Conflict and Courage (48 page)

It was Tina and
Daltei.

“Go,” ordered
Tina, “Daltei and I are here, Eitel sent me, we’ll look after them,
go tend the more seriously wounded,” and Tina plumped down at
Tara’s side.

The normally
fastidious Tina was a sight to behold, streaked with blood and
sweat. Tendrils of sweaty curls had escaped from her helmet. She
placed a sympathetic hand on Emily’s shoulder.

“Daltei told
me,” she said simply. “Brian and Sofiya are not the only ones. Mark
and Aya fell on top of the ridge and I can’t find Alan and Kiltya
either. Daltei cannot sense them. He fears the worst. Yvonne
too.”

Emily was
stricken, Mark, Alan and Yvonne?

“Brian asked,”
Emily struggled to get the words out, “he wouldn’t let me help
him.”

“I know,” said
Tina, her voice trembling with emotion and loss, “but without
Sofiya he couldn’t go on.”

“Even for me
and Alexander he would not stay.”

Tina tried to
find the right words. “At least you have a part of him with you,”
she said at last, “and if your positions had been reversed, would
you have wished to continue without Ilyei?”

Emily sat in
the dust, unmoving.

“Wake up
Emily,” urged Tina, “you are Holad, with a sworn duty to save
lives. You don’t have the time to mourn, you must help the living,
they need you.”

She thrust
Emily’s medpac into her hands. Emily grasped hold of it with
fumbling hands and some life came back into her eyes.

The gaze Emily
set on Tara and Kolyei was all professionalism.

“If you and
Daltei can stay with them? Kolyei is knocked out, nicks and grazes
are all that’s the matter with him, concussion possible, Tara has
broken bones, her bleeds are stabilised, we’ll have to wait until
she and Kolyei can be moved before I can do more.”

“Of
course.”

“Looks like I’m
needed over there,” Emily said, pointing to a clump of injured
vadelns.

“I’ll look
after Tara,” Tina promised, “now go.”

Belatedly Emily
remembered that Tina had spent a half-season on Holad training when
she was sixteen. She and Daltei had realised that a medic’s life
was suited to neither of them but at least she had learned the
skills of simple doctoring. She could easily tend to those with the
more superficial wounds, the non-life threatening, thus leaving
Emily, Ilyei and the other fully-trained Holad free to tend the
others.

“Be careful,”
Tina advised as Emily left, the despondent Ilyei in tow, “there are
injured Larg on the field.”

Soon Emily was
too busy to think about Brian. There was an endless supply of
injured to tend and, like the other Holad members, she worked,
above all trying to stop the bleeding and counteracting the effects
of shock.

As the area
where she worked was clear of fallen Larg, it became an impromptu
dressing station. Stretcher-bearer after stretcher-bearer carried
their burden to her, in the case of the Lind wounded, two-wheeled
carts had been assembled on to which the wounded were placed and
taken for help.

Emily became
aware of other Holad working beside her. Winston Randall’s
grief-stricken face caught her eye. Where had he come from?

She bent over
an injured rider and he knelt down beside her.

“I can feel the
bleeding underneath,” Emily spoke in an undertone, “I don’t think
there is much I can do for him. He has internal injuries, probably
when he fell. The fighting was very rough here and his Lind is dead
as well.”

“I don’t think
he can feel his legs either,” said Winston, also in an undertone,
“his spine is broken. Can you stay with him?”

Emily
understood.

“Until the
end?” she whispered.

Winston nodded
with a sad smile.

Hilary and
Gsnei appeared as if out of nowhere and she took command of the
station, issuing orders and relieving Winston and Emily from that
burden at least. It is safe to say that father and daughter-in-law
were only distantly aware of her presence.

Hilary urged
them to keep going until they were too tired to carry on. Then she
ordered them to rest and popped a mild sedative into their kala to
ensure that they did.

Emily woke in
the morning to the remembered emptiness and turned to look at the
occupant of the pallet by her side; Winston lay gazing into
space.

He turned
towards her.

“We have work
to do,” she said.

“Not yet,
Hilary has it under control.”

“Hilary? The
diffident Hilary?”

“Amazing
really, I didn’t think she had it in her. She is so quiet and
self-effacing. I certainly wasn’t capable of taking charge. She
told me about a bell ago that we won’t be needed ‘til later but
that there’s a full surgical list scheduled.”

Emily took a
deep breath.

“Have you
seen?”

“Brian and
Sofiya? Yes. I’m glad they didn’t suffer long and that you and
Ilyei were there with them at the end.”

“There is to be
another child.”

“Janice
suspected as much.”

“I wanted Brian
to stay with us, but he couldn’t, I realise that now.”

“You know, very
few choose life if their Lind die and those few that do, well they
are usually women with young children to bring up and I don’t think
even they fully recover.”

Emily thought
for a bit.

“I may come
back home with you when this is all over,” she announced.

“Brian would
have liked that. Have you seen Louis and Ustinya yet? He’s been
given temporary command of the Seventh Ryzck, none of their
officers survived.”

“How’s he
getting on?” Some interest had crept back into Emily’s voice.

“He is upset
about Brian but is coping. Brian and Sofiya would expect us to
grieve but life does go on. You have your son to think of and all
vadeln know that they might have to pay the ultimate sacrifice one
day. Casualties are heavy this time round, especially amongst the
home packs and the Tenth Ryzck. We are not alone in our grief, many
have lost loved ones.”

He groaned as
he sat up and fished around for his boots.

“Now daughter,
if you have rested enough, I believe Hilary and the other Holad
could do with some help.”

Emily looked at
him, the pain behind her eyes obvious and, he reflected, they
mirrored his own. Ilyei too looked dull, the habitual gleam in his
eyes flat with loss. He, thought Winston, didn’t even have the
solace of young of his own, all he had were memories of Sofiya.

: I miss
Sofiya. I will always miss Sofiya :

Emily looked at
Ilyei with affection and love. He too had lost his mate but at
least they had each other.

: She would
want us to carry on, find some happiness again, I will remember the
good times, the way her tail twitched when she was amused, how her
eyes gazed to mine when we alone, the way she looked when she and
Brian said goodbye when they left the domta, her determination to
fight well, to save those she loved from the Larg :

Tears flowed
down Emily’s cheeks and Winston wrapped her in his arms.

: She did. They
did :

Winston must
have had an idea what they were saying to each other. He spoke,
“and we should be proud of them both. I certainly am. They will
rest together in fine company.”

“Their grave
mound will be honoured for generations to come,” said a voice from
the door. It was Hilary, arriving with the surgery list.

“Covered in
dalina flowers,” said Emily, “they were Brian’s favourite.”

“We’ll plant
hundreds,” promised Winston, “thousands even.”

Emily smiled, a
sad smile and faint, but a smile for all that.

“We’d best get
started,” she suggested; lifting her head high she strode with
purpose out of the tent.

Winston was so
proud of her at that moment that he thought he would burst.

* * * * *

It was dark
when Tara woke from her drug-induced sleep.

She reached
with her mind towards Kolyei and sensed only a painful tiredness.
He had been drugged too and his sleeping thoughts were weird. She
opened her eyes and recognised Peter sleeping beside her, his cloak
gathered round him for warmth against the chilly dawn air.

He woke and
raised a bruised and battered face to her.

“Peter?” she
whispered. It hurt to talk.

“I’m here my
love, safe and sound.”

Tara raised her
left arm out towards him; the only limb that was not bandaged and
comparatively unhurt. She groaned.

“Try not to
move,” he advised taking her hand in his.

“It hurts.”

“And will for
some time, but you will get better. Kolyei and Radya are both fine
too. I can try and position you better so you can see him if you’d
like.”

“No need. I can
sense him beside me.”

Then her eyes
dilated with remembrance.

“Jim and Larya?
The Larg?”

“The Larg are
fleeing for their lives, the southern regiments too, the beachhead
is almost deserted and Jim and Larya will recover in time, thanks
to you and Kolyei.”

Tara
relaxed.

“Now get some
sleep.”

The four of
them stayed there, an oasis of calm amongst the bustle that was the
Holad dom.

Peter was gone
when Tara next woke but Radya was there, her wounds remained stiff
and sore. She was nestled against Kolyei. They were murmuring
quietly together but, sensing Tara’s return to consciousness,
Kolyei raised a weary head.

“I do not wish
to move,” he said, “hurts.”

“Me
neither.”

Radya wagged
her tail.

“I glad to see
you Tara,” she said, “get better now. Peter will come see you
before we go.”

“Go where?”

“Larg are still
in rtathlians. Those that can, go to hunt them before they kill
again. Lindars Grandthlya and Bensvei have come to help. Tara not
worry. Radya will keep Peter safe. When Larg dead and you are
better we go home. War is over. We will live together and rear
ltsctas.”

“Ltsctas?”

“I want many,”
Radya warned, “Peter and you must have many too.”

* * * * *

The Holad
Station was an area of purpose in the midst of death but the long
rows of covered bodies was mute testimony to victory’s cost and the
medics’ failure.

Tara’s injuries
were not life threatening. Her flesh wounds would heal cleanly and
fast. The broken bones would take longer. She had three cracked
ribs; a dislocated collarbone, a crushed arm and both her legs were
broken.

When Kolyei had
learned of Tara’s injuries he was amazed at his life-mate’s
courage. She must, he thought, have been in agony as she dragged
herself over his body to place herself between him and the Larg,
the love between them so strong that she had been able to ignore
the agonising pain.

“If Kolyei had
died I wouldn’t have wanted to live,” she informed Hilary, “I
couldn’t allow that beast to destroy us, could I? If Kolyei had
been able he would have done the same for me, it is part and parcel
of being paired. Now, what of Jim and Larya?”

“They are
alive.”

It was simple;
Larya would not let Jim leave her.

She held on to
him, to his mind, to his inner self. As she herself was recovering
from injuries and needed to rest, her daughter Asya and also
Matvei, Gsnei and even Radya took on the burden whilst she did. Jim
was never alone.

No matter how
much his fevered mind wandered, Jim always had an anchor, a
constant reminder of how much he was loved and needed.

He developed
wound fever and teetered in and out of consciousness. The medics
and Holad healers doubted he would ever walk again, if he recovered
at all.

Another patient
was Vsei of the Avuzdel, who had risked all to warn the north that
the Larg and regiments were embarking on their final sail to
Vadath.

Vsei had
managed in the heat of the battle to position himself to the left
of the kohort he had infiltrated then had run, as fast as his paws
could carry him towards the nearest Lindar broadcasting and baying
his name and where his allegiance lay
: I am Vsei. Avuzdel. I am
Lind :

The front ryz
had recognised him for what he was and let him through. He had then
joined up with Fernei and the other Avuzdel and had fought until he
dropped against his former Larg ‘comrades’.

There were many
heroes, or ruzas resulting from that day, but his heroic acts of
infiltration, warning and fighting were long remembered in the
traditions and songs.

* * * * *

Francis sat
staring at the casualty lists. He could hear the vibration in the
air as many Lind mourned their own dead, a subliminal hum that
reverberated inside his mind and the dying wasn’t over yet. The
most seriously injured, despite the best efforts of the healers,
continued to succumb to their wounds.

Word from the
farmsteads in the west was also unsettling. The Larg that Bvdmaldr
had sent to the west had attacked over six of them. There was
little a single family could do to defend themselves when a Kranj
or two of Larg appeared on their doorstep. One family had managed
to save themselves by hiding in a nearby cave. Their wait for
rescue had taken a terror-stricken three days.

Afanasei padded
into the command tent and Francis raised a face bleary from lack of
sleep.

“Any news?”

“Winston says
Jim will be all right,” Afanasei replied, then hung his head, “but
many others no. Tarmsei is gone.”

Francis shut
his eyes in sympathy. “I’m sorry to hear that. He was your
son?”

“Yes,” was the
sorrowful reply, Afanasei was a picture of absolute dejection, “I
am proud of Tarmsei.”

“We all are,”
said Francis, “he led the Lindar with courage.”