Chapter 3: Chapter 3 – Changes

Quietly, the Lamia and Jasion sat. Each around happily ate… well except for Pelana. She stared daggers over at the Lamia girl.

“So… why…no… how would you die if I cut off the blood circulation to your head?” For a moment Jasion just stared at the Lamia.

“Well because I wouldn’t be able to breathe for a starter,”

“But can’t you hold your breath?”

“Only for like a minute,” The Lamia sat back, looking startled at him.

“Only a minute?” She snickered.

“Yeah,” Jasion dragged out his words as he saw her laughing, “Why what is wrong?” he said, chuckling nervously.

“Well, we Lamia can hold our breath for… for well quite a while,” She giggled.

Across from them, Pelana sat with her arms wrapped around her legs as she glared towards them. What was she saying? He was laughing. Why? Watching the tail of the Lamia, she saw it slowly bob up and down as it moved around his crossed legs. Jasion was unaware as they continued to chat.  

“So, you're telling me, with all seriousness, humans have a singular heart?” The Lamia fell to her side, laughing as her tail wrapped lightly around his leg to stop herself from falling over. Jasion was laughing nearly as hard as her as if it wasn’t for the support of her tail he would have also fallen over.

“What? What is funny about that!” He asked, her laughter taking him over as he buckled back.

“Well, how are your species the ones with all the big cities? Like I mean our village isn’t that far from yours and it is sooo much bigger,” She slowed her laughter as she began to sit up.

“Like honestly, how?” she chuckled some more, “Who knows, might be because you are good diplomats. Like that deal, you pulled earlier,”

“Yeah, well maybe. I don’t know,” Jasion fell onto the grass. Using her tail, the Lamia pulled him up.

“Don’t lie there, it is cold, and you might pass out. Considering you are so different, I am not too sure how to bring you back,” She said, frowning as she scratched the side of her head with an awkward smile on her face.  

“Ok… you won’t believe this…” he said, a smirk on his face.

“What?”

“Humans are warm-blooded,” There could almost be seen a small explosion coming from the head of the Lamia before she blurted out.

“Wait! But my mother says humans a cold-blooded... Bas…tard? I don’t know the word,” the Lamia came closer to Jasion. So, close their noses were inches away.

“Tell me everything about you!” she yelled. Leaping up, Pelana dashed over and tackled Jasion away.

“MY HUMAN!” She screamed as she dragged him away and placed him against a tree. Hearing the commotion, the ears of the two wolf kin propped up as they turned to see Pelana pinning Jasion to the ground. Leaning over to his sister, the boy pointed to Pelana.

“What is she?” he whispered.

“One of the Southern tribes. At least, I think. She doesn’t smell like an amazon, farther said those smell sweet… she smells angry… Maybe she is Narliki?” The sister whispered back.

“But she acts like a cat?” the brother whispered.

Sitting up, Jasion placed a hand on Pelana’s head. Gently rubbing her, he got her to turn and frown at him.

“She hurt you?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

“No, she is fine,” he said with an awkward chuckle as he gave her a gentle nudge off him.

Muttering under her breath, she sat at his side. Taking his arm, she began to cuddle it against her. Smiling, he ruffled her hair. A bright red hue began to go over Pelana’s face as she stared at the Lamia girl. Seeing this, Jasion leant down and placed a hand on her forehead.

“Hey, are you ok?” he asked. For a moment she stared at his soft eyes. Frowning, she leapt off him. and nuzzled against his side.

“I don’t like them,” Pelana said with a frown. Patting her head, Jasion gave a smile the Lamia. Nodding, she understood him and moved back. She had heard of the attachment issues of Narliki’s, but she thought they were just rumoured her mother and other villagers had said to make sure they kept away from them.  

They weren’t human. But neither were they amazons. Seeing the flicker of red in her eyes, the Lamia moved back a little more again. Behind the frown, she saw her eyes lock onto her. Pelana sneered and licked her lips slightly towards her.

“Oh sorry,” the Lamia jumped as she stared at Jasion, “What was your name again? Sorry, I am bad with names,”

“Kalani,” the Lamia said sheepishly, again moving even further as she noticed the glare of the red eyes girl. Using her tail to feel the movement in the air, Kalani turned to see the two wolves also beginning to fidget and become awkward.

For hours they sat, Jasion making small conversation with Kalani. But always he would have to stop as Pelana, would just happen to sneeze loudly enough to spook the birds above, or kick his side while stretching. Kalani saw what Jasion was seemingly ignorant to. Whenever his attention slipped from her, these little tricks would again turn his attention onto her.

Sighing, Kalani looked up to see the sun was beginning to slip further and further away. With this, it also meant the heat to keep the cold-blooded girl going was soon to follow.

“Thank you for today human, it was nice meeting you, but I will have to go now,” she said with a smile before giving a quick wave to the wolves and beginning to sliver away.

“Oh um, see you soon!” Jasion waved to her.

The wolves as well gave small nods to her, while Pelana stayed quiet. Now with one target gone, she turned her gaze towards the wolves. Again, like Kalani, the two wolves slowly slipped away into the forest. Their goodbyes were met with thanks for being nice by Jasion, while Pelana again held her silence.

Hours were spent, with Jasion propped up against a tree while Pelana lay across his lap. Smiling, she buried herself against him as he gently stroked the top of her head. Both fell into a deep sleep. Or at least that is what it seemed. Like clockwork, every hour Pelana would wake. Creeping off his lap, she would begin to move into a seemingly regular part of the bush line.

Once inside, she would move until she was back at the river where they had met. Through speed and practice, this action became incredibly swift, only taking a few minutes at most. After this, she would move around until she found a large bundle of cloth hidden away. Taking out a large bow and many larger arrows, she would return to moving through the bushes.

Just reaching back to where Jasion lay, she quickly loaded an arrow as she stared down at Jasion. Lifting the arrow, she placed her aim on his head.

“Come out, and I won't fire,” she said softly into the night sky. Just from the side of Jasion, Kalani emerged.

“So quick to violence, just like a Narliki,” she hissed.

“How did,” Pelana was cut off by Kalani.

“I know since there has been a horde of your kind ravaging the region. Mother says the humans are getting scared to come to our village to trade since they keep coming and demanding the daughter of their horde queen back…. I assume that is you,” Widening her eyes, Pelana readied to lose the arrow into her shoulder of Kalani as

“Wa?” Jasion muttered as he sat up.

Turning, he saw Kalani next to him. Seeing her gaze fall onto him, he turned to see where she had been staring. It was high in the treetops, yet as he stared up, he saw nothing. Glancing down, he saw in the moonlight Pelana. A large smile was on her lips, and the weapons she had were now discarded.

Leaping down to his side, she beamed a smile towards him, her red eyes illuminating in the dark. Returning over, she sat by his side and placed a hand on his head.

“So, what are you doing here,” Pelana said in her native tongue, wanting to see how much knowledge Kalani had of her people.

“I came to see him,” she said as she glanced down at Jasion, “I may be cold-blooded, or half of me anyway, but I don’t want him to die after helping me find something to eat,”

Tucking her hands under her armpits, she stared towards Jasion.

“What do you plan to do with him?” Kalani said as she turned to Pelana.

“I plan to keep him safe. I originally planned to kill him… but there is something in my chest,” Pelana stared at the sleeping Jasion, “He makes my heart go fast,”

“So, you bring over a bow and arrows?”

“I want to protect him,” Pelana snapped.

“Alone?” Pelana fell silent at Kalani’s comment.

“Well…”

“How about this? I will supply you with food, and in exchange you allow me to stay and help h,” Kalani was cut off by a crash through the trees. Turning, both the Lamai and Pelana stared at the two wolves.

“AND US!” the wolf girl yelled as she proudly got onto her feet and placed her hands on her hips.

“We…We think he is a good human,” the wolf boy beside her muttered as he poked out from behind his sister.

“WELL!” Pelana went to speak but Jasion cut her off.

“Sure!” Jasion said as he excitedly sat up, “All of you can stay! It would be great!” his smile almost sent a beam of light through the darkness as the others stared towards him. Before Pelana could protest, Kalani extended the tip of her tail to him.

“To friendship,” she said with a smile as she saw the annoyance on the face of Pelana. Awkwardly, but sternly he took the tail and shook it, a large grin on his lips. “Friend.”

 

2 Weeks later.

Lying back on the grass, Kalani stared up through the trees. Her tail flopped around as the two wolves attempted to catch it. Sighing, she placed her upper body against a tree. Where were they? Through the bushes, a small figure emerged. Jasion’s hair was a muck of wildness as Pelana sat on his back.  The small wolf girl stopped chasing the snake's tail and stared at them.

“Oh no,” she muttered, her brother also coming to a stop. Sitting up and staring out at the approaching Jasion, he frowned and looked to Kalani. Noticing this, his sister slapped him on the arm.

“Hey, why do you look to her for answers!”

“Well…” he muttered, “You are not as smart,”

“Are you saying I am stupid?” his sister barked as she leapt onto him. As the two wrestled, Kalani just stared at Pelana.

“Her kind tend to do this,” she said as the two wolves looked to her, “In their culture, long, black hair is seen as attractive. His hair is seen as weird and unwanted. So, she likes to tease him, or better play with it,” Kalani placed her head against her tail and watched as they reached her side.

In his hands, Jasion held a book. Sprinting to them, He waved the book high in the air as Pelana gripped onto him. Seeing the Lamia, she poked out her tongue before nuzzling back down into the hair of her human. Reaching the side of Kalani, he smiled.

“Hey!” he said, a large smile on his face, despite the girl on his back poking and prodding him.

The Lamia and wolves gave variants of hay and hi to him as he knelt in front of Kalani. Falling off his back, Pelana sat up, her cheeks puffed out as she rubbed the side of her face that she had fallen on. Smiling at Kalani, he put the book out to her. Frowning, she took it. Looking over the stranger's cover, she read the human text along the front.

“NO FUCKING WAY!” she screamed, before quickly throwing her hand over her mouth and glancing around. Charlie giggled.

“AH! The posh one said a bad word!” the little wolf girl said, falling to her side as she laughed and pointed at Kalani.

“Posh? It is pronounced civilised you mutt!” she hissed back, the scales on her lower body rattling together as she moved a little closer.

“Bad timing? Should I come back in a bit?” Jasion said with a small, meek voice. Swinging back to him, Kalani shook her head. Without words, she puffed out her cheeks and made a grabbing motion with her hands. Smiling, and with a slight snort of laughter, he gave her the book.

A smile came to the lips of Jasion. Those were the days he wished would last forever. The calm yet chaotic lifestyle they lived. How carefree they all were. But it changed.

Pelana flopped herself onto the back of Jasion. Cuddling against him, she made several little annoyed sounds in his ear.

“Speak clearly, I can’t understand you,” he said, laughing some more as he saw Kalani battle with the two wolf pups over the book. It was not like they understood the first bit of medical knowledge, nor showed any interest in it, but if Kalani liked it they knew they wanted it.

“Can I talk to you for a bit?” Pelana whispered into his ear. Turning to her, he tilted his head slightly before nodding.

“Um, sure thing?” he answered. She looked to the side, just away from them was a small nest of furs gathered by Pelana. Understanding she wanted to separate them from the group, he carried her over there. Plopping her down onto the seat, he sat himself just in front of her. Narrowing his eyes, he examined her features. Her eyes were softer than usual. The harsh, boisterous energy was replaced with almost one of embarrassment.

“I… I struggle to understand your kind,” she began. Her soft purple eyes lifted to meet his.

“What do you mean?”

“My mother says your kind are… unnecessary,” Jasion puffed out his left cheek for a moment.

“I see,” he muttered.

“NO! Not like in bad way,” Pelana looked down, her mind clearly struggling to find the right words. Over the past two weeks Kalani had been teaching her some of the Imperial tongue, and she was picking it up fast. But as fast as Pelana learnt new words, she forgot older ones.

“Like…” she glanced over his shoulder. Kalani sat under a tree, the two wolves wrapped in her tail as hostages as she tried to read the medical book given to her by Jasion.

“You read; you write. Is it not… unnecessary?”

“Well, no, we can learn from it,” Jasion answered, with a gentle smile. He couldn’t help but find it almost flattering as he could see the cogs turning in her mind.

“But it does not expand your clan? Your families stay the same size, as do your tribes. How does this add more to your people?” Jasion thought on her words for a moment before shrugging.

“Just fun I guess,” Narrowing her eyes and tilting her head, she looked at him as if he was mad.

“You are an odd creature,” she said, a nervous smile coming to her lips, “I have another question,”

“What?”

“It is about when we are older,”

“Yeah, what is it?” Jasion said, leaning back.

“When we are older… will you marry me?”

 

 

 

15 years later

 

 

Quietly he sat on a ridge, staring down upon a sea of bodies. Thirty miles the battlefield stretched, but even on the small area he found himself in, he found himself disgusted. The colour of the tanned grass was unknown to anyone to look upon this bastardised area for the first time as bodies hid the golden strains.

 

A long, wooden and iron spiked rifle sat on his lap. Shadow from the church flag behind him cast over his hands. Yet still he could see the blood. His blood. Along his side, the metal chest plate that could withstand bullets had been pierced by an arrow. But the arrow hadn’t landed in him, instead it left a flesh wound along his side.

 

White cloths dyed red by his own blood were wrapped around his lower stomach in a poor man’s attempt to stop the bleeding. Looking over his shoulder, he stared up at the flag of the church. Then his gaze fell down to his torn badge on his arm. The badge of a golden cross on a red circle. Two large black swords sat behind the circle. The mark of a priest, that’s what the golden cross represented.

 

The cross of a healer, but the swords of a solder. Sworn to protect his comrades, but the tattered cloth told him he failed to do so. What God would allow this? What God sat there in their ivory throne and allow the blood of their martyrs to stain the land under their feet. His God was dead. His god was a s dead as the bodies that littered the ground around him.

 

There wasn’t a singular one he didn’t know, as each of these men and few women were ones he has sworn to protect. Yet his healing spells had run dry, and what little duty he had left was reduced to a trickle of its former self. Their God wouldn’t have stood for this. Yet the Church did. As did the civilians, and the kingdoms around them.

 

Weary from war, his eyes looked to the bodies of native warriors. Raiders, barbarians of the violist sort from the southern realms. They had trampled through the eight, then the ninth, back to the eight, then through the ninth again, before finally breaking through the tenth region and into the belly of the centre realms. His realms.

 

How many were dead? He could see hundreds of fallen soldiers. Poorly trained, and poorly equipped, but still they had rifles, and swords, horses, artillery cannons, yet still so many lay dead. Armed with their spears, scorpions, and bows, the barbarian horde of savage women had flooded over their camp.

 

Twenty to one. That’s how many it looked like. That’s how many dead soldiers of the Church had died compared to a singular barbarian woman. These women were about the same height of him at 6 foot tall. Some looked to be maybe 6,1 or 6,2 but besides their copper skin and long, flowing black hair, these people looked no different.

 

A dead scorpion sat a couple of feet from him. It looked to be at least seven or so times the size of a normal man. This thing had slaughter his position. Its skin was resistant to their bullets. Swords simply cracked, and fire was the only way to put it down. In the left claw of the beast lay a man. In his hand, and yes hand, his remaining hand as the other hand was stuck into the mouth of the creature, was a gun.

You are reading story The Queen and the Medic at novel35.com

 

In the severed hand was a flaming torch, the hand in which had slain the beast. Pulling back the bolt of his rifle, he checked for ammunition. Three bullets sat in the revolving chamber of five. He only needed one. Hopefully. His hands shook as he pushed the bolt back, loading the bullet aligned with the barrel.

 

Moving the stock of the gun against he ground, he tried to lift his chin onto the barrel of the gun. But it was too tall. Moving the gun down to his feet, he placed the barrel against his chin again. Awkwardly, he. Pushed the tip of his shoe against the trigger, but he couldn’t get a good grip. In all honesty, he hadn’t wanted to do this. Using his left foot, he kicked off his right shoe. With his big toe, he placed it onto the trigger of the gun. Closing his eyes, he took in a few shaking breaths and welcomed death.

 

Click

 

Then nothing. He lived. Again, he pulled on the trigger. But still nothing. The gun had jammed. Laughing, he fell back onto the grass. Staring up at the flag of the Church, he laughed again. This was hell. Quietly, he began to stare at the flag.

 

A singular cough woke him from his sinking mental state.

 

Sitting up, his eyes darted around the area. That wasn’t him. Someone lived?

 

“Hello?” He yelled out, his voice parched from stress and lack of water, but still he yelled. A cough came again.

 

This time he heard where it came from. Darting through the field of bodies, he stumbled over the long past dead and towards where he had heard the sound. Stopping, he heard the cough again. Sprinting to the bodies, he dove to its side. Again, the body coughed, but then he realised something. It was just air. Air escaping the lungs of the dead.

 

All were dead under God’s flag. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he frantically began to check the bodies of his fellow men of the Church. But none lived. Desperation took hold as he began to check the bodies of the savages. Yet again though none lived. Doing his best to hold back his tears, as if he didn’t wish himself to show weakness, even to the dead, he scrambled to his feet.

 

In his frantic state, he hadn’t at all moved far from the hill. Pain filled his side as blood spilled over his wound. In his rapid movement, he had undone the bandages. Gun in hand, he began to wander the field of the dead. He could feel his life draining from him. Looking to the woodland, he turned and began to wander again towards it. If he was to die, he didn’t wish for it to be a place filled with nothing but death.

 

Like he lived, he would die alone. As morbid as it sounded, after that long hour, it seemed almost pleasant. As he wandered into the woods, he found a small, well trodden dirty path. Looking at the field, you wouldn’t have been able to guess that there was once a small but thriving town where the dead lay. All had been burnt or decimated in another fashion. A God wouldn’t have allowed this.

 

Down the path, he wandered mindlessly. As he wandered, he squinted as a blinding light filled his eyes. The light of day had stunned him as he walked into an opening. Looking to the hill he saw a tree. No blood, no bodies, not even a sign of war in sight. There was no clear way to say how fast he had walked, yet still he knew it couldn’t have been far.

 

Approaching the tree, he decided this was the place he would die. Wandering up the path, he saw something under the tree. Under the tree, facing the battlefield, sat a figure. War paint covered her skin, as did her own blood as she gripped her leg. The injury was healable for someone like him, yet it seemed her efforts to do so with leaves and cloth weren’t going to well. Taking what tattered bits of clean cloth had left; he approached the savage.

 

Staring up at him, her large, purple eyes fixed with his. She was beautiful, but he knew this beauty had tricked many a solder into thinking of her as harmless. Around her neck sat several white pieces of bone. The bones were ribs, ribs of people she had slaughtered. Across her breasts she wore a bra, but besides the paint nothing else. The bra though caught his attention, as it would to any sane person.

 

The bra was made of the skeletons of a human hand. Death of his people were her trophies, her enjoyment.

 

“You’ll live, well, maybe a bit longer. Death is an inevitability after all,” he said, muttering a spell as he gripped the cloth. A golden light flooded over his hand and moved onto the cloth. Now, the last of his magic was gone.

 

“Warp it on your leg, and then keep it there for a day. Your wound will heal,” he explained as he wandered around to the other side of the tree, throwing the cloth to her as he walked. If he was to die, he at least wanted another to live. Even if that other could have very much been the cause for his own death.

 

Seeing the hesitance of the woman, he gave a small chuckle and tapped the insignia on his arm.

 

“I’m a priest, I heal, I don’t kill,” he said before disappearing behind the tree.

 

The black-haired woman leapt around to his front. Her knife was aimed weakly at him as she clutched the dirt covered leaves against her leg. Meeting her gaze, he followed it downwards and to the rifle he held firmly in his grasp. Knowing the reason for her hostility, he threw his gun onto the grass. On his side, he noticed his leather bag. The blood loss was now really starting to get to him, he could barely remember what he had on him.

 

“The mud on the leaf will most likely infect you leg, I suggest you place the bandage onto it before the magic begins to disperse,” he said, walking around the woman and to the back of the tree. She seemed to understand him as she stared down at the bandage. Noticing her still staring at the golden light seeping from the cloth, he knew she needed to act quickly.

 

“The healing magic I used is designed to seep into what ever the magic deems to be ‘living’. Right now, it sees the grass as living, thus if you don’t put it onto yourself now, it will disappear. This will lead to your leg becoming infected and you having to cut it off,” he explained a last time before sitting behind the tree, his head leant against the wood.

 

Out the corner of his eye, he saw her pick up the bandage and place it onto her leg. Wincing, she pulled the cloth off her leg.

 

“It stings at first. It’s like alcohol,” he said, watching as she placed the cloth back down onto her leg. Again, she winced as the cloth touched her.

 

“Come here,” he said, staring over at her. Noticing his stare, she forced the cloth onto her leg. Biting her bottom lip, she did her best to avoid screaming.

 

“I’m practiced at this, your not weak if you want my help. Think of it as this, you forced me to crate a holy cloth for you, then you killed me. That would make a good story, wouldn’t it?” He said, doing his best to appeal to her warrior side.

 

Grunting, the woman looked up at him. Looking her eyes onto him, she examined the feeble man. How old was he? Eighteen, nineteen? Far too young to be on a battlefield. Still holding her knife, the woman stood up and approached him. Sitting in front of him, she offered out her leg. Delicately, he took the bandage from her and applied it to the wound. Biting her bottom lip, a tickle of blood flowed over her chin.

 

Noticing this, he offered a handout to her.

 

“I’m skilled enough to do this one handed, feel free to grip my other hand if you need to,” he explained as he began to show off his skills by healing her leg one handed.

 

Hesitant at first, but seeing the weak look of his eyes, she took his hand. Squeezing his hand as tightly as possible, she allowed herself to relax as he applied the bandage. As he worked, she noticed tears falling from his eyes. Only then did she notice she had almost squeezed his hand a bright red. Five minutes was all it took, but it was enough as he finished applying the bandage.

 

“Done,” he muttered, sitting back. Looking down, he saw the cut on his side was now covered by blood, almost in hiding the cut itself.  Immediately, she felt the magic of the bandage flow into her.

 

Dragging his eyes open, he looked up at the woman. With a mixture of confusion and worry, she stared at him. Smiling, he lay his head back against the tree.

 

“Don’t worry about me, just rest your leg a little. But honestly, I would prefer to be alone,” he said, closing his eyes as he rested against the tree. Staring at him, she wasn’t sure what to make of his actions. Reaching forward, she grabbed his bag. Already looting him. He thought as he only just managed to keep his eyes open.

 

Reaching into his bag, she began to pull out all sorts of equipment. A bottle of water, half empty, a tin of food, now run out, a few bullets, she knew these were of value to the natives of this land, yet she didn’t know why. Then she found it, a card of stone and iron with a small, painted picture of him and a few lines of text.

 

‘Nineteen – Lendicinae – city of Sigrad’ the card read.

 

“Lendicinae?” She said, her thick accent almost purring like a cat. Opening his eyes, he looked into her violet orbs.

 

“You will die,” she said, staring at him with her eyes squinted, yet her face showed no other emotion. It was as if she was studying him.

 

“Why help me? You get nothing in return,” she continued, lifting his shirt with her knife. Widening her eyes, she stared at the wound. His entire side was almost red with thick blood. Swiftly, she placed her hand onto the wound.

 

A growl ripped through the air, causing them both to jump. Leaping back, the woman stared at him, as if he had somehow purposefully made such a noise to warn her. Looking to his stomach, again the growl came. Following his gaze, she muttered a few words before returning to his side.

“In jacket, there is a small compartment on the left-hand side. Open it please,” Lendicinae just managed to squeak out. Carefully, she approached and opened the jacket. Looking inside, she placed her hand onto the left pocket.

 

After her looting, she didn’t expect to find anything but as she pushed her hand deeper, she found another pocket. Pulling it back, she found a small paper bag. Pulling out the bag, she found a long, tanned coloured… what was that?

 

“Thanks,” he muttered as he pulled himself up the tree, “I just want something to eat before I die,”

 

His voice croaked. Taking out the strange item, she handed it over to him. As she did so, the smell of the small bread-like thing hit her. It… it smelt good. Another growl rumbled across the area, yet this was not from Lendicinae. Both made eye contact as they stared down at the Croissant. Sighing, he stared at her large, curious eyes. He could almost imagine her with large cat hears.

 

Taking the Croissant, he broke it in half.

“Eat,” he said, before taking a bit of the Croissant. Sniffing the small pastry some more, she looked to him. Seeing he was already eating; she began to as well.

 

“I don’t understand,” she said, lifting the Croissant and taking a small bite of it. Jumping slightly, she smiled as she took another bite. Already finished, Lendicinae simply watched her.

 

“All life is sacred, no one has to die. Save life, regardless of creed. Take upon yourself to help those with lesser fates. This is our creed, our oath and honour as a healer and medic. Fuck, I wonder if others remain,”

 

“Others?” she said with a moufful as she had almost already finished, he food.

 

“Other medics. In the end, how many kept to their oaths,” Closing his eyes, he placed his head against the tree. For a moment the woman stared. Turning, she moved over to him. Placing her ear against his chest she listened closely. His heart still beat, and she could hear him breathing.

 

“You stood where the rest ran? Now that bravery and kindness is paid off with your death,” she sat back and smiled.  

 

Returning to the other side of the tree, Lendicinae didn’t expect her to return. She had looted him, mocked him, and now left him for dead. This was a fate he wished he could have avoided yet accepted nonetheless. For thirty, potentially forty minutes he sat, waiting for death. But it seemed to not come. Looking down, he saw something on his side. The bandage he had placed onto her leg. When she lifted his shirt, she had snuck it onto his side.

 

Swearing under his breath, he dammed her for being stupid enough as to only have left the bandage on her for such a small amount of time. A shadow fell over him, blocking what little light the sun provided onto his face through the treetops. Lifting his head, he looked up to see a woman, several in fact now stood over him. Each had the dark skin and body paint of the barbarians. Their hair was decorated with feathers, and their war spears were aimed towards him.

 

A shout echoed over them, causing them to turn away their spears. A woman sat upon her savage scorpion mount. Her eyes locked onto him. Immediately, he recognised her. She hadn’t left him to die. Several women in red feather headdresses sprinted forward. Grabbing him, they began to apply a poor, low quality healing magic to his side. The woman riding the Scorpion like creature approached.

 

Its skin was a deep brown with green moss platted to it. The woman barked some orders in her native tongue again and the women with the spears approached him. Grabbing him, they hoisted him into the air. As he was carried towards the woman riding the creature, their eyes met. He wasn’t sure whether she was a threat. But his fears were confirmed as the woman grinned a sadistic smile at him.