Shadows in the Trees: Book 1

Chapter 58

As soon as the gates shuddered closed beneath her, Rhiannon rushed off of the ramparts. Julian called after her. She paid him no mind and shoved her way through the throng of soldiers. The crush of bodies and tang of blood and sweat in the air made her feel as though she were suffocating. 

She was looking for dark braids, a tall, muscular body with its shoulders sternly pulled back. All she saw were strangers, reflecting her own fear and helplessness back at her as they looked for their own loved ones. 

"Jaida!" she called, her voice cracking. "Where are they taking the wounded?" she asked, grabbing the shoulders of a soldier next to her. The girl pointed toward the prison, which had been emptied out before the battle, the prisoners taken to the next city over. 

Rhiannon carved a path through the crowd. Those who saw her coming practically leapt out of the way. If people did not move, she moved them.

The first floor of the prison had been cleared out, replacing a mess area with woven mats evenly spaced across the floor. Cell doors were thrown open and used as surgery rooms. Nurses with masks and gloves rushed in, carrying soldiers to mats, or a cell if they needed immediate attention. The scene was an assault on her senses; blood and other parts of the human body she had never hoped to see blotched the grey stone of the building, and the burning sage and lavender oil mingled with the metallic smell of blood. Pained moans echoed horribly against the stone. 

She averted her eyes from the gore, focusing on the faces below her. Some of the women still had their helmets on. She pulled them off, moving on when the face beneath wasn't who she was looking for. 

She almost missed her. Half of her face was a bloody, shredded mess, the eye swollen closed. But something about the curve of her jaw, the curl of her hair, gave her pause. 

"Jaida?" she whispered, kneeling next to the woman. Her good eye peeled open, and Rhiannon sobbed in relief. "Oh gods, Jaida!"

She ripped off her armor to find the tunic beneath stained with blood. "Gods, what happened to you?" 

She peeled back her shirt, revealing a jagged gash in her side where her armor was clasped together. There were scratches, cuts, and bruises all over her arms, and another gouge on her leg. 

"I'll get help," Rhiannon said. Jaida tried to say something, but it came out garbled and unintelligible. 

She hurried to the nearest nurse, who was kneeling next to a mat further down the row. "Please, my friend, she needs help -- "

"Is she dying?" the nurse asked without looking up. Her hands were clasped together, pushing down rhythmically on the chest below her. 

"I -- well, she's lucid, I think, but -- "

"Then we'll get to her as soon as we can," the nurse said. She remained focused on her task, like Rhiannon was just a fly buzzing about her head.

Rhiannon backed away, the horror of her surroundings closing in on her. Here, she was not a queen. She could not force people to do as she wished. It was up to her to save Jaida. 

She looked around, identifying carts of supplies lining the back wall. She wove her way to them, grabbing bandages, a washcloth, a thread and needle, and a pail of water. 

Jaida was awake when she returned to her, but her stare was vacant and her breathing was labored. Rhiannon swallowed the bile rising in her throat and set to work, stripping Jaida to her underthings and gently sopping up the blood, sweat, and dirt with the damp washcloth. 

Once she was clean, it was much easier to identify her wounds. She started on the deepest gash, the one on her abdomen, threading the needle with the strange, greasy thread she had found on the cart. When the needle pierced her skin Jaida seemed to come to. She mumbled something, panic evident in her eye.