Bonded | Completed | Short Story

Bonded: Part 2

The warmth of cooking fires and the scent of roasting food met the warriors as they returned to camp. The wounded lay on stretchers, some moaning in pain, and others, unfortunately, already silent. It left no rest for the weary who carried them to the healers' tents. 

"We will bring you supper," Eiselda called after Vada, who stayed behind with the wounded in order to get her own wound cleaned and looked at, though she was far down in priority. She would have tended it herself, but her friends had insisted she should rest and have a healer look after her.  

After having removed her armor, she settled by the fire near a healer's tent and waited to be called on. As she waited, she sharpened the spearhead from her broken spear and readied it for a new polearm. She sharpened it until the point was honed to a razor's edge. 

It didn't matter how sharp it is, it would never kill him.  The thought rang through her head as her stone slid across the edge again and again, as if she could change that fact.

"It is sharp enough." 

Vada started and looked up. Bjorn stood above her, looking at her curiously as she held out a bowl filled with steaming stew. "You'll make it weak," the woman continued, her tone to imply Vada should know better. 

"Thank you," Vada said as she bowed her head in thanks and took the bowl. The older woman's dark skin glowed in the light of the fire, lighting her like a bronzed goddess as she sat across from her.  Once more she envied Eiselda. Why had the Goddess blessed her friend and yet cursed her with a Kel? A male no less. 

While she had never been interested in romance from either sex, the men of Ylfray were weak of mind and held no place in her heart. They stayed home in the fields where they belonged, while the women, blessed with the strength of the Goddess herself, waged Her holy war. 

Eiselda sat down on her other side. Now that the battle was over, Eiselda had undone the long braid of her hair and the white-blond locks tumbled in waves over her tunic. She had cleaned her face, but Vada could still see the stains of black war paint on her friend's pale skin. 

And Vada sat between the two stark opposites, representing the perfect blend between them. Her own olive-tan skin and dusty brown hair were still both caked with mud and what remained of the greasepaint still streaked her face. 

"You looked concerned, Vada," Eiselda said, glancing to her friend before tearing a chunk of bread and beginning to devour the evening meal. "Surely your wound is not that severe?"

"I am only concerned for what the morning's battle will bring," she lied, avoiding the eyes of her partners. Instead, she stared at the bowl of soup and focused on the burn of the earthenware bowl against her hands. 

"The Kel concern you?" Eiselda snorted and shook her head, "They are farmers, masquerading as soldiers. Their casualties say as much. We will take the pass tomorrow, if Celeaise allows it. " Her eyes cast towards the heavens as she invoked the name of the Goddess. 

A murmur of agreement circled through those around the fire. After, they fell silent and the sound of soup slurping and crackling firewood filled the space between the warriors.

Once more the thought of the soldier wormed its way into her mind. He had not been a farmer. His skill with the sword had proven at least that. 

"Vada-" 

She looked up as a tired, but kind-looking healer beckoned to her. "Come in child," she said as she motioned towards the tent and then disappeared back inside. 

"Don't let them take you off the line for that scratch!" Eiselda called after her as Vada followed after her. 

"I wouldn't dream of it!" She called back, flashing a smile to her friends before she ducked into the tent. The sharp scent of the healer's ointments met her nose, followed shortly by the smell of blood and sweat. The tent was quiet. Almost disconcertingly so.