[Sakkit POV]
"Pull the mandibles out before you bring them here. Especially the shards, it's much easier to do the healing if all foreign material is removed prior to healing."
The keelish looking up at Sakkit flared her frills in acceptance, though he could tell she had absolutely no idea what he was saying, so the healer ground his fangs and said, again, "Anything that isn't a part of him, take out of the wound before you get here. Understood?"
With only a little more surety than before, the female flared her frills again before turning and throwing herself back into the fight. With Joral's absence, it was getting uglier by the minute, and it'd been days now. Sakkit refused to say so aloud, but the New Empire was losing the fight against a bunch of ants. That was horribly demoralizing, but the reality was that the ants didn't seem to care how many of their number were slaughtered. They continued marching, tireless and numberless.
Sakkit had, when put under Vefir's guidance, thought that he'd be allowed time to find his place as a healer in the Empire. It wasn't to be. Instead, with just a little time given to him to grasp Vefir's magic, he was then sent to a less dangerous battlefield, and then left to his own devices. As one of the few of Vefir's followers that'd actually learned his healing magic, Sakkit realized that he was exceptionally valuable, and as such, the Zaaktifi had sent him here effectively without support. She was confident in him, but as he needed to cut back more and more on how much he could do for the suffering keelish, Sakkit felt more and more out of his comfort zone.
The keelish in front of him was suffering from a nearly fatal wound. For a moment, Sakkit calculated if it was worth it to spend as much of his magical reserves on this one, when he could use the same amount on three others that would be able to go right back into the fight. As soon as he evaluated this one's wounds, though, he realized that the choice didn't need to be made. He was losing a lot of blood, but it was all from one artery right on his hip. It'd been a lucky hit from the ant that struck him, but that single artery was the only problem. Stitching it back together wouldn't be especially taxing.
"Here." Sakkit said as he held a particularly thick mandible out to the suffering keelish's jaws. "Bite down. I don't care if you break it, it's something for you to vent anger on. Now, this is going to hurt quite a bit before it gets better."
As soon as the keelish flared his frills and accepted the mandible into his mouth, Sakkit began. Vefir, as the premiere healer in the Empire, could easily spread his magic to touch whatever was necessary, and only that. Sakkit had watched his mentor do so with a mere wave of his hands. For Sakkit, though, that was impossible. He needed to touch what he was healing, and if he wanted to heal just the artery and the muscle around it, then he'd need to touch it physically.
With a single finger extended, Sakkit pushed into the wound and felt the wide tube, constantly pumping out the keelish's life. He said a quick prayer to Nievtala, the same one Vefir always did to draw on her strength.
"We are the peak which casts the long shadow, and we will control the shadow of death. Keep it from those in my charge and bless my touch with healing and care."
While he spoke, Sakkit pushed his magic out into the keelish's leg. The most important blood vessels quickly fused, and though the blood continued to leak weakly out of the wound, the keelish's life was no longer in danger. Sakkit was tempted to restore the flesh and scales, to knit muscles back together and push the keelish back onto the front lines, but this wasn't the time. Three more had been wounded to various degrees since this one was taken off the front lines, and they would need his attention as well, if not his magic.
Thus, Sakkit passed his latest patient to the nearest assistant, knowing they knew what to do. He heard commands about eating as much as possible in the next few days, staying off the front lines, and to return the next day for the wounds to be checked. Sakkit followed some of that advice immediately, reaching behind himself to a pile of ant bodies and ripping a couple bites free of whatever came to hand before stuffing it down his throat. Without even giving himself the luxury to chew, Sakkit filled himself until he was full, and then took another couple of bites. All the healing made him hungrier by the minute, the energy coming from somewhere.
There was no need to call for the next keelish that needed assistance, as they were dropped in front of him before Sakkit had the opportunity to swallow. This one… the wound was terribly torn flesh, with the keelish's right leg's thigh torn to ribbons, leaving the leg almost entirely unable to function. The muscle was shredded, made into pulped meat more than anything resembling a limb. With this level of damage, at least two of the ants had gotten the leg at the same time, ravaging it beyond recognition. Sakkit was quickly able to discern that, though he might be able to help to return some measure of mobility to the poor creature, it would be a waste compared to those that would be able to get back into the fight.
"Eat as much as you can." Sakkit commanded after touching the wound and sending a brief pulse of his magic in the hopes it would keep the wound from festering. Then, gesturing for his assistants to pull the suffering keelish away, Sakkit looked to the next patient. Behind him, they fashioned a wrap of some sort to keep the leg as whole as possible, but Sakkit's attention was quickly pulled away as the next individual was laid in front of him.
—-
With a sigh of relief, Sakkit sagged to the ground. There was a brief lull in the fighting, maybe a couple of the Kou'Tal had managed to placate the ants. Or Joral was back. Sakkit couldn't bring himself to care what it was, nor the whispers that Sybil had found a solution to all this. All that mattered was that he had a reprieve. The sounds of battle outside had faded to pained growls, the sound of cracking chitin, and snores. As soon as he'd fully settled onto the ground, Sakkit's consciousness faded.
In a dreamless sleep, he couldn't say how long had passed, but when he woke, the midday sun had disappeared and the darkness of night had swept over the area. Sakkit struggled to his feet, his stomach growling as loudly as his bones creaked. Sleeping in that position had been uncomfortable at best, and he struggled to stretch in a way that allowed his whole tail to loosen up.
As he stood, Sakkit realized what had woken him–the sounds of battle. With a groan of anger, he seized a double handful of food, stuffed it in his mouth, and settled into his position. After all, it wouldn't be long before the first injured appeared, and he'd be back to work.