Book 6, Chapter 15: Crossing The River
Trailing behind Cresida, wading into the slower moving but waist-deep water, I stopped mid-crossing and watched as the dark brown blotches on my hands faded, the cold water washing the blood away. On my dress, splatters darkened before the remaining cloth, seeming to draw the cleansing in, then slowly leach away. I scraped my hands together, pressing them into each other, getting the rest of the dried blood off, then roughly rubbed the clothing against itself over and over.
A distant part of me was disturbed I paid the dead soldier’s blood attention mainly as it left my person.
A very wet Cresida ran into the arms of her husband, and they hugged tightly. Then, he looked around, pushing her back a bit by her waist, but she held on, leaned in, whispering something, and he stared at me as I climbed out of the river, dripping and dripping.
I smiled for no reason but to appear pleasant, waved, headed in their direction, trying to think of what to say. Deny everything? Might not be believed and it would forever alienate Cresida. The truth? Maybe not all of it. I needed a creative truth and I was awful at lying. Ugh.
Soldiers on this side were standing and sitting around fires, trying to dry off. Some were helping others who were lightly wounded, but I saw no grievous injuries here. It made me wonder where those worse off were. But I guess fleeing the field as quickly as possible is a selective process, and these were all who could make it.
Releasing his wife, Captain Gyges said to me, “Lady Sarah, thank you for keeping my wife safe, and bringing yourselves here.” He paused, shifted positions, “Am I to understand you bested six attackers in combat?”
“Uh, no.”
Cresida crossed her arms. “Yes you did.”
“It was five. And the boy didn’t really fight, he just sort of stood there. Only four, really.” Holding my arms out to indicate the soldiers, I asked, “Captain, what’s the state of the army?” Whoops, I did not mean to pretend that I was in charge, but out it came.
He stood up straighter, nearly taking a step back. “We’re regrouping here, then heading north to the Laemacian forces.” He took on a more stern look, “How is it you bested trained soldiers in combat?”
I didn’t know what to tell him, couldn’t think of anything. “Look, we’ll talk about this later. Right now, Cresida and I need a change of clothing and then I am going to help your wounded. If you’d be kind enough to first direct me to fresh clothes and then the field hospital, that would be lovely. And soap or vinegar if you have any.” Looking down, I was still rubbing my hands together, though perhaps now to get rid of the river’s chill.
“We managed to secure very few supplies. I’m afraid you may have to make do. And we’re leaving shortly.”
“What about the wounded?”
“It can’t be helped. They’ve overwhelmingly bested us. Our priority now is to . . . well, you and Cresida should wring your dresses out and then prepare for a long march.”
“You’re leaving your wounded?”
“Those who can follow, will follow. The rest, I’m afraid, are at the mercy of the enemy army.”
This I didn’t like at all. The ground here was well trodden on, grass bent over, large stones every now and again. My own general, Brundle, would have pulled back, fortified an area and set up field hospitals. This guy was basically sentencing his own men to slavery if they survived. “Why don’t you try surrendering to them?”
“Lady Sarah, you are welcome to stay if you want. But we must rejoin our forces to the north.” He attempted a smile, “I urge you to come.”
It had to be the mage. They needed to get him away from this army. But, why? Mages were ridiculously powerful, a single one of them could stop an attack by dropping fire from the sky onto the enemy. Either this mage couldn’t, or he wouldn’t. If he wouldn’t, he might be a mage I’d let live. Maybe even get along with.
Trying to think of what to do, stay here and help the wounded or try to meet this mage, I looked around. A copse of trees lay a short distance off, a larger grouping upriver, where most of the soldiers seemed to be heading.
“Fine. I’m heading over to those trees to squeeze the water out of this dress. Cresida, you coming?”
“Not, not just yet.”
“Don’t be long,” began the Captain. “We’re leaving in perhaps an hour.”
I looked him dead in the eye and the words fell out of my mouth, “You, sir, and your army, are a disgrace.” Not waiting for his reaction, I turned and headed for the trees. It was one thing to lose to a larger army, or a technologically superior one, but this, this was straight up incompetence. And I was getting annoyed.
***
Standing in my slip, wondering if I should remove that, too, Cresida came around the trees. I wrung the lower half of my dress out, trying to keep the liquid – still a bit reddish brown – from drenching my shoes. They were already soaking but I wanted to keep them somewhat clean.
“You shouldn’t have said that.”
“He is a disgrace. I’ve never seen this level of incompetence before. If he was my – never mind.”
“He might just leave you here now.”
“I’d be safer on my own, I’m thinking.”
Bending over and pulling off her dress, she waved an army in my direction, “Oh shut it. They’d capture you and then you’d be a slave.”
I did not say, ‘You don’t know the half of it’ because I really didn’t want her prying into the half she didn’t know. If not for that mage, I’d leave for my own army. Why oh why was I staying? Because, my annoying self-correcting voice said, a single mage is the most dangerous tool on the continent. If he makes it back to their northern forces, if he really can use magic, he could train new recruits and undo everything I’d fought for, that I had, in a sense, given up my divinity for. Ridding this world of its terrible and terrifying oppressors.
And, yeah, my other annoying voice said, that’s assuming the Others don’t escape their temporal prison and go on a mortal land destroying spree.
“Yeah, alright. I’m just – come on, Cresida, we’re seriously leaving the wounded to die? Or become slaves? You’re ok with this?”
“It’s not my decision. And, no, I’m not ok with it, but what are we supposed to do? Somehow fight a larger army that we’d just lost to?”
“Build fortifications, get that mage ready. Why didn’t the mage help defend the army?”
“I don’t know. And you shouldn’t go asking Gyges! He’s already annoyed with you.”
“How many wars have you been in Cresida?”
“More than you have! What are you, fourteen?”
I narrowed my eyes at her.
“Well? How old.”
“Like, fifteen, I guess.”
“Like fifteen or fifteen?”
“Like.”
“Then maybe you should trust him.”
I lost my gaze to the distant horizon while pulling off my slip, squeezing the water out of it and told myself, over and over, just to shut up. Pride wanted me to say all kinds of things, starting with ‘thousands of years old!’ and ‘you think I learned how to fight like this without being in a few wars?!?’ Ok, maybe I squeezed really, really hard, but not to the point of tearing the fabric.
Pride sucks! But so does humility. How do the wise deal with the rest of us? Not a thing I could know.
“I’m not ok with leaving the injured. This feels wrong, Cresida, can’t you see that?”
“You stay here and tend them then!”
I put my slip on in silence, then my damp dress, then stooped forward a bit, let my arms hang limp, stared at her while she ignored me. For fun, I tried not to blink.
***
Damn, I thought to myself, walking back with silent, sulking Cresida, I really should have let my jaw hang slack back there. Go for the entire frontal lobotomy zombie look and not just a mere imitation. Next time.
I decided to make our situation more uncomfortable. “Why isn’t the other army attacking?”
“I don’t know! Will you please stop? I don’t know anything.”
“If I was leading the other army, I’d be attacking.”
“We’re lucky you aren’t then. Just stop. You’re a girl. Leave it alone.”
“What?”
“It’s not your place. Alright.”
“You know, I may just take my chances with the bandits, Cresida.”
“I’m sure you’ll be welcome there.”
“For the record, you’re a miserable bitch when you’re not being rescued.”
We walked the rest of the way back in silence. I guess I succeeded in annoying her.
Soon we came upon the soldiers getting ready, rechecking their gear on horses. I looked for, but didn’t see, the young man who’d introduced himself as Quin. Possibly still fighting, possibly worse, and I put it out of my mind.
Three soldiers led a young man, perhaps in his early twenties, scuffed up, dirty clothing, disheveled blond hair, and the beginnings of a slightly darker beard. One of the men pushed him, causing him to stumble, but the others hanging back a bit had shocked looks on their faces at that.
“Is that an enemy soldier?” I wondered if I could get some information on their army and what they were after, even though I suspected it was me. But it’d be bad if he told the captain why the nuns were really here, if he could describe me.
“He’s no soldier.”
It was then I noticed he had golden bands broken here and there with black splotches, around his wrist and a similar thin band around his neck. The same metal my jewelry was made from, the only metal that blocks magical powers. Perseidian iron. I knew the answer, but asked anyway, “Who is he?”
Cresida ignored me and the captain saw us then, walked over to us.
“I’ve a horse each for you two. We’re leaving now.”
Tilting my head, I asked, “What about the infantry?”
“They’re staying with the wounded.”
I merely gazed at this man, not saying what I wanted to say.
He narrowed his eyes. “The enemy isn’t going to come here to finish off the wounded. These men will be safe.”
“Oh?”
“No, Lady Sarah, the enemy will be chasing us. They want our mage. Him.” He moved his chin in the direction of the apparent prisoner. “The last of his kind and therefore the most valuable weapon on the planet.”
No, I thought to myself, that is not who the nuns want. But keep thinking it.
If not for the mage, if he wasn’t rendered mundane by those irons and that collar, this would be the perfect time to part ways, head for my own army. Yet this situation was almost too perfect. A plan was brewing in my mind. I had to get to know this poor mage boy, learn why they kept him a prisoner. Convince him to leave with me.
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