Read Online The Champions by Jeremy Laszlo - Free Book Online Page B

healers, found it odd that they had now each awoken four times. Even
more odd was that none of them spoke, yelled, thrashed, vomited, or did anything
else they had done before.
    Peter was far from the most experienced healer in the tent,
but he was climbing the ranks fast. He supposed it was due to his ability to
keep track of details. He liked details. Peter also liked organization. The two
together worked very well and Peter was a master at both. He supposed that
there were no others in the room who realized that all thirteen of these men
had awoken exactly four times.
    This time Peter noted that none of the men were covered in
sweat, their fevers seemingly subsided. They did not cry out in agony either,
showing that yet another symptom had abated. None muttered crazy disconnected
things which implied that whatever infection had overcome them had run its
course and now the men were fine.
    Still, no one moved to diagnose a patient. Peter grew
anxious. Sitting up in his chair, he brushed his dark bangs from his eyes. He
looked from one man upon a table to the next, and by all appearances they were
each fine. Their color seemed normal, none perspired over actively, all seemed
well.
    Peter stood. He was taller than any of his peers by more
than a head. Tall and slender, like a stick with legs as his mom would say,
Peter took a step towards the nearest patient. Patient nine. Steven grabbed his
wrist. Turning back, Peter looked upon his friend and peer questioningly.
    “Just because signs of their ailments are gone does not mean
they are not infectious,” Steven whispered.
    “All of them were bitten. Since no others came with the same
symptoms without being bitten, I think it safe to say you can only be infected
in that manner, Steven,” Peter replied.
    Several healers stood then, and each of them moved dutifully
about the room. Steven approached patient nine.
    “How are you feeling?” he asked.
    Swiveling his head to meet the gaze of the man above him,
patient nine smiled, appearing normal by all accounts.
    “I feel better than ever,” the patient replied. “I don’t
suppose you could unbind me so that I might go relieve myself?”
    Peter thought it over before responding to the question.
    “Perhaps in a moment,” Peter answered. “My name is Peter,
and I have a couple of questions for you first.”
    “I am Edward, and I happily oblige,” said the patient.
    “OK Edward, throughout the day you awoke screaming and
yelling of unholy things. Do you remember?”
    Edward closed his eyes a moment, and keeping them closed he
began his reply. “I had visions of war, with blood and gore, beasts and
monsters. Most I am sure would have considered them nightmares.”
    “You called out to someone. Do you remember who?” Peter
questioned further.
    “Yes,” Edward smiled. “Amongst the nightmares, I momentarily
had a dream. I was in my home village and I had fallen in love with a young
woman who had just moved there. Though for as much as I desired her, I could
not be myself with her. Also she was friends with one of the wolfmen we fought
today,” Edward replied with a smirk.
    “So was it her name you cried out?” Peter asked.
    “Yes.”
    “Why is it that in this dream you were not able to be
yourself with her?” Peter continued his questions.
    “Because I sparkled in the sun, and secretly I wanted to
make a sandwich of her,” Edward answered, grinning.
    “That is absurd,” Peter replied and began untying Edward’s
restraints.
    Looking around the room, he saw that all the men were being
unrestrained. The healers had each risen from their chairs to help untie their
patients. None saw the attack coming.
    One second the tent was a place of calm serenity as
caregivers tended to those they cared for; the next it was a bloodbath.
    Overcome by uncontrollable urges thirteen patients grasped
the nearest person to them, and clinging to them, bit into their flesh. Some
pulled the clerics down upon them on the tables, others