14 – Bamir

While the order in which the seven ascended is still a subject of debate, it is widely accepted that Kestrel was the first. Caring for our ancestors when they had nothing, he fed them, protected them, and nurtured them.

Today, his Wardens hunt the monster threatening us, following their patron’s example.

Excerpt from Broad Strokes On Laikan Theology, by Enderic Aramor, Keeper of the Iron Ink.

Standing just outside Lanterne, between two patches of flowers, he rubbed his eyebrows as Ed explained for the second time how he’d gotten injured.

“You’re telling me you’ve forgotten where you put your trap, and it snapped on you?” Bamir asked.

Ed had the decency to avoid his gaze. “Yes,” he murmured.

“Good grief. What am I going to do with you?”

It wasn’t the first time the kid got himself hurt in such a stupid way. Bamir sighed, and knelt in front of his patient. His ankle was mangled, turned in a direction that shouldn’t be possible. Broken bone, great. Taking a piece of cloth out of his satchel, he handed it to Ed. “Bite down on that. It’s going to be painful.”

“I know,” Ed answered, grabbing the cloth and stuffing it in his mouth. He mumbled something. Bamir didn’t get it.

Then, he pressed his hands firmly around the broken ankle, chanted a silent prayer to Fanon, and twisted.

Ed grunted through the cloth. To his credit, he’d seen grown men react worse. Then again, despite his age, Bamir healed this boy more times than he could remember.

A cast of Stitch Bones, then Mend Flesh, and finally Accelerate Recovery, and Ed was back on his feet. He ran off immediately. “Thanks Bam, I’ll see you around.”

Bamir rubbed his eyebrows again. “Be more careful in the future.” He knew he wouldn’t.

He packed his satchel and walked back into the village.

A group had gathered near the well. Five of them, faces he knew — Mara, the two Vellin brothers, old Coster, and John. They went quiet as he approached.

“Bamir,” John said, by way of greeting.

“John.” He slowed but didn’t stop. “Everything alright?”

“Fine.” John glanced at the others. “We were just discussin’ our guest.”

“What about her?” Bamir asked.

John shrugged. “Just wonderin’ when she’s gon’ leave us be.”

He’d been expecting this. The people of Lanterne weren’t known for their warm attitude to strangers. While he himself hadn’t been the victim of this, it had taken Therion and Lara years to integrate.

Their latest stint was going to set them back a few.

He smiled. “I doubt she’ll be around for long. A few weeks, months, maybe. You’ve heard how she lost her memory.”

John spat. “Well I hope she remembers to fuck off soon. I hear she’s not even payin’.”

“All in due time, John. All in due time.” He scanned the reaction of the other four. Old Coster kept his face neutral, but Bamir knew that he agreed. Mara was annoyed, -looking for a way to disengage from the conversation. As for the brothers… He sighed. They were probably the ones who riled John up.

He wanted to put the conversation to rest, but someone else approached.

“What is this about?” It was Marick, the village’s chief. A tall, muscular man, who also happened to be the highest level among them. The only Gold rank in Lanterne.

John rolled his eyes. “Y’know what.”

Marick nodded. “I see. And what does our esteemed priest have to say about the topic?” The chief’s eyes bore into him. Bamir closed his for a second. He was pushing the responsibility onto him. A move he approved. His position was untouchable here, Marick needed the trust of his people. In any case, he was going to do the same thing.

“Fanon teaches us compassion, and to assist those in need. We ought to keep her while she recovers.”

“I thought you couldn’t heal amnesia,” Marick said.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Bamir nodded. “That is true. But I can make sure she’s in shape to journey to Esmera, where she will find more qualified help.”

The chief smiled, and turned to the others. “You’ve heard the holy man. Disperse now.”

Bamir bit his inner lip. It wouldn’t change their opinion, but it would buy some time.

Marick put a hand on his shoulder, telling him to stay behind. Once they were alone, he spoke. “I’m not as close minded as them. You know me. That’s why I allowed Therion and Lara to settle here. But this woman… Alexandra, was it? She’s weird.”

“How so?” Bamir asked, a smile on his face.

“Drop the act. You’ve noticed it too. She’s what, late twenties? Barely able to fight level one goblins? She should be at least level 10, even if she’s lazy. And by the way, she doesn’t look lazy, with how she keeps rushing off from the village.”

Bamir’s eyebrow rose. “She’s gone again?”

“Heard from Therion she was going fifty kilometers away for some reason.”

“Oh.”

If not for his respect for Fanon, Bamir would have cursed. Why couldn’t she stay put? He didn’t ask for much. Just today.

“Fifty?” He asked, just to make sure.

“Fifty.”