by West, Shay
“Did they manage to steal anything?”
“Three supply wagons and several horses. With all of the wounded and confusion, we don't know if anyone was kidnapped.” Tess shook her head, knowing what being taken captive would mean for the Jhinn.
Ted nodded. There had not been a raid to date where at least one person hadn't been taken prisoner. The enemy stole people as readily as they stole food and supplies.
“Thank you, Lieutenant. Get yourself something to eat, and then continue the clean-up.”
General Smith walked out of the front door of the bunkhouse and made his way to the fence surrounding the corral. There were several Protectors chopping wood, drawing water from the well, washing clothes and hanging them to dry on lines strung between two cottonwoods. He could dimly hear the ring of the hammer from the smithy across the thoroughfare. The corral was full of horses, mostly those belonging to the Protectors, but a few once belonging to the enemy. Ted spotted No Name eating some hay near the fence.
“So you let me fall to the ground, and leave me there to defend myself against two foes, and now I find you here eating dinner as if nothing happened?” He gave his little mare a stern look.
No Name fixed him with a placid, liquid brown stare. She shook her head and whickered before setting her attention back to her dinner.
“I can't get under your skin, can I?” Ted reached through the wooden fence to give her a scratch. He couldn't blame her for cutting and running when things got tough.
Ted was exhausted but needed to see for himself the state of affairs in the camp. He needed to be visible, infallible, unhurt. The men did not need to know their General was injured and tired. Most of them are tired and hurt as I. His presence would give the people of the encampment reassurance.
There were still a few buildings smoldering, trails of smoke winding up through the late afternoon sky. The breeze barely stirred up the ashes, blowing them across the dirt. The townfolk had formed assembly lines from the burning structures to the nearest wells, handing buckets of water from one to another, trying to douse the flames. Most of the fires were too large and burned in spite of the water being hurled at them. Families stood near the charred remnants of their homes, not knowing what else to do. They wished to look through the embers and salvage what they could but the ruins were too hot yet. Soot and dirt covered their faces, save for the tracks the tears made on their cheeks. He stopped at each family he came to, offering condolences and the aid of himself and the Protectors for whatever they needed. Mistress Annie will be busy. Ted could think of nothing he wanted more than a nice hot bath. His clothing was stiff from all of the blood, grime, and sweat that had dried on them. Every muscle ached. It was all he could do to put one foot in front of the other. The wound on his back throbbed with every step.
I will get some herbs from the Sawbones for the pain. He plodded along the thoroughfare, heading east toward the river. Several inquiries of the townfolk had indicated his two Lieutenants, Mark Vincent and Brad Phillips, were at the river. As he approached, he smelled the stench of the burning bodies. The corpses of the enemies had been piled together and lit with torches. The bodies of the fallen Jhinn would be buried in the boneyard, just behind the church. The burning of corpses was only saved for the enemy. The Jhinn believed that being buried was the only way that a person's soul would be with their Lord and Savior in Heaven. The souls of those not buried were doomed to wander, lost and alone, never getting to see the other side, or to be reunited with loved ones who have passed on.
General Smith saw the smoke from the pile of bodies as he approached the river. It rose into the afternoon air, twining around the limbs of the trees, full of new spring buds. 2nd Lieutenants Mark Vincent and Brad Phillips were giving orders to begin cutting down more trees to be used for the rebuilding.
“We sent Tess to the bunkhouse to get some shut-eye,” said Mark.
Ted spoke with his Lieutenants at length. “Have the displaced families found shelter?”
“Yes, General. They will stay with others in the camp until their homes are rebuilt,” Mark answered.
“Has anyone turned up missing?” His earlier conversation with Tess Golden had gotten his hopes up. Brad shattered those hopes.
“Yes. The Monroe family.”
That means eight missing, six of them children. The General felt sick. The eldest girl, Lauralee, had done some cooking and mending for the Protectors. She had been a lively young woman, plump and pretty, with thick auburn curls and brown eyes like a doe's.
For the thousandth time, Forka wished to get rid of the threat of the enemy once and for all. The good kind people of the Jhinn deserved to live in peace and security, to raise their children in a safe place. He had lain awake many a night, forming and rejecting plans to eliminate the Horde and the Cowboys. He knew if the leaders were killed, the rest of the enemy would be easy pickings. The enemy numbers were too great for an all out attack. He could not ask the good people of the encampment to take up arms. They would do so in defense of their homes and families, but they were not hardened soldiers, like his Protectors. It took discipline to stand on the front lines of a battle, looking the enemy in the face, waiting for the moment when two weapons would meet in attack. To defend one's home and hearth, all it took was desperation.
“Sir, everything is under control here. Maybe you should go see the Sawbones and have him take a look at your wound.” Mark pointed to the General's back, where fresh blood could be seen seeping through his shirt.
“And you may want to see Mistress Annie about a bath.” Brad stepped back from General Smith, nose wrinkling in mock disgust. He had just lit a cigarette and it dangled lazily from the corner of his mouth.
“A bath is definitely in order.” Mark Vincent's mouth quirked at the corners as he suppressed a grin.
“Oh, leave off, both of you!” The General retorted. “The two of you aren't exactly smelling like roses.”
Mark and Brad laughed. They were both in as bad a shape as their General, covered in blood, sweat, grime, and soot.
“Sir, the Sawbones is that way,” Brad said, his arm out, pointing east.
Ted fixed the man with an icy stare before moving slowly back toward the thoroughfare, being careful not to wince as he took a step. The sun set as the General limped to the Sawbones' office, the air growing chill. Though the days were warm and comfortable, the nights were still cold. As he approached, the moans and occasional screams surrounded him. Makeshift pallets set up outside near large bonfires held people not in dire need of the attentions of the Sawbones. Kettles of hot water boiled over fires, as did metal pots full of concoctions to make poultices. Any townfolk who had even the slightest knowledge of medicine bustled about the stopgap hospital, lending a hand, bringing hot water, cotton and soft leather for use as bandages. They made tinctures of willow bark, marigold, and mistletoe to help reduce the pain and reduce the risk of infection. To help ease the passing of those beyond medical aid, a drink was made from poppies. The townfolk called it the white sleep.
General Smith spoke softly to the injured as he made his way into the building. Tallow candles had been lit to stave off the darkness. Mark Halliwell was treating the worst injuries. His raven locks were tied back by a leather cord, his face pale and ravaged by the work of caring for the injured and dying after the battle. His grey eyes were lost in dark circles, giving him the look of the walking dead.
The General made to leave. I cannot bother him with a little stab wound.
“Just hold it right there, General. Let me take a look.”
“It's nothing. One of the girls has already seen to it.”
Mark fixed him with a flat gaze. “So, you are a medical expert now, are you? I suppose you will be wanting my job next, eh?” He turned the General forcibly and pushed him forward, to get a better look at the injury. Ted bit off a retort and simply stood in the ridiculous position.
“The wound is clean.” Mark poked his fingers on the injury, tsk tsking as the General t
ensed and tried to stand upright.
“Stop being such a baby! I've seen worse cutting myself shaving. You'll live.”
Ted made to reply but stopped short. The Sawbones was already making his way to his next patient. The General stood and pulled his shirt back down, wincing a little as he straightened. Gotten worse shaving indeed! Ted continued to grumble to himself as he got closer to Mark's badly injured patient.
Ted spotted Valery, holding Amber's limp hand.
Amber lay on the table, a huge gash running from neck to navel. Large amounts of blood ran onto the table, and slowly dripped to the floor. The General stared at the drops, mesmerized by their rhythmic falling. Plip. Plip. Plip.
The girl's face was pale and covered with a thin sheen of sweat. Ted was surprised the girl still lived; the wound was horrific.
Valery used a rag soaked in cold water to soothe Amber's brow. Amber's eyes were open, staring at nothing. Her breath rattled in her ravaged chest. She began to mumble incoherently.
“Sshhh, I am here Amber, dear. The Sawbones will see to your injury.” Valery stroked the girl's hand, not even bothering to sop up the blood still seeping from the gash in her chest.
“Here, Valery. Give this to her. It's all we can do.” Sawbones handed her a bowl. Valery's dark eyes filled with tears as she took the bowl in a trembling hand. She knew what the white sleep was for.
She stood over the dying girl and slowly poured the contents of the bowl into Amber's mouth. She choked, coughing feebly, and the liquid ran out of her mouth and down her cheeks. She managed to swallow some of the concoction.
Valery stood and noticed Ted's presence for the first time. She stared at him, face blank, eyes unfocused, almost staring right through him. He grew uncomfortable under that stare.
“Valery, I never had a chance to thank you for—” But he was brought up short by the look of pure venomous hatred in the girl's eyes. Valery snarled low in her throat, an animal sound of pure menace and started to advance on Ted. He took a step back, reaching for the knife at his side.
“Valery…” The dying girl's whisper stopped Valery in her tracks. She turned to Amber, whispering words of comfort, brushing her hair back from a sweaty brow.
“I want to go home, Valery. I don't want to die here.” Her voice was so soft, filled with fear. Blood ran from the corner of her mouth, a crimson line marring her pale cheek. Her eyes were feverish and frightened.
“We will both go home, honey. I promise you.”
“I'm scared, Valery. I don't want to die.” The white sleep had deadened her pain and her voice became a little stronger, clearer. “Help me, momma. I'm so scared, momma!” Amber feebly reached out a hand toward nothing at all, tears falling freely, sobs tearing from her clenched throat. “Please, help me momma!” Her breath came in short, shallow gasps. “Please, don't let me die.” Amber's voice faded as her eyes began to glaze over, chest convulsing struggling for breath. Her mouth opened and closed as she tried to speak, more blood flowing from her open mouth. The final breath left her ruined body in a rattling sigh.
Valery sat for a time, holding Amber's cold hand. The General stood silently, unwilling to impose.
Valery stood and kissed the girl's brow. She ran her hand gently down Amber's face, closing her now sightless eyes. Valery turned to face the General, face blank once again, all signs of rage gone.
Ted Smith did not know what to say. Though the girls had been in the encampment for quite a few months, they did not fit in. Valery kept all of the townfolk at arm's length, never really bothering to make friends. She acted like a spoiled child, growing angry and impatient when asked to pitch in and help. Her attitude had caused several fights that required intervention from others before they came to blows. It did not take long for the Jhinn to avoid the girl, which seemed to suit Valery just fine.
Amber, though never angry and always ready to lend a hand, kept to herself or stayed at Valery's side. The other women tried to draw Amber out, to include her in their chatter and gossip, but the girl showed no interest and simply performed the chores she was asked to do.
The General had had to stop the constant surveillance he had placed on the girls when they first arrived in the camp. The fighting had been relentless, but for small lulls, and he had needed every Protector in the field. Even during the quiet periods, he had needed everyone's help in the clean up. Though unfriendly and standoffish, neither girl had ever done anything to warrant his distrust. They never made any moves to escape or do any harm to the Jhinn.
“Why don't you go and get some rest, Valery. I will see to Amber.” Mark Halliwell took her by the shoulders and walked her toward the door. She shrugged him off and continued to walk unaided into the darkness. She never looked back.
“She is in shock. I will make something to help her sleep.” Mark turned to face the General. “I will make something for you as well. For the pain.” He brushed past the General where he still stood next to the table. The Sawbones made his way to the cupboards covering one wall and began to rummage inside. He mumbled to himself as he grabbed vials of this and bags of that, setting them on the counter. He laid down two leather squares and began to measure out the ingredients, placing them in the center of the leather square. He added a pinch of this, a palm-full of that, a dash of liquid from a vial. Mark gave a grunt of satisfaction as he folded the square up on the sides, tying it with a cord, fashioning a bag of sorts.
“Mix a little of this with boiling water and make a tea. Drink it hot. Don't let it get cold. It will ease the pain and help you sleep.” He gave the largest of the bags to Ted. “Bring this one to Valery.” Mark handed the General a smaller bag. “The same instructions apply.”
Ted took the second pouch with a sigh. My bath will have to wait. He thanked the Sawbones and walked outside. The thoroughfare was still bustling with people, even though the hour was late. Most were right here at the Sawbones', lending a hand to do whatever they could to help make the injured comfortable. Food was being prepared at the large fires and handed around to all of the helpers. They set to eating with vigor, wolfing down meat and potatoes and bread as if this were their last meal. After handing their dishes to someone to wash, Mark's temporary nurses went back to work.
General Smith walked next door to the blacksmith's home. Jeb Masters answered after the first knock. The light from the candles emphasized the shine of his bald head. Jeb was tall, his arms and chest bulging with muscles.
Jeb's wife, Sarah, sat in front of the hearth, mending several items of clothing. She was plump, with brown hair streaked with silver in a braid as thick as her wrist draped over one shoulder. She hummed softly to herself, the firelight dancing across her smooth cheeks.
She jumped up as soon as she saw Ted enter. She gave a quick hello before bustling off to fetch a kettle to boil water for coffee.
“Is Valery here? The Sawbones sent her away to get some rest.”
Jeb nodded. His eyes turned sad. Valery and Amber had come to stay with the Masters' soon after arriving in the encampment. Several families had offered to take the girls in, but the General had wanted them close, so that he could have them watched. It had been crowded at the Masters'. They had five children of their own, but they had put the oldest boy, Mikah, in with the younger two, Brandon and Pete, allowing Amber and Valery to have the largest of the rooms. Melisa and Niome had been ecstatic about the older women coming to stay. The strangers fascinated them. But neither girl showed any interest in spending time with the Masters'. They even took their meals to their room they shared and ate alone.
“She came in covered in blood and went straight to her room. We assumed the worst.”
“Amber sustained a grievous injury. Sawbones made this herb mixture to help Valery sleep.” Ted handed the pouch to Sarah, who had returned with the kettle.
“Poor soul. Now she is alone.” Sarah sighed. “I can only imagine the horrors those girls must have witnessed, being held captive by the Horde. It would be enough to drive anyone mad.”
Ted had assumed time was all Valery and Amber needed to come out of their shells, to accept and embrace the Jhinn as their new people. If anything, the time spent among the Jhinn worsened Valery's angry demeanor, her disdain, her anger. Amber had only gotten even more quiet and withdrawn.
“You should be in your bed, General.” Sarah gave him a sidelong glance, nose delicately wrinkled. “On second thought, you need the attentions of Mistress Foster.”
“You are the third person to mention my need for a bath!” He picked at his grime and sweat hardened clothing. “The truth is the truth, though.”
“Here, take these. They should fit.” Sarah handed him a shirt and pants she had been mending for Jeb. The clothing was two sizes too big, but both garments well made and clean.
“Thank you.” Ted took the clothes gratefully. He said good night to the Masters' and closed the door softly behind him. The bathhouse sat just to the west and a little behind the Masters' residence.
No one was around, which suited him just fine. Mistress Foster bid the General a good night, and she and her family retired. One of the boys ran around to the front of the bathhouse and tied a white piece of cloth to the door. That was the signal that meant that the patron inside wanted complete privacy.
Forka stripped down and tossed his filthy clothes into a basket. He would have the widow Foster dispose of them. He filled the tub with mostly hot water and slowly eased himself in. The water burned his wound but it soon numbed and he relaxed. He scrubbed himself from head to toe, the blood and grime sloughing off along with some of the aches and pains. After he had rinsed, he lay back against the tub and closed his eyes, arms draped over the sides.
* * *
Ted awoke to a blade biting into his throat..
Sloan stood to his left, leaning over the tub. His green eyes blazed with a feverish light.
Ted feared to move, to say a word. His mind could not grasp what was happening; it was so surreal. Screams and shouts were coming from outside the bathhouse. Protector Brent Fields burst through the front door.