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‘Cursed thing got away,’ Vernich answered through gritted teeth. ‘It clawed the shit out of my leg and then… It exploded. I thought it had blasted itself into nothing, but… when my senses returned, I saw it, a black shadow drifting out to sea, towards the Veil.’
‘Fuck,’ Hawthorne cursed.
‘Here Thea.’ Kipp’s voice called Thea back to poor Esyllt. She just hoped she’d been right about what Wren had packed for her…
‘Esyllt,’ she said gently. ‘Who in our forces is trained in battlefield healing? Did we bring healers’ kits?’
The weapons master groaned as she helped him sit upright.
‘Esyllt?’ she prompted.
‘The Warswords,’ he said. ‘But by the looks of things, they’ll need to tend to their own. Some of the commanders —’ he grimaced as she parted his matted hair around his wound.
Thea looked up at Kipp. ‘Go speak to them, see who among them can take care of the wounded.’ She peered into the satchel and heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Tell them I have some supplies.’
Kipp was about to launch himself towards the commanders.
‘Kipp?’ she called out, and he stopped instantly, turning back.
‘Find Cal, will you? Make sure he’s alright.’
‘On it,’ he told her with a salute.
Along with several others, Thea worked into the midmorning tending to the wounded shieldbearers of Thezmarr. While she knew she’d never be as skilled as Farissa or Wren, she was grateful for the lessons she’d insisted upon, for the tasks keeping her hands steady in the aftermath of all that had come to pass amidst the ruins of Delmira.
She saw numerous shieldbearers displaying signs of shock. Farissa had warned her about that, and she knew were it not for keeping busy, she would likely be experiencing the same. Thea was careful to distribute the contents of Wren’s satchel herself, because her sister had not only packed a range of healing supplies, but poisons as well.
Wren’s nothing if not prepared…
Thea lost herself in the work, wrapping gashes with clean linen bandages, sure to tell every ‘patient’ that she wasn’t a real healer and they’d need to visit the infirmary upon their return to Thezmarr. None of them seemed bothered by her proclamations, merely thankful for her treatments that she hoped would keep any infection at bay.
‘Thea?’ Kipp said softly.
Thea whipped around. ‘Is it Cal? Have you —’
‘Cal’s fine. A few scratches, stinks like a foul chamber pot, but fine.’
Thea’s whole body sagged with relief. ‘What is it then?’
Kipp’s face fell. ‘It’s Lachin.’
‘What about him?’
‘I thought you should know. He’s… He’s dead.’
Thea blinked, the words refusing to settle. ‘Dead?’
Kipp nodded.
Thea’s hands fell away from the shieldbearer she was treating and she sat back on the damp earth, covering her mouth with a trembling hand. ‘He’s…’ but she couldn’t form the sentence.
‘Here.’ Kipp pressed something cool into her palms. ‘Drink that. You haven’t stopped since…’
Numb, Thea lifted the canteen to her lips, only to find the burning liquid wasn’t water and for that, she was grateful. She hadn’t realised how cold she’d become.
‘How? How did Lachin die?’ she eventually managed.
Kipp grimaced. ‘One of those things near sliced him in two…’
