The rider dismounted and Bethan shied away, rolling into a fetal position as his gloved hand neared her. He seized her by their hair and pulled up. Wailing, Bethan was clumsily brought to her feet, face to face with the monstrous helmet, constructed of multiple red and black plates, leaving a narrow slit for the eyes. “Leave me…leave me…”

“AAARRRRRRRHHH!” The other woman had woken and on seeing Bethan in the grip of the man, she shrieked with all her might. He swiftly removed a short-sword from the scabbard at his waist. Still holding onto his captive, her kneeled slightly down and swung the sword.

The woman’s cries were cut short. Her eyes goggled and a line of red across her neck began to ooze blood. She was dead within seconds. Bethan’s knees gave way and her eyes rolled back. After that, she lived in a dreamless reality.

The massacre had not lasted long, but the effect it left was one of devastation. Apart from the thirty-seven accounted-for deaths and the physical carnage, the people of Lupon were broken. Their peaceful town was no more. Their purity had been tarnished. No one could see a way of return to what once was, and behind everyone’s eyes flickered utter fear.

Blood still stained the pavement of the market square. The overturned stalls and debris had not been cleared. Bodies, however, had been retrieved, and to the people’s utter horror, some of the severed limbs had had to be matched to their owners before they were taken to the makeshift morgue in the church.

There was no other sound but the hushed conversations, weeping and wailing. The small hospital was filled to capacity and beyond, some of the patients occupying near-by houses. In one such house, the house of wealthy Mr. and Mrs. Kemp, lay Bethan. All five beds had been brought into the parlour, placed around the hearth so that the wounded could be kept warm and comfortable.

“I’m afraid he hasn’t got much longer, the poor lad.” The designated nurse, Krista, told Mr. Kemp. “There’s simply too much blood loss. His whole family’s gone, too. O dear Spirit, what’s to become of us?”

Mr. Kemp wiped his sweaty face with his sleeve and nodded towards Bethan, who was still unconscious. “If only that one were up and about; we desperately need her help. She’s the best Healer this town has.”

“She’s had a nasty shock, or so I’ve heard.” Krista explained, rinsing a bloodied cloth into a pewter bowl filled with hot water. “She watched poor Mrs. Lacey get killed, and was almost done for herself, I believe. It was potluck that the town watch arrived when they did and rescued her.”

“I always knew this town’s defenses were too weak.” Mr. Kemp grumbled. “Those monsters should not have entered in the first place. Makes you think, don’t it…how did they get in?”

“I prefer not to think about it, sir. The thought that, all this time, we were not safe in our beds bothers me horribly.” She patted the boy’s fevered forehead with the damp cloth, not meeting his eyes. Her patient twisted underneath the quilts, moaning in delirium. His young face was slashed almost beyond recognition, but worse injuries lay lower down: the two tightly-bound stumps where his legs used to be. The bandages had been changed countless times, and even now they were soaked with blood. Mr. Kemp saw that Kristy was busy and excused himself, muttering something about attending to his frail wife upstairs.

Kristy worked on, tending to her five patients. Three of them had missing limbs, one a stab wound through the abdomen, and then there was Bethan, physically unhurt but in a state of shock. Being a Healer, Bethan was well known to Kristy, for they would often work together in the hospital wing. Medications and operations were sometimes not enough, and Bethan’s healing abilities and potions were called for. And now, Kristy agreed, Bethan could have been of great help.

With mussed hair and blood-stained uniform, Kristy stopped briefly to regain her wits. She took several deep breaths.

Bethan jolted in her bed and whimpered. She gasped and her eyes flung open. Kristy stared at her for a moment and then rushed to her friend’s bedside, taking hold of her clammy hand. “Bethan? Bethan, are you well? What is the matter?”

“Where am I?” Bethan asked urgently.

“Mr. Kemp’s parlour, the hospital’s too full and some patients were…”

“I’m still...still in Lupon?”

“Why, yes.” Kristy confirmed. “How do you feel? Have you been hurt anywhere that I’m unaware of?”

“I thought he’d taken me. Oh dear Spirit, would he have killed me? What did he want from me?”

Kristy blinked. “Who? The man who killed Mrs. Lacey? Did you see his face, Bethan? Do you know who they are and where they’re from?”

Bethan mutely shook her head. She closed her eyes and turned away on her side, shivering. Kristy pulled the quilts up and tucked them around the girl’s form. She then left Bethan to rest and check upon the others. When she returned to the boy, her heart skipped. He was still. No longer shaking. Kristy took his wrist and bit her cheek, waiting for the pulse. But there was nothing.

With a dismayed sigh, she pulled the covers all the way over his head and quickly took a seat onto a nearby chair before she collapsed in exhaustion and grief.

“Kristy?” It was Bethan, her voice tiny.

Kristy got to her feet and moved to stand above the other woman’s bed. “I’m here Bethan. One of my patients has died; the others are maimed for life. I simply don’t know what to do.”

“I want to help.” Bethan rolled onto her back so that she could look at the nurse’s face. “I must help. My plight is insignificant in comparison to everyone else’s.”

Kristy looked uncertain. “The shock has made you weak…”

“I’m strong enough to do this.” She insisted. “I must do my part, instead of taking up precious space when I honestly don’t need it.”

“Only if you’re sure.” Kristy took a step back so that Bethan had enough room to get up. Gingerly, she rose into a sitting position, feeling her head pound. The room swayed for a moment but everything came into focus soon.

Bethan removed her covers and swung her legs around so that they touched the floor. She worse a long-sleeved nightgown that reached her bare ankles, and she took a few moments to take in her surroundings. It was a disturbing juxtaposition. The elegant parlour, with its polished floor and high, domed ceiling; the six-foot high and doubly wide fireplace; the rosewood furniture; wind backed chairs. And then the five beds, side by side, metallic surgical equipment spread out strategically onto a hardwood table, the buckets and bowls of clean and bloodied water. “I see you’ve made yourself at home.” Bethan quipped sourly, but saw no humour in it. Neither did Kristy.

“You may be needed more in the hospital,” Kristy said. “But first, I think these patients need some tending before you go. Poor Joshua here has been stabbed with a pike, straight through the abdomen. The wound has been cleaned as much as possible, but I’m afraid that there’s still chance of infection. For all we know, that pike could have been anywhere before it struck him. Furthermore, he’s in great pain, and often passes out from it being too unbearable.”

Bethan nodded, and, still dressed in a nightgown and looking disheveled, she sat on the edge of Joshua’s bed. He was a young man, dark haired with strong features. At the moment he was asleep, his eyes flickering wildly behind closed eyelids. She took both his hands into her and closed her eyes, concentrating.

It took more effort than usual, her mental and physical capabilities under strain. But she sensed it. His energies, the state of his health. Information seeped into her mind. There was indeed the possibility of an infection deep inside him, for the pike had stabbed all the way through. She sensed alien blood there that was not his own. She also sensed that the blade had been corroded to some extent. His body was trying to fight it off, but he was too weak.

Bethan concentrated even harder so that she went into a state of mental euphoria. She pictured the alien blood inside Joshua dying, the corrosion being washed out. She helped his blood kill the foreign bacteria. Wave after wave of energy surged through her hands and into his.

Meanwhile, Kristy had moved away and watched from a distance. To her the scene only showed Bethan, sitting incredibly still with closed eyes, clutching at the man’s hands. But she knew that a lot more was happening than the evident.

Lastly, Bethan numbed the nerve endings surrounding the wound so that the pain would cease for a long while. She then opened her eyes and looked around to Kristy. “He’s lost a lot of blood; there was not enough there to fight off the infection. But I believe he shall fully recover now.”

“O Bethan, you’re wonderful.”

“I’m thankful for this talent, and it’s only right that I should use it. Anyone else would do the same in my place.”

“Why, it would be wasted on anyone else.” Kristy stated. Bethan shrugged. “Now, tell me about the others. I’m not stopping today until I’ve tended to everyone. Or collapse from sheer exhaustion. Whichever comes first.”