Warsworn

  I vaguely heard Epor and Isdra as they searched the shrine, but my focus was on my patient. He was unresponsive to my touch, cold and clammy skin, his breathing rough and uneven.

  “Warprize.”

  His armpits weren’t swollen, nor his neck. I reached for his groin to check—

  “Warprize.”

  His groin wasn’t swollen, nor did he react as I pressed down. I’d start him on fever’s foe and—

  “I swear an ehat could charge though this room and she’d never note it.”

  Epor’s voice cut through my thoughts. I looked up to see him standing in the door, holding a bucket of water. Isdra was kneeling at the hearth, feeding a small fire, smiling at Epor’s jest. Epor placed the bucket beside the hearth. “The back seems secure. It’s surrounded by walls, and there’s but a small house back there.”

  “Privy.” I corrected, turning back to my patient.

  Isdra leaned in to look at the man. “Do you know which illness it is, Warprize?”

  “No.” I got up to put some water to heat. “Not yet.”

  Epor scratched his beard. “Makes sense that an invisible enemy is hard to track. But there’s no bolt on the door, Warprize. Isdra will remain, and I will search.”

  “You don’t lock the doors of a shrine, Epor.” I answered absently, still intent on my patient. Then his meaning sunk in, and I snapped my head around. “Don’t be foolish. You can move faster if there are two of you.” They both got a mulish look on their faces, and I stood up. “Fine. I will put a bench before the door. If anyone comes in, I’ll scream. Will that satisfy you?”

  Epor frowned, but it was Isdra who spoke. “Remember Marcus’s lesson, Warprize. Death can come in an instant.”

  For a moment I remembered the touch of the blade at my throat, and the fear that went with it. He’d moved so fast. The fear was real, but I wasn’t going to let it stop us from rendering aid. “It will have to do. The quicker you leave, the quicker you will be done.”

  Isdra looked at Epor, who shrugged. “We will do as much as we can before we lose the light.”

  “Remember the phrases I taught you?” I followed them out the door.

  “Do not be afraid.” Isdra spoke slowly in Xyian.

  “We will take you to a healer.” Epor had the words down, but his accent was terrible. Still, it would work. I closed the door behind them.

  “I’m not leaving until I hear the bench.” Isdra’s voice floated through the door.

  Irritated, I dragged a bench over, and dropped it down in front of the door. “There.”

  “We’ll check the nearest buildings and return. Stay safe, Warprize.”

  I’d already forgotten them as I hurried to my patient’s side. No swellings, no boils. No signs of vomiting or flux. I wiped him down with damp cloth, and tried to get him to drink but it dribbled from the side of his mouth. He never roused as I examined him, and his strange lassitude disturbed me. Still, from all appearances, I was dealing with the Sweat. He wasn’t coughing, although each of his breaths seemed an effort. I listened to it as I set my supplies in order, praying that I’d have enough to minister to those in need.

  Blankets, we’d need blankets. And something to eat, a broth if I could find something to make it from. Porridge, if nothing else. I should have said something to Isdra, so they’d look for them as well. There were no supplies to speak of here. I tried to relax, take a breath and ease the knot in my stomach. Once the villagers knew that a healer had arrived, we’d have help aplenty.

  A pounding at the door jerked me up. I let Isdra in, her arms filled with a squirming bundle, her face grim. “I found this one on the bed next to her thea.” The blanket fell back to reveal a baby, squirming and fussing in the cloths. Isdra brushed past me. “Ward the door, Warprize.”

  “Isn’t Epor bringing her mother?” I looked out into the square.

  It was the silence that made me turn to look at her. Isdra had an odd, cold look in her eyes. “No.”

  I bit my lip, and turned back to secure the door. By the time I entered the bedroom, Isdra had the babe by the fire, cushioned by the blankets, and was digging in her saddle bags. The baby was crying, kicking its feet in the air. “I’ve gurt here,” Isdra said. “We can soften it in water and feed her. She’s a mess, Warprize. Her thea must have been dead for hours.”

  I knelt down, and smiled at the little one, checking her over. “There’s no sign of fever in this one. Just hungry and unhappy.”

  “Skies be thanked.” Isdra started looking through the blanket. “I grabbed some extra swaddles.” She pulled forth some clean diapers, and the few stalks of lavender fell to the floor. The babe opened its eyes and looked at us with sweet brown eyes framed by dark curling lashes. Then the little face squinched up and a howl filled the room.

  “What are those flowers?” Isdra asked as she started to work. “They are lovely.”

  “Lavender. Her mother must have freshened her diapers with it.” I cleared my throat. “I’m not sure gurt will be to her liking. Hopefully we can find a nursing mother among the other villagers.”

  Isdra’s voice was cold, even as her practiced hand worked to clean the child, a little girl. “I doubt there will be others, Lara.” She made an odd clicking sound with her tongue, and the baby opened its eyes wide, staring at her. “We’ve been in half the buildings and this is the first we found someone alive.”

  My throat closed. “No,” I croaked. “Please, tell me it’s not true.”

  She kept her head down, focused on the babe, who grabbed at the end of her braid and bawled, kicking in the air. “They are dead in their beds, Warprize. Dead in the halls and doorways. Some are laid out, some died where they fell. Some for days, others just hours from the look of them.”

  I sat there, numb, staring at the babe as it tugged at her hair, threatening to loosen the leather strip that held it. Dearest Goddess, the entire village?

  Isdra turned her head slightly, careful not to pull the braid from the babe’s hands. “We need to feed her.” She picked up the crying child and cradled her to her shoulder with both hands. She seemed to chant something under her breath, and her hands were gently tapping out a rhythm on the babe’s back. The child hiccupped, and looked at me with wide eyes, tears clinging to her eyelashes.

  I smiled at the babe and reached for my baskets. “I have a feeding cup we can use. We can sweeten the gurt.”

  “Trust me, Lara. This little one won’t care. As long as it’s warm and filling she’s going to drink it.” Isdra continued to use her fingers and hands to beat softly. The babe yawned, and let her head fall onto Isdra’s shoulders. Isdra, on the other hand, gave a critical look at the ceramic cup with its long spout. “Are you sure that will work?”

  “Yes.” I reached for the water and gurt. “What do you use on the Plains?”

  “We use a dried animal teat,” Isdra frowned. “It’s more like a breast than that cold dish.”

  “It works, trust me.” I mashed the gurt into the warm water. “Where did you learn that?” I nodded at her hands.

  She chuckled softly. “ ’Tis what we do to comfort a child. We drum a pattern on their backs and chant to them. It calms them, and as we slow the pattern, they usually fall asleep. We use it to wake a sleeping child as well, at need.”

  Isdra was right, the babe sucked the gurt up with no complaint, falling asleep with the narrow spout still in her mouth. Isdra smiled at the lax child in her arms. “I should go. Epor will need help . . .”

  There was a pounding at the door that broke our fragile peace. I started for the door at Epor’s call, even as Isdra settled the child down in the blankets we’d placed by the hearth.

  Epor came through, carrying a gray-haired woman wrapped in blankets. She was conscious, and had her arms about his neck. Epor headed for the back room. “Here’s one with breath still in her body, Warprize. There is one other that I have found, but I will need Isdra to chase him down.” He eased the woman down in the chair. The woman held the bla
nkets close around her, and seemed to sink into them.

  “Chase him?” I asked as I put a hand on the woman’s shoulder to steady her. She looked up at me through reddened eyes, and I could feel her tremble even through the blankets. Even through the ginger I could smell the foul odor of her sweat.

  Epor grinned. “He’s running loose, thinking we are the enemy.” He gave me a sly grin. “Of course, we were.” I gave him a look as he chuckled. But he turned serious in an instant. “I tried the phrases you gave us, but it’s no use. I want to secure him, for his safety and ours.”

  Isdra frowned. “I should have been there to help.”

  Epor gave her a grin. “Ah, but you had a babe in your arms. I knew you were lost to me, the moment you heard the squawk from the bed.” He turned back to me, his eyes taking on a sad, woebegone look. “Warprize, are these cloths up my nose really necessary? They will not stay in!”

  “Yes, they are.”

  “What if I did this?” He took a strip of bandage from my supplies and tied it over his nose and mouth. “If we dip this in the oil? Please?”

  I had to smile at his pleading tone. “That would work.”

  “Epor, you are my hero.” Isdra sighed with relief as they quickly rigged the masks and made ready to leave.

  The old woman struggled out of the blankets and clutched at me with her thin hands. Her palm was cold and clammy on my arm. “Are they going after Kred? Tell them, please, not to hurt him. Kred is raving, he’s mad with the Sweat. He doesn’t know what he does.”

  “They’ll not hurt him,” I assured her. I focused back on Epor and spoke his tongue. “She says he’s ill.”

  Epor nodded, and looked at the old woman, and spoke Xyian with his terrible accent. “Do not be afraid.” She just stared at him. He straightened, and returned to his language. “Isdra has told you? Of the dead?” At my nod he continued. “We will continue to search and find the crazed one. Pile three benches in front of the door, Warprize, and scream if any try to enter.”

  I nodded as I followed them to the door. “We will need supplies, too.”

  “There is kavage in my saddle bags.” Isdra nodded toward the pile. “A pot would be welcome.”

  “Oh yes,” Epor agreed as they headed out. “It will be a long night.”

  I returned to the back to find the old woman standing by the bed, looking down at my other patient. She looked up, her sorrow clear. “He’s dying.”

  I took her arm, and guided her back to the chair. “He’s ill, certainly.” She sank down into the chair, trembling with exhaustion. “But it’s too soon to—”

  “No.” Her voice was sharp. “You think I don’t know? When they lay there, breathing rough like that, it’s the end, the—” She cut off her words, shuddering, hugging herself, sobbing and rocking. “It’s changed,” she whispered. “It’s not what it was.” She stared past me, the sweat beading on her brow, her thin hair matted to her forehead. “All of them, all . . .”

  I pulled the blankets up around her. “Take the word of a healer, it’s not certain he’ll die. With proper care, he’ll—”

  The old woman closed her eyes, her hair plastered to her face, sweat or maybe tears running down her cheeks. “I’m a healer, and we’ll all die.” She covered her face with her hands, and wailed.

  It was dark when Epor and Isdra returned.

  “No sign of the crazed one. If there’s more, they’re hiding.” Epor placed his load of blankets by the hearth. “We’ve lost the light. We’ll look again in the morning.”

  I ran my hands over my hair, brushing back the loose tendrils. They’d hauled in supplies as I had tended to our three patients. We’d done quite a bit in the last few hours.

  Isdra had a bucket of water, and a crock jug tucked under her arm. “The babe?”

  “Sleeping.” I took the water from her and placed it with the others. “I fed her again, so she should nap for a while.”

  Isdra nodded absently as she went over to the child, sleeping on a cushion of blankets. Epor and I exchanged an amused glance as she checked her, not satisfied with my reassurance. Isdra smiled down at the child, her angular face softened in the firelight. “I found a goat with milk.” She put the jug down, then stood, stretching out her back as she did so. As I handed Epor some kavage, I caught him looking at her, and quickly looked away.

  Isdra accepted kavage as well, and settled down on the floor not far from the child. She arranged her weapons at her side, close at hand. They had raided the nearby homes for supplies, so instead of the rations that we’d brought, there were two chickens on the spit, a broth simmering on the hearth, and bread and cheese. The well had provided the water, there was plenty of wood out back and they found bedding and blankets for all. Epor had even carried in another bed for the healer. It was cramped quarters, but it would serve for tonight. They hadn’t been able to catch the one man, and Epor was determined that he and Isdra would stand watch through the night.

  Epor settled by the fire opposite Isdra, arranging his weapons close at hand, too. He looked tired, and I had to admit that I was feeling worn myself. He was reaching for water to wash with when I spoke. “Did you cry out to the others, Epor?”

  He looked up at me, his eyes wide, then laughed. “We would say ‘signaled’, Warprize. Aye, I did, gave the ‘All’s well’ cry.” Epor moved an empty bucket between himself and Isdra, and poured the water for us to wash.

  “Who replied?” I tried not to look like I cared about the answer.

  But nothing got past those two. Isdra flicked a glance at Epor, but his gaze stayed on my face with a knowing look. “Joden.”

  I said nothing, just settled down with them. We washed, and they pulled their masks down just enough to be able to eat. I removed the pads from my mouth as Isdra reached for the chickens. Epor broke off a chunk of bread and handed it to me. “The others?”

  “Sleeping.” I looked about the room at the quiet figures around us.

  “Do you know the enemy yet?” Isdra had a chicken leg and was tearing into it as she passed me part of the bird.

  “No.” I bit into the warm meat. The old woman had broken down after she revealed that she was the healer. I’d managed to get her on to a pallet and calmed to the point that she’d fallen asleep. I’d save my questions for the morning. She’d mentioned the Sweat, but the symptoms that I was seeing were nothing that I’d ever heard of. Tomorrow I’d go to her home and see what she’d been using, and take any supplies that I could.

  I’d taken to calling the man that we’d found on the wall ‘Archer’. He was so deeply unconscious I hadn’t been able to get him to swallow any liquids. I’d settled for scraping a small amount of fever’s foe on the roof of his mouth, hoping that it would melt down his throat. His breathing was rough, but there was no cough and the fever seemed to have vanished.

  Thankfully the babe glowed with health. Isdra was smiling at the sleeping child as she ate. Epor passed me more food and urged me to eat. We sat quietly, eating and enjoying the peace of the moment.

  After we’d picked the bones clean, Epor settled back, and gave a quiet belch. Isdra poured more kavage. I drank some of the bitter liquid before I spoke. “Tomorrow, I want to go to the healer’s home, Epor. She will have supplies that I will need.”

  “We must also start to deal with the dead or the filth of this place will overwhelm us.” Epor responded.

  Isdra wrinkled her nose. “It already does. I have seen enough that I will never live in a tent of stone. Dirt and mouse droppings in every corner.” She waved her hand for emphasis. “A tent you can clean, shake free and be off. How can you think to keep a ‘house’ clean?”

  Epor chuckled, but I admonished her. “Isdra, they have been sick. Maybe they haven’t been able to clean.”

  Isdra shrugged. “Still, Warprize.”

  “Warprize, you give your dead back to the earth, yes?”

  I turned toward Epor. “Yes, we bury our dead. What is your tradition?”

  “We give ours
elves back to the elements, as do all. Some by fire, earth or air. It is rare to give to the waters, but it is done. Each according to their preference.”

  “Air?” I tried to imagine how that would work and failed.

  “The body is lifted on a platform, left naked to the sky. Over time, the platform decays, and falls to the ground, usually pulled down by the snows.” Isdra gave me a look when I tried not to show my disgust. “Cleaner than giving back to the earth. But if earth is your custom, we will follow it.”

  “I suppose.” I responded politely. “Epor, you and Isdra alone can’t bury the bodies. From what you say, there are too many.”

  “We can start. A shame we can’t let the army know to dig for us. But none of the cries are designed to carry that message.”

  “We can’t risk exposing them.”

  Epor shrugged. “We will do what must be done. We can use fire as well, if we can find a clear clean place to build a pyre. Fire is my preference. We will finish our search tomorrow, then start on the dead.” Epor drained his kavage. “You will stay in here, with them?”

  “Yes.” I finished mine as well. “I will tend them through the night, catch sleep when I can.”

  “Then I will take first watch. Isdra—”

  “Needs a bath.” Isdra stood, securing her weapons. “There is a well and buckets and I am going to bathe.”

  Epor laughed softly. “As you say.” He stood. “I will watch . . . to keep you safe.”

  Isdra smirked at him, and reached over to scratch him under the chin, her finger rasping in the hairs of his beard. “As you say.”

  Epor acted offended. “I must keep an eye out for the crazed one. What other reason would I have to watch?”