Garrett abruptly stopped the Phantom Steed.
A red hawk circled in the sky, occasionally letting out a long cry, seemingly signaling soone in the distance.
Behind the bison warriors, clouds of dust rose, reaching the sky. Soon, a large group of bison rushed over, with the strongest ones carrying burly, muscular warriors.
In the forest, black shadows flickered. Garrett squinted and even cast an Eagle Eye spell, but he still couldn't make out what it was:
Was it a black panther? Or warriors clad in leopard skins? Or perhaps warriors blessed by the Black Panther God, partially transford into panther-like beings?
In any case, the opposing side seed nurous and formidable. Garrett took a deep breath and cast an Amplification Spell, shouting loudly:
"I will only stay for one day! I will leave early tomorrow! I will do my best, but I can't treat more patients than I can handle! If you agree, then lead the way!"
The bison warrior tugged at his mount's mane without a word.
The bison surrounded Garrett, and the red hawk led the way. Before nightfall, Garrett arrived at the tribe's settlent, or rather, the gathering place of several large tribes:
Between the hills lay a slightly undulating, spacious plain.
In the center of the plain stood a four-tiered earthen mound, larger than the Great Pyramid of Giza, towering and majestic. Surrounding it were nurous smaller mounds, like ripples spreading from the central mound, scattered all around.
On top of the four-tiered mound and so of the smaller mounds, tall wooden fences were erected. Around the fences were networks of irrigation and transport canals, as well as square, field-like plots.
In the middle of the fields, hundreds of wooden houses were built, with high and thick roofs.
The buildings on top of the four-tiered mound were different, taller and more majestic, with sharply pointed roofs reaching towards the sky. Around the roofs flew various banners: the horns of bison, curved beaks and claws, and other marks Garrett couldn't recognize at a glance.
"How many tribes are there? Definitely more than three!"
Garrett muttered. Soon, Mr. Baronsimo's voice ca through the Mindlink:
"At least ten. I can recognize eight... This is a grand gathering. It seems all the surrounding tribes that could co, have co."
The inner circle of mounds was large and wide, while the outer circle was lower and smaller. Accordingly, the houses on them were also smaller, with almost no decorations of bones, horns, or feathers on the roofs.
"How many people are there..." Garrett's gaze swept around, counting the circles:
"One circle, two circles, three circles... The first circle has about ten houses, the second circle fifteen to twenty... the third circle... the fourth circle... Each house could easily house ten people... Plus the host tribe..."
Before he finished counting, the red hawk folded its wings and swooped down like an arrow, landing on a tent adorned with curved beaks and claws. Soon, a group of people erged from the tent:
From their wrinkled faces, the long staffs they held, and their elaborate headdresses and tattoos, Garrett bet a silver coin that these were all spellcasters of the tribe.
The red hawk cried repeatedly on the central roof. One by one, their gazes accurately turned towards Garrett's distant group.
"Oh great shaman from afar!"
The leading shaman—perhaps a shaman—approached quickly with his people. From a distance, he shook his long staff and bowed with his hand over his chest. His head was shaven clean, with a bird-beak tattoo in the center of his forehead, and he wore a feather crown.
As he bowed, his head resembled a red hawk pecking at soone. Garrett barely stifled a laugh as he listened to his loud speech:
"Thank you for your generosity in coming to save our people! The demon of the plague has gripped us, and our warriors, won, and children are dying in droves!"
He spread his arms, raising his head high. His voice rose and fell with many deliberately prolonged tremors, making Garrett almost think he was singing:
"We need to gather every bit of strength, all kind and powerful shamans and warriors, to fight the cruel demon—"
"Where are the patients?"
Garrett interrupted. The red hawk shaman was montarily stunned, then forced a smile and half-turned:
"Here."
A huge white ox walked over slowly, lowering its horns ekly. The red hawk shaman mounted it first, followed by the other shamans on their respective mounts, moving in a line towards the central four-tiered mound. Upon reaching the mound, they switched to palanquins, two people per palanquin, climbing up:
The temple was filled with smoke. Garrett stared at a bubble spell for a long ti before realizing the place was divided into two sides: on the left were colorful mats, each with a small, exquisite table, possibly for the shamans;
On the right, the bare ground, made of a mixture of mud and grass, was littered with patients, the stench overwhelming. So groaned softly, others pleaded quietly, and so lay motionless, possibly dead.
Garrett cast a Life Observation spell, then began casting Remove Disease on each patient in turn. White light flashed, and the ailnts were cured. Soon, the patients in the temple began to get up.
Intense gazes burned on his back. The shamans from various tribes watched Garrett's every move, not blinking. Only when Garrett finished casting all his healing spells did they exchange glances and nod lightly.
"Honorable shaman, thank you for your help." The red hawk shaman spoke again, his eyes quickly darting towards Garrett's dinsional bag repeatedly:
"With no ties to us, you saved our people, and we shouldn't ask for more. But to fight the plague demon, we need to ensure our warriors are protected—your divine dicine, could it, could it..."
"I don't have much left!"
Garrett instinctively covered his dinsional bag:
"Give a number. If I have it, I have it. If not, I don't! Once I hand over the supplies, let leave tomorrow!"
Those were cowpox vaccines! The Oak Grove Clinic, a group of necromancers, had spent nearly a year developing them! At the thought of running out of vaccines, Garrett's first instinct was to run—
Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't mind staying in the New World for a year or two to figure out how to make cowpox vaccines by hand. But now, Brother Lynn was waiting for him to save him!
Every day delayed here increased Brother Lynn's danger! Although he had been treating one tribe after another these days, it was all done during his rest at night, traveling a hundred miles each day without fail!
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