Chapter 30
HEALER GALEN
His mind was still delirious from the fever, but he was beginning to regain some of his senses. He could remember his chains being cut, his body getting carried. He remembered the whispers. The presence of a familiar voice.
And now again, as he gained some semblance of conscience, that same voice was present, arguing with another one in the distance.
"He is burning up," and that he was. Even in his state, he could feel his body burning up, such that the fever had begun to addle his mind.
"That wound on his arm. It is infected. We have no choice but to cut it off," and this was the voice of a stranger.
"NO!" and it was that voice again. The one who had carried him out of that darkness. It was familiar, yet he couldn't quite remember the person's name.
"Do you have any idea how important that hand is!" It was a woman's voice, and as he tried to open his eyes, he saw a blurry figure of two people talking to one another.
"That hand has saved more lives than you could count," and it was Elsa, he remembered finally, as he saw her black hair and scarred neck.
"I know," and it was the voice of a man who answered.
"It saved the life of my own daughter. But we have no choice," and the man was a stranger, who nodded at her words as she saw her pace.
"But he will die…"
"No! He will not," Elsa screamed, and his throat was dry, and he saw a goblet there on the side of the bed, and he was weak and weary, yet he tried to reach for it.
"He is stronger than that…." She whispered, and suddenly he felt the room shift, and his hand reaching for the flask shifted, and the goblets all fell to the ground.
CLANK! CLANK!
And it was not him, but the entire room had shifted as if they were on a boat.
"He is awake," he heard the man whisper as the two of them turned towards him, as they both came upon him.
"Galen! Galen," she called out as she looked at his face.
"W…" and she nodded, as she quickly picked up the flask, and gently put it to his mouth, and just the act of sipping some water pained his throat as he looked to her, and it was indeed Elsa.
His sword shield.
"Wh.aat…..WHe…re…." he eeked out, and she nodded.
"We are in a ship," she answered, understanding his ramblings, and he had guessed as much.
"The Crown had accused you of treason and was planning on hanging you for it. Seeing that a few like-minded individuals and I decided to save you before they could hang you just to satisfy their inflated egos," she answered, anger lacing her tone.
"Just as you saved ours," she finished, and he was feverish and weak, but he was sane now—Saner than he had been in a long time.
"Wher…."
"Braavos," came the answer, and it was the man who answered him, and he stood beside her, and as Galen looked at him, he did not find that face familiar at all.
"Who ar…."
"You may not recognize me, but you helped my child once. You saved her life, and now I shall do everything I can to return that favor," and he nodded.
"We are two days out of Blackwater Bay, and the reopening of the ports helped us. The Crown will not be able to track us," and yet that did not bring him the relief he had hoped, as he felt the face of Gael appear in his memory.
"They were going to hang you, but we were able to get you out in time. Even amidst the rumors, many still remember your kindness," added Elsa, as she smiled at him.
And he had sent her away, and any other companion he had. He had sent them all away, knowing that his very existence put their lives at risk. He already carried the burden of so many lives and deaths on his shoulders.
He couldn't see them suffer because of him.
"Yet we need to make a decision about your hand, Healer," added the older man, as Galen slowly glanced to the side, at the hand the man spoke of.
And he slowly uncovered the bandages over it, and his heart sank as he saw the wound and how it had festered and swollen up. The tips of his fingers had begun to darken, showing a lack of circulation, as the pressure inside the forearm cut off the blood supply to his hand.
Compartment syndrome, it was called.
"We have to do something about it. Otherwise that hand will kill you," and he was right.
"Cut it," he whispered weakly, as his voice shook.
"What?" Elsa asked in a horrified and pained voice.
"No, you need that hand healer, Galen. You need it to save lives," and he did, but it was already lost.
"It is already lost," he answered, as a tear came down his face.
"You will need to cut it an inch above my wrist," he said, and the man nodded.
"You will need to cauterize it quickly so that I don't lose any blood, and make sure that I drink water. Lots and lots of clean water," and the man was quick to nod.
"Anything else?" the man asked.
"You will need to bandage it, clean it with something like boiled ale. But before all that, you will need to bring me a quill and some paper," and he frowned.
"Why?"
"I need to write a letter…."
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GAEL TARGRYEN
He was gone.
Galen was gone, and of all the things she had expected, she had not expected this.
"He was a traitor," Daemon Targaryen added vehemently, as the men all searched the city for the Healer, and yet she had an inkling that they would return empty-handed.
"He was not," Galen defended him even in his absence, as Daemon scoffed.
"Then why did he run away. Why?" he asked, and she turned to face him.
"Because you put him in the Black cells!" she retorted angrily, still dumbfounded by their entire argument.
"You put him into the Black Cells like he was a damned criminal, and you left him to rot while accusing him of the greatest crime in the land without any due process," and now they had lost one of the most brilliant minds ever born because of sheer jealousy.
"And you," she turned towards her brother, who sat in his solar.
"You let it all happen," she blamed him for it just as much as his wayward son.
"His mere absence points to the fact that he was a traitor to the Crown," Daemon refused to back down, as Galen snapped.
"Then show me the proof! Show me the damned proof that he was a traitor," she asked for this damning proof, as Daemon sauntered away.
"We had to get rid of it," he answered, smiling as if this was all a joke to him.
"We found mold in that hospital we built for him," Daemon snarled, and Gael frowned.
"Mold that we believe was being used to create this very Plague, so that he could benefit the Velaryons and the Sea Snake while crippling our trade and commerce," and she wanted to slap him.
She wanted to make him see some sense.
"The Maesters confirmed my suspicions ourselves," and she shook her head.
"And why the hell would the Maesters ever come to his defence. Do you even have any idea what that mold was for, for I do. I know what it was meant for and Seven Hells it was not for spreading a plague, it was for fur curing one," she lamented, feeling weak and powerless in that moment as she realized that it was too late.
"That work. He was trying to find a cure, trying to find something so revolutionary that it would have changed the way we think of disease and illness forever," and yet they had destroyed it all in seconds, and had ruined the life of the man who was trying to save theirs.
"Then why did he run?" Baelon asked, and she looked her brother in the eye.
"Who is to say that he truly ran?" she countered.
"Maybe he was captured? Maybe he was taken? Maybe he was scared because you had your son destroy his life's work, and put him into the Black Cells as if he was a traitor, when in reality all that he had done was for the prosperity of the Crown and this family itself," and now he was gone.
And they were all worse for it.
"Daemon," Baelon began after minutes of silence as he addressed his son.
"Leave us," and he was not happy at the command as he gave her a glare, yet still followed suit, leaving her alone with her brother and the King.
"You made a mistake," she reiterated, and Baelon did not deny her any longer as he rubbed his forehead.
"Maybe I did, but I had every reason to believe that he was working for the Velaryons," and no, he did not.
"No, you did not," Gael protested.
"You were angry and looking for someone to blame, and you chose him for he was an easy target," and she realized that perhaps Galen had been right to distrust the monarchy as well.
Perhaps there was a reason behind his mistrust of monarchs and their rulers.
"He was a no-name healer who had taken upon his shoulders the heaviest burden one could. He let himself become the villain so that you and I could live easily. He let the people blame him, so that they would not look to us with that hate," and it was his way of sharing their burdens. It was his way of helping them in any way he could, and yet they had betrayed him.
"And yet you treated him as a traitor, and now, during the greatest medical crises of the last decade, you have robbed us of the most brilliant healer of our time. The plague was not of his creation, Baelon," and the whole idea was so absurd that she wanted to scream, yet she did not have the energy for that anymore.
"How could you even believe it?" for she had known Baelon to be a better man. A better brother.
"It made sense at the time," he defended himself, huffing as he leaned back into the chair.
"The Maesters. The whispers. The Rumors. Father's death. The mounting pressure from the Lords and the Merchants. The Starving City, it all made sense at the time," and maybe it did.
And in short, he was looking for someone to blame. And Galen was the easiest target. Fueled by fear and Daemon's jealousy, he had let his son incite him into wrongful action, which had upended years upon years of work and effort.
"We need to find him," she added, for the plague was real.
"And you need to close the ports and the gates once more," she insisted, and Baelon shook his head.
"I can't," and she retorted quickly.
"You have to Baelon. If that plague spreads, then millions, not thousands, will die, and with all of Galen's work destroyed, you need to close the ports and the gates," and he was adamant.
"There is too much anger within the people now. They tore apart Galen's people, just because of their rage. What do you think they will do to the guards if I close the gates and the ports again," and that was no argument for letting millions die.
"No, the gates and the ports will remain open, but someone still needs to finish Galen's work," and he looked her in the eye.
"You need to either find the cure or find the source of the plague so that we can combat it. You were his student, and know how he worked, and are the only person who can…" and she scoffed and shook her head.
"I am nothing compared to him," she added.
"But you are our only hope. You must do this…" and she knew better than anyone else that she was not yet ready for this burden. Yet she had to try. She had to.
"I shall try…"
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