Late Aprilo, 1382 OC.
Weeks later, Kaylli was able to slow down long enough to update her healer's journal. Thanks to the help of Rhysse, her inventory was better than it had ever been. They'd gathered more plants than she expected to use in a couple of years, even with the presence of the soldiers in the village. They had even discovered new places to find her most basic medicines, such as feverwort, and painbark.
The wounded soldiers mended quickly after they enjoyed a little rest and care. With Lieutenant Tokken, Redford set up a rotation schedule that gave the first group of the remaining soldiers a taste of home living. It still rankled Kaylli that she had to treat their unwanted guests. She'd done her best for their horses, though, and she was helping the local smith with the training of a new farrier from the ranks.
Her inventory might be full, be she knew how the village strained to keep the Dragons supplied as they required. It took a lot of labor to plow the fields of Redford, and to tend the many herds. The presence of the soldiers did mean the constables were free to lend a hand, but even with their help, necessary work was falling behind.
A scream from outside brought Kaylli to her door, with her medical satchel in hand. From her doorway she was appalled to see mounted soldiers riding down the villagers in the street, lashing the Homans before them like unruly bondsmen. The chief constable stood firm by the village well, his club in hand, ordering them to stop. A duocorn rider charged at him, gutting the Homan with a saber as he passed by.
Despite her shock, Kaylli suddenly noticed that these weren't Martez's men. The uniforms were different, ashy gray, and there was a sign of the Treecat on their sleeves, not of the Dragon. These were enemy soldiers, from the neighboring fiefdom. To them, the villager's lives were less valuable than that of their mounts, or their tamed big hunting cats.
A red-fletched arrow appeared in a soldier's chest. It was fired by Tenner, one of the village hunters, from a high fork of a tree behind the tannery. The enemy's cat handler, in his heavy leathers, loosed two of his gray-dappled charges to climb up and bring him down. She knew the hunter had a soft heart for treecats, but he fired a shot downward through the branches. One of the cats fell, sprawling limply on the ground to the handler's outrage. The other smoke colored cat kept climbing up towards him.
Kaylli heard a wildly blaring horn sounding from her right, announcing the arrival of the Fifth Dragon Company, charging the enemy from the other end of the village. As she turned to see them, she saw a blond head of hair peeking above the smithy's knee high boundary wall. It was Leydon, caught in the street instead of playing safely in the woods nearby. "Sweet spirits, protect my son from danger!" she whispered. She lost sight of him as the Dragons thundered past the smithy in a blur to engage the Graycats. Her flesh crawled from the hoarse shouts of the men, along with the sounds of ringing metal and the screams of animals.
Savage mayhem greeted her eyes at every turn. As a girl, she had never understood how warfare could be so deadly that a medic would be killed. Yet it was her uncle that gave her away at her wedding, because her father had been slain in a battle far from home. She bitterly resented the army for that. She didn't know what she thought the army was like, perhaps a sort of complicated constabulary, full of pageant and rituals, but ultimately civilized in essence. Instead, if this scrimmage was any indication, it was a thing of sheer butchery, wrapped in a cloak of fear and shouting.
The Dragons had momentum on their side, and they began to push the Graycats back, out of the village's lone stretch of street. Rhysse lingered by the smithy, his medic's short sword in hand, stained with blood. He and his mount were panting from their exertions. The beast's horns were crimson, and her fur was matted with blood around the fang-filled mouth, and on her paws near the wickedly sharp claws. The medic looked down into the smithy, as she saw Leydon again; huge-eyed, but apparently unharmed.
Kaylli closed her eyes in thanks. Rhysse had drawn his seldom-used blade to protect her son. For a moment, years of bitterness against the army twisted in her heart. She could well believe that her father would engage in combat to protect a non-combatant. His commander had told her mother he'd died saving a pregnant woman from harm. That hadn't been any comfort to young Kaylli, all she’d known was that her daddy was gone. But what she'd seen here made that deep held resentment seem shallow and petty.
Other villagers were throwing stones at the cat that was threatening Tenner. It paused and started to climb back down. Once it stood besides its dead companion, it turned to run to its handler to avoid the stoning. A rock to the head knocked it unconscious. The hunter quickly followed it down, tying the beast up securely. He had plans for it, it seemed.
Kaylli couldn't see any more fighting, so she left the shelter of her doorway, and hurried to the smithy. Rhysse nodded once to her, and urged his mount forward, in case his fellows needed his services. Leydon half-tripped over the low wall, as he rushed to hug his mother. She clutched him to her tightly, forgetting all else. "Leydon, are you alright?"
"Yes, Mama," he sobbed, "I was so scared."
"Healer," a weak voice called from near the well. "Help us..." She wiped the tears of relief from her face, and went with Leydon to help her patients. She treated the living, and laid cloths over the faces of the dead. Then, reluctantly, she followed Rhysse to where the soldiers had gone, to see if the medic needed any help.
At the edge of the forest, she stopped in shock. The chief guardian of their forest Spirit was there. Steelheart was formed like a towering man, all made of shining metal. Kaylli had only seen the Ancient's golem two times before in the years she'd lived in Redford. Now it stood between Captain Martez and the sullen leader of the Graycat soldiers.
"Thy lord must pay a were-guild for those wounded or killed this day," Steelheart's hollow voice rumbled. The golem held up the signet of the Cat's commander. "Thou should not have come to this land;.thy lord has no claim on it. This was not honorable warfare, Malkar, 'twas slaughter of another Lord's peasants. As such, Kannith is due payment from thy lord, Zamnes. As Redford's arbiter, I direct that thy Lord shall pay twice his weight in gold to Kannith. Thy signet will be held hostage for this payment."
The enemy soldiers complained bitterly under their breath. Their lord would take that payment out of their hides and wages. Steelheart's voice rose easily above their mutterings, drowning them out, "The Good Spirit, Pax, and thy King have decreed that battles between opposing lord's forces shall not include the peasantry. My master, the Spirit Jefers, has already sent news of this incident to both Crown and Cache." The enemy commander looked ready to spit at this news.
"Thou hast done well, Dragon Captain," it said to Martez. "My master thanks thee." Martez bowed low to the golem. It turned to Kaylli, who flinched back in awe. Gently, it said, "Healer, how many of your charges are dead or wounded?"
She curtsied deeply, "Great Steelheart, of the villagers there are four dead, including our chief constable, and seven are badly wounded."
"The Homan dogs should have stayed out of the way of their betters," the commander growled. His eyes raked the Healer with rude appreciation. Martez scowled at him fiercely, and stepped forward to block his gaze.
"Dragon Medic?" Steelheart asked Rhysse. Kaylli sensed that it would not ask about the Graycat's losses.
"Three dead, including our sentry on the forest road and four injured," Rhysse said. He then pitched his voice for Kaylli's ears. "Two of them I'd like you to consult on, later." She nodded, ignoring the commander's contemptuous snort.
Steelheart turned to Redford as he arrived at the gathering, and greeted him. "Good day, Headman," it said.
"It is only good that you are here, old friend," Redford said. "Much sorrow has come to us this day."
"They will go now," the golem said, turning to the enemy troops. "Go now, and do not return." The commander's haughty features twisted at the curt dismissal, but still he hurried to obey.
The unkempt cat handler sputtered in outrage when he saw his dead cat being skinned, and the second being carried in a net to the hunter's kennel. His commander cuffed him harshly when he protested, and all but shoved him onto his duocorn. "You have more cats," he told the handler. "You haven't another head." The villagers watched them leave with silent resentment.
"Do you think they'll be back?" Redford asked with concern.
"No," said Steelheart. "We will watch for them, but we do not think they will dare make such a mistake again." The automaton nodded in farewell to them, and turned to vanish within the forests of its master.
"Captain," Redford said formally, "would you come to my house tonight for a village meeting? The people would appreciate a few words from you."
"We'll be there," Martez said, nodding at his Lieutenant.
'Good', thought Kaylli. 'Then I can tell him just what I think of him, and his soldiers.'
"Would you look at my wounded now, Kaylli?" Rhysse said.
"Certainly," she said, checking her satchel.
Two of the four wounded were what Kaylli considered seriously injured. The veteran sergeant, Bren Drake, risked losing his right eye from a long sword slash. It ran from his left forehead and cut into the bridge of his nose, nicking his lower eyelid on the right, and ending deep along his cheekbone. If the cut became at all infected, he risked blindness, and she told the Medic that.
The other was the youngest officer, Ensign Josur Dragon. The teenager was slipping into a fever despite all of Rhysse's efforts. Kaylli loosened the heavy bandages on his right leg and despaired for him. A treecat had dragged the flag-carrier down from his mount, and his thigh and calf muscles were heavily lacerated. Rhysse had given him broad stitches to close some of the worst gashes, but his expertise lay in treating straight edged weapon damage, not the kind of jagged tears carnivores made in flesh. He'd rightly figured she'd have more experience in this kind of wound.
The treecats were often known to give serious infections to their survivors, along with a deadly fever. She had seen such injuries before. Tenner had brought her a wild treecat cub with similar wounds on its haunches. He'd made a pet of it when it recovered. It had never regained its full mobility, and was too lame to release to the wild. Now the hunter hoped he had a mate for his beast.
As she had for the cub, months ago, Kaylli treated him with dozens of careful, tiny stitches. Rhysse gave their best antiseptics and fever fighters to the boy. Still, for all their work, she didn't know if he would survive. Even if he did, she didn't think he'd ever walk normally again. "If he is to survive," she said," he must be in my care for many days. You should bring him to my house."
"Do you think there's any chance?" Rhysse said. "He's a lord's son."
"I wouldn't care if he's the swineherd's son!" she snapped, taking the Medic aback. "I'd still do all I could for him." Seeing the hurt in Rhysse's purple-flecked eyes, she said more softly, "If I thought there was no chance, I would have offered him the Cup of Peace." They both knew this was a strong dose of heavy narcotic, to ease the suffering patient from this life. Administering it was considered the greatest kindness a Healer or Medic could give.
With the ensign momentarily stable, the medic ordered him to be moved to Kaylli's house. They settled him in one of the small rooms she kept for seriously ill patients. Kaylli gave him a sedative, and told Leydon what to do for Josur should he stir while she was at the meeting. If all else failed, she would only be a few doors down, and Leydon was a fast runner. As quickly as she could, she washed and prepared to go.
Horses and wagons lined the short stretch of cobbled main road that Redford boasted. Less than half of those who claimed to hail from Redford actually lived within the village proper. Most of the Redford's craft masters and representatives of the outlying communities were crowded into Joa's great room. She saw grizzled old farmers, weathered head ranchers, and the burly boss of the local logging camp, all of whom seldom made an appearance in the village. They eyed the Malkar officers curiously. They'd heard more about them in the last few weeks than they'd actually seen in person.
Kaylli settled by the fireplace, hoping the wood smoke would help to counteract the odor of some of the more pungent bodies present. The Headman raised his hands to quiet the scattered conversations. She watched Martez, and saw him register how quickly the villagers responded to their elder's gesture.
"My neighbors and friends, this is a terrible day," he began. "We have lost members of our families, and we would like to know why. Why did this enemy come, and what is the cost of our rescue? I have asked Captain Martez Dragon if he would answer these questions. Captain, if you would?"
Assured and confident with his troops, the officer hesitated before addressing the villagers. "The Dragons have been fighting with the 'Cats all winter in the south. Kruek, their commander, personally hates us, and that was the only reason he gave Steelheart for following us this far into our lord's lands. He'll be disciplined by his lord by violating the Pax accords, and costing Zamnes steep reparations."
Kaylli mulled over this news. Kruek, she thought, so that was his name. An ugly name, and a fit match for an ugly man. Her anger at the day's senseless bloodshed smouldered as she listened to the Captain.
"As for the cost," Martez continued, "that would be about the same as before. There are new injured to billet, and we'll need mounts for the horsemen. We had to put a couple of ours down today. That should cover it."
"Is that all?" she snapped. "We die, and they *may* be punished, and oh, by the way, you need to take even more from us? If you'd just leave, then we wouldn't have these problems. What about that?"
"Kaylli, please," Redford said. "Don't antagonize them."
"You'd better control her, Headman," Tokken said coldly. "There are limits to how far a peasant can push her luck with her betters; even for a Healer."
"She's only saying what they're all thinking, Tokken," Martez said. "I'm afraid I can't oblige you, madam," he said to her. "We've been told that Lord Zamnes was emboldened by the Fifth Company's withdrawal from the contested territory, and that he might try to seize more land, even as far as Redford."
“They wouldn't understand the politics involved, sir," Tokken said with a faint sneer.
Martez gave him a quelling look. "So, with that said, we're staying. It's for your own protection."
"Our protection?" she said sarcastically. "I'm sure the survivors of today's dead will thank you. What about the planting that's undone, the shearing that's delayed, all while we fete your soldiers so they can do their maneuvers?"
"Is this true, Headman?" Martez asked.
"Ah, there are some small... tasks that are unfinished this spring," Redford said, with an exasperated look at Kaylli.
"Then we will help, as good neighbors should," the Captain said with a smile. "Many of us come from rural areas, and we can steer a plow or shear a sheep as good as any."
"We will sir?" Tokken said, surprise evident on his stoic face.
"If only you would, Captain," Redford said. The relief on his face betrayed the seriousness of their situation. The other villagers looked cautiously pleased with the offer.
"I said we would help as we could, Healer," Martez said. "I intend that Redford will be no worse off for our time here, and will possibly be improved because of our presence."
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Go on to the next part.
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