The Infinite Bk. 01 Ch. 04

Medicine

The spring rains were dramatic, passionate, the lifeblood of Mother Nature as she fully awoke from her winter slumber and prepared for summer. Yet at the moment, the fury with which the enlarged drops fell was not appreciated, for they numbed Noah's fingers as he gripped his sword and made him shiver as his clothes became worthless from the damp. It was also difficult to see, the drops splashing against his face and blurring his vision, but he kept his gaze focused on his enemies.

He was out in the forest, Tin having retreated as per his orders. Before him, a trio of bandits, all with weapons raised. Noah was armed with his short sword, unable to wield his main blade due to an arrow stuck in his shoulder. When he was first struck from behind, he had hoped it was simply a hunter's honest mistake, but the men's bloodthirsty looks told him he was their real target. They probably robbed and killed adventurers for a living, and he couldn't imagine their female victims dying quickly.

He considered turning invisible and dispatching them before they could retaliate, but there was something he wanted to try, and a human opponent would be the perfect test subject.

He raised his free hand towards his face, breaking the stalemate with one of the bandits firing his loaded arrow. Noah deflected it with his shield, the most he could do with his wounded shoulder. He swept his hand across his eyes as if trying to clear his vision, activating both of his spells. Rather than splitting from his illusionary clone, he wore it, syncing his movements with the apparition, with the bandits not even noticing a difference.

Armed with a large battle axe, one of the archer's cohorts charged toward him. Noah had his clone take a defensive stance while he pulled away, stepping ahead and stabbing the man through the heart before he could make his swing. The archer shot another arrow as Noah stepped back into his illusion, but he again blocked with his shield. Then, with his movements concealed, Noah drew several small knives from his belt and hurled them at the archer. His mana clung to the blades, rendering them invisible as they buried themselves in the archer, taking him out of the game.

All that was left was a swordsman, wising up to the situation. Two of his allies were dead, but he didn't understand how. He pushed his confusion aside and charged toward Noah. Noah blocked and parried his attacks with his sword, wanting to take his time and savor the fight. He was so used to fighting monsters, he wanted to make sure his skills in killing other humans hadn't gone dull, to refamiliarize himself with their unique movements and techniques.

He was allowing the bandit to push him back, though there was little he could do to stop it. His opponent wielded a two-handed sword, so he could deliver more force than Noah could muster with his short blade. He strung the bandit along using repetitive, easy movements, laying a fake trail as to his next move. He swung wide from the side, and the bandit automatically blocked. The blade never came; it was only Noah's illusionary arm. His real arm swung from the opposite side, slashing the bandit across the stomach.

He staggered back, cursing in pain and trying to understand what just happened. Noah closed in, and the bandit tried to open some space with a mighty cleave. Noah blocked with his sword; at least, that's what the bandit saw. But, in truth, he had blocked with his shield, allowing him to slash the bandit across the wrist without him even seeing the attack coming.

Blood poured freely, the man's hand now useless. He released a cry of exertion and tried a one-handed swing. The sword sliced through Noah's neck, just as the man had aimed, but he knew something was wrong when no severed head fell, and what's more, he hadn't felt anything when he made the slash. It was like he had hit nothing but air. He raised his sword to block a swing from Noah. He didn't realize it was a stab until Noah's sword pierced his chest. Noah confirmed all three deaths and then called out to Tin.

"Do me a favor and pull this arrow out."

"I'm afraid it'll hurt."

"I can handle it."

She was nervous, but she grabbed the arrow and ripped it out without issue, making Noah grimace in pain. Then, she pulled out a red potion from her bag and poured it on the wound. In seconds, it scabbed over, with the tissue within stitching itself back together. These health potions were a life-saver, miracles in a bottle.

"Thanks."

Noah once more checked the bodies, but their faces didn't match any wanted posters, meaning there was no bounty he could collect with their heads. Tin went to work stripping the bodies of everything useful. They were so used to this routine that he rarely needed to give her orders.

"Let's call it a day. I don't think this rain is going to stop anytime soon."

"Yes, Master," Tin said.

They set off back towards the town, fantasizing about removing their soaked clothes and warming themselves beside a fire. They had plenty to carry, and the rain made everything heavier, with the added cold sapping their strength. By the time they reached the inn, even Noah was on his last legs and felt weak. The sun hadn't fully set yet, but the clouds were so thick that it was as dark as night. It was a relief to get inside and out of the rain, but Noah knew something was off. He felt woozy, his thoughts getting blurred.

"Don't tell me you two were out in that rain all day!" the innkeeper said when she saw them.

"We're going to stay in our room tonight. Can you have someone bring our meals up to us, along with extra firewood?"

"Sure thing, dearie."

They proceeded up the stairs, but Noah had to stop halfway. He was out of breath and felt like he was spinning.

"Master, what's wrong?"

"I think I'm coming down with something. Help me up the stairs."

She lent him her shoulder, and they made their way to their room. Before they even closed the door, Noah dumped his pack and weapons and began pulling off his clothes. Tin locked the door and started a fire in the hearth. Once free of his soggy clothes, Noah collapsed on the bed. The mattress was lumpy straw, the sheets were rough like sandpaper, and the blanket smelled like a wet dog, no matter how many times it was cleaned, but Noah was grateful for them.

As the fire filled the room with light and warmth, there was a knock on the door. Two chambermaids stood outside, the innkeeper's daughters, though they were younger than Tin. One held two trays of food for them and the other held a bundle of firewood. Noah hid beneath the blanket, and Tin answered. As Noah had taught her, she kept the door open just enough to take the food and firewood and didn't allow them inside.

Tin brought him his meal and felt his forehead. "Master, you're burning up."

"I'll be fine. Take off your clothes and warm yourself by the fire before you end up like me."

He watched her undress, and the two sat on the bed, wrapped in blankets as they ate dinner. It was hot stew, the perfect comfort food. But, unfortunately, Noah was starting to find it difficult to swallow. By the time he finished, his breathing was becoming labored, and his heart was beating irregularly. Noah was hoping it was just a cold, but this was starting to feel much more intense and was coming on too quickly. Perhaps a disease native to this world?

Tin could see his condition worsening. "Master, you should get some sleep."

She took his tray and gently pushed him onto his back. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he lost the strength to move. He lay there, watching Tin set up a clothesline so everything could dry. Once she was done, she added some more wood to the fire and slid under the blankets. Her naked body met his, and she curled up against him.

Noah closed his eyes, but while sleep was quick to come, it was unpleasant. Nightmares assailed him, a burning heat ravaging him both physically and mentally. He remembered tossing and turning throughout the night when the pain in his body outweighed his fatigue. All his muscles ached and spasmed almost nonstop, his stomach felt like it was full of oil, and he couldn't escape his fever.

He finally awoke the following day to the sight of rain pelting the window. His mouth was as dry as ashes, and he felt like he would die of thirst, just like he had a few times in the past. The rain had gotten him into this mess, but now he desperately wanted it. He wanted to go out and vent the heat that clung to him like a monkey on his back.

"Tin," he murmured. His voice was faint, as it felt like his tongue and throat would crack like clay. "Tin," he said again, putting all of his strength into it.

"Master?"

He saw her in his peripheral vision, but he didn't have the strength to turn to her.

"Water." It was all he could say.

She brought him a cup of water, and in his impatience, he tried to pull it from her hands, if only to get it to his mouth a nanosecond sooner. She helped him turn on his back so that he could drink. It was some of the best water he had ever tasted, and he felt some life return to him, if only a little.

"More."

She brought the pitcher to refill the cup, but he snatched it and drank it all.

"How do you feel?"

"Everything hurts, I feel like I'm on fire. I think I'm gonna... gonna..."

He covered his mouth and frantically pointed to the chamber pot in the corner of the room. He had detested the presence of such an unsanitary thing since he first arrived at this inn, but finally, he was grateful to have it. Tin brought the pot over, and Noah emptied his stomach with a resounding echo. He fell back on the bed, with his gut feeling even worse. He had gotten a nasty flu a few years ago, but even that wasn't as bad as this. This was like malaria combined with detox.

"Ugh... fuck. No matter where it is, getting sick really sucks ass." Even after living for thousands of years, he couldn't think up a better way to describe his misery.

"I'll go get the innkeeper. She may know what's wrong and how to help."

"No. Me being sick leaves us vulnerable, and the more people know about it, the greater the danger. If I can't fight, we're easy prey. If I'm still in this condition by tomorrow, then you can get help."

"What can I do?"

Some plants could help with cold and flu symptoms, but his mind was too hazy to remember them. "Pine needle tea, like I made by the river, and see if someone in the kitchen will make me some hot oatmeal."

Tin was hesitant, not wanting to leave his side, but she obeyed. With her gone, Noah tried to fall back to sleep, but could only get a pale imitation that was nowhere near as restful. For Noah, it felt like ants were feeding on his brain. He spent the rest of the day in bed, passing in and out of consciousness. Tin remained with him whenever possible. She used damp rags to keep his fever in check and hung a kettle over the fire, making tea for him whenever he asked, though his thirst was unquenchable.

Noon came around, and Noah sat up to eat his lunch, though it was a bowl of soup. Typically, people ate whatever the house special was at the time, but by paying extra, guests of the inn could order particular foods, at least within reason. The broth went down easy, but the meat and vegetables felt like cacti rolling down his throat.

As he ate, Tin helped wipe the sweat from his body. His spot on the bed would need some time to dry out. When he had finished eating, he simply sat with his head in his hands, taking deep breaths and trying to ignore the throbbing pain.

Tin leaned against his back. "Please, what can I do to help?"

"You're doing plenty for me already."

"There must be more that I can do."

"Well it hurts me to say this, but I'll need your help using that chamber pot."

----------

"Aye, this is springburn all right." Noah opened his eyes, finding the innkeeper examining him, with Tin standing in the back. The woman was holding a handkerchief over her nose and mouth and not touching him directly, instead with one of the rags Tin used.

"That's really bad, isn't it?" Tin asked.

"It's not good. I know four others in town who have it and they are suffering as well. It always manages to kill a few people each year. My oldest once had it and he nearly died."

Noah saw it, Tin's shoulders trembling. "What can I do to help him?"

"Exactly what you've been doing. I know of some teas that will help him feel a bit better. He'll either make it or he won't, though I think his chances are good."

"How much time would I have if it were to be fatal? How long does this last?" Noah asked.

"Three days. After that, you're in the clear." She got to her feet and returned to the door. "I'm confining you both to this room until this blows over. The last thing I need is for everyone in the inn to get sick." She left the room and locked the door behind her.

"It would be better for her to just throw us out," said Noah, "rather than simply isolate us and risk everyone. She must like us a bit, or at least want to protect her reputation. I told you to wait a day before calling her."

"But I did. Don't you remember? You told me that yesterday."

"Ah, withdrawn, my apologies. The pouch under the floorboards, can you get it for me, please?"

Tin lifted a loose floorboard, revealing a cavity underneath and a leather pouch. She presented it to Noah, and he opened it to reveal his phone and wallet. While they were mostly useless in this new world, he held onto them, hoping that he could at least use them for parts, and kept the phone off to save its energy. If he ever needed to start an emergency fire, that lithium battery could come in handy. Luckily, he had his earbuds with him, so he could at least enjoy one piece of his old life.

Tin stared at the device, possessed by curiosity. She had only seen it once or twice, the metallic case, the light it produced. Was it some kind of magic tool? She wanted to ask what it was, but when Noah put in the earbuds, she assumed it was something that would help him get better.

He set his playlist to random and lay back down, hoping the music would distract him. He drifted once more into the void between being asleep and awake, cursed with his fever even in his dreams. During his waking moments, he was either drinking water or throwing up. The only reason nature wasn't calling was that he was sweating so profusely.

The music didn't distract him as he had hoped, so much as permeate his unconscious mind. One song, in particular, came up, "House of the Rising Sun," and as that opening guitar strung out, a memory was pulled from the depths of his mind, another time he had heard that song.

It was before dawn, and he was driving through the Nevada desert, out of the sight of Vegas. Noah was in his thirties, lamenting all the dust the Cadillac was kicking up. He'd have to clean it up later, as his employers wouldn't be happy if he returned the company car in a disgraceful condition. As he pulled to a stop at the ravine's edge, the eastern clouds were pinkening.

He got out of the car and circled back to the trunk, removing a man with bound wrists and a bag over his head. Noah pulled him to the edge of the ravine and removed the bag. Dried blood streaked his face and stained his dress shirt. He was in his fifties, a senior in the company.

"You fucking retard," he spat.

Noah ignored him and turned up the radio so he could hear the rest of the song. The car's exterior was an antique 70's model, worth its weight in gold, but the interior had been upgraded to the modern age. When he returned to the man, it was with a gun in his hand.

"Killing me will just fuck up your life and whoever threw me under the bus. You really think Alejandro can take power? Once this gets out, the streets will become bloodbaths and your head will end up stuck on a pike."

"In all likelihood," said Noah, "but it'll be fun to watch."

"You're willing to start a war just because it'll be fun?"

"Whatever happens is the fault of whoever hired me. That doesn't mean I don't like it, though. It's the little things that matter. You need to enjoy the special little gifts like this." He flicked his gun towards the car, where the song was still playing. "I once heard someone say that this is the best song for driving with someone in the trunk of your car. It is certainly a delicious coincidence."

"The irony of your ilk: people like you think you'll do great in our business because you have no morals, no hesitation, but it gets you killed so quickly. It's the people who actually believe in something that make it, that have a line they never cross, no matter how bloody their hands get."

"That's what's nice about my way of life, I feel no need to stick around, so I can indulge in a little chaos. But even I believe in a bit of something."

The man laughed and spat on the ground. "What could you believe in?"

"Mercy. I'm letting you enjoy the beautiful sunrise, after all."

The sun broke free of the horizon, and a gunshot rang out as the desert sands soaked up the light and blood.

----------

Once Noah had fallen asleep, Tin sat beside him and freshened the damp rags opposing his fever. It was all she knew how to do when someone was ill, and it came from memories of when she was the victim, though kindness was rare for her in those vulnerable times. It pained her to be so useless, not to know how to help. Most of everything she had done was just obeying his instructions.

As she wiped away his sweat, her eyes fell to his exposed manhood, and lust fluttered through her, a feeling that Noah had introduced her to. Their routine had been disturbed by this sickness, as yesterday was the day she was supposed to help him train his mana. Tin cherished those days when she could finally help him in the way she knew best, when she got to experience euphoria.

Women would always flock to her master, flirting with him, trying to invite themselves into one of his "workouts." It terrified her that she might be discarded for someone else, having lost her value. When she and Noah met those female adventurers, she saw everything she could not do in Mira and everything she could do in Beth, rendering her obsolete.

She lowered her head and began performing fellatio, slurping up the salt from his sweat. She did it often when he slept, compelled by her lust. She hoped it was helping him feel good, each climax forming a shield against the pain of his fever. It was something she could do for him. If Noah was aware of it, he wasn't saying anything.

As her head bobbed over his lap, Noah sank deeper into his mind, pursued by the music from his phone. Once more, a lone guitar was playing, and with what little awareness his mind still had, he tried to remember what it was from. Pink Floyd, "Wish You Were Here."

It was one of his past wives' favorites. He played it at their wedding and her funeral. He could remember the sunny sky overhead when they cut the cake and the somber clouds that matched the color of her casket as it was lowered into the ground. He remembered the food served on both occasions. But what was her name? They danced to this song, but he couldn't remember her face. She loved the oldies, always playing them while she worked in the garden. Didn't they have a son together? No, that was someone else.

Noah's mind continued to slip through time, each song conjuring up a memory. He remembered studying at MIT while listening to Two Steps From Hell. He remembered the stereo blaring Metallica when his convoy was blown up in Syria. He remembered Mozart playing in the hospital as he died from pancreatic cancer. He wasn't aware of the mutterings escaping his lips, recalling conversations from across time and space.

When he woke up, it was night out, and the earbuds felt like hot coals in his ears. He looked at his phone, now with a quarter battery left. How many more times could he listen to music before his phone just became a useless block? He put his head back on his pillow, listening to Tin's breathing as she slept soundly beside him.