Snow Fields - Book Two of The Fields of Mendhavai Trilogy

Chapter Twenty Two

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Bashiir! I called from my little nest under the trees at the edge of the woods. Bashiir, I know you’re resting, but I’ve need of you.

I’m a bit tied up at the moment, came his sleepy, dry reply.

I snorted. Don’t worry, you needn’t move. I only want to know… why isn’t your clan flying? Fighting? We need them.

A good question. He grumbled. You’ll have to speak with Yrsla. Now, let me sleep.

Sleep? How is sleeping going to help any of us? I demanded in frustration.

Perhaps when you’re as old as I am, you’ll understand. After that, the dragon wouldn’t respond to my queries, no matter how I prodded him, but it wasn’t long before the thunk… thunk… thunk of sharp metal biting into wood drew my attention away from him.

I parted the spindly, spiny branches of the blackberry bush in front of me and peered through. The shore was empty, except the dead and wounded. A body moved and my gift came to life, urging me to help him. But I daren’t yet; if the Khralyans wouldn’t allow us to collect our wounded, we would need a distraction. First, I had to find out what was happening. It sounded like someone was cutting wood, but to what purpose?

I scooted backward out of my shelter and climbed to my feet. I ducked quietly through the woods to the village until I found a group of warriors clustered at the doorway of one of the huts. They parted ways to allow me entrance as soon as one saw me. The interior of the hut was lit dimly by a small fire, and I sensed that even that bit of light, a sort of beacon, made the men nervous. Ansuul was sitting on the sleeping pallet, leaning his head back against the wall, resting.

“Are you alright?” I asked quietly.

He opened one eye and smiled his toothless smile at me. “I am, Queen Rinda. I merely rest. I fear I am too old for fighting these sorts of battles, although there was a certain heady rush at first that made me feel quite young and alive,” he said, as I moved to kneel before him. “A good thing you called the retreat. There aren’t many of us left.” He sobbed once, and then swallowed it back. “We didn’t stick to our plan.”

I squeezed his shoulder. “We weren’t given the opportunity. It’s no one’s fault. The question is, what will we do next? It’s clear that these men are here for the dragons-"

The king grew angry and glared at me accusingly. “And where are these dragons? The cowards have not been sighted and my people are laying down their lives for them!”

At the sound of the king’s angry words, Manto burst into the hut, covered in dried blood that flaked off his skin with every movement. He brandished a Khralyan sword at me, and I rose to my feet, stepping back a bit.

“I’ve been wondering the same, Ansuul, and I intend to find out.” Even if I have to go poke Bashiir with a stick to get the answer out of him, I thought. I might have felt a flicker of humor in my mind, but Taphille appeared behind Manto.

“They’re cutting trees, Father, and they’ve left the wounded and dead on the shore unattended.” The boy glanced my way. “Should we bring the bodies in?”

Ansuul eyed me, then nodded slowly. “Bring the wounded first, so we can tend them.”

He spoke quickly in Sani to Manto and the hunter dashed out of the tent. Taphille followed, and I turned to go as well but Ansuul cleared his throat.