by Tora Moon
“Okay,” Rizelya said meekly, sufficiently scared. “How am I supposed to get around?”
“Someone will help you.”
“Ugh.” Rizelya rolled her eyes.
The healer just turned away to get the other patients ready to travel.
“No sense of dignity,” Rizelya mumbled. She had been embarrassed yesterday when the healer, and then Aistrun, had to carry her to the necessary room. It looked like she would have to cope with being an invalid for a few more days. I wish Kaieli were here; she’d pamper me while I convalesce.
The noise of the fighting-pack preparing to leave reminded her there would be no lazing about today. She ate the porridge quickly. Kaelyn came by and helped her to the necessary room. When the bandage was removed from her leg, there was a red line around the edges of the bite. She tsked about it, wrapped it with clean bandages, and again warned Rizelya to stay off her leg.
Dehali came in to help Rizelya get dressed. She couldn’t lift her arm over her head to slide on a tunic. Aistrun had left his bag, so they rummaged through it and found one of his formal shirts. It had a front closure with wooden toggles. Her tight leather pants wouldn’t go on over her bandaged leg, so she wore one of her split skirts with wide legs. By the time she was dressed, with short boots on her feet, and her hair braided, she was panting with pain and exhaustion. Dehali left with Aistrun and Rizelya’s bags in her hands to get one of the men to carry Rizelya to her horse.
The movement of getting dressed had her injured arm and leg burning fiercely. She wondered how she would survive riding when just dressing had her groaning with pain. She almost wished they had a wagon for the injured to ride in. Then she thought of how bumpy it would be and was grateful they didn’t have one.
Kaelyn looked over and saw Rizelya was ready to leave. “Here, I have something for you,” she said, coming up to Rizelya. She handed Rizelya several capsules. “Pain killers.”
“Hey, Little Red.” Aistrun sauntered to where she sat. “Waiting for your handsome warrior?”
“Where? I don’t see one?” She looked all around her and then back at him. “I guess I’ll just have to settle for you, Wolf.”
He dramatically put his hand over his heart, swooning. “Oh, have mercy, you’re breaking my heart.” He picked her up and walked out of the safe house.
“Haven’t we decided you don’t have a heart to break?” she teased.
“No, we decided you don’t. Mine has already been broken many times”—he bumped her forehead with his—“by you.”
She expected to see Kymaya saddled and waiting for her. Instead, Eidstrun reached for her.
“Up you come,” he said, settling her in front of him. The saddle was different from a normal one; the cantle was higher to support his back and it was longer, obviously made for two people. The rear rider sat further back, almost on the hindquarters of the horse. The saddlebow was wide and low. She suspected it was so she could keep her leg raised. As she settled in front of him, she noticed the other injured fighters were riding double on similar saddles.
Once the healer mounted, Laynar signaled for them to depart.
“These are a good idea,” she remarked, after they had ridden for a few milcrons. It was more comfortable than she’d thought it would be, at least for now. She’d reserve judgment until after riding in it all day.
“It was my aunt’s idea,” Laynar rode up next to Eidstrun’s horse. “She was a healer and had to travel with injured fighters several times. She and our horse master came up with these saddles. They only fit the larger horses.”
“Ah, that’s why I’m riding with you.” She patted Eidstrun’s cheek. His gelding, Luchen, was almost as big as Tejen.
He blushed. “Yes, Alpha.”
“We will stop at another keep today,” Laynar informed her. “It isn’t far, but by the time we reach it, our injured will appreciate the stop. Even you, I suspect.”
Rizelya and Eidstrun talked during the first octar and a half of riding, but by the second octar, her leg throbbed with every step of the horse. The pain killers weren’t helping much. All she could do was grind her teeth against the pain. In the third octar the man with the gash passed out; it was only through sheer willpower Rizelya didn’t join him.
It took over four octars to reach the keep since they had to move so slowly because of the injured. Rizelya was surprised when they approached the gates; she hadn’t expected them to stop at a district keep. It was larger than a minor keep but not quite as large as the Territory Keep. There would be at least three full fighting-packs with hundreds of support people.
At least today they would have more of a selection of Yellow candidates. No more mothers, she prayed. There would be a practice arena so they could properly train the candidates. A shooting pain up her leg made her gasp and grip the edge of the saddlebow. She wouldn’t be training them. All she wanted to do for an octar or two was lie down and sleep.
“I’ll be so glad to get off this horse; my butt hurts,” Eidstrun complained, fidgeting in the saddle. “Not that I mind riding with you, Alpha.”
“Not to worry, my feelings exactly.” The saddle had made riding for her easier, but had been almost torture for Eidstrun. His legs couldn’t hang straight down but were in front of him at an angle so he couldn’t move easily with his horse. Thank goodness they hadn’t trotted. Neither of them could have posted to ease the jerkiness of the gait.
Rizelya lifted her injured leg over the saddlebow and wiggled until she was sitting sideways in anticipation of Aistrun lifting her down. While Aistrun stretched, getting feeling and movement back into his feet and legs, she watched Laynar rush to greet the keep alpha with joy. Laynal wasn’t far behind her.
The alpha of this keep was young; Rizelya guessed her to be in her late thirties. As the three women talked, Rizelya could see the family resemblance—a sister, she decided. It didn’t surprise Rizelya both of Laynar’s sisters were Reds. The Talents tended to follow family lines. Since Reds were fighters and tended to mate with other fighters, their children were usually fighters as well.
What astonished Rizelya was how the three treated each other like bond-mates. Close family ties, especially between fighters, was unusual. For most Posairs, pack bonds were much stronger than any family bonds, but even more so for fighters. The children of fighters were fostered to the other keep packs. While all children were raised in packs, and not solely by their parents, there were no children living with the fighting-packs.
“Hey, Little Red, you ready to get down?” Aistrun looked at her more closely and said with a chuckle, “Maybe I should call you Little White instead. You’re so pale. Let’s get you to a bed.” He gently lowered her down and let her stand a moment. Then he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the entrance of the Keep House where Laynar and her sisters stood.
“Hey, Laynar, where can I put her?”
“Oh, you have injured, and here I am flapping my jaw with my sisters,” the alpha apologized, smiling. Her eyes were alight with joy and laugh lines crinkled around her eyes, telling Rizelya she laughed frequently.
“Rizelya, Aistrun, this is my sister Laynad,” Laynar said, introducing them.
“Welcome to Strunhamde Keep. It isn’t much, but we call it home.” Laynad swung an arm, encompassing the keep. Her attention was caught by the other injured being helped off of horses. Her eyes narrowed, and her voice was suddenly serious. “You have had problems, sister. You will tell me.”
“It’s why we’re here,” Laynar answered, the smile dropping from her face. “Let’s go in where Rizelya can relax and we’ll tell you what there is to tell.”
Laynad nodded once, grabbed Laynal’s hand, and then turned around, leading them into the Keep House. She took the small party to her office. There was a couch for Rizelya to recline on and two chairs by the desk for Laynar and Aistrun. Laynad moved her chair from behind the large desk, placed it near the couch, and indicated for the others to situate their chairs the same. Laynal, obviously c
omfortable in this Keep, went out and came back with another chair for herself. Since Laynad’s alpha partner didn’t join them, Rizelya assumed he was out organizing their fighting force.
A young woman brought in a tray of drinks and snacks. Rizelya gratefully took the glass of chilled juice from her but declined the pastry.
“So what has happened? How did you get injured?” Laynad asked as soon as Laynal shut the door behind the server.
“Me,” Rizelya said, pointing to herself, “I was attacked by narhili. I’ll be fine.” At least she hoped so. Her leg was still throbbing and it felt like it had swollen during the ride.
“Grandmother sent us,” Laynar said.
“Hey, we were sent from Histrun,” Aistrun clarified. “Rizelya and I are traveling through our province. At first it was just to find out if you were having problems with a strange janack.”
Laynad’s head rose up sharply, like a predator catching the scent of prey. “What do you know of it?”
“We call it a control janack,” Rizelya said, “because it seems to control the other monsters.”
“Yes, we have noticed this. And that it is damned hard to kill.” Grief pulled her naturally cheerful face into a grimace. “We have lost many trying to kill it.”
“It’s why we’re here, sister,” Laynar said, putting a hand on Laynad’s knee. “They have taught us how to protect our people while one of us kills the control janack.”
“Then why do you have injured?” Laynad demanded.
“Because the nest was huge!” Laynal exclaimed.
“And how would you know?” Laynad asked.
“I was there,” Laynal said proudly. “Grandmother finally allowed me to fight, Laynad. Of course it is because I’m very good in creating the new shields.” Her voice was smug with pride. Then her eyes flashed in annoyance. “If we weren’t trying to train the other Yellow, I would have had the shield up faster, and then no one would have been hurt.”
“What other Yellow? What shield?” Laynad looked around the group, confused.
“Let’s start at the beginning,” Rizelya said and then looked at Aistrun. He was a better storyteller than she was. Besides, the pain in her leg was getting worse rather than lessening. Her shoulder and arm ached, but nothing like the squirming agony in her leg.
Aistrun caught her cue and began to tell Laynad about their journey. Rizelya’s eyelids drooped while she watched him enthrall his audience. Even Laynar had only heard bits and pieces of their story. Fighting to keep awake, she admired how he knew where to add flourishes and where to edit. She relaxed on the couch, letting Aistrun’s voice wash over her. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as Aistrun made much of his carrying her off the battlefield.
Rizelya jolted awake when Aistrun put his hand on her head. She’d dozed off while he talked.
“And so, are there any Yellows here who would make good fighters?” Aistrun asked, concluding his story.
Laynad sat a little stunned for a few moments. “Well,” she said at last, “I would like to see these shields of yours.”
“Oh, they’re so beautiful,” Laynal breathed, then added, “and effective.”
“Then let’s go see these marvels.” Laynad stood up and the others followed. Except for Rizelya.
“First, Alpha, Rizelya needs to see the healer,” Aistrun said. He lowered his voice, “She really isn’t doing well. Where can I take her?”
“Laynal, you know the way. Show him to the infirmary and then bring him to the practice arena.” She turned to the door. “Come, Laynar, let us gather the players of this game.” Without looking back, they strode out of the room.
Aistrun lifted Rizelya off the couch. She couldn’t stop the moan of pain as he jiggled her leg. The infirmary wasn’t far, thankfully. It was in the rear of the Keep House. Kaelyn was there with the other injured fighters. She rushed to Rizelya when she saw Aistrun enter the doorway.
“So what hurts?” Kaelyn asked.
“My leg. I swear I haven’t been on it at all!”
The healer directed Aistrun to an empty bed, away from the others. Rizelya gasped in pain when he lowered her onto it but she refused to lie down. She wanted to see what was wrong with her leg. Kaelyn pulled up her skirt to reveal Rizelya’s calf. It was red and swollen. Dark lines ran down to her ankle and up her thigh.
“This is not good,” Kaelyn said, calling another healer to her side. This healer was a Brown, rather than a Green like Kaelyn. They carefully cut away the bandage and pulled it off. The awful smell of putrid flesh made Aistrun gag.
“If you cannot behave, warrior, you must leave,” the Brown healer, Brachen, told him.
“Go,” Rizelya told him. “You need to help the others with the demonstration.” When he hesitated, she added, “Go on, I’ll be fine.” He looked at her and the nasty wound and then back at the healers. She knew he didn’t want to leave her alone with strangers, but these were healers. They’d take care of her. She made a dismissive gesture at him and then laid down, closing her eyes. She felt him pat her uninjured leg and then heard his footsteps leave the room.
She sat back up and glared at the healers. “Now what’s wrong with my leg? And don’t sugarcoat it.”
“There is some narhili poison still in the wound, and it’s spreading,” Brachen told her. “We will need to purge it from you.”
Kaelyn handed a cup to Rizelya, tension in her face. “It’s a sleeping potion and a painkiller. The cleansing won’t be gentle.”
Rizelya took the cup and gulped down the contents. Kaelyn put a cool hand on Rizelya’s forehead and her green energy flowed into Rizelya, relaxing her, making her eyes droop and close.
In the fog surrounding her, she felt the first probing of the Brown’s power into the wound. In her daze it didn’t seem too bad. And then the energy probed deeper. Even with the painkiller and Kaelyn’s energy wrapped around her, Rizelya screamed. And kept screaming, until at last the torture stopped and she fell into an exhausted sleep.
Rizelya opened her eyes. Sunset streaked across the sky in brilliant purples and oranges. Her mouth was dry and foul tasting from the residue of the healer’s potion. But the intense pain was gone. She hoped it meant the poison had been purged and her leg saved.
She tentatively moved her injured shoulder and arm. The slight movement didn’t hurt too bad, only twinges, so she raised it so she could see the wound better. The bandages were gone and there wasn’t any swelling or redness around the cut. Soon the wound would be another scar among many. She noticed she was wearing a sick robe rather than her own clothing. The robe was made for easy access by the healers to any part of the body and was easy to put on over injuries.
As she lowered her arm, she noticed her toes and relief flooded her as she looked down at her leg propped up on pillows. A tear slid down her cheek. They hadn’t had to cut off her leg or foot because of the poison, at least not yet. After several milcrons of silent crying, she wiped her eyes, and sat up. She took a deep breath to settle the dread in her stomach and lifted the sheet so she could fully see her leg.
The dark lines on her thigh were gone, but the lines on her ankle and foot had only faded to a light gray. She worried it meant some of the narhili poison was still in her foot. There was a large bandage on her calf, preventing her from seeing the wound. She looked around, but couldn’t see a healer. Rizelya fingered the bandage, debating on whether she dared take it off herself. She decided she didn’t want to chance making it worse. She’d have to wait for the healers to come by to satisfy her curiosity.
A glass of water sat on the bedside table and she drank it. Not having anything better to do, she laid back down and soon dozed off. A clatter startled her awake. Glancing at the window, she realized she hadn’t dozed long. Sitting up, she saw a young woman in healer green pushing a cart in front of her, laden with dishes. Rizelya’s stomach rumbled when she smelled the aroma of food. She realized she hadn’t eaten since the morning porridge.
The girl came up to her b
ed, smiling. “Oh good, you’re awake. Brachen, the head healer, said you could eat if you were awake.” She reached under the bed and pulled out a tray, unfolded the legs, and set it over Rizelya’s lap. “How hungry are you?”
“I’m starving,” Rizelya answered. Her stomach growled loudly.
The girl laughed and turned to her cart. Humming, she picked up a bowl and added something to it from several small bowls on a lower shelf of the cart. Stirring it, she set it down on Rizelya’s tray. Then she turned back to her cart for a slice of bread and a cup of juice, which she put on the tray to accompany the soup.
“Are you able to feed yourself or do you need help?” the girl asked.
“I can do it myself, thanks.” She picked up the spoon and dug into the soup. It was thick with soft white grain in a rich, meat broth. The girl had added a few cooked vegetables and bits of meat to make it heartier. Rizelya dipped the bread into the soup and savored the rich flavor. She felt better with a full tummy—better able to face whatever the healers told her.
The same girl came by and took her dirty dishes, replacing them with a bowl of hot water and clean cloths for Rizelya to wash her face and hands. She was much too small to help Rizelya to the necessary room. Soon the Brown healer from the day before hurried to her bed. She had the air of authority of a head healer. When Rizelya realized the head healer had worked on her, she swallowed. Her leg must have been bad.
“Let me check your leg first, and then we’ll get you to the necessary room.” Brachen pulled back the sheet from Rizelya’s leg. Mumbling to herself, she poked and prodded Rizelya’s thigh, moving down to her calf which was tender and sore. And so was her ankle and foot.
“Better, much better. You’ll heal,” Brachen told her. She handed Rizelya a cane, and when Rizelya was standing, propped her up on the side of her injured leg. It was a long hop to the necessary room and back. Rizelya was glad to lie down again.
