Blaekerian: An Epic Fantasy Novel (In Progress)

After the Battle

On both sides of the main path, soldiers were dying. The screams were unnerving. The dying did not have as much pride as the living because they knew they would not be among them long. Field medical assistants knelt over bodies alive and some already dead, attempting to revive when they could and comfort where they could not. The majority of the ones being helped were not even bleakerian. The majority were the same people who only less than an hour ago had been viciously defending their fort from outsiders. 

Vyra had always thought it noble that the empire had written into their laws back hundreds of years that when a battle was won, it was imperative that they assisted those who were defeated and treated them fairly. Maybe even more than fairly according to some, but the emperor saw that utility in performing these actions in the long run. It showed the conquered that under the empire, things would not be as dire or as brutal as was maybe believed by some. He had told Vyra personally that that was how the hundred kingdoms that made up the northern continent remained united and strong. 

At the very least, the ones who were lying in the gutters didn’t seem to complain when the medics started binding gashes and setting bones. 

She had nearly reached the entrance and her anxiety was growing with every step, when she saw him. Her countenance fell rapidly.

The boy was lying on his side while a medic knelt over him attending to his skyfaced side. 

“Orin!” She rushed quickly to his side and joined the medic on her knees. Her squire lifted his head only slightly to see his admiral. His face was pale and his eyes were weary. He gave a slight smile. 

“Nice to see you ma’am.” He mumbled. She hushed him. 

“Save your energy.” She turned to the medic. “How is he?” The medic continued with her procedures without raising her head to see whom she was addressing.

“He took an arrow to his side. It was a clean wound. No vitals hit and no internal bleeding. Although he has lost a lot of blood, he should recover.” 

And then Vyra saw the blood. It was pooled about the ground and soaked into his tunic where the armor wasn’t covering it up. The arrow must have been pulled before she arrived. The wound was being wrapped with tan fabric many times over by the medic. 

Orin’s eyes began to falter with his eyes blinking slowly. He reached out a wavering hand to Vyra and she took it. His grip was weak and he seemed on the verge of passing out. 

His eyes opened one more time before he fell into an unbidden sleep. When they found her again, he smiled warmly and his face lit up. It was like he was seeing the light. He mumbled something again. Vyra leaned close and it sounded like “Love you mom.” And then he was out. 

Vyra watched him for a moment longer. Orin had lost his mother a while back, he had confided in her. She turned to the medic.

“You sure he’ll be alright?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The medic now realized who she had been addressing. Her voice was more formal than before.

“Have him taken to my tent when you get the chance.” 

“Yes ma’am” 

Vyra stood and looked down at the boy who had travelled so far from home to serve a cause greater than himself. Admirable kid. They all were. She turned and looked about at the others being seen by medics nearby and the many others who had fallen. It was always the young that fell first in places like this. Hopefully they found some purpose before the end.