Page 12 of The Outlaw Viking

But there was another way, Rain realized suddenly. Did she have the courage to try it?

Dr. Chin Lee, a colleague at her hospital, had been teaching her acupuncture for the past few years as an alternative to traditional painkillers and anesthetics, but she’d never tried the procedure on her own. She inhaled deeply and made a decision.

“Selik, can you find me some long needles with very sharp points?”

He nodded.

“Bring as many as you can find, and make sure you put those in boiling water, too.” He frowned at her dictatorial tone but had the grace to wait until later to reprimand her. When everything was ready, she demanded, “Everybody out of this tent.”

“Nay. We stay to witness her atrocities,” the healer protested.

“The boy needs to be held down,” one man argued.

“Mayhap she practices sorcery,” still another offered.

“Selik,” Rain pleaded, “if all goes well, Tykir won’t need to be restrained.”

“Hah! He will be dead,” the healer declared shrilly, and the others affirmed his accusation with much grumbling.

Selik considered her words, then compromised, “Father Cedric and I will remain to witness your work. The others will stay outside the tent in case they are needed.”

“Well, then, you both have to scrub your hands.”

“The wench demands overmuch,” Father Cedric whined.

“Selik, my brother is in more danger from infection than from the wound itself. Dirt and tainted blood carry bacteria, a deadly killer in open wounds.”

At first, Selik glared at her stubbornly, but then he looked to Tykir’s pleading face. He told the healer with finality, “We do as the wench asks—for now.”

They left the tent to scrub up, muttering curses when she added that they should wash under their fingernails as well. Rain turned to the barely conscious Tykir.

“Honey, I’m going to do some things to lessen the pain. You’ll feel better right away, and you shouldn’t even be able to tell when I probe in your wound to repair the damage. Do you trust me?”

“I must needs trust you,” he said uncertainly.

“There’s one thing, though, Tykir…the way I’ll stop the pain involves sticking needles in your skin in at least ten spots.”

His eyes widened, but then he gave a weak, pain-filled smile and chuckled. “Best you prick me afore Selik returns, lest he skin you alive. He has a fearsome aversion to needles.”

Thanking God for her almost photographic memory, Rain mentally reviewed Dr. Lee’s lessons on ancient Chinese medicine. She pictured the meridians that divided the human body and the three hundred and sixty-five “gate keepers” or puncture points where the meridians supposedly emerged to the surface. Even Dr. Lee, with all his expertise, hadn’t been sure how acupuncture worked as a natural anesthetic, but he contended that when a sharp point was inserted in precisely the right spot it sent a message to the brain which released natural opiates, such as endorphins and enkephalins, to mask the pain.

Tykir was scared to death, but the brave boy just pressed his lips together tightly and closed his eyes as she stuck the long needles into various parts of his body, including his head. Then he looked up in wonder. “’Tis a miracle. I feel no pain.”

Rain closed her eyes for a second. Thank You, God!

“Nay!” Selik and the healer shouted together as they entered the tent and saw what she’d done with the needles. At first, Selik swayed from side to side, his huge body threatening to fall into a dead faint at the sight of the needles. Then he picked her up bodily, softly whispering various obscene tortures he would inflict on her for hurting his injured friend, but Tykir spoke up weakly, “Nay, Selik, the needles kill the bloody pain. I gave her permission to do thus.”

Selik eyed Tykir dubiously and finally told the babbling healer, “Shut your teeth, man, or depart.”

The operation took hours, with a white-faced Selik holding the magnifying glass she’d purchased early that morning to examine the museum painting.

Was it really only this morning, or a lifetime ago?

Despite the acupuncture, Tykir mercifully passed out midway through the procedure. At the end, Rain’s fingers shook with tension and exhaustion as she completed the final sutures, bandaged the leg, and put on the splints.

Shaking his head, Father Cedric left the tent, muttering, “Sorceress! Devil’s Spawn! Black Arts!” But Selik just watched her steadily, deep in thought, as she picked up her meager supplies. He stepped outside and spoke to someone, then came back and helped her. Finally, he drew her protestingly from Tykir’s side, assuring her that a guard would watch him through the night and call her if there was any change. He led her to a small tent nearby and pushed her inside.

“’Tis the best I could do,” he apologized, indicating the sleeping furs on the ground and the basin of water for bathing. A cup of water and a wooden plate with a hunk of bread and several slices of fire-blackened meat sat on a small stool.