by J. A. Pitts
She let out a single sob, and bent over me, kissing my forehead. “Thank you.”
I let her chatter then, not having the strength to offer more. It was peaceful, lying there with her, feeling her touch.
I could smell her, if you believe it. Not a body odor type of thing, more like pheromones. It was the cellular level connection I felt with her, that primal connection that drove most animals. No wonder she scared me.
Stuart returned with Melanie and a few others. I couldn’t really make them out. Melanie barked at Stuart, made him wait until she had an IV in me before she’d let them move me.
Where did she get an IV?
Even before they pulled me over onto the stretcher, I could feel the drugs she put in the IV. Everything still hurt like hell, but whatever she put in me had a blissful overlay to the world. I hurt, but I didn’t care.
“Can you save her?” Katie asked as they stood, lifting me from the ground.
“Hush, now,” Melanie said. “Let us work.”
The blue of the sky swam in haze. Not sure when all that would burn off, but the afternoon would likely be warm and sunny. A beautiful day in Washington.
I loved days like this. Days where you could lie in the grass and watch the deep blue of the sky through the rich greens of the trees. That contrast always gave me hope. That stark beauty filled me with contentment.
That’s what I wanted the day to be like. Not this murky light that diffused and blurred everything.
Faces swam into view as we moved past the barn.
Qindra paused on her cell phone call long enough to bend over me and touch my forehead. “Yes,” she said into the phone. “She lives.” Then she had turned away, out of my vision, and we were moving again.
“Put her on that table next to Deidre,” Melanie said, directing my litter bearers. “Careful. Don’t drop her.”
There was a bit of jostling as someone made room for me, but when things were finally worked out, I found myself glancing at Jimmy’s back.
He sat, hunched over, facing Deidre. She also had an IV delivering fluids to her. “How’s Dee?” I asked.
Jimmy turned to me, his face haggard but determined. “Fair,” he said, not looking at me, but looking at Katie.
Katie must have given him a look, because his face softened and he reached over to squeeze my left hand. “She’ll live,” he said. “As will you, tough as you are.”
“Thanks, boss,” I said, thinking I should go to sleep soon. The medicine was making everything even more fuzzy.
“Let Melanie get her stable,” Katie said from in front of my head.
I couldn’t see her, but her hand rested on my left shoulder.
Jimmy leaned across the open space, putting his face in my view. “Did you kill the bastard?”
“Yes,” Katie said, shooing him away. I could see her hand, pushing him. “That’s done. Let her rest.”
Jimmy moved out of my vision. “Fair enough,” he said. “We can get details later.”
The warble of emergency vehicles began to sing in the distance.
“Here comes the cavalry,” Stuart said from somewhere to my right. “About damn time.”
“Help me get this off her,” Jimmy said, motioning across me.
Stuart appeared, and began undoing the harness that held Gram to me.
“What, wait,” I mumbled.
“Need to get this into hiding,” Jimmy said.
When they had the sword and sheath freed from me, Jimmy handed it to Stuart. “Wait, take this, too,” he said, turning.
When he turned back, he handed another sword to Stuart. I recognized the sheath as one he wore when we went to battles with the SCA, but I’d never seen the sword. Why was he hiding them?
“Don’t forget that axe of yours,” Jimmy called.
“And Gunther’s claymore,” Stuart called back. “I’ll take care of them.”
More questions, more secrets.
I just wanted to sleep.
Melanie appeared at my side, did something to my right arm that hurt bad enough to cut through the drugs. Apparently I screamed.
“Her circulation is for shit,” she said, grumbling. “Katie, help me get her shoulder back into the socket.”
“What can I do?” Katie asked.
“Hold her, here.” Melanie moved around to my other side. “Press your hip into her left shoulder like this. I’ll push from the other side.”
“Ready,” Katie said.
“On three. One . . . two . . . three.”
The drugs allowed me to observe, hear the wet pop as my right shoulder was forced back into its socket. I’m not sure I screamed as much as blacked out.
“Don’t panic, she’s breathing,” Melanie said the next time I could understand anything through the haze of pain.
“Is she going to lose the arm?” Katie asked, squeezing my left shoulder.
“Maybe below the elbow,” Melanie said, listening to my chest with a stethoscope. “Her vitals are good, circulation is back in full swing. She’ll likely get most of the shoulder motion back.”
“At least it’s her right arm,” Katie said.
“I’m still here,” I reminded them.
Both women looked down at me. Katie cried, her face streaked with tears and dirt. Melanie smiled grimly and patted my chest. “We can talk after I get you into a nice hospital bed, young lady.”
“I’m flattered,” I said. “But shouldn’t we wait until Katie leaves?”
Katie barked out a laugh, and took my left hand, pulling it to her lips. “She’s not a bad choice,” she said, wiping tears from her face with her right hand. “But I’m a better choice.”
The ambulances started arriving, a string of six or seven, I lost count.
I refused to go in the first ambulance—insisting I had to speak with Qindra first. I needed some clarity.
Melanie patted Katie on the hand and picked up a clipboard. “Don’t let her sleep,” she said. “I want a CT scan and some more information.”
“Okay,” Katie said, scootching closer to my side.
“How many dead?” I asked.
“Too many,” Katie said. “More wounded. Let’s get them seen to first, eh?”
Dena and her crew were first on the scene and loaded Deidre before the rest even made the turnoff to the house. Jimmy refused to leave her side, so he squeezed in behind the stretcher while they loaded a second person.
Katie gave me the play-by-play.
Melanie kissed her hurriedly, accepting a box of supplies from the truck before they took off.
“Gunther, damn it,” I heard Stuart yelling.
I rolled my head to the side, and watched the bear of a man hobbling across the grass to where I lay. He had a crutch under one arm, and held his leg at an odd angle. I could see the splint.
“Let ’em take one of the others,” Gunther snarled. “I’m fine.”
“Stubborn ass,” Stuart said, throwing his hands up into the air.
Gunther sort of hopped the last few feet and leaned against my table, gasping for breath. Fresh sweat broke out on his face, and I could see he was in considerable pain.
“Hey, Gunther,” I whispered. It felt like anything else would break something inside me.
He reached for my right hand and paused, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. Stuart nudged him, and he reached over me. Katie moved my left hand onto my stomach and he placed his hand over mine and bowed his head for a moment. When he looked up, tears streamed down his face. “They better take good care of you,” he said, his voice thick.
“She’ll be fine,” Katie said. I could just see the smile on her face, as she used her best kindergarten voice.
“Yeah, well . . .” Gunther trailed off.
Stuart came up and put an arm around his shoulder.
Gunther glanced over his shoulder, saw who it was, and didn’t shrug him off. “Just . . . well . . .” He paused, taking a deep breath. “Thank you for saving me back there,” he said finally. “I’d
be a battlefield burrito if you hadn’t jumped in.”
Stuart winced, but didn’t say anything.
I turned my left hand, grasping his fingers, and squeezed. “World wouldn’t be right without you in it,” I said.
He turned his head to the side and Stuart smiled. “Can we please get you to the hospital now?” he asked. “They really need to get that leg set, and make sure you won’t lose that hip.”
“Yes, mother,” Gunther said. He leaned over, pulling my hand up, and kissed it. He looked at Katie and smiled. “Take care of her, huh?”
“Of course,” Katie said.
Stuart helped Gunther up and over to an ambulance. I heard him cussing up until they shut the door and drove off.
“Remind me of The Odd Couple,” Katie said. “When I was little, I thought they were gay.”
“Aye,” I agreed. “But they’re not.”
“Makes you wonder,” she said.
Stuart returned when there was only one ambulance left. “Can she go now?” he said.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “I still need to speak with Qindra first.”
Katie sighed heavily behind me and stood. “Watch her,” she said. “I’ll go get the witch.”
He waited until she was out of earshot before he sat down, placing his hand on mine. “Kyle recovered one of your hammers,” he said. “Pulled it out of one of the choppers.”
“Morbid,” I said.
“He was looking for survivors,” he said, turning his face. “Even among the enemy.”
I didn’t bring up his own journey through the carnage of the battlefield. It was a moment we had shared and did not need to be discussed.
“Tell him thanks.”
“Sure,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m proud of you.”
I turned my head, studied his face. He had me by about fifteen years. Not quite old enough to be my father, but old enough. I’d never figured why neither he nor Gunther had married, but they were content with their lives. I’d grown to love them over the few years here at Black Briar, learned to trust their instincts and their wisdom.
“Thank you,” I said. “That means a lot.”
We sat in silence for a while, just letting the day settle over us, waiting.
Soon enough, Qindra appeared at my side, obviously not completely happy.
“Smith,” she said, nodding at me.
Smith again. Warrior, smith . . . “How about Sarah?” I asked.
She looked at me, her face passive.
“Yeah, okay. Whatever,” I said. “I’m too damn tired for games.”
“You asked for me,” she said. “What is it you wish of my mistress?”
Of her mistress. Did she have no life of her own?
“She knows, then. About Jean-Paul?”
“My mistress knows many things,” she said. “There was a grave mistake made this evening. Certain things got out of control.”
“Out of control?” Katie said, her voice cold and thin. “People died here.”
Qindra waved a single manicured hand. “Don’t be a child. People die every day.”
“Not like this, they don’t,” Katie said. “This was a slaughter.”
Stuart barked out a laugh. “Slaughter indeed.” His voice was angry, but his face was too calm. “For every one of us that fell, we took two of theirs. Not just lowly humans, either.” I could feel his pulse racing through his hand.
“Yours fought valiantly,” Qindra acknowledged. “But this should not have happened.”
“This is not our fault,” I said. “We didn’t ask for this.”
Qindra looked from Katie, to me, to Stuart. “Your seneschal is not unknown to my mistress. Neither are his activities here and elsewhere.”
I tilted my head, looking over at Stuart. “What?”
He shook his head, as equally confused. “She’s a nutter,” he said finally.
“How droll,” Qindra said, a smile touching the edges of her lips. “Is it possible you have no knowledge of what exactly is going on around you?”
There was something. Jimmy had mentioned a secret late yesterday, before I drove out to confront Frederick. “You serve them,” I said, letting some anger slip into my voice. “You live your life in their service.” She did not flinch, did not even raise an eyebrow. “And Jimmy, somehow, opposes you.”
“We have suspected him,” she said. “Though he has not proven to be a threat. Until now.”
“We didn’t ask for this,” Katie said. “That bastard attacked us.”
Qindra nodded. “This is also known to my mistress. And it is why we will fix this.”
Stuart coughed. “Fix?” He stood up, laying my hand gently on my stomach, and turned toward her. “Will it fix Susan or Maggie?”
“Let it go,” Katie said.
“No,” he barked, stepping away, waving his arms. “We lost good people here, friends and family.” He stalked up to Qindra and looked up into her face. She had a full head on him, but he was not beneath her in any way. “Will that make Deidre wake up? Or fix Sarah’s arm?”
I looked down. My arm was wrapped in a blanket, strapped to my abdomen. “What’s wrong with my arm?”
“My mistress is not unjust,” Qindra said, drawing a thin willow wand from inside her cloak. The tip glowed with a pearlescent blue light. “I am not without power of my own.”
She stepped forward and Stuart stepped in front of her.
“Your kind have caused enough pain and suffering,” he said, his voice barely above a growl. “I watched you put Yvonne to sleep.”
Qindra sighed. “She was beyond restoring. I stopped her pain.”
“You killed her,” he barked, his voice suddenly loud.
She paused, staring into his face. “And you showed a similar mercy to those fallen on the field.”
His back stiffened but he did not budge.
“I have a bit of leeway here,” she said, her voice softening with each word. “She does not begrudge me a few acts of independence.”
“Let her pass,” Katie said. “You promise to help her, right?”
There had been several moments when she had helped us. She dispelled the illusion of the enemy, showed us their true forms. And she stilled the berserker in me. Gave me some control of that killing fury.
“Stuart,” Katie said, placing her hand on his shoulder, “if she can help save her arm.”
“If you hurt her any more than she has already suffered,” he said, “I’ll kill you myself.”
Qindra did not smile, nor mock him in any way. She just nodded. “You have my word.”
He relented, finally, stepping aside like a door opening, allowing her to pass.
Katie pulled the blanket back, and I looked down at my arm. I’d held the shield with this arm, kept the dragon fire from turning me into toast.
The hand was a twisted claw, the skin a mottle of black and red. Bone showed through at the wrist. It was not until the elbow did I see anything remotely like healthy flesh.
I lifted my arm, the pain in my shoulder a small price to pay. My arm looked like something from a zombie movie. “Oh . . .” I gulped as the urge to vomit swept through me. “. . . oh, God.”
“Dragon fire,” Qindra said, touching the tip of the wand to my forehead.
The nausea vanished, and a peace radiated outward from that touch. I laid my head back, taking in long, even breaths.
The wand traced down my neck, over my shoulder, down to my elbow, and stopped.
Qindra staggered, nearly falling if not for Katie.
“This is worse than I thought,” she whispered. “I need whiskey.”
“Right,” Stuart said. He sprinted into the house and returned with a bottle of Jimmy’s favorite Kentucky bourbon.
She took the bottle and tilted it to my lips, just barely letting the brown liquid wet them. The taste was strong and burned its way down my throat.
“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea, with all the painkillers she’s on,” Katie sa
id.
Qindra shrugged. “Whiskey is life.” She took a swig, bent over, and puffed out her cheeks. A thin stream of whiskey sprayed from her mouth, down the blackened parts of my arm. Deadened nerves erupted to life, overloading my brain with conflicting signals. The whiskey rolled down my arm like fire.
The wand followed behind, touching each spot where the whiskey touched, changing the burning to a spot of cold that spread out in concentric circles. Three times she drank, and three times she used the whiskey and the wand to change my arm.
In the end, she handed the bottle back to Stuart and turned away, vomiting into the yard. “Bring water here,” she said, pointing to the smoking, putrid mess that lay on the ground at her feet. “Wash this into the earth, before it begins to burn.” She turned back, wiping a cloth across her lips and dropping it as it burst into flame. “That is all I can do.”
Katie cried, and Stuart just stared at my arm. Pink flesh shone from elbow to wrist. I couldn’t see the bone. The last two fingers were fused together, but I knew I wouldn’t lose the hand.
“Thank you,” I said as Qindra walked away. Whether she heard me or not, I couldn’t know.
When Melanie returned, she nearly fainted. Katie pulled her aside and talked to her in hushed tones as the ambulance crew began to load me in their truck.
“Where are we going?” I asked the EMT.
He didn’t answer right away, but checked my vitals and changed out my IV. When he was done, he pulled an oxygen mask over my face.
“Burn unit over at Harborview,” he said. “They got the best docs there.”
I let my head fall back, breathing in the clean, antiseptic smell of the oxygen mask. “I think Melanie Danvers is pretty damn good.”
He shrugged. “ER docs are aces in my book,” he said. “Doesn’t hurt she’s a hottie.”
Yes, I thought as I drifted. Hottie.
“Helluva accident,” he said. “Dena said a gas line blew. That how you got the burns?”
I blinked at him, feeling the onrush of exhaustion.
“Crying shame,” he said. “I didn’t even know they were doing a movie shoot out here. Bet this jacks the insurance rates.”
Movie shoot? Is that what they were told? What about Jean-Paul? His body is nowhere near some pretend gas main explosion.
Qindra concocted that story, no doubt. Another in a list of calm, calculated cover-ups. I bet the fire at the smithy will be classified the same. Earthquake just last week. Bad lines all over the place.
