How to Help, Part III
Medics rushed Roshil to the hospital. Oshal fell behind them without anyone to guide him. He kept checking Roshil’s thread, but he couldn’t sense anything from her.
What have I done?
His mother had told him it was dangerous to weave emotion into other people. She’d warned him not to do it. Master Durwey had warned him against it. Why hadn’t he listened?
I had to do something.
People saw him and instinctively thought he was fragile, helpless. Even before he’d lost his eyes, people had sheltered him. It wasn’t he that needed it. Oshal could stand up for himself, and there wasn’t much that bothered him. Roshil was the fragile one. She was the one that broke down easily. But this time, he’d broken her.
I’m so sorry, Roshil.
When he arrived at the hospital, someone else was already waiting for him. There was no emotion attached to it, but he sensed a towering presence, as though he were staring up at a volcano. He’d felt the same thing whenever that person came to Roshil’s mind.
“Apprentice Oshal,” Lord Grund greeted him.
“My Lord.” Oshal stood at attention. “How is she?”
“Stable,” Lord Grund growled. “What happened?”
Oshal tried to find the words to explain what had happened. How miserable Roshil had been, how he’d only been trying to help, how he hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. Before he could find the words, he sensed a sudden rush of panic enter the hospital.
The swirling mass of fear stopped for a moment, brightened as much as a candle does a maelstrom, then ran over to them.
“My Lord High Artisan,” Aonva panted. “Oshal. Our Lady Arch Mage told me something happened to Roshil. Is everything alright?” She opened her pack. “I was in the library with Our Lady Arch Mage when I heard, so I grabbed some books I’ve been reading on trauma.”
“Apprentice Aonva,” Lord Grund grumbled.
“I’m not sure how much help they’ll be,” she said, pulling out several books, “but I’ve found them rather illuminating. There’s whole chapters in this one about people that have survived dragon attacks, and this one’s got a chapter about curses.”
“Apprentice Aonva.”
“I’m sure the medics have read them, or something like them. It’ll be weavers working on her, right? Or knights talking her through it? I don’t think they’d have druids in there with her, since she isn’t hurt, and druids don’t get along with Roshil anyway.”
“Apprentice Aonva!”
Aonva squeaked and dropped her books. Her panic and concern gave way to more panic.
“My apologies, My Lord. I—”
“Stop talking.”
Aonva squeaked again, but made no other noise.
“Pick up your books.”
The sound of shuffling on the floor told Oshal that Aonva had rushed to obey Lord Grund.
“The medics don’t think this has anything to do with her trauma. They said it was euphoria overload. Have either of you seen strange behavior in her lately?”
Oshal raised his hand.
“You know what I mean, Apprentice Oshal.”
Oshal kept his hand raised.
“What?”
“What’s ‘euphoria overload’?”
Even as he asked, he realized the answer to his question. What else would it have been? He’d done this.
He heard the sound of whooshing of air next to him.
“Apprentice Aonva, care to explain?”
“Euphoria is the term given to weaving a large amount of happiness or joy into a person. Euphoria overload, sometimes called euphoria overdose, is when too much of it is woven into a person, causing him or her to have negative side effects, such as chills or episodes similar to that of trauma. While it varies from person to person—”
“I think we got it,” Lord Grund said. “I haven’t noticed anything aside from her usual behavior as of late. I haven’t been keeping as close of an eye on her as I was a few weeks ago, but I didn’t think she’d have time to leave the castle. Which means she snuck out without me knowing, which isn’t likely, or someone in the castle put it into her.”
Oshal couldn’t see Lord Grund staring at him, but he could feel it. Something inside him knew that Lord Grund already knew the answer.
“I haven’t been…” Aonva’s voice trailed off. “Oshal?”
Oshal shifted uncomfortably. He couldn’t tune out the emotions from either of them. Confusion from Aonva had overpowered panic, but the worst one came from Lord Grund. Oshal couldn’t tell if it was disappointment or shame, but it felt ugly. Like some shambling monster had raised a long finger at him and hissed “You did this”.
“I… I thought I was helping. She was so upset—”
“Of course she was upset,” Lord Grund snapped. “It’s Apprentice Roshil. She’s always upset about something. You’ve known her longer than I have, so you should know that. You should also know the best way to help her is to distract her from it until she’s ready to talk about it.”
Oshal felt small against the mountain of Lord Grund. Their mother would’ve known that. Oshal should’ve known that. But she’d been so happy for a moment, happier than she’d ever been. No, happier than he’d ever noticed her being.
“Lady Durwey will be here soon to collect you,” Lord Grund said. “She’ll take it from there. Next time you think your sister’s having trouble, either talk to her about it, or let me handle it. You are not the only one that cares. Right, Apprentice Aonva?”
Aonva squeaked again and said something that sounded like “ysmlrd”.
Lord Grund guided him to a chair, and Oshal sat down. He tried not to think that this was all his fault. Instead, he focused on the fact that Roshil would be okay.
I should’ve known better. Maybe I’ll do better next time.
Lord Grund had been right. Roshil was always upset about something, unless she’d been given a distraction. And sometimes she did talk to someone about it. Oshal always wished she’d talk to him more, but so long as she talked to someone, it was okay.
Roshil would be okay. He just had to keep telling himself that.