Dreams of a Wild Heart

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Dreams of a Wild Heart Page 38

by Danube Adele

Tabron flushed. “The king required medical care and ordered that a doctor be brought from Earth.”

  “She was kidnapped?” Kraggon asked somberly.

  “She wasn’t the first.”

  “He’s gone too far with this.”

  “Why are you keeping her standing? She needs rest, some clothing and food. Perhaps water for cleaning?” A young woman with long red hair piled high on her head had come up behind Kraggon looking quite beautiful. She was only half as pregnant as Sayla, a little baby bump on her slender frame.

  “My mate, Shandria,” Kraggon introduced her. The name rang a bell, but now wasn’t the time to share. First I needed to get the blood off my face.

  “Thank you so much,” I said sincerely. “All of that would be appreciated.”

  Several of the women took over, carrying me away from Tabron, who watched helplessly as I was separated from him. Kraggon clapped him on the back and invited him back to the table as I was brought inside a tent. There was anger on my behalf and questions about my life on Earth. My face was cleaned, I ate a few bites of food and Jory gave me a set of sweatpants and a shirt to wear.

  Through this, Shandria watched, worrying her lip between her teeth. Finally, she said, “I know you aren’t feeling well, but I was hoping you would have a chance to do an examination of me? Give me advice? I want to make sure I bring my child into the world as healthy as I can.”

  I managed a small smile that probably looked more like a grimace with one side of my face swollen. “You have been so kind. It’s the least I could do. I promise, before I return to Earth, we can sit together and go over everything you need to be doing.”

  She sighed a deep breath. “Thank you, Cecilia. My grandmother Dreya is here visiting, but I’m not sure how much she remembers about childbirth. It would just ease my mind to have your time.”

  Kind and caring. I could see she would make a wonderful queen for the Brausa if they could get oust the invaders.

  * * *

  We rejoined the men in time to hear Tabron speak about Morten trying to kill his father to take over the kingdom, and how he was rallying for an attack on this new settlement they’d built in the mountains. I spoke of the starvation and wretched circumstances of the villagers. Kraggon agreed that more of the villagers should come to his settlement who needed refuge and care.

  “When we left, rioting had begun. All of the villagers were fighting against the king’s men.” Tabron took a long drink, his eyes becoming tortured. “I found Draxton beating Cecilia.”

  “He should be killed.” Shandria frowned, her hand absently rubbing her tummy.

  “Done,” Tabron agreed.

  “We need to go back and save Raseen and Sayla and their children.” I was anxious to see them to safety. It felt like we’d been gone too long.

  Tabron nodded. “My men would join us here, as would Bruner and Krevier. We would join your war against Ral’e.”

  “Let’s bring them back,” Kraggon readily agreed. “Someone was at the palace looking for you, Shandria,” I interjected, not wanting to leave without letting them all know. That got everyone’s attention.

  “Who was it?” Kraggon scowled.

  “It was a Sunan woman disguising herself. Her name was Cynthia.”

  Kraggon and Shandria shared a look before Kraggon’s tone grew even more serious. “She is in danger from her own people, as well as the king and Morten. Her identity is to be kept safe here.”

  “Of course.” I nodded. “I thought you should know.”

  Shandria smiled tremulously. “Thank you for telling me.”

  “I don’t think she meant you harm. More than anything, she seemed worried.”

  “I could go back,” Jory offered. “You’re too familiar, Kraggon. You’d be discovered in an instant.”

  Kraggon grew quiet. “Go, Jory. Bring them back.”

  * * *

  It wasn’t long before we were back by the palace gates. There were still villagers congregating, random shouts being thrown toward the palace, but the king had gone back indoors. Nearly all of the villagers had armed themselves and were ready to face the warriors, even if it meant their own deaths.

  Finding Sayla was not difficult. She was home, trying to keep her family safe. When I told her what the plan was, she agreed without hesitation, needing very little from her run-down house other than clothing and a few knickknacks of sentimental value. We hurried through her home, trying to gather things before Jory transferred them all. I went in search of Raseen and Cyral, who were nowhere to be seen. Likewise, I couldn’t find the littlest boy who had been so ill.

  “We need to go.” Tabron insisted. “We can always come back for them. The crowd is not quieting, and I think there’s going to be a fight.”

  “Let me just take a quick walk around! I might be able to spot the little boy, or Raseen or...” I kept my head down and hurried down the main street, hoping upon hope to find a trace of them, but the crowd was beginning to travel in from the lane that led out of town. Others were joining this revolt!

  “Ceci!”

  Tabron was grabbing my arm to steer me back toward the meadow. “We need to go.”

  “Is Jory back?”

  “I don’t see her, but we need to get out of here. It’s too dangerous.”

  Shouts grew louder. Torches were lit, illuminating the angry faces of the crowd.

  “She’s there!” He pointed toward the palace gate. “I think she’s looking for us.”

  “Let’s just get there.”

  We thrust our way through the crowd as the courtyard filled with warriors pouring out of the castle armed with their swords and daggers. The king stood out on his main balcony and called out in a stronger voice than I’d heard all day.

  “Go home or you will invite my warriors to attack!”

  “We will go home when you provide food!” one of the spokesmen shouted back angrily. “What kind of king sits fat and happy while watching his people starve? A king who was never supposed to rule, that’s who. A king who murdered for position!”

  “You leave me no choice! Warriors, attack!” He turned his back on the carnage, choosing to move back into the comfort of his kingly suites while the warriors began cutting a swath through the crowd.

  The crowd became more frenzied as blood was drawn. Ferocious shouts, terrified screams, the flash of metal in the firelight of a torch were all frightening specters of the riot that had my blood running cold. These villagers had nothing left to lose and were bent on getting what they felt they deserved. Rocks were being thrown, shovels and sticks swung wildly. Warriors were being hit, but so were the villagers.

  Tabron shielded me from much of the violence, trying to get us to the spot where we’d last seen Jory. He was making a beeline with such focus, he didn’t spot the danger coming toward him.

  Morten suddenly made an appearance. He was shoving his way through the crowd ruthlessly. People cried out as he brandished his dagger. Where was he going with that? I saw that he had a bead on Tabron and the panic in my heart turned into terror.

  I pulled on Tabron’s hand to get him to stop, but instead, I managed to pull out of his grasp and was immediately separated from him by half a dozen people. He fought to get back to me, but was caught in the sea of humanity not knowing that Morten was going to kill him! I was going to be faced with the death of yet another man I cared for. Why? Why was this happening?

  I could stop this.

  “No!” I shrieked and shoved my way through the crowd, desperate to get to Tabron. It was a race. Morten was nearly there. Tabron was reaching out to me, and the look of relief on his face was evident, but he had no idea what was coming.

  “Morten!” I screamed, but in the noise of the crowd, I could see Tabron didn’t know what I was saying. “Morten! Morten!” I pushed and shoved, n
ot caring that I might be causing injury when I could prevent death.

  Just as Morten drew his hand back, I flung myself in front of Tabron. The slice of the blade was sharp, burning hot as it pierced my lower abdomen. Tabron saw Morten at the last second, just as Morten realized he’d stabbed the wrong target.

  “Revenge is sweet.” But he said it with little enthusiasm before he was enveloped in blue light. Funny, but it seemed like he didn’t get any real pleasure out of...killing me?

  “Ceci!” Tabron saw the knife sticking out of me and went to take it out.

  “No...” I shook my head and slumped against him, the waves of pain more than my body could handle and remain standing. “I’ll bleed out.”

  “What do I do?” He looked around frantically. He tried to shoulder his way out of the crowd that was pushing and shoving against the other warriors. Bruner and Tarra came out of the crowd.

  “I saw you struggling, brother! Is she all right?”

  “She’s going to die without help!” Tabron shouted. “Get us to the gate!”

  “Clear the way, clear the way!” Bruner shoved through holding on to Tarra until Jory was right in front of us looking relieved.

  “She needs help!” Tabron shouted.

  “Oh, shit. We need to get her out of here,” Jory said, moving into our circle. “Everyone hold on to me.” Bruner, Tarra, and Tabron each took hold of a space on her arm. Then she took my hand, and we were surrounded by the blue light. It was agonizing, the push and pull through time and space. This was death. This had to be it. I couldn’t stand any more.

  “Jory, Tarra, what’s happening here?” An authoritative voice was demanding immediate answers.

  “Kraggon, she’s hurt.”

  “Holy warrior, she still has the dagger stuck in her.”

  “Morten did this,” Tabron ground out. “What am I supposed to do?”

  I managed to open my eyes and see that I was out in the open air, the two moons almost directly above me. It was so much more peaceful here. We were back in the center of camp.

  “I’m going to need a surgeon.” The thought struck me as funny. I was a surgeon.

  “We don’t have anyone qualified to provide her help, Tabron. We’re a camp with the barest essentials for existence.” Kraggon was large and in charge, reminded me of Tabron but with lighter hair. So he was Tayla’s grandson. She would be proud. She needed to be here.

  “I forgot to tell you earlier. Your grandmother needs to be rescued,” I tried to say. “Tayla.”

  Tabron leaned in. “What was that?”

  “Kraggon’s grandmother.”

  “My grandmother?” Kraggon knelt to hear me. “What of her?”

  “She needs to be brought here. The king uses her as a servant.”

  Kraggon’s jaw clenched. “Thank you for telling me. But tell us what we can do for you.”

  “Nothing.” And that was true. There was no one here who could stop the bleeding and sew up the holes.

  “I could transfer you to a medic facility in Sunan, but I wouldn’t be able to stay, and Tabron can’t go. They’d kill him on sight.”

  “It’s all right.” If I was going to die, I didn’t want it to be alone with strangers.

  “It’s not all right! Let’s get her to Earth. How soon could we get her to the hospital on Earth?” Tabron asked shakily.

  Jory shook her head. “Too long. After arriving, we’d have to drive out of the hills...it would be more than an hour.”

  “There has to be someone!” Tabron was looking downright worried about me.

  “Dr. Sandburg lives at the bottom of the gorge,” I stated.

  “The last doctor?” Tarra asked.

  “I thought he was dead.” His eyes blazed with sudden hope.

  “I managed to find him earlier. He told me to let him know if I needed anything from him.”

  “We go now! Let’s move!” Tabron’s directive was fierce. “There’s no time to waste!”

  Kraggon suddenly called out, “Corimat! Brek! We’re traveling.”

  “Kraggon?” Shandria called out. “You’re leaving?”

  “I’ll be back tonight,” he reassured her.

  “Be careful,” Shandria demanded.

  “I will.” He let his hand linger on her rounded belly and gave her a kiss that wasn’t long, but their lips lingered and their eyes demanded promises be kept. How beautiful. It was that same connectedness that my parents had that I thought I’d had with Carlos but didn’t. Not really. I’d just been a kid.

  “We’re armed,” Brek called as he and Corimat came running. Already knowing what to do, they all grasped Kraggon’s arm while he took one of Jory’s hands. Her other hand came back to mine as she knelt.

  “Hold on.” Tabron, Tarra and Bruner managed to grab her before the blue light caught us again in its vicious grip. My cry of pain rang out and was swallowed up until the light faded and the sound of the river filled my ears. The air felt cooler.

  “How do we find him?” Tabron asked.

  “Call for him.”

  “Tarra. Stay with her,” Tabron commanded.

  “Of course.”

  I heard them shouting for Sandburg, telling him I needed help. They went in different directions, trying to scour the area closest to where the palace was located.

  “We aren’t all animals,” Tarra said calmly, sitting beside me. “There are actually some beautiful rituals we used to have here, and some who still practice them.”

  She ran a gentle hand over my forehead to brush the hair off my face.

  “The reason we all know this place is that if you follow the river farther south, it comes to rest in a tremendously large lake, a lake bigger than you could see from one end to the other. In this lake are shells that hold pearls. When a woman is going to give birth to her child, her mate comes to this place and finds one of these shells so he can take the pearl. He presents it to her in a charm with hearts interconnecting.”

  “That sounds lovely.” My voice came out as a whisper. I was bleeding a lot. “Tarra, please listen.”

  “What is it, Cecilia?”

  “I don’t think I’m going to make it.”

  “Don’t talk that way. Of course you will.”

  “No. Please. Just listen. Make sure my parents know, somehow. Get my body to them. Something. I don’t want them to wonder all their lives about me.”

  “You aren’t going to die, but I promise.”

  “She’s over here!” I heard the men running to me.

  “Bradford?” Sandburg was kneeling beside me.

  “I guess I needed more help.”

  “If you’re joking, it can’t be too bad,” he said smoothly, though I could hear the worry in his voice. Night had fallen, but even with two moons, I couldn’t make out his exact expression. To the others he said, “Bring her carefully. Do not touch the knife.”

  Tabron lifted me, and I let my face rest against the skin of his neck. The world was taking on a surreal quality. My vision was hazy. I was feeling cold. Surprisingly, nothing was hurting as badly anymore. Was this dying?

  “You aren’t going to die,” Tabron said fiercely, and I felt myself smile, comforted that he was in my mind with me. I could feel his warmth, his strength surrounding me.

  “This was the same kind of injury that Carlos had,” I realized. “Maybe this is karma.”

  “That wasn’t your fault, Ceci. It wasn’t. Don’t give in to that.” There was a tremor to his voice, and he was trying so hard not to jostle me.

  “Don’t worry, Tabron. You’re going to be okay.”

  “Save your strength, love,” he said gruffly. Now he wouldn’t have to worry about me wanting to join with him. Wouldn’t he feel relief about that?

  “Set her dow
n here. Get water in a pot over there and put it on the fire. We need it boiling to take away impurities.” Torches were lit and a nice fire was going. It looked like we’d interrupted dinner. Sandburg gently unbuttoned Tabron’s coat, but the dagger was hanging it up.

  “Eat this. Quick.” Sandburg was putting something wet up to my lips. It smelled herbal. Were these the leaves he was talking about in the journal? The painkillers? Trusting him entirely, I took in the potion, grimacing at the sharp taste, then swallowing it.

  “You need to add a spoonful of sugar.”

  Sandburg didn’t laugh. He was completely fixated on my injury.

  “What’s your blood type, Bradford?”

  “A positive.”

  “Good, good. If all goes well, I’m going to be a donor for you.”

  “Aw, Sandburg. You say the sweetest things.”

  “Don’t start writing my name in hearts.” He turned to the men watching. “I’m going to pull the knife out, and when I do, stuff the wound with this gauze, okay? The blood is going to come out fast.”

  Tabron nodded, taking up the white materials.

  Sandburg was turning back to me. “Sorry, Bradford. This is going to hurt.”

  I didn’t have time to prepare before the knife was pulled free. Agonizing, slicing heat had me crying out hoarsely. I felt the warmth of fluid on my skin and knew it was my own blood gurgling out like a geyser. Tabron covered the wound, but when I cried again, he backed off.

  “No! Shove it in there! Pack it.” Sandburg got more.

  “It hurts her.” Tabron pushed harder, looking tortured.

  “Death hurts more. When those are saturated, switch ’em out for fresh. Is the water boiling yet?”

  “It boils,” Corimat affirmed.

  Tabron pulled the gauze out and put more in, but this time, it didn’t hurt. In fact, the room seemed suddenly brighter, more vibrant. All of these faces were looking down at me with varying degrees of angst, and it was almost funny that all these big men were trying to save me. Why? Who was I to them?

  “I think the drugs have kicked in,” Sandburg said, but it was like he said it from far away. He got close to my face and asked, “What’s your pain level, Bradford?”

 

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