Snow Fields - Book Two of The Fields of Mendhavai Trilogy

Chapter Twenty One

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

I glanced around as we emerged, blinking in the golden light of morning, seeking Jika. It had sounded as though she'd been injured, but she was nowhere to be found. Taphille pulled my hand and I knew the wolf was on her own for now. She'd have to find me if she needed healing; at least she was still mobile.

The smacking and thudding sounds of metal on wood and flesh faded as Taphille drew me north into the woods, rather than into the fighting as I’d expected. The woods did not muffle the noise from the sticks, or the screams of the wounded, though. We raced through dappled sunlight until we reached the clearing where, again, the squirrel was chattering angrily. This time, though, I could understand his consternation, as the whole area was full of the village’s surviving women and children. I glanced around and, spotting many of the little ones who I’d found earlier, was flooded with relief; even if most of them were orphaned now. Maybe, when all this was over, some of the older ones could come to Raldia, or even Jakhar.

Taphille led me to the east side of the subdued clearing, and into the woods a little, where we found Nania and Taphille’s sisters. The elder sister, Moora lay panting and moaning on a makeshift bed of furs and grasses. Nania, tears streaming down her face, knelt with her and tended to her gently.

I crouched at Nania’s side, lightly placing a hand on her elbow which caused her to look up. Her face grew expectant, and she peeled the shredded, bloody doe-skin away from Moora’s ribs.

“I hope she killed the bastard that did this to her,” I muttered as I took the wet rag from Nania and wiped the oozing blood away from the tattered flesh. A crowd was gathering around us, whispering in anger, though I sensed it was not against me. Although the tribal ways did not lend much towards feminine worth, the people still seemed to look upon the women tenderly, especially those of the royal family. And of course, women always looked out for each other, no matter what tribe, clan or city one came from.

Moora gasped words in Sani to Taphille and he muttered back, without taking his wide eyes away from the wound. His sister caught my gaze and grinned, nodding, before dropping her head back and squeezing her eyes closed against the pain. I looked at Taphille questioningly.

“She killed him.”

“Good.” I nodded with approval as I placed a hand on her forehead and one over the lacerations. The gathering gasped collectively as the green light shimmered around my hands, pooling in the wound. Within moments, the flesh knitted back together again and Moora’s breath came more evenly, eventually deepening into that of sleep.

I pulled my hands away, and wiped them off on the old ragged cloth someone handed me. I could feel their eyes on me, but I was not ready to meet them, so I concentrated on cleaning blood and dirt from under my nails until they began to wander away.

At last I looked up at Taphille who was watching me closely. “They haven’t seen you work before, Lady,” he explained.

“I hoped no one ever would.” I stood. “Are there more? Otherwise, I should get to the men.”

“Yes, there are a few, but only minor wounds. My people won’t be upset if you don’t heal them, as they’re not fatal, but I’m sure they would appreciate it if you at least looked at them.”

I nodded. “Lead the way.”

As the boy had said, there were no fatal wounds, but there were a few broken bones which I mended, and deeper lacerations that stood the chance of infection if they weren’t treated with great care. I had a following of children by the time I’d seen to the last.