Missed Connections (42 page)

We're under attack,
he thinks, pulse racing. He scrambles out of bed, his bones protesting all those nights upon the hard, wooden pallet. The evening chill makes his bare skin pimple with gooseflesh. At least, he wants to believe the cold is the cause.
Under attack… but how? How did they get so close?
This is a question to which he has no answer; for now, he must live with the consequences.

Clef scrambles for his clothes. His breeches and robes are white slashed through with crimson, marking him as an Elder Brother of the Crescent. Despite his best efforts, they are stained with dirt and blood. Next he dons his belt, sturdy leather dyed a shade of dark red. Hanging from it are accouterments of his trade:  phials, pouches, and charms. More supplies are stored in the satchel he grabs next, pulling its strap over his opposite shoulder. Finally, Clef gropes for his silver diadem. The crescent moon in its center is encircling a blood-red ruby—yet another identifier for his status. His prematurely silver hair is getting unruly; the band helps keep it in check.

It's not taken him two minutes to get dressed, but it feels like an eternity has passed. The screams get louder, but are not as overwhelming as the clash of steel against steel. Clef runs out of his room, nearly bowling over one of his subordinates in the process. He recognizes Julia, one of the Order's novices. He's pleased to note she has donned her robes as well, the white opal in her diadem gleaming in the candlelight.

"Brother," she gasps, still twisting her long dark braid into a bun. "The alarm. How—?"

"I don't know," he replies, leading her to the main room. "I'd been informed our perimeter was secure. If the Tendovians have breached our defenses…" he trails off, leaving the implications where they fall. Julia doesn't reply, but Clef can feel the anxiety radiating off her in waves. He understands; it mirrors his own.

The clinic in Baron Falls is small, and already crowded to capacity with wounded soldiers. Those with minor injuries are sleeping two to a bed—some even on the floor. Most are almond-skinned natives of the Embergrass Prairies, like Clef and Julia, but many are paler or darker with Northern and Southern blood. Not for the first time, Clef's heart aches. His homeland is a veritable symbol of the good that can come of harmony, but once again it is merely a pawn in a Unification War.

"Baron Falls is a stronghold," Julia says, babbling nervously at Clef's heels. "Our backs are to mountains, and our river runs through fertile land. Tendoves knows the strategic advantages here. If they're attacking, they must be—" she stops herself, but Clef knows what she had been about to say.
Confident.
Their Southern enemies wouldn't have risked an assault unless they were certain of victory. The notion is not a comforting one.

"Forget that," Clef says, using his most authoritative tone. "Organize the others. Gather supplies. Ask Cerie to help me check on the patients. We may need to start moving people."

"Move them where?" Julia asks, sounding hopeless. "We're cornered."

He reaches out to grab her shoulders, shaking the fear out of her. "Not yet, we aren't. Not yet." He tries to pour as much bravery into his voice as possible—as much for his own sake as for hers. "You can only be defeated if you stop fighting. Now go!" Once he releases her, Julia scampers off to do as he's asked. She's still frightened, but she isn't giving up.

Clef heads for the nearest bed, occupied by a former lancer. He is currently lame, and the prognosis for recovery is a poor one. Clef is dreading the thought of having to transport this man on such short notice, and under such duress. He sends a silent prayer to the Lady that it will not come to retreat.

"Leave me," the soldier mumbles, voice tight with pain. The belladonna blend has worn off sometime during the night, leaving him sweaty and breathless, skin clammy to the touch.

Clef shakes his head, smoothing the young soldier's hair from his brow. "It has not yet come to that," he says, hoping he sounds soothing.

"It will. You know it will." A coughing fit overtakes him, and Clef helps him calm down a sip of cold belladonna tea. "I recognize the trumpets. Tendoves is here." Clef tries to shush him, but the soldier won't have it. "They would not be here if they did not think they could take us. I would only slow you down," he insists desperately, clawing at Clef's sleeve. "Save someone else with the cart meant for me."

"It has not yet come to that," Clef hears himself repeating. He moves to the next bed, tearing his sleeve out of the soldier's grasp. He finds himself returning to the phrase again and again, trying to ease the minds of those with more combat experience than he. The more he echoes it, the more doubt he feels. Clef has been stationed at Baron Falls for months, tending to the injured but never seeing the front lines. He'd been aware of the war's severity, yes, but only tonight has it come knocking on his doorstep. Only tonight does the icy grip of fear seize his heart.

The Tendoves Duchy to the south is only half of their problem. The Red Mountains' army moves as well, coming down from their well-defended peaks to try and take their southern neighbors. Vast though the Prairies may be, the pincer movement closing in on them is obvious to even Clef. This is the second time in as many centuries that the two empires have sought to unify the continent under one powerful dynasty.

The First Unification War had ended with a tenuous armistice—both sides having exhausted their resources with winter on the horizon. Clef prays daily for a similar end come the cold months. In the meantime, they must keep the armies at bay.

"Don't strain yourself," Clef says, comforting one of the women. When they'd brought her to him, she had been sliced open, her insides threatening to spill from her belly. Only her armor had saved her from instant death. It had taken Clef several painstaking hours to sew her back up.

"The trumpets," she manages, struggling to rise. She is stronger than she should be following such demanding surgery; Clef has to force her back down. "They call us to battle. They've sounded the alarm!"

Clef tries to quieten her before the other patients are infected with similar fervor. He's only just managed to calm her when Julia appears at his side. Her face looks ashen. "What is it?" Clef asks, pulling her aside.

Julia looks as though she might weep. "Tendoves," she says in a small voice. "Tendovian soldiers everywhere. They've blocked access to the carts."

Seven hells,
Clef thinks, mind racing. Why would they do such a thing? Cutting off supply routes, certainly, but why the carts stationed near the clinic? Tendoves could not possibly mean to—

The door to the clinic is kicked open, hitting the wall violently. The sound is louder than the battle raging outside; it makes Clef and Julia jump before twisting around to look. For a moment, the room is frozen in shock. The Tendoves soldiers who enter the clinic are larger than life in their full plate armor. The helmets hide their faces from view, the anonymity making them even more terrifying. In the candlelight, the white dove emblem shimmers against the navy cloth adorning their armor.

"Lady help us," Julia whispers. The fear in her voice makes Clef remember that he is the Elder here, and that all of these people are under his protection.

He's standing before one of the soldiers before he realizes it. Clef lifts his chin, holding his head high despite the hammering of his heart against his ribs. "Hold, Tendovian. This is a place of healing."

The soldier looks down at him. Clef can see his eyes through the helmet—cold and harsh. "Brother, is it?" he asks in a gruff voice. He pokes Clef so hard that he has to take a step back. "You ought to mind your own affairs."

"They
are
my affairs," Clef says, balling his hands into fists. "Why are you here? Come to triumph over the injured and ill? A fine ballad that would make." He gestures around him. "These are casualties. We pose no threat to you; leave us be."

"A bossy little medicine man," one of the other soldiers says.

The first soldier reaches out. Clef holds his ground, expecting another shove. Instead, he's pulled forward, boots dragging upon the floor. The soldier holds him fast with a fistful of his robes. When he speaks, Clef's skin prickles at the undercurrent of violence in the tone. "I was told to eliminate the supplies." He gives Clef a shake. "I'm eliminating the supplies."

Realization comes fast, leaving Clef feeling cold. "Y-you can't," he says, pulling at the hand on his robes. "It's against the code of warfare. We did not engage you; you came to
us
."

The soldier stares down at him, gaze unwavering even as he gives the command. "Burn this place down. Kill everyone inside. Oh, and make sure you destroy all of the supplies—food, medicine… clerics."

Clef starts struggling, anger and fear mingling together into a cocktail of infuriated terror. "Cretin! Coward! Is this how Tendovians win their battles?" Despite his admonishments, the Tendoves soldiers are moving through the clinic. Clef can see now that they are carrying unlit torches. "No.
No!
You've already beaten these soldiers, you fools." Somewhere behind him, he hears his Sister Cerie scream. Her terror grips his heart in an icy grip. "Don't," Clef says, desperate and pleading. "Please don't do this."

The soldier holding Clef pulls him even closer, nearly lifting him off the ground. "I'm going to open you from navel to collarbone,
Brother,
" he sneers with disdain.

Two things happen at once:  a group of Prairies soldiers arrive from the back entrance to engage the Tendovian troops, and the soldier holding Clef is struck down with a heavy broadsword. Clef falls to the floor, teeth chattering. There is a battle raging behind him, but he can only stare as his rescuer hacks at his attacker, easily finding the weak points in the full-plate and spilling his blood.

His savior is a newcomer, for Clef has never seen him around Baron Falls before. He isn't wearing a helmet. Clef can see that he has some Southern blood in him, with skin a shade darker than Clef's and eyes like warm chocolate. His white armor marks him a commander of some sort, and it makes both his black hair and the flame emblem of Embergrass more striking.

"Clear?" his savior asks, pulling his sword from the Tendovian's neck. He's not talking to Clef, but to the small contingent of Prairies warriors he's brought into the fray.

"Yes, sir," someone else replies, and Clef sags with relief. They were saved. His Sisters and Brothers were saved, and his patients are safe.

His savior sheathes his sword and offers Clef a hand up. "You ought to be more careful, Brother. Surely you knew you were no match for armed soldiers."

Clef allows the other man to pull him to his feet. He notes that his robes are now sporting two shades of red. "They were not soldiers, they were cowards." He sets his jaw stubbornly, staring at the man who has just saved his clinic. "And was I to sit idly by while they burned my patients alive?"

His savior considers him, looking proud. "No," he says with a rueful shake of his head. "No, I suppose not. Well done, Brother. You are a brave man." He claps a hand on Clef's shoulder, and his expression morphs into one more grave. "But the Commander has given the order to retreat. We've lost Baron Falls."

"No," Clef whispers as the news sinks in. Embergrass has lost a vital piece in the war. The South is moving up.

"My soldiers will help you move the injured," his savior says. "Hurry and get them out of here. We are falling back to Crestfall."

He barely waits for Clef to nod before disappearing out the door. Outside, the battle continues—the open door is making the shouts and clashing weapons even louder than before. Clef closes it over, offering what little comfort he can.

"We've lost Baron Falls," he says to his Sisters. "Pack up everything and everyone. We retreat."

With the eight men and women his savior has left them, Clef moves quickly. Before long, the clinic wagons are among the mass exodus from Baron Falls. Clef watches the outpost fade out of sight with a heavy heart. The sounds of the siege are still audible. Some of his conscious patients are sobbing in frustration and despair.

Clef understands them; he feels the same way. Not an hour ago they were holding fast, as Embergrass has always done. Now they are losing the war.

*~*~*

They meet more Brothers and Sisters of the Crescent in Crestfall. While the city does not offer the strategic defense that Baron Falls did, it is located on a riverbank. The Prairies boast the richest, most fertile lands on the continent. Combined with the easy access to freshwater, Crestfall is a valuable city. Clef knows as well as anyone that it is only a matter of time before it becomes a target for the North or South. The Commander of Crestfall's contingent had already begun preventative measures prior to the arrival of Baron Falls refugees. The city walls have been fortified with supports and the watch has been increased. The stores of food and herbs are almost as vast as those kept in the capital. It does not take long for Clef and his comrades to set up a new base of operations in the city's clinic, a massive basilica near the river.

Clef is required to send weekly letters to Emberborne Keep. Mostly it consists of casualty reports, medical supplies, and well wishes for the Duchess's stronghold. As the weeks turn into months, the casualty count takes up most of Clef's time. Occasionally he receives a reply from one of the chamberlains, emphasizing the importance of a strong army and thanking the Order of the Crescent for its good work. He knows for a fact that an envoy was sent to Tendoves front lines to petition a formal complaint concerning the renegade soldiers' actions in Baron Falls. He does not know the outcome of the meeting, but the dead cannot be punished. At the very least, the renegades had paid the price.

The Second Unification War wages on. Clef spends his days setting bones, cleaning wounds, and sewing up holes in human bodies. He works from sunup to sunup. Some days, he goes without food. He's simply too busy; more and more wounded are brought to Crestfall every day. He's been given the Crestfall Order's large basilica to work with, but the demand upon it is too great. Despite its size and the number of Brothers and Sisters working there, they are getting too many injured to keep up. At this point, it's more of a field clinic than a full-size facility. Things are just as they were at Baron Falls. Every new casualty brought in is taxing them, but they can't afford to succumb to exhaustion.