Huntress (15 page)
K
aede ran toward Taisin, who had collapsed on the ground surrounded by dead wolves. Her lips were faintly blue, and she was breathing shallowly, her forehead glistening with sweat. Kaede was afraid Taisin had been injured, but she couldn’t detect any physical wounds. She knew that Taisin might have sustained other, less visible, injuries, but she had no idea how to treat them. In all the years she had studied at the Academy, she had never heard of anyone doing what Taisin had just done, and she was fairly certain that it was forbidden.
But she would not let herself think about what that meant. All she wanted right now was to make sure that Taisin was not hurt. She knelt on the ground and lifted Taisin’s hand. Her pulse raced within her wrist. Kaede leaned forward, pushing back damp strands of hair from Taisin’s forehead. Her eyes suddenly opened, her pupils so huge they made her brown eyes seem black. She began to shake violently, and Kaede gathered her into her arms to quell the tremors, concerned that she would harm herself. At last the shaking subsided and Taisin asked in a hoarse voice, “Are the wolves all gone?”
“Yes.” Kaede was relieved; Taisin sounded mostly normal. “Are you all right?”
Taisin squinted up at her. “I don’t know.” Her whole body felt bruised, and the pain was excruciating. But she also remembered the way she had held all of that energy in her hands: as muscular as a snake, as powerful as a fistful of iron.
Her stomach heaved with the memory, and she scrambled away from Kaede, doubled over on her hands and knees as she threw up. She might have been invincible against those wolves, but now she was weak as a newborn, shuddering her way into a strange new world.
When she had breath to speak she asked, “How are the others?”
“Shae is wounded. Pol—I don’t know—”
Her voice broke off, and Taisin looked at Kaede and saw the fear on her face. Taisin took a deep, uneven breath. She pushed herself up onto her feet, wobbling like a colt taking his first steps. She surveyed the scene: the wolves’ bodies splayed in a circle around them; the mauled packhorse, with their gear strewn across the forest floor; their four skittish mounts huddled together; Con bent over Shae on the ground. Down the trail she saw Pol’s body; his horse had been dragged off by the wolves.
“We should go to them,” Taisin said. She had to keep moving, or the gravity of what she had just done would overwhelm her. “We have no time to lose.”
Shae was seriously injured. Her leg was in horrible shape, and she had sustained some ragged slashes on her side. They bandaged her wound, but there was nothing else they could do until they set up camp, and none of them wished to remain here, surrounded by the stinking corpses of dead wolves. Kaede retrieved her dagger and most of the arrows she had shot, but she didn’t have the stomach to pull out the one lodged in the wolf’s eye.
There was no saving Pol. They wrapped his broken body in his blanket and slung him as gently as they could over the back of the remaining packhorse, redistributing their supplies across all the horses. Con helped Shae climb back onto her own mare; she stubbornly refused to faint and instead had to grit her teeth over every bump in the road. They managed to put an hour’s slow walk between themselves and what remained of their attackers before Con insisted they stop to tend Shae’s wound. The bone in Shae’s shin was exposed where the wolves had torn out her flesh, and Con had to hold her down while Taisin and Kaede wrapped her leg with a clean cloth. The cuts on her side where a wolf’s claws had dragged across her body were jagged, and although they cleaned them as thoroughly as possible, Taisin had a bad feeling that the wounds would become inflamed. She brewed a bitter tea that would send Shae to sleep for the time being, which was the best she could do for the pain, and then they measured out just enough space for another grave.
Con broke up the ground with his sword while Kaede and Taisin dug with their battered metal bowls. Every time his blade bit into the ground, he remembered the way it had cleaved into the wolf’s shoulder. He had killed that one, but he had been too late to save Pol. He had been too late to prevent Shae from being attacked. Seeing her on the ground, bleeding, had ripped him open, too. It made him realize that he had so much to say to her. Sweat broke out on his skin despite the cool air. He did not want to even consider the possibility that Shae wouldn’t survive her wounds. He rammed his sword into the earth, making Taisin and Kaede jump out of the way.
“I’m sorry,” he said. They kept digging.
Night fell before the grave was deep enough. The candle they had lit for Pol’s soul did nothing to push back the dark. Taisin suggested they light a fire so that Shae would not get chilled. “You two will have to gather firewood,” Taisin said. “I should stay here with Shae and Pol.”
“Alone?” Kaede said. She straightened, standing in the grave itself. “Con should stay with you; I’ll go alone.”
“No.” Taisin rubbed her eyes wearily with the back of her hand. “I’ll be fine here. I can protect myself, but it’s not safe for either of you to be alone in the Wood.”
“Come on,” Con said, offering his hand to Kaede. “Let’s get it over with. We should have done it earlier.”
Kaede frowned, but she took Con’s hand and scrambled out. The lip of the grave crumbled beneath her foot as she climbed, sending clods of dirt tumbling into the pit. Taisin began to climb in.
“You shouldn’t do that,” Kaede said, her skin prickling. “Wait till we return.”
“There’s not time,” Taisin said, picking up her bowl to dig. “We have to bury Pol as soon as possible.”
Con and Kaede did not stray far from the path as they foraged for fallen branches. The Wood seemed particularly malignant that night. Kaede could have sworn she saw the eyes of wolves peering out at her from the cover of darkness. And it was so cold. She had been warmer when she was digging, but now she felt the wind on her face, and it smelled sharply of snow.
When they returned to their camp, they could hear Taisin chanting to herself as she dug. She didn’t stop when they returned. Kaede built the small fire as quickly as she could, and Con pulled Shae’s sleeping form toward it, pillowing her head on a rolled-up blanket.
As soon as the grave was deep enough, they rolled Pol’s body into it. There had been no time to wash him or to change him out of the clothes he had died in. Taisin knew it was bad form, but she didn’t know what else to do—it was already too late at night for proper burial rites—and she was so exhausted that she could barely say the words of the funeral lament. But Kaede and Con helped her, and together they laid Pol to rest.
In the morning, Shae awoke feverish and in pain. Taisin had learned some rudimentary healing practices at the Academy, but she was not trained as a healer, and Kaede had never reached that far in her studies. Con refused to give up; his stomach churned at the thought of losing Shae. “We’ll just keep going,” he said. “We’ll find the Xi in time. They’ll help.” He heard the desperation in his voice, and he turned away so that he didn’t have to see the awful sympathy in Kaede’s face.
They were nearly packed and ready to go when the dog came trotting down the trail toward them. At first Kaede thought it was another wolf, and her dagger was in her hand before she realized it was not a wild animal. Though he was tall as a wolf, he moved differently, and his brown eyes lacked the feral sharpness she had seen in those beasts. He barked at them, and Taisin and Con jumped at the sound. When they were all staring at him, the dog began to wag his tail.
Behind him, coming down the trail, was a white-haired woman. She walked with a slight limp, leaning on a horned staff, and as she approached she called out, “Good morning, travelers! That’s my dog, Cavin; he’s harmless enough.” When she was standing at the edge of their camp she paused and smiled. “On a little journey, are we?” she said lightly.
The three of them were silent. Con did not know what to make of the strange old woman. She looked innocuous, but he knew that a helpless old woman could never survive on her own in the Great Wood. Tali would not trust her. Con could almost hear him warning them:
Don’t be fooled by the appearance of weakness
.
Con stepped forward, putting himself between her and the others. “Who are you?” he asked.
The woman cocked her head at him, hearing his defensiveness. “I am only here to help. I saw the wolves yesterday, running past my cottage. I thought that someone might be in need of my assistance.”
“What kind of assistance?” Con asked.
“One of your party is injured, I see. Perhaps I can help.”
Despite his doubts, hope flared inside him. “How?”
“Let me see her, and I will tell you what I can do.”
H
er name, she told them, was Mona. She was blind in her left eye, but she seemed to have no trouble examining Shae’s injuries. Con watched her carefully, noting the practiced way she handled the bandages, her touch light and quick. When Mona suggested they bring Shae back to her cottage where she could treat her, he agreed.
Taisin, who had said nothing during the exam, now asked, “Are you a healer?” A note of skepticism could be heard in her voice.
Mona looked at her out of her one good eye—it was startlingly blue compared to the filmy white covering the other—and said, “I am a greenwitch.”
Taisin was surprised. “And you live here in the Wood, alone?”
The old woman smiled crookedly. “Solitude, young one, teaches many things not found within the walls of your Academy.”
Taisin stared at her, startled, for she had not mentioned the Academy of Sages. But it was obvious that Mona had guessed Taisin was a student there. Before she could ask how Mona had known, the woman got up. “We’d better go,” she said. “Your friend must not wait any longer.”
Mona’s cottage was about an hour’s walk into the Wood, away from the river Nir. It was a roughly built log cabin with mud plastered into the cracks, and there was one door and one square window covered with greased paper. But the interior was unexpectedly cheerful, with a colorful quilt thrown over the bed in the corner and dried herbs hanging from the ceiling. On one wall was a fireplace in which the remains of a fire glowed; on the other wall was an ironbound trunk surrounded by stacks of leather-bound books. The sight of them astonished Taisin. A cottage like this one was the last place she would have expected to find so many books. They were costly items and difficult to obtain.
Mona told them to put Shae on the bed, and then asked them to build up the fire. “There’s wood out back, behind the lean-to,” she said. “And I would much appreciate it if one of you could bring me some water. You’ll see the well by the woodpile. And you”—she motioned to Taisin—“I could use your help.”
Shae was shivering. Mona had built up the fire until it roared, but though the heat of it sent sweat trickling between Taisin’s shoulder blades, it seemed to have no effect on the guard, who was lying on the bed beneath several heavy quilts. Mona had given Shae something to make her sleep before she treated her wounds, but even asleep she was restless and agitated. Her face was white, her lips almost blue, and she breathed shallowly.
“Will she recover?” Taisin asked, watching the old woman touching Shae’s forehead and cheeks with the back of her hand.
“She has a fever. There is poison inside her.”
“From the wounds?”
“From the wolves. They’re dirty beasts.”
“Can you save her?” Taisin was afraid to know the answer, but she had to ask.
“I don’t know yet.” Mona left the bedside and went to the stack of books piled near the trunk. She pulled out a thick volume bound in black leather and propped it open on the mantle above the fireplace, holding it in place with a heavy pewter candlestick. Taisin came closer to look; on the page was a recipe listing at least two dozen ingredients. She recognized a few of them—milk vetch, aralia root, sage. But she didn’t know many of the others: goldthread, blue aralia, skullcap.
“What is this for?” Taisin asked.
“Your friend is very weak. She has suffered a great shock.” Mona opened the trunk, and inside there were dozens of little boxes and vials stacked one upon the other. “Her energies have been severely depleted. She has bled quite a bit. Her body could overcome the injury to her leg on its own if she were strong and healthy, but the wolf’s bite has drained her.” Mona began to pull out a number of boxes and handed them to Taisin. “Put them on the table by the clay pot.”
“Are you making a tonic?” Taisin had learned about healing tonics at the Academy, but her knowledge of them was limited to the relatively harmless brew she had made for Shae the night before. It had not kept the pain away for long.
“It is a kind of tonic,” Mona said, pushing herself up from the trunk to set down two more vials on the table.
“What will it do?”
“If it works, it will restore her vigor and strengthen her blood, and drive out the infection.” Mona opened one of the boxes and pulled out dried flowers, rusty brown in color, and dropped them into the clay pot. She added little round seeds and the scrapings of a gnarled, flesh-colored root; furry, blue-gray leaves and pale orange blossoms. When all of the ingredients had been combined and crushed into a fine powder, she drew a small knife from her pocket and bent down to hold it in the hottest part of the flames.
“What is that for?” Taisin asked.
“There is another ingredient,” Mona said, and a moment later she straightened, waving the knife in the air to let the blade cool off.
Something in Mona’s voice made Taisin recoil. “What is it?”
“Your blood.”
Taisin stepped back, her foot banging into the trunk. “What?”
Mona did not move; she held the blade lightly. It was only a paring knife. “Your blood,” she said again. The woman’s blind white eye moved as if it could see. “The tonic will not work without it.”
“No tonics require human blood,” Taisin objected, her skin prickling.
“Do you know every tonic?” Mona asked mildly. “What a scholar you are.”
Taisin flushed. “No, I—” She clenched her fingers into fists. “I’m not saying I know everything. But I have never heard of blood as an element in healing rituals.”
“Blood is the water of life. Your friend has been drained of too much of hers.” Mona took a step closer to her, and Taisin had the impression that the old woman could see right into her mind. It was unnerving. “You are young, and I know that the energies run strong within you,” Mona continued. “I felt it yesterday, when you defended yourself from those wolves. I felt the way you pulled and stretched the meridians to do your bidding. That is not something the Academy teaches its pupils, is it? And yet you knew how to do it.”
Taisin stared at her, shocked. “You—you felt that?”
Mona gave her a shrewd look. “You should know better, Taisin. You know that when you do something like that, others can sense it.”
“The wolves would have killed me—”
“And your friend will die if you don’t give her your blood.”
Taisin’s heart pounded. She glanced at Shae, at her white face and heaving chest. When she turned back to Mona, the woman was watching her with a patient expression. “How much do you need?”
“Not so much. You are strong enough that a little will go a long way.”
Taisin took a deep breath. “All right.”
“Come here, then, and give me your arm.”
Taisin went to her, knees shaking, and rolled up her left sleeve. Mona held her arm steady over the bowl of herbs, their bitter scent wafting up to her nostrils. Mona placed the knife against Taisin’s skin, and with a short, quick move, sliced into her forearm. Taisin gasped; it stung. She watched as blood welled up in the cut, and let out a short moan when Mona wrapped her fingers above it, squeezing. The blood dripped, hot and red, onto the herbs.
Mona was saying something, but Taisin couldn’t understand her. The words were in another language—something brutal and dark, like a knuckle scraping against stone. She felt light-headed as her blood drained from her, making a slight hissing sound when it struck the mixture in the clay pot. She couldn’t look at the cut anymore; it was a mouth on her arm; it screamed at her.
She turned her eyes away, feeling sick. She stared at the fire, at the hearthstones, at the candlestick holding the black leather book open, the words crawling like worms across the page.
And then Mona was smearing an ointment over the cut, and she pressed a cloth against it. “Hold it there,” Mona ordered, and began to crush the herbs into the blood. She poured in water from a black bottle; she knelt before the hearth and shoved the pot into the coals. She made a sign in the air—a circle—and she folded her hands together and touched them to her forehead, her mouth, her heart. A log fell with a crash, sending up sparks.
After several moments Mona stood again, and Taisin asked nervously, “Is it ready?”
“No, not for at least another hour. The herbs must absorb the blood fully.” Mona looked tired, and she sat down in the rocking chair. “Let me see your arm.”
Taisin had almost forgotten about it, but now she peeled back the rag. The ointment had left an oily residue on the cloth, which was now stained red, but the cut itself had stopped bleeding. She didn’t resist when Mona wrapped a strip of linen around it, tucking the ends into place firmly. Her arm throbbed a little, and Mona said, “You should sit down. You’ve lost blood now, too.”
Dazed, Taisin sank down to the floor. As Mona rocked nearby, Taisin stared at the iron pot in the fire, wondering if she had been right to let the greenwitch take her blood.
