Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

Fenling sat cross-legged on her bed. She watched me closely as I changed into my nightshirt. After I burrowed under the covers, she said, "You never met your grandparents, then?"

I shook my head. "No. They were killed before I was born. My father was about my age, but he and my mother weren't married yet. I came along a few years later."

She brought her knees up, wrapping her hands around her legs as she rested her chin on her knees. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry my cousin killed them."

"It was a rough year," I said, swallowing hard.

While I hadn't thought about it much before, I'd spent the entire day thinking about the situation. I wasn't sure what had shifted—after all, tonight was the same as last night, the only difference was that I hadn't known that my rescuers were also the people who had destroyed a part of my past. I wasn't sentimental, and it felt untrue to my nature that I mourn them anymore now than I did yesterday. Yet, somehow, I felt a distant sense of longing. If my father and mother were still alive, I might not be in the position I was. And if my grandparents had lived…who knew what my life would have looked like now?

"I hope this doesn't change how you look at Bran. At me," she added. "I like you, Asajia. I like talking to you."

I worried my lip. "I like you too. You and Bran have shown me great kindness."

At that moment, there was a loud shout outside, then what sounded like a flute and drum playing a misty song. Fenling jumped up and raced to the tent flap, peering out. "Oh, no!" She grabbed her trousers and began to change.

Her urgency spurred me on, and I—too—hastily dressed, this time in trousers and a shirt that I spied on her bed. They were a little big, but I didn't care. I realized I still didn't have my weapons with me, but I followed her out the door.

There, in the center of the camp, were four crystal figures, dancing wildly in the wind and snow. Illuminated by some inner light, they were beautiful. Their features were angular and rigid, and while they looked like humans, they were anything but.

"What are they?" I whispered to Fenling.

She leaned close. "Ice Maidens. They're a form of elemental, and they attend the Snow Witch. Don't let their beauty fool you. They're dangerous and they have absolutely no conscience. They come out at the height of her storms, and they dance themselves into a frenzy, then attack." She handed me a sturdy dagger. "We can't access your weapons now, but I can't let you go unarmed. That won't work against them very well, but it's the only thing I have right now."

She, herself, was carrying what looked like a silver hammer. "Stay back. If they come this way, run. Hide in the tent beneath your bed, if you can."

I didn't want to leave her—though now all over camp, the Wolf People were emerging from their tents. Bran let out a loud shout and drove forward, a massive hammer in his hand. He swung at one of the dancers and immediately, the rest sprung to attention as the rest of the Wolf People moved in. I hung back, trying to keep out of the way. While I was an expert shot with a bow, a dagger wouldn't deflect the chill, frozen bodies of the dancers.

Bran and Fenling were at the front, working in unison. Both moved fleetfooted, darting through the ranks of the ice creatures, who had gone from delicate dancers to dangerous adversaries.

Quen swung his hammer towards one of the dancers and missed, and the creature began to morph, changing shape into a massive frozen spider. I screamed as it reared up, then came down on him, stabbing him through the side with a razor sharp tip of its front leg. A flush of red blossomed across the white, spreading through the snow with a hissing sound as the warmth of his life force met the frozen breath of the Snow Queen. It spread out, like petals staining the snow with a rosy glow. But he was still moving as the snow spider shook him off its leg and moved towards the others.

No one had turned when he screamed. The Wolf People just kept on fighting the other three, focused on their battles.

I wanted to help, and then I thought—what melts ice? Fire. I returned to the tent and found a torch to the side. It hadn't been used yet, so I held it in the fire. The flames cracked as the resin on the torch caught hold. I grabbed a blanket along with the torch and hurried to Quen's side, sliding to my knees beside him. He was bleeding out, so I wrapped the blanket around the wound, tying it tight, and—wrapping the end of the blanket over my shoulder—I began to drag him back toward the tent. I was almost there when the snow spider scuttled toward me.

I dropped the blanket and turned to it, holding the flaming torch aloft. The flames crackled and the spider moved back, hissing. I grabbed hold of the blanket again and pulled him into the tent, shutting the flap and buttoning it shut so the creature couldn't follow me in.

Quen moaned. I set the torch safely in its holder, then quickly knelt to examine his wounds. The blanket was soaking up blood but he needed the wound tended to and I wasn't sure whether the healer was out with the others. Grimacing, I cautiously pulled the blanket back. The puncture was deep, but from what I knew of anatomy, I thought it might have missed the major organs. I glanced around the tent, spying the water bucket.

I found a towel and dipped it in the water, then began to wash the blood away. I needed something to compress against the wound, so I took hold of another blanket and used the dagger to slice it into quarters. I folded one quarter into a compact bandage and pressed it against the wound.

"Hold on, Quen. Just hold on," I whispered.

"I'm trying," he stammered out.

"Can you hold this against your side while I tie it on?" I hated asking him to help but I couldn't keep up the compression while trying to tie it against him.

He nodded. "Put my hands on it, would you?"

I lifted his hands to the blanket and he let out a curse but pressed against the makeshift bandage. While he held it, I cut the piece of blanket into three wide strips and, lifting his back into an arch with one hand, I slid the ties beneath him.

"Can you still breathe?"

He nodded. "It didn't puncture my lungs."

"This will probably hurt when I tie them off. Do you want a leather strap to bite on?"

He nodded and I placed the dagger's sheath into his mouth. Then, as he bit deep, I tied the bandage strips tightly around the bandage, forcing the compression as much as I could while still allowing him to breathe. It wasn't quite a tourniquet, but it was close enough to help stanch the flow of blood.

I sat back, breathing hard. I still didn't know if he was going to make it, but at least now he had a better chance. But he looked like he was going into shock, so I took one of the heavier blankets and draped it over him and slid a pillow beneath his head. I washed his forehead, wishing I could do more. But this kind of wound was beyond my scope, at least under the current circumstances.

"Sit tight," I said. "I'm going to peek outside and see what's going on."

"Asajia?" Quen's voice was faint but his eyes were clear.

"Yes?"

"Thank you," he whispered. "Today's not a good day to die."

"No, it isn't. So you hang on till I can find the healer."

I cautiously opened the tent flap and peeked out. The sounds of battle had faded with my focus on his wound, but now they came back. However, I could only see one of the ice dancers still out there. There were shards of ice on the snow, scattered across the center of the compound, but they were melting, even though it was freezing. A moment later, a shriek echoed into the night as the fourth elemental fell, and everybody stopped.

I could see several others were injured, but they were still on their feet. At that moment I caught sight of the healer and hurried over to her. "Quen's severely injured. He's in Fenling's tent—I did what I could."

"Come," she said, following me as I led the way. "I need my bag—it's in my tent which is next to Bran's. Please fetch it."

"How will I know?—"

"It's a big bag made of leather. You can't miss it," she cut me off before I could finish.

I raced across the camp to Bran's tent. Everybody else was checking to make sure that there weren't any more of the elementals. I peeked into the tent left of his, and there saw a big leather bag sitting on a small table. I grabbed it and hurried back to my tent.

Dasheer—the healer—was kneeling next to Quen. She was examining the bandage I'd affixed to him. I handed her the bag and sat back, watching.

"If I can help, let me know."

She began to unknot the bandage. "You did a good job on this. It's not too loose, and not too tight. Find me a bowl of hot water, if you would." She glanced up from her work. "Quickly, please."

The only places I knew would absolutely have hot water were the mess tent, and Bran's tent. I ducked into Bran's tent first. By now, he was sitting there, with two of his men. They looked up as I appeared.

"I need hot water for the healer. Quen was hurt. He's in my tent."

"Quen is injured?" Bran was on his feet immediately.

"Yes, seriously."

"Come." He turned back to one of the other men. "San, bring hot water. Now."

We dashed across the clearing, pushing through the snow. The winds slashed the snow against our faces, biting with a sharp sting. I held the tent open while Bran entered, then San followed, carrying a large bucket of hot water. Dasheer glanced up, motioning for San to set the water down next to her.

Bran moved in. "How can I help?"

"He fainted. Here, gently remove the layers as I examine the wound. San, find my bottle of Firyal's powder in there." She continued her work as Bran began to peel away the makeshift bandage I had fashioned. The blood was still running freely, but it had slowed down quite a bit.

I stood back, not wanting to interfere. As I struggled to see what was happening, Dasheer let out a slow breath.

"Did you see what hit him?"

"The spider creature stabbed him with one of its feet," I said.

"It wasn't a weapon of some sort?"

"I don't think it was—from where I was I had a pretty good view." I paused, then asked, "Is that good or bad?"

"Good, if you can call it that. Metal and we'd be facing contamination. There may be some infection, but given what I know about the ice dancers, they don't carry any sort of venom or poison. It's a clean puncture, in terms of it's deep, but somehow, the attack didn't compromise any of his vital organs. We don't want it to close over for a couple of days, not until I make sure there's no chance of infection, but I'll pack it with the powder and put a loose bandage on it. We'll need to transport him to my tent where I can keep an eye on him round the clock for a couple of days."

She began tamping the wound full of the bright yellow powder. "You have Asajia here to thank for his life. He would have bled out if she hadn't acted so quickly."

"You have our thanks. It appears I owe you yet another debt—for saving Quen's life." Bran sat back, his face grim.

"Those creatures. You say they belong to the Snow Witch?" Now that the crisis was over, I wanted to know more about them.

"They do. When she's feeling particularly angry, she sends them through the Bramble Fel Forest to wreak havoc. She summons them from the energy of her storms."

"Are they her creation, then? Would they exist without her?"

"They do, but they won't come south of the Eiralpine Line without her summoning them. They're glacial in origin. She just happens to have control over their element and so she can summon them at will. They don't always have to obey, but they like her, so if she wants them around, it's usually going to happen." Bran turned to San. "Summon several men so we can carry Quen as smoothly as possible." To the healer, he said, "Keep him alive, Dasheer. Quen is my right hand, you know. My oath brother."

She nodded. "I know. Quen is too important for us to lose. I'll do everything I can, though I think he'll make it."

San returned with several men and they lifted Quen onto a hide tautly tied to several pieces of wood. They lifted it, and Quen barely moved as they carried him out of the tent. Dasheer followed them. Bran hung back. He glanced around at the bloody rags. At that moment, Fenling popped into the tent, her smile freezing as she stared at the chaos.

"What the?—"

"Quen was severely injured. Our guest here saved his life."

I started to protest, but Bran wouldn't let me finish. "No, you are responsible for saving him. I can't thank you enough. But for now, I'll send in the washing woman to clean the tent and replace your blankets. Why don't the two of you wait in the mess tent until she's done? Get some food and hot tea."

I wanted nothing more than to go to bed. I was exhausted, but I couldn't just lie down on a bed without blankets. I'd freeze. So I allowed Fenling to lead the way to the mess tent. Once we entered, the cook quickly tucked us at a table with hot tea, some bread, and a promise for heartier fare in a few minutes.

"So, you're good in a fight," Fenling said. "Good to know."

"I didn't fight. I just dragged Quen out of the line of fire." I felt slightly uncomfortable with all the praise. It didn't feel like I'd done enough to deserve it but, too tired to argue, I quietly accepted the accolades.

"That alone is an act of bravery. Quen is Bran's best man, you know. They're blood brothers from long past. Either one would willingly lay down his life for the other." She took a long swig of the tea. "Oh, that feels good."

"How old are you and your cousin?" I asked. If they had been alive and in combat when my village had been raided, it had to be nearly thirty years…and they had been adults at that point.

Fenling hesitated, then said, "I'm younger by about ten years. Bran wears two hundred turns of the sun under his belt. I have almost that many. His brother is about twenty years older than him."

I blinked. So, Bran was two hundred years old. While I hadn't expected that answer, somehow, it didn't come as a surprise to me. The Wolf People were known to be long-lived.

"I see." I paused, thinking. "I'm twenty-four…I must seem awfully young to you."

"Different peoples age at different speeds. The soothsayers and witches of the world are older than the shifting folk. It's just the natural order of things." She bit into a sandwich from the platter that one of the cook's helpers deposited on the table, then pushed the platter towards me. "Mmm, eat up. You need sustenance after a night like tonight."

"I'm mostly just tired," I said.

"We'll go to bed as soon as they refresh the tent." She paused, then said, "What you did for Quen—you don't know how much that cemented your position here."

"I didn't do it for that reason," I said. "He was nice to me. He was hurt. He needed help."

"And you jumped in without thinking about your own safety. Seriously, that's admirable. We respect selfless courage, without thinking over what it might cost you. Granted, at times one has to think about the consequences. But when a friend is down, you help them. When someone you care about is in danger, you jump in. What you did tonight shows a great deal about the kind of person you are."

I listened to what she said. I knew she was right, but I still felt odd, having it applied to me. I was learning more and more about myself since I had run from the village. After a time, I asked "Do you think I was wrong to run from my punishment?"

"Not when it was so targeted. Money…well, coin matters. But not at the expense of a life. Not when the situation can easily be fixed. No, compared to the wrongs of the world, what you did was a minor blip." She stopped as one of the servants walked over to whisper in her ear. "All right, thank you."

To me, she said, "Our tent's ready for us. It's clean, with new blankets. Grab another sandwich and let's get to bed."

I pocketed two of the sandwiches and, on the edge of exhaustion, followed her back to the tent. The moment I laid my head on the pillow, I fell asleep. But all through the night, I kept starting awake, listening, wondering what other creatures lay in wait, out in the Bramble Fel Forest.