Free Healer's Ruin by Chris O'Mara Page B

mind wanders forever in this glorious delirium of unearthly power.
    But then he felt the world of magic staring back at him, clasping his soul, and there was a sensation of a chain pulling taut. Then he felt energy buzz in his arms, running down to his fingers. When his eyes opened they were blazing with intent.
    The corporal gasped in genuine awe and the half-castes gathered round to watch as the limbs of the wounded Riln man began to reshape, the bruises began to flatten and the blood began to dry and flake away. It was miraculous. But Chalos could not share in their amazement. He was now a conduit, his thinking automatic, his mind's eye conjuring images of anatomy, detailed sketches he had studied so many times that they could now be recollected effortlessly in their entirety, floating on a free axis to be applied to whatever physiological terrain was in front of him. Broken bones fused perfectly. Fractures vanished. Gouges of flesh made by knives and clubs were filled in with fresh flesh that simply slid out of the air itself, forming from tiny sparks of light.
    It took mere minutes. Chalos stepped back, letting his hands fall to his sides.
    'Great Fire-Spine Reborn!' the corporal gasped. 'Such power!'
    Clearly the corporal had never seen healing up close. This was not too much of a surprise. Officers had better things to do after a battle than wander amongst the wounded.
    Chalos walked around to the other man. Despite the dried blood and accumulated grime, he  recognised the leather armour the Riln soldier was wearing. He had been one of the archers that had assailed them as they stepped from the Doyu Basin into the Dallian Woodland. How many days had passed since then? Chalos was shocked that he could not recall. The days had blended together in the enormous forest.
    He stuck his arms out and resumed contact with his mirror. The process was faster this time as Chalos was finding his stride. Something approaching exhilaration spurred him on. The thrill of having pure magical energy course through him, leaving him untouched but affecting what lay beneath his splayed fingers, was incomparable. No pleasure of flesh could compare, nor none of the soul. Nothing born of lust or love could touch the joy of all that power coursing through his body.
    With a jerky movement he pulled his hands away. The Riln man sat up with a start, coughing and staring about with wild eyes. One of the half-castes darted forward and smashed him about the head with the butt of his sword and the man slumped back down.
    The other man, who had been healed first, was watching in shock, stammering silently. Chalos turned to meet his gaze. The healer's face was expressionless. The real world had not yet regained its edges, its colour. He was still lost to magic.
    'Now bring out the girl,' said the corporal.
    The two Riln men were dragged from the ramp and into the dark woods. Then a vullok entered the caravan, returning with a pale, naked form. Chalos blinked and swayed slightly on his feet. On some deeper level his consciousness was trying to break through the haze of magic. It failed. Mechanically, he moved over to where the Riln female was deposited and began healing her myriad wounds.
    'I am astonished, Rovann,' the corporal said. 'This one was near death. We thought her soul lost to Doggosh.'
    Doggosh. Their death-god. A bull-skeleton with a head of worms and maggots. His eyes bleed. Chalos began to repair the girl's skull. She was younger than him, but muscular. There were tattoos on her body, images of birds and dragons. Well, Krune, can Doggosh do this? Can he restore health, or merely destroy?
    She groaned and rolled onto her side, drawing her knees to her chest. Then her eyes flickered open and found the healer's.
    'Well,' she said, sourly. 'Another of your slinger dogs to be fed to the Wielder of Aphazail!'
    'Silence, Riln bitch!' the corporal hissed, clouting her with his mailed fist. She fell silent, her eyes fluttering shut.
    Chalos came to