Sky Woman: Book One of The Empress Saga

CHAPTER EIGHT

"Grandmother wrote about this in one of her notebooks," Enfri said. "It's called battle fatigue. Hardly anything is known about it. It comes from deep shocks, like witnessing something horrifying. It's an affliction of the mind and not the body."

She stared at her reflection in the cup of tea Goodwife Smith had brought her. After hearing what the blacksmith had to say, Enfri had been inconsolable. The goodwife spirited her away from the bedroom and had her sit in a chair near the kitchen.

"The war was fifteen years ago," Goodwife Smith said. The woman was a marvel. After taking Enfri away, she got her husband to lie down and rest, then came back to comfort Enfri. She had brought a chair from elsewhere in the house and sat in it close to Enfri's side. It was remarkable how she could manage to do so much when she understood little and was as frightened as anyone else. "Why now? It doesn't make sense."

"It happens," Enfri explained. Her voice was weak, and it still shook. She concentrated on what she remembered of battle fatigue. If she didn't focus, she'd think of other things. "It usually affects people right away, but it can sometimes take years to manifest. They see something or do something that reminds them, and it all comes back. Grandmother called it a trigger."

Goodwife Smith's hands were shaking. "What can I do? How will he be cured? I don't want to lose my husband to an asylum."

"It's not like that," Enfri told her. She began reciting the passages Grandmother had written on the affliction. "He hasn't gone mad. His instincts are telling him he's in danger. Reassure him that he's safe and that you know he's not imagining it. His fears are valid, and it's only the severity of his reaction to them that are irrational."

Goodwife Smith whispered a prayer to the wind. Her eyes were sympathetic when she looked at Enfri. "I'm sorry you had to hear such things. I didn't realize that you were Yora and Mierwyn's until it was too late."

A kind and remarkable woman, but as sharp as a log. How in the king's name could she have forgotten that already?

"What was it that could have been a... trigger?"

There was only one thing Enfri could believe it to be, but she was hesitant to reveal that assassins had been in the Smith home. There was no purpose in frightening Goodwife Smith more.

"I don't know," Enfri said quietly. "It might have been anything."

"Thank you for helping him," Goodwife Smith went on. "How did you get so smart when you're still so young?"

I think of her as dull, but I'm giving myself far too much credit.

Enfri sipped her tea before replying. "I don't know anything that Grandmother didn't write down. I've never learned anything that she didn't teach me. I'm a poor replacement."

Goodwife Smith put a hand on Enfri's knee. "Don't you worry about that. There's plenty of time for you to grow on your own merit. Janwyn must have many years left to her, yet. She's the sort that will live forever."

Enfri opened her mouth to respond, but didn't know what to say. Didn't the goodwife know? It seemed impossible that she hadn't heard. I told her myself just the other day. Didn't I? No one can be that oblivious.

The sound of the front door opening drove those thoughts from Enfri's mind. The voice she heard coming into the house was unmistakable. Haythe was recounting some story to his sister.

Enfri had been preparing herself for this meeting since leaving home. She had run through enough scenarios in her head that her hands began moving as if they were drilled for it. Enfri pulled off her shawl and let her hair spill over her shoulders. Freshly cleaned and washed, it shone like gold. Even Mother would have said that Enfri's hair was her best feature.