Monika zips through the passing men, who are gaily and diligently following the man in front of them off the road and into the mountains. I almost can't believe how easy it was to convince them to walk away from their king. Perhaps I will ask Monika more about it after I've had some sleep.
"Here," Monika shouts back to me as she drops to the ground. The blood on the earth soaks slowly through her shirts as she gingerly lifts the young, tramples boy's head into her lap.
She looks up at me expectantly, "Can you help him?"
The boy is question is as white as a ghost, if he isn't one. His leg is far more broken than it looked from afar. Not only is the bone escaping the skin of his leg, fragments of bloody white bone no bigger than a fingernail lay imbedded in his skin. He blood flowing from the wound doesn't look fatal, but in a child this small the shock and pain alone could kill him.
"Even if I can save his life, I can't fix his leg. It's just... Too broken. He will never walk straight again." I answer.
Monika grips my arm harshly, almost pulling me to the bloody ground with her, "The life of a cripple is better than no life at all."
Soothingly, I quietly disagree, "Some would say otherwise."
"Some are fools."
"If this is truly what you think is best, I will try. But he is unlikely to be able to keep up on that leg, and we cannot afford to wait for him. He may die of the cold in the mountains anyway." I caution.
Monika shakes her head, "I will give him my horse. He is strong, I know it."
I know I should fight her more, force her to think about what kind of life might await a runaway cripple traitor. He would be better off with the spirits. I know this to be true, it is everything I believe. But I am so very tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of death. So I relent.
"I will need to use your life threads to stitch the wound. You will be fatigued afterward, likely sleep through the next several hours, but I do not have the energy left to do it on my own." I kneel in the filth next to her and take her bloody hand. I lay boy of out hands on the boys forehead and try to focus.
Surprisingly, it is easier than I thought it would be. The exhaustion easily blocks out the noise and the grime. Every pesky little thought that should have been resounding in my brain was muffled by the blackness of fatigue. And underneath it all are the gleaming golden strands that connect every living thing in our world. These are what set the mortal world apart from the spirit world and the afterworld.
And they are what are going to save this boys life.
Not in the mood for delicacy, I reach for a cluster to threads in Monika's chest and pull. She gasps sharply, likely feeling a twinge of pain followed by a wave of extreme drowsiness. From myself a take a group of threads from my head and twine it with Monika's life energy until they glow in harmony. I pluck what bone slices I can from the boy's muscle and stitch it back into the rest of his shin. I can't make all of the pieces fit quite right, and it comes out looking like a puzzle put together by the blind. Still, I can feel my energy slipping away every second this takes and if I don't finish soon I won't finish at all. With a final snap the bone connects and I seal the skin around it.
He will never walk without a limp, but as Monika said, he will live.
I pull away from the mediation back into the world around me. It seems dull and jaded compared to the golden, shimmering world of life I just vacated, yet somehow it feels more... Varied. The colors may not be a vibrant, but there are more of them.
I'm so busy contemplating the flavours of colour a that's I don't notice myself tip to the side, on a collision course with the ground. Luckily, Monika still has ahold of my hand, and she has enough strength to yank me by the arm back into an upright position.
"Come on, we best get back to our horses." Monika mumbles sleepily.
"What about the boy?" I grumble.
As if waiting for a cue, the boy in question sits violently upright. He scrambles to his feet, glancing around in confusion. It is not until he tries to take a step that the youth looks down and sees his twisted leg. It's now slightly shorter than the other, and the foot angles in a bit.
"What did you do to me?" He yelps, tears streaming from his face.
Monika and I both stand, slowly. My head spins a bit, and the edges of my vision sometimes teeter out of focus.
"We healed you best we could," Monika says soothingly, "so that you could come with us to a safer place."
The boy does not look thrilled with this idea.
"Or you could go back to your family." I suggest.
He blushes, "Haven't got no family."
Monika shrugs, "Then I suppose it's best you come along with us."
The boy seems to see her logic, and trudges along beside us as we walk over the trampled ground and mangled bodies left behind by the newly recruited rebels. The whole party of them is fairly far ahead of us now, chanting and singing.
Just when I think my knees are going to give out, we meet with who seems to be my own personal saving grace. Cairo stand holding the reins of three horses; Heartfire, Monika's mount, and his own horse. Silently, he hands his own horse to the lad, helps Monika climb atop her horse, and then has to practically throw me onto Heartfire.
"You might want to tie us on." I mumble into my stallions mane.
He chuckles, the merry sound like a warm blanket over my weary soul. He does as I suggest, which is the last piece of comfort I need before I give in to the comfort of sleep.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Hello! I hope if you made it this far that you are enjoying Knife of Rebellion. Please vote if you like it and comment what you think is going to or should happen next.
Thank you,
Aislinn
YOU ARE READING
Knife of Rebellion: Battles of Eyenwar, Book 1
FantasíaAdelina Mystica Bendithio has been overshadowed by her beautiful cousin Mirabel her whole life, until the month of her fifteenth birthday when she is told that she is one of the lucky few claimed by the powerful spirits of Eyenwar. To Adelina, this...
