Erivale: The Lost Princess

Chapter 23: Part 1

For a brief moment, I opened my eyes. The world around me was not how I left it. The pure, blue sky and blazing sun were stamped out by thick, acrid smoke. Large pieces of ash floated through the air like snow. Could I have been in the great war? My muddled brain thought. It was all too familiar to the scenes I had painted my entire life.

The fog that shrouded my mind made everything oddly peaceful. I felt like I was floating in the ocean of my childhood. My limbs felt numb, and my breathing was slow. For once, in a very long time, everything was calm and still.

I wondered, was this the end? Would I die out in this field? Is this what dying felt like? They were too big of thoughts for a time like this, I just wanted to enjoy the stillness, the void that surrounded me.

The stillness was disturbed as a face soon hovered above me. Ulric. His skin was smeared with dirt and blood, and his hair had come undone from the leather ponytail, a single flower was still firmly latched in the wispy white strands.

His mouth shaped words to me, but I didn't hear anything. I was in my own world now.

I closed my eyes as Ulric picked me up in his arms.

The next time I woke up, I was on some sort of cot. If I thought the war was chaotic, it was nothing compared to what appeared to be a medical tent. Screams of pain and anguish hung heavy in the air as the wounded were dragged in, some alive, some nearly dead.

The dirt floor of the tent was rapidly turning into bloody mud, sticking to the boots of those furiously trying to aid the wounded. I thought I might have been hallucinating when Guinevere came to stand over me.

"We have to pull it out," she said frantically. Her eyes looked to a face on the other side of me, but I couldn't turn onto my back to see who it was.

"Go get the metal," Guinevere ordered. "We're going to help you Amberleigh, just hold on." She brushed a gentle hand over my sweaty brown and pushed my stray hairs out of my eyes. Guinevere being kind to me? I was surely hallucinating now.

"Guinevere being nice? I must be dead," I whispered and gave her a halfhearted grin. The force of speaking irritated my lungs, and I coughed. Searing pain shot through my body as the blade moved with my tensing muscles. Another cough wracked my body, and soon my lips were warm and dripping with the irony taste of blood.

"Shut up, you're making it worse," she demanded. "Someone get me a healing elixir!" She shouted into the melee.

Gerard suddenly appeared next to Guinevere. He wore a leather chest plate and had a small sword strapped to his furry hip. I hadn't had a chance to see him before the battle, and despite my current state, relief washed through me as I saw him alive and safe.

He handed Guinevere a warped metal sword. The majority of the blade was dark with soot and ash, the very tip was blazing red hot.

She looked to whoever was behind me and said, "Hold her down."

Strong hands moved to hold onto my hip and shoulder, the force prevented me from squirming, even if I wanted to. Gerard looked nervous, and a tear fell down his face as he stood next to Guinevere. He reached out a tentative hand to grab my fingers. I gave him a squeeze, and a nervous bleat erupted from his mouth. A few more tears fell as he looked at me. I offered him a smile.

"Amberleigh, try not to move, okay?" Guinevere said as she wrapped one hand around the hilt of the sword. The other held the heated sword. With one swift movement, she pulled the sword out of my body and immediately covered the wound with the fiery sword cauterizing the flesh.

I had never felt such pain in my life. I thought being stabbed through the back hurt, but no, having your wound burned closed was far worse. I was unconscious before she got to my chest.