No Hands but My Own

Chapter 3 - Capture

One by one, my remaining warriors revealed themselves and dropped their weapons. The sliver-handed army froze, perhaps in shock -- not that they didn't expect to win -- but rather, I think, at how few of us there actually were.

Our clan is one of the smallest in the woods. I suppose they anticipated more manpower for the amount of resistance they faced. A few of the silver-handed men suddenly came to their senses. They spoke to their fellows and several groups broke off.

One of the men gathered all of my warriors together, weapons trained on our every move. Others went around gathering the wounded and separating them into minor and major injuries. I was glad to see that all of my people were able to pick themselves up and carry themselves over to our little group especially with the cruel way the silver-handed ones were disposing of their grievously injured comrades.

Even the previously unconscious Shira was roused and staggered over to our little huddle without fainting. And so we waited, watching as the victors combed over our home, searching for any sort of valuables they could take away.

I took stock of our injuries. Assadar was fine though his limp was much more pronounced now. Sle was bleeding from cuts all over his torso, with a particularily nasty cut streaming blood down his neck. Gahnenal was holding his wrist tightly, fighting back tears ineffectively as he stared at where his hand used to be. Yishus was shaken but seemingly uninjured. Dilenkeh was pale and holding his side where a large blade had cut him. Ralerin didn't seem to have any injuries but could not help but stare at where his closest friend was laying broken murmuring "Cowards" over and over again. Shira looked sick but were unchanged in condition. Reliel had acquired a nasty cut on the left side of his face during the scramble for safety on top of his already injured thigh.

I suddenly felt pain as the adrenalin left my system. Looking down, I saw the source. Several small blades had been thrown into my shin. Blood oozed slowly from the wounds and my leg felt inexplicably less stable than it had just moments before. Struggling to remain proudly upright, I looked defiantly past the soldiers surrounding us. Unobtrusively, however, I examined them curiously.

It was extraordinary - they were all different, yet very much the same. Their facial features were dissimilar (each individual seemed to have different eye colors, eyebrow shapes and so forth) yet each walked just like his brother and had near-identical bone structures. The result was a curious feeling of facing a faceless mass.

We waited like that for quite a while. Progressively, more and more of my injured warriors sunk to the ground. I was getting really worried about Sle, Gahnenal, Shira, and Reliel.  When Dilenkeh crumpled in exhaustion and pain, I knew I had to do something. Stepping a bit up towards the circle of guards, I addressed the one in front of me.

"May I tend to the injured?" I mimed bandaging to be clear -- I wasn't sure if they understood our tongue.

He stared at me in silence. His strange golden eyes bored into mine. Neither of us moved, waiting for the decision to be made. Finally, the man nodded. Thanking him, I knelt by Gahnenal who was passing out from blood loss.

"Dilenkeh. You still have that flask?"

Dilenkeh tossed it one-handed to me with a grunt from where he was sitting. I unstoppered it and poured a bit into Gahnenal's gasping mouth. Ripping portions of his shirt off, I dabbed the alcohol all over the makeshift bandages and began to work. From Gahnenal I moved on to Sle (thankfully managing to close the slice on his neck), then on to setting Shira's bones.  Reliel was next as I took special care realigning the cut tissues of his face. I helped Dilenkeh last. His wound was surprisingly bad - I had forgotten his tendency to belittle his injuries. I would need to suture his skin back together. Thankfully, I always carried some useful implements like a needle and thread.