Chapter Seven
Darkness was the first thing that pervaded her senses. Blindly she groped around. Her pallet, the smooth wood of the floor beneath it, and the smell of pond scum greeted her. Ah, she was on the boat. Above it all was the pungent odor of sickness. Lucy suppressed a gag as she felt for the rough material of Laxus' travelling bag. With satisfaction she located it and extricated the smooth orb. At her touch its dim light subtly brightened to fill the small enclosed space.
"Oh Laxus," she whispered, slicking back some of the hair that fell in his face as he was sick. The man was weakly holding himself up on one elbow to keep himself out of it. So this was what had woken her. When he was done, she helped him sit up and cleaned him up a bit with the unsoiled edge of the bedding. It would have to be washed, anyway, she reasoned.
"Water," he croaked. Lucy jumped up to comply, pressing the water container into his hand when he didn't seem to register her holding it out for him. More of it got on him then in his mouth. In frustration he threw the flask at the ground. Patiently she got out her own flask of water and held it to his mouth. She could see his expression shift from shame, to anger, to a begrudging gratitude as the liquid washed down the acid that had been eating at his throat. She tugged the bed's cover out from beneath him and threw it out onto the deck just outside the cabin's door. The rest of the bed was clean, so she laid Laxus back down onto the bare mattress. It was too late to be stumbling about asking for a clean one, or where she could wash the old sheets.
Before she got back into her own bed Lucy checked his fever again, and found to her great relief that he felt normal. What's more, he managed a glare at the gesture. Truly dragon slayers were the most stubborn of all creatures, second only to a donkey. While she held no delusions about his continuing decline, it was nice to know he wasn't cooking as she rested. Within minutes both were asleep, if fitfully.
Laxus became aware of a floating sensation. It deeply unsettled him, and though he was weak with sickness, began to flail a bit, trying to find purchase. At doing so, he realized that his limbs were not heavy at all. Growing calmer, he examined the void before him. Off in the distance was an electric blue glow. It drew near, and was almost painful to look into as it enveloped him in its light. As if filling in a vessel, the light flowed out into a form. That form was holding him in its claws.
Laxus was immediately grateful for the support. It just wasn't natural to be hanging out in nothingness. Next was warmth which flowed from the blue into him, filling his very soul and leaving him feeling reenergized. He examined the claws, finding them draconic. Recognition dawned on him and he suddenly felt eyes upon him. Looking up into the face of Fulgora was startling. Except something was off.
"What the hell?" He snarled. Laxus knew he was way too small in comparison, but he hadn't expected this. Fulgora hissed in a way that was clearly laughter as he spun around and observed his own form. "I'm a damn fish."
"It's a sign of things to come, child."
"Don't start that. I'm not anyone's kid," he groused. He shook a fishy fin at her, causing Fulgora to erupt into yet more laughter.
"We are closer now, you and I, then even kin of the flesh."
It was an unsettling truth that resonated with him. His yellow piscine form shuddered. "This isn't right granny, this feels… tiring, somehow."
The dragon nodded in understanding. "I came to explain a few things to you. The form you see is the imprint of my soul upon the magic I transferred to you. It vaguely holds the shape of the vessel within which it was contained."
"So, you're inside of me now or something?" Laxus said with obvious distaste.
"Not quite, for my true soul has passed on. But the details are moot, for the conclusion is the same. What is important is that this shape will fade and slowly my magic will become your own."
"It didn't feel like the instant power boost I was expecting," he observed, catching on.
"That's necessary. While my magic will cease to have my personality imprint, lightening magic is by its essence feral. You have blocked out the memories, but I will clear the way. Think back to your first days with a lacrima implanted." A wave of the dragon's wings ushered in a strange haze. The haze focused upon a young boy folding in on himself, as if to desperately contain the energy leaking outside of his form. The earth grew scorched around him and the child cried out as a massive bolt of lightning struck him and the area.
Laxus groaned, clutching at his skull futilely. The wyrm flapped her wings again, cutting through the haze.
"And for some time it will continue to hold onto the barest minimum of draconic instincts. To do so all at once would be disastrous, and you must be on guard for this."
"What kind of instincts?" Somehow he managed to narrow his fishy eyes at her.
"Dragons are intelligent creatures, just as humans are, if not more so. But just as humans must sometimes repress their inner animal, dragons too have certain tendencies. You may feel a strong desire to collect things, and you may find yourself fighting over things which you do not value, for the simple fact that they are yours. Others might find your behavior irrational."
"Dragons don't share well? No shit."
"Quite. As long as you can control these instincts, you shouldn't experience any kind of 'dragonification'. A slayer must kill many dragons to start to be overwhelmed, and the imprint upon the magic fades by the next New Year."
Laxus was struggling to remain aware. He knew this was all within his dreams, so why did it feel like he was falling asleep?
"I'll need to transfer more to you now to keep you alive. Rest now and remember what I've said."
Her gravelly voice faded into the void as he slipped deeper into unconsciousness.
Light was streaming in through the tiny window. The rosy glow slowly woke him. Someone was touching his face again. A growl escaped him and he cracked one eye to warn his companion of his waning patience. Laxus would not stand to be coddled for much longer.
"Your fever is completely gone."
Her cheerful voice grated on him. As she moved away, her body which was previously blocking the direct beams was now off to the side, and Laxus had to bring up a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. The blankets beneath him smelled of soap. When had she moved him? And why did he feel have such vivid memories of his dreams? Lucy must have understood his train of thought, for she blushed slightly and cleared her throat.
"I couldn't get you to wake up, so I just worked around you."
He nodded and tried to sit up. A restraining hand on his shoulder stopped him. "You're very sick, Laxus," she reminded him.
"I can get up on my own." He glared at her but Lucy defiantly met his gaze, refusing to back down. He relented; she built up the bedding behind him so he would be more comfortable.
"I've already spoken to the captain. You'll be pleased to hear the next town is not very far."
Motion sickness was restricting him, but he still felt better than last night. There was an insistent sense of everything would be fine. Nevertheless, "There had better be a good healer there."
"It's Penstemon, thank goodness. A woman settled down there not so long ago that's guild accredited."
Laxus looked incredulous. "What would a guild accredited healer be doing in the middle of nowhere?" Stringent requirements had to be met for the privilege of guild review.
"It's your good fortune she is," Lucy pointed out. "Porlyusica isn't just around the river bend."
"How have you stayed so innocent all these years? Maybe she got kicked out of the capital for being terrible."
The celestial mage snorted indignantly and there was an unspoken agreement to drop the subject. A few hours of relative peace came to pass before the ship stopped. The two were already waiting by the ramp as it was dropped down onto the wooden planks of the dock. Captain Penelope was promising to delay her departure to the next stop as they left. Laxus had shown surprising resilience and was walking without assistance. Lucy still hovered in a worried manner, but he waved her off. They went slowly, for his sake, through scarcely populated and poorly maintained streets. It was suffering from much neglect. The size of it in total however was still much larger then when they had originally found the ship. Here and there Lucy found she needed to stop a local for directions. They all seemed slightly disgruntled.
"Not used to strangers, I bet," Laxus commented. She was nonplussed trying to get her bearings. None of these roads were built straight. There was an almost whimsical town structure at work here. To top it all off, she almost missed the healer's house. It was unassuming. The light gray paint chipped at the edges, shudders drawn. A small sad sign was sitting above the door. Carved into the wood was the likeness of a snake wrapped around a rod.
"The rod of Asclepius, that's the medical guild's symbol," Lucy observed. It gave off a distinct feel of minimalism. Laxus sighed with relief. They'd been walking around for close to an hour. A few knocks on the front door and they were being ushered in by a younger woman. A quick look over revealed she was bedraggled, perhaps just having woken up. Her clothes showed some evidence of being quickly thrown on.
"You may call me Miss Mura," she said by way of greeting. "How can I help you?"
Beyond her was a small seating area, a foyer. It was clear her place of business and her home were one and the same. Nothing stood out about it, more dreary grays. The only speck of color was a portrait, which upon seeing Lucy observing it, the woman stepped between the celestial mage and the memory, flipping it over so Lucy wouldn't be privy to its details. Lucy looked back up from the picture to see Miss Mura was annoyed. A look over to Laxus revealed much the same attitude. The cause of which was unclear. Great, Lucy groaned inwardly.
"Hello, my name is Lucy, and my friend, Laxus, needs your help. We would be most grateful if you could look at a wound he received a few days ago. I'm concerned it's become infected."
The statement was infused with as much charm as the mage could manage. With a nod, the healer led them into an adjoining room. Lucy was happy to see the state of it. Unlike the rest of Mura's abode, it was spotless, with a clean hospital bed and curtain. In the middle was an exam table accompanied by a small cabinet. The woman gestured to Laxus to sit on it while she dug out a pair of bandage scissors from the aforementioned cabinet. Lucy caught sight of glinting metal instruments from over Miss Mura's shoulder.
After retrieving the scissors, Mura made short work of Laxus' bandages. She cut around the wound before she ripped off the mat formed by pus in one quick motion. So fast in fact, Laxus hadn't even had a moment in which to become apprehensive. Instead he was left gasping and dazed. She tsked at the sight and investigated it carefully while verbally probing for answers. "When did this occur?"
"About three days ago," Laxus readily supplied the relevant information. Soon Mura was up to speed on everything treatment related, but she seemed concerned about some particular details.
"Are you certain it was only a few days ago? This is a severe infection for such a short time. Let me see the salve you mentioned."
"We ran out yesterday," Lucy confessed, but handed over the empty container. Mura held it open and sniffed it. Taking out some residue, she rubbed the gel between her fingers.
"This is rancid," Mura pointed out.
"WHAT?"
"It's good that you were not given much, but the damage is done regardless," the healer observed. "Some of my colleagues who have not gone through school pick up ideas from who knows where. They learned it from their mother, and she from her mother before her, and so on. A common desert remedy is to ferment the flesh of a cactus and use its juices as a salve. Pus is considered to be the source of all healing responses by the body, so the irritating rotten flesh of the plant helps form pus. Therefore, the theory goes, putting it in a wound is helpful. That couldn't be farther from the truth."
Both mages were shades paler then when the healer had begun this education. "So it's been made worse, is what you're saying?" Lucy ventured a guess. The healer nodded in assent.
"Whatever contaminant was on the dragon's claws has had its way made clear by this rotten goop. Perhaps it's merely accelerated the progression, or worse both are working in tandem. The outlook is not good."
"What do we do now?" Laxus interrupted. In response she pulled out some kind of dilution in a bottle labeled simply 'salts of silver'. With a towel to catch excess fluid in his lap, Mura set about flushing the wound out alternately with water and the disinfectant. Every time she came back to pour more of the salt of silver over it Laxus steeled himself with practiced calm. Mura was brutal. Having cleaned it out, she next took the scalpel to it, cutting away edges which were too far gone for saving.
"The wound is clean, now you must keep it that way." A new set of bandages were getting put on. It was the first time Lucy couldn't see moisture working its way through the cloth. "I've cauterized it chemically. Sadly, I cannot get out all of it. It's in the blood now."
Laxus nodded in understanding. That wasn't surprising, given the fever earlier and the red lines around it.
"It would help if I knew the nature of the beast, but dragon wounds are not something anyone's had to consider in a long time." The healer's bad news elicited a sigh from Laxus, but Lucy looked thoughtful.
"Do you think there might be record of this illness somewhere?" Lucy inquired.
"I'm certain. There must have been generations of healers whose sole task was to care for such injuries."
"I'll be back in a bit," Lucy vaguely replied before walking briskly from the room. The healer glanced to her patient inquisitively, and he shrugged. This whole ordeal was wearing on the last of his energy reserves. It felt like every time he couldn't possibly muster any more strength he managed to keep going a little bit longer. It was inevitable that it would wear on his quick wit. The woman helped move him over to the hospital bed.
In the foyer, which was not nearly as cramped, Lucy summoned the spirit of the Southern Cross. He greeted her warmly but looked a little sleepy. "How can I help?"
"I know it's a little outside of the celestial realm, but could you look into illnesses from fighting dragons?"
There was a brief nod which abruptly led to Crux's head drooping forward. A less familiar mage might've mistaken it for falling asleep mid conversation, but Lucy could feel the faint tug on her magic as he searched for his target.
Slogging through a snow bank, Freed and others were carrying groceries. When a hum of magic emanated from the lacrima in Freed's pack the produce was dumped. Together, all three cried out "Master Laxus!" as their leader's image formed in the orb. Putting on a cocky grin, Laxus waved aside the overly honorific greeting.
"I haven't checked up on your guys in a while. Thought I'd say I'll be there in like a week."
"Finally giving up, eh?" Evergreen smarmily remarked from behind Freed.
"I wouldn't say that," Laxus evaded, grin growing wider.
"That's our leader for you," Bickslow praised, his babies chorusing 'leader'.
Freed was the one holding was the orb and being that he had a closer look at Laxus was the first to notice some peculiarities. "Master, I was always certain you would achieve your goals, but what happened to your eyes?"
"I'll explain when I get there." The lacrima went dark and Freed sighed.
"It's not like him to keep secrets," Evergreen whined.
"I'm sure it's just something he'd rather talk about in person," Freed defended while picking up the dropped bags full of food stuffs. They resumed their trek up the mountain side in uncharacteristic silence. Before them was the abandoned resort. Their training field lay under a thick layer of snow.
"That's going to take time to clear," Evergreen observed dryly.
"It's not like I come out here on the weekends to tidy up," her green haired companion groused. Bickslow enveloped both of them, throwing his arms over their shoulders and dragging them forward to the entrance.
"Don't worry about it. My babies are on it."
A couple of snow shovels shouted 'on it' while cheerfully floating over to the covered equipment. Inside the grandiose doors the trio discovered yet more cleaning to be done. There was a thick layer of dust on the lounge area, which was two stories high with stairs leading to a row of rooms. Large windows were everywhere, which, as Freed was quick to point out, was highly impractical in such a cold climate. But a resort isn't where you came to be reminded of number crunching and expense.
"My father always did enjoy adding a sense of grandeur."
"Seriously Freed? You're too self-conscious of this place. It's not like you were the one who made it like this," Ever said, trying to soothe her overly obsessive team mate. She threw in a shoulder rub for good measure, but Freed seemed more disturbed by her proximity then reassured. "Let's drop off the food and go enjoy the real reason we come up here, the hot spring!"
Ever ditched the food in the kitchen and made a beeline for a hallway which led from the lounge to a set of public showers. It was common courtesy to wash up before one hopped into the spring. Freed simply rolled his eyes, saying, "Master Laxus wanted us to come here to train, not to be lazy."
Bickslow laughed, dragging his uptight friend over to the showers after they dropped off their own bags of produce. "Dude, you need to train yourself to relax. Laxus won't be here for a week, remember?"
Freed groaned unhappily. That was a week too long for his taste.