Stolen Lives: A LitRPG/GameLit Novel (The Underhill Chronicles Book 1) by Keith Ahrens (interesting novels to read .TXT) 📕

the duration…. You'll have to heal the other two as best you can,” she replies with a skeptical look. She digs into her pouch and produces two small healing stones. “I have very few left, so use them wisely, yet sparingly.”

“Thank you, and good luck.”

“I need none of your luck, I have skill,” she says, full of deliberate condescension, but with a small smile to take the sting out of it.

She turns and kneels next to Nian and speaks quietly with him. As she does this, she dips her index finger into the pooling blood at his abdomen. She then uses the blood to draw sigils on his forehead, chest, and stomach. I leave her to her craft and get to work on my own patients.

I gently ask Miles to move aside, and I pull out a small penlight from my trauma pack. In the glow of the dim light, I inspect Jimmy's arm. The tourniquet seems to be holding, and he's dozing fitfully on the bench while leaning against the front wall. His pulse is still strong in his one remaining wrist, so I turn to Miles. “He's doing okay right now. Nian is worse off so we gotta fix him before we can work on Jimmy, but we can't do anything while we're in motion. Can you keep an eye on him?”

“Sure. I'll yell if anything changes. I'm weaponless right now, but let me know what I can do to help,” he offers.

Vince is stretched out on the bench, asleep on his back. I nudge him and call his name, but he doesn't move. He's got a strong pulse at his neck, but his breathing is shallow and uneven. I pull his eyelids open one at a time and see the right pupil is dilated. I pick up his helmet and find a large dent to the right temple area. I pull off my gauntlets and run my hands over his head. I immediately find a small lump and dark bruising on the right side of his head. Dammit.

Grabbing his wrist, I see his tat is a dark grey and fading toward black even as I watch. Pressing a thumb to his wrist, his sheet pops up. I hear Miles gasp behind me, but I ignore him. His page shows me he’s unconscious and low on Hit Points with the words ‘Crippled' and ‘Near Death' next to it. That’s not good, but it confirms what I'm seeing.

As far as I can tell without a CT scan, he's bleeding in his brain, either where he was hit or where the brain rebounded off the opposite side of his skull.

Luckily, with healing magic at my hands, I don't need to know these details, just that there's an injury in his head. Magic will do the rest. Just like, well, er… magic.

I glance out the open back door and see we still have a small amount of time. Kneeling, I reach over and place one of the stones against the hematoma (the lump) on Vince's head. I remember what Des said about going slow and it not being as taxing, so I relax my breathing and begin to concentrate.

I try to let the healing energy out in a slower, more controlled manner. It seems to want to fight me, like it all just wants to rush out and get the job done—do what it was created to do.

I impose a little more willpower and feel the magic draw toward his right temple area. The closer I get, the more pressure I begin to feel in my own head. I let a little more magic slip free, and the pressure lessens. I try to hold it steady like this for a few more minutes until I feel no pain and no pressure. I let a little more magic loose, and it flows out undirected, like there is nothing left for it to do. I clamp down on the flow of magic to stop it and open my eyes. I realize I'm out of breath and almost panting, sweat dripping down my face.

Okay, it’s still a rough ending, but not as bad as before. I check Vince's head and feel the lump is gone. His pupils both react normally, and his breathing seems much more regular. He wakes with a start and tries to sit up, but I stop him with a hand to his chest.

“What the hell happened? Where are we?” he sputters.

“You’re okay. Relax. You took a nasty wound to the head and were out of it for a bit. We're in a wagon, making our escape, and there's a group chasing us. Just rest for now; I'll keep watch.” He nods with a bit of reluctance and lies back down. He soon drifts into a more natural sleep. I spy his wrist and see his tat has gone back to a full, bright red.

Glancing at the healing stone in my hand, I note that its colors have dulled and darkened, but it remains intact. Even better, I can still feel a good bit of energy within it.

Next item on the agenda is to check on Thorn and Nian.

The light is dim in the back of the wagon, even with the door tied open. But amid the subdued light, I can still see Nian's color looks terrible. His skin is a sickly blue-gray, and I don't see his chest rising at all. Hoarfrost coats his dark fur, and ice crystals have formed in the clotted blood. Thorn is kneeling next to him and swaying with the rocking of the wagon. I really hope she is up for this because Nian does not look good. I need to trust her and her magic, mainly because I have no choice. Then again, her track record for magical healing is very impressive, so there's that.

I gather up my bow and set an arrow to the string as I step back to the door. Going to a knee once more, I get a good look