The Worst Healer
Copyright© 2026 by InSpite
The Red Briar
Sierra was thorough in her looting.
Absolutely unhurried by the prospect of being discovered with a pile of bodies, she went through everything. Apparently having a couple of hidden purses stashed on you was the thing to do here instead of keeping all your coins in one place.
With a pile of loot tucked away in her own hidden stashes, she led me a few streets over to a water pump, persuading me to duck my head under it while she pumped the handle.
Once the worst of the blood was washed from my skin, hair and clothes, she had me roll around in dirt and hay before washing my skin again.
It worried me a little that she knew exactly what to do to hide someone else’s blood, but the results were surprising. You could still find a few bloodstains, but they looked old and were mixed in with a collection of other stains. I looked like I’d been sleeping in the gutters for a few years, but I didn’t look like someone who’d just chainsawed his way through a mall.
Still damp, freezing cold from the water and more than a little exhausted, we finally settled at the corner table of an inn by the name of The Golden Standard. The barman had initially taken one look at me and told us to get out, but Sierra had thrown a silver coin on the bar and ordered drinks anyway.
Sierra motioned me to silence until two pints of beer and a platter of bread, cheeses, cuts of meat and what looked like some sort of pickle were dropped onto the table by the barman.
Once he departed, she moved around to sit on the same side of the table as me. I slid down the bench into the corner as she began to go through the looted items, using her body to shield the treasures from any prying eyes.
I’d had a long day. Normally, a boxing match would make a day eventful, but the match I’d had this afternoon felt like a lifetime ago.
The warmth from the room’s fire hadn’t made a dent in the deep chill from my soggy clothes yet, and hours of worrying and marching, capped off by fighting some folks to the death, had left my hands shaking and a deep exhaustion weighing down on me.
Reaching for the bread with a shaking hand, I took a bite to try and calm my nerves. I felt my stomach lurch, demanding more and letting me know just how hungry it was. I forgot all about Sierra for a few minutes while I gorged on food and drained the mug of beer.
When I came back to my senses, Sierra had finished counting and was looking at me curiously. I had no idea how long she’d watched me eat and felt the need to excuse myself.
“Sorry about that, it’s been ... a long day. I guess I didn’t realise how hungry I was.” I pushed the platter – with around a third of the food remaining – over to her.
She took a single slice of bread and a chunk of beef before pushing it back over to me. “I’ve eaten already, and a meal is the least of what I owe you.” She nodded down, indicating a pile of coins and a few pieces of jewellery between us.
I glanced down at the pile.
There were a handful of silver coins. Apparently, they were enough for a large meal, two drinks and getting served when the barman was trying to kick you out. The rest of the coins, along with the three rings and five gems of various sizes, were a mystery to me. I slowly chewed on a piece of bread, hoping I wasn’t going to be asked for an opinion.
Sierra picked up a ring of brilliant white metal with a blue gem set into it. “I believe this may have a Skill.” She emphasised the word before looking at me for a reaction, so I nodded thoughtfully, hoping that would be enough of a response.
She slipped the ring onto the finger of her left hand before announcing softly, but clearly, “Appraise.”
A soft white light glowed in her right eye, contrasting it starkly with the brown of her left eye. She glanced down at the other items for a moment before looking up at me, her brow wrinkling slightly as the glow faded away.
“So, we have a ring with the Appraise Skill. The rest of the items are just jewellery ... and you are a D-Rank healer.” She fixed me with a piercing look, so I nodded again, trying my best to look thoughtful.
“You have no combat skills.”
I wasn’t sure if it was a statement or a question, so I took another mouthful of bread and gave a non-committal shrug.
With a casual swipe, she knocked the bread out of my hand, leaning closer so I’d hear her whisper more clearly.
“How does a low-rank healer take out a C-Rank Brawler in a few seconds? What happened outside the alley?” She demanded. “And how did you interrupt Reeves’ casting.”
Awkwardly, with her still focused on me, I finished chewed the mouthful of bread, swallowing it down in a hurry so I could respond. “I ... punched him.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “You punched him to fucking death? With what Skill? I didn’t hear any Command words.”
“I just hit him with a straight right, then he hit his head on the cobblestones.” She met my response with a cold stare, so I carried on. “Purple-robes guy? I just gave him a kick in the chest, grabbed hold of him and hit him a few times.”
She took a moment to consider this before responding. “Carrie, he was a Brawler! C-Rank.”
She waited for a response again, and I slowly nodded.
“And you’re a Healer ... D-Rank.”
“I guess I got lucky,” was all I could really respond with.
It clearly wasn’t enough, and Sierra fixed me with that disbelieving stare until I’d finally had enough and cracked.
“OK, you know what? I didn’t get lucky. Groat was a big guy, but he had no technique, and he was totally out of shape; I could take him any day of the week. If they had no weapons and ... whatever that glowing purple shit was, I could have taken all three of those guys at once.”
“Purple glowing shit...?” Sierra asked, but the dam had broken now, and I couldn’t bring myself to stop talking despite a nagging feeling that I probably should.
“And who’s saying I have no skill? I have crazy skills. Hard-earned through years of practice.” I finally managed to stop myself, hoping I hadn’t said too much.
Sierra placed a calming hand on my shoulder. “Carrie ... do you know what a Skill is ... or a Brawler?” she asked softly, the suspicion in her eyes replaced with something that looked a lot like sympathy.
“It’s like an ability and ... someone who ... brawls. A fighter, I guess.”
“And what about a Class?”
“You mean, in school? Or like a weight class ... maybe how good you are.” I winced slightly, knowing I’d fluffed that last one.
“What healing Skills do you have?”
“I took a first aid course and I’ve ... spent a while working with ... a guy who fixes cuts.”
She took a deep breath, a mouthful of beer, then slowly turned her attention back to me.
“Carrie, a Skill is a special ability linked to your Class. You activate it with a Command word or, if it’s a spell, cast it with a Cypher.” She watched my blank stare for a moment before continuing. “You have the Skills: Minor Cure, Minor Restoration and Light. A very short list of Skills even for a D-Rank Healer. You also have barely enough mana to use your Skills twice before exhausting yourself.”
She took a larger swig of beer before she continued. “That’s all a little strange, but what’s really confusing is that you don’t appear to be aware of any of this. You’re also unaware of how valuable this ring is, so Carrie ... exactly who are you and where are you from?”
Wishing I had a little more beer left myself, I summarised as briefly as I could. “I woke up in the forest a few hours outside of town. This place is very different to where I come from. It’s ... not my world. I don’t know where I am and I can’t really explain how I got here.”
I wasn’t sure what response I was hoping for from Sierra, but after thinking the problem over for a few minutes, all I got was a thoughtful “Fuck!”
With a shake of her head, she bundled up the loot – minus the ring – into three small purses and pushed them over to me. “Take these. Reeves must have paid his henchmen just before grabbing me. It looks like they still had their wages on them, and he had a fat purse on him too.”
She followed this up by pushing Groat’s knife in its sheath over to me as well. “Put this on your belt and don’t walk around this part of town without it. Get a room here tonight, and I’ll meet you back here tomorrow. Midday.”
She stood to leave, then hesitated long enough to add, “It’s not an even split of the money. The ring is worth a lot more than I’ve left you. I hope that’s OK, but it seemed like you needed cash more than this item and I have a friend who’s been looking for one of these.”
All I could do was nod, still a little stunned and not feeling like I knew enough to object.
“I owe you for the ring and for ... getting me out of a spot tonight.” With that, she was gone.
Hauling myself to my feet, I walked to the bar. “I need a bed, somewhere to wash and a change of clothes.” The barman frowned and looked like he was about to object, so I mimicked Sierra’s combo of overpaying and abrupt dismissal by slapping three silver coins onto the bar.
I’d fallen asleep before the barman had made good on his promise of clean clothes and somewhere to wash.
Dropping face down onto a bed that felt like it was made of clouds, I’d passed out almost instantly. I somehow woke up on a crude pallet stuffed with straw.
The bed had done the job, though, and I’d clearly slept through part of the morning. Long enough to feel well-rested despite a few aches.
I winced slightly at the blood and mud staining the bed and blankets left behind by the filthy clothes I’d passed out in, but a quick glance around the small room revealed a pile of clothes by the door, next to a wash basin, cloth and a small bar of gritty soap.
It was a struggle getting clean using the basin; the water quickly turned dark with grime, but I did the best I could, pleased with the difference it had made.
Pulling on the white shirt and plain dark-brown trousers the barman had left for me made me feel like a new person, even if they were a little tight in the shoulders and thighs.
I washed the worst of the mud and grime from my boots with the already dirty water and cloth. In the end, they weren’t exactly clean, but it was them or going barefoot.
Retrieving the coin purses from under the pillow where I’d left them, I stood up straight and took a deep breath.
I felt human again, clean-ish and rested, fed and with a bit of money. I was ready to go out into this world, learn more about it and beat whatever it was going to throw at me today.
I stepped down the stairs into a much busier inn than the one I’d left last night and guessed from the crowds that it was lunchtime.
It must have been a popular place, with all the tables filled and three girls bustling around with trays. It seemed like a different place from the quiet, gloomy cavern it turned into in the early hours.
“Oh, you must be the ... erm ... late-arriving guest.” The large, stern barman had been replaced by a smiling blonde woman, a massive upgrade in my opinion.
“Hans told me you’d had a late night, and not to disturb you.” Her eyes travelled down the length of me and slowly back up as she spoke, “My, you certainly are filling out that old shirt of his, aren’t you.”
Before I could respond, she smiled to herself and shook her head slightly, “Oh, I nearly forgot – your group is over in the corner. They said to wait for you to wake, then ask you to join them. They’ve already ordered food.”
With that, she was off, seeing to other customers’ needs, while I was left pondering when I’d gained a group.
Glancing in the direction she’d gestured, I spotted Sierra at the corner table we’d used the night before with two odd companions.
The first was a tiny woman. She sat opposite the other two and couldn’t have been more than five feet tall – likely a few inches shorter. As slim as she was short, she couldn’t have weighed more than 80 lb. She had straight jet-black hair down to her waist and eyes a deep shade of purple. A ring pierced her lip, another her nose, and dark makeup spiralled from the corner of her eyes.
She wore a black robe with long sleeves and a swirling crimson pattern. It reminded me a little of Purple-robes’ outfit, but hers was sleek and silky, hugging the narrow curves of her waist. She carried herself with a calm maturity and easy confidence, despite her clear complexion and delicate size, making it difficult to judge her age, aside from somewhere between eighteen and thirty.
The second companion sat on the same side as Sierra. Slim and elegant, she looked out of place in the inn, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on why. She wore a dark green cloak with the hood pulled up and light orange curls of hair spilling out the side.
The cloak was open at the front, and beneath I could see a leather vest, dyed green and patterned with swirls and leaves. The vest came up to just beneath her armpits and split into a vee just above her navel, leaving the pale skin of her midriff and upper torso exposed.
She wore a kilted skirt similar to Sierra’s, though made from green cloth instead of dark leather, with brown boots reaching just below the skirt.
Her eyes were a bright shade of green and fixed right on me. She was watching me before I even spotted the group and didn’t divert her gaze once as I made my way over.
When it was clear I was heading towards them, I saw her rap her knuckles once on the tabletop and give a small nod in my direction, all without dropping that piercing stare.
Sierra and the short, robed woman broke off their conversation to look up. The tiny woman immediately burst into a loud cackle of laughter the moment she saw me.
“No. Fucking. Way,” she practically wheezed, “Sierra, you said he was a Healer. Does that look like any Healer you’ve ever seen?” Her voice was sharp and confident and contrasted with her elegant appearance.
“Carrie, thank you for joining us.” Sierra calmly ignored the smaller woman opposite her. “Please, take a seat. This is Rhian, our Scout and Eloise, a ... caster Class.”
“You can say Witch, Sierra, we’re not a forbidden Class anymore,” the tiny Witch interrupted. “And you, big man, it’s Ellie, never Eloise.”
Ignoring Ellie’s interruptions seemed like second nature to Sierra. I could tell they were used to each other as she calmly continued. “We weren’t properly introduced before, but I’m a Fencer. Rhian and I are C-Rank and Ellie is a B-Rank.”
Not having the slightest idea of how to respond, I slid myself into the only free seat, next to Ellie and opposite Sierra. “Pleased to meet you ladies, sorry if I’m running a little late for our meeting, Sierra. I’m still getting used to things here as a ... foreigner.”
Ellie cackled again. “Rhian is a foreigner; you’re a damned world-walker ... or, more likely, a con artist ... or a lunatic.”
Rhian made a short series of rapid hand gestures. I looked at her, slightly bemused, guessing she was using some sort of sign language. I was also a little concerned that she’d been staring at me the whole time.
The other two went silent for a moment before Sierra calmly turned her attention from Rhian back to me and asked, “Carrie, what are your boots made of and what would make you smell like ... cinnamon mixed with ... snowcat musk and cleaning chemicals?”
I looked down at my boots. “My boots, they’re Solovair ... erm, that’s the make ... I think they’re leather with a rubber sole.”
I had to ponder the second question a little longer. “My deodorant smells a bit like cinnamon. My ex bought it for me; she loved the brand but ... I haven’t put it on since I showered yesterday. No one could smell it after I washed this morning and ... everything that happened yesterday.”
Rhian made another series of hand gestures while Sierra nodded along to them. Ellie had fallen strangely silent.
Sierra turned her attention to me. “Carrie, Rhian could track you by that scent through a hurricane. This morning she tracked you from this inn to the alley, on a wandering path all around the town, out the gate and to the edge of the Eyespider Woods.”
“The edge of what? What in the hell is an Eyespider?”
“We don’t speak of them,” whispered Ellie.
“That’s what a Scout can do.” Sierra calmly continued her explanation, “It’s a part of what her Skills can do, and very few can hide from her. Your strange boots and unworldly smell wouldn’t be noticed by most; they’re like a bell ringing to her. She’s also skilled with a bow and can pick off an opponent before they know she’s there, though heavily armoured enemies are a challenge for her.”
Without giving me time to take in what I’d just been told, Sierra turned her attention to the tiny witch and continued. “Ellie here is a Witch with an affinity for fire. She can torch a crowd of enemies or burn a single foe to ash. She can melt metal or stone...”
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