had distracted him with one of the sweets a little earlier than finished.

  “Rather fascinating, this,” he said as he rolled up his sleeve and leaned down, placing a palm on the surface of the water. “Only months ago, I was helping plan the demise of that thing. Now, I’m preparing its bath.”

  Garrick shrugged. “And all this for a few measly answers. I tell you, sometimes I wonder…”

  He trailed off. Lyndon looked up sharply.

  “High Commander?” he asked. “Everything okay?”

  Garrick blinked, but before he could answer, Bran poked his head around the partition.

  “Maeve’s finished up. We need to do this now,” he said.

  Garrick nodded. Lyndon straightened and shook the water off his hand.

  “The water is perfectly warm, not hot. Just as requested,” he said.

  “Want to stay?” Garrick asked. “We could use the extra hands if this gets messy.”

  Lyndon shrugged. “I would, but I’m not certain our friend would take it all too kindly to seeing a new face just yet, especially if this is all new.”

  “Good point,” Garrick said.

  “I’ll stay the other side of the door, though, just in case.”

  Garrick nodded before stepping to the other side of the partition. There, he found Maeve handing Luka the remaining four sugar fruits. He devoured them greedily, one foot tapping happily on the leg of the stool as Tamsin and Bran kept watch nearby. Before the last one could disappear completely, Maeve reached into her satchel and held out a piece of licorice.

  “And an extra treat, for being well-behaved,” she said temptingly.

  Smart, Garrick thought. She was making sure to let him have a taste before offering him the rest.

  Luka eyed the candy, sniffing. The sweetness was not as potent as the sugar candy, and so it did not seem to appear as tantalizing. His nose wrinkled, uncertain.

  “It’s good,” Maeve insisted. “See?”

  She pulled off a piece and popped it in her mouth, exaggerating the sounds of delight as she chewed.

  “Mmm! It’s good! Garrick, would you like some?” she asked.

  Seeing her intentions, Garrick rumbled, “Don’t mind if I do.”

  He pulled off another piece and put it in his mouth. It had been a long while since he ate candy like this, and the sweetness was quite overwhelming, but he smiled and chewed.

  “Mm, sergeant, would you like some as well?”

  Tamsin shrugged. “Why not?”

  She reached for the licorice. Horror suddenly dawned in Luka’s eyes as he watched the candy piece getting smaller and smaller. He quickly snatched it from Maeve’s hand and stuffed it into his mouth before the knight captain could even touch it, glaring wildly at her like a squirrel hoarding nuts. But the glare quickly turned to surprise. His eye widened, the scars on the other side of his face stretching with it, and he whipped back to look at Maeve as he chewed. When he swallowed, a look of pure awe crossed his features and he sat back, catching his tongue between his teeth.

  He tapped and cupped his hands, holding them out as if to ask for more.

  “No more,” Maeve said, shaking her head.

  His tongue darted back into his mouth and he glowered, huffing.

  “Not yet,” Maeve insisted.

  She pointed to the bath, where the healers had quietly removed the partition. The warm water was too cool to steam gently, but it was still and inviting nonetheless. Luka, frowned. Garrick had that same sense from earlier. Like a dog when it pinned its ears back. Unhappy.

  “Clean,” Maeve told him. “You need to be clean.”

  She stood and crossed to the bath. There, she rolled up her sleeve, dipped it into the water, and pulled it out again. She accepted a cloth from another and wiped gently at the skin before showing it to Luka.

  “See? It doesn’t hurt.”

  Luka still looked unconvinced. But the reply came quicker than in the cell. He huffed and tapped five again.

  “Five licorice?” Maeve squeaked, dropping the cloth in surprise.

  Garrick choked back a laugh. That was almost her entire stash.

  “What about three?” she asked, tapping the number out against the side of the tub.

  But Luka, both emboldened by the sweets and anxious at the sight of the bath, tapped at five again, insistent. Maeve pouted.

  “It’s for a good cause,” Garrick told her.

  “Says the man who doesn’t have to spend his whole month’s savings on a few strands of licorice,” she grumbled.

  “I’ll buy you more,” Garrick told her. “Come on. Agree to it before he changes his mind.”

  Maeve sighed heavily and nodded.

  It wasn’t easy. Bran and Tamsin both had to watch him carefully as he hopped off the stool. The chains rattled as he shuffled over. At a nod from Garrick, the other healers quickly filed out of the room. He didn’t want more than a few people here in case something went wrong. Bran, Tamsin, and himself would be enough to hold him off. Should be.

  As soon as Luka got to the water’s edge, he pulled away, shoulders slumping at the sight of the water. But Maeve set the licorice sticks out like last time in full view. As soon as Luka showed any signs of not cooperating, she snatched up a piece of licorice and held it near her mouth.

  “Just try it, sir. I dare you,” she said vehemently.

  Luka rumbled, but when Bran began to nervously undo the ankle shackles, he didn’t move an inch, eye fixed on Maeve.

  Maeve and Tamsin only turned away once to give him privacy while undressing. Luka tensed as Maeve did so, making sure to keep her hand and the tightly clutched licorice in sight as Bran helped him undress and step into the water. The sensation made his skin twitch and tremble, but he sat. And he waited.

  “That…was easier than expected,” Maeve breathed, turning back around.

  “As much as I agree with that statement, I think we had better start before he decides to revolt for that candy,” Garrick said in warning.

  “Oh, right,” she said.

  And then, they began. Bran and Tamsin helped. Garrick hovered nearby, hand on his sword just in case something happened.

  But nothing did.

  Even as he twitched and flinched, snarled at the new sensations and bared his teeth when Bran moved into his blindspot without warning, he never attacked. Garrick should’ve been relieved it was going so smoothly. Instead, a tightness started beneath his ribs and spread to his chest. An uncertainty.

  Why was this working? By all logical means this shouldn’t be working at all. Even as Luka was bathed, nose twitching and huffing as Maeve ran a damp cloth over his back, paying careful attention to his healing wounds, Garrick expected far more hostility. The same when the healer tripped and they began to move differently. The same when they were walking the damn thing here. So many moments where things could have gone wrong - should have gone wrong - and didn’t.

  Why was this sitting so wrong?

  A memory of Luka’s eyes - practically glowing behind his pitch black mask as he brought hell to the battlefield - suddenly surged to the fore. He remembered the acrid stench of chaos magic, the heat of battle and the rising dread in his chest. The Monster of Savidor. He had taken hundreds of lives without a damn thought. Garrick had watched him do it. Friends, family, people he knew - all cut down by this monster.

  This monster, who now sat shivering like a drowned puppy on the stool Tamsin had dragged over from the other room, chewing on licorice while Maeve now carefully dried his wounds and reapplied the bandages. Garrick could only stare, his hand never leaving the hilt of his sword once. His other hand pulled at the cord around his neck and clutched the medallion.