All of them, even the mercenaries, looked around in stunned shock. The picturesque village was nothing more then a burning ruin. The dragons and the knights had destroyed everything. Only the original inn, sitting at the fork of the two trails, remained standing among the charred shells of houses, shops, and stables. Scattered along the paths, in the streets, and among the ruins of their homes were dozens of corpses, some charred and smoldering, others hacked and bloody. There seemed to be no one else alive but the wing from Neraka.
Sara looked ahead and saw a group of officers standing by the inn, Subcommander Torceth among them. Leaving the squires behind, she stormed up to the talon leaders and spat at their feet. "What sort of a 'training mission' was this supposed to be?" she yelled, her fury boiling over. "You were supposed to capture the village. Did anyone say wipe it off the map? What kind of officers are you that you allow your men to lose control like that? What happened to your vows? Where is the Code in an atrocity like this?" She was breathing so rapidly her breath hurt her sides beneath her ribs.
Torceth waved his hand as if swatting away a fly. "Ah, Knight Officer Conby. I see you found the rest of the mercenaries. I understand from the others they were out clearing the trail to Kortal. Excellent work!"
Torceth's total disregard of her questions made Sara all the more enraged. "Excellent work, my dragon's leavings! One of my squires is dead, another wounded. One of our dragons is missing, and while we fought your mercenaries, you were busy slaughtering unarmed civilians!"
Torceth pursed his heavy lips and frowned at her. The other officers took their cue from him and looked at her with disfavor.
Sara didn't care. She couldn't believe what she was seeing around her. Had the Knights of Takhisis sunk so low that they would turn a military objective into a slaughterhouse just for the fun of it? Lord Ariakan would never have stood for this sort of needless slaughter.
"Take your prisoners over there and leave them with those guards," Torceth ordered irritably. "Then return to your post."
Sara took a look at the guards he indicated. Four knights were standing by a blackened stone wall that had once been a comfortable cottage. The men leaned against the wall, chatting and laughing. Their weapons ran red with blood, and a pile of decapitated corpses were dumped close by. Sara shuddered.
"We will return to our post, sir. But I will not leave our prisoners with you. They fought well and deserve better than that." She jabbed a finger at the pile of bodies. "I will turn my prisoners over to Governor-General Abrena and no one else."
Torceth started to say something, but one of the older knights leaned over and whispered something in his ear. The subcommander paled slightly under his heavy beard. "Suit yourself," he growled to Sara. "I will hold you responsible for their care and conduct."
Sara rose on her toes, pushed her face close to his, and said fiercely, "And I hold you responsible for this massacre." She turned on her heel and strode away from them as fast as her legs could carry her before she did anything stupider than berating a superior officer.
The Sixth Talon stared at her in awe.
Derrick took one look at her face and herded the squires and prisoners after her without a single word.
The mercenaries, having seen the murdered villagers in the streets, followed willingly after their captors. They were quick enough to realize that their lives were safer in the hands of this outspoken woman knight.
By the time Sara returned to the clearing where Marika and Kelena waited, Squall and Howl had returned with a very contrite Tumult. Treb took one look at him and burst into a stream of invective that had even Kazar looking impressed.
"That's enough," Sara cut her off. Her patience was at an end with this whole terrible day. "Take the prisoners to those trees, Treb, and you and the dragons watch them carefully. No one is to interfere with them without my permission. Is that understood?"
Treb obeyed, albeit rather sullenly, and she and the dragons marched the prisoners to a large pine and made them sit in the snow. The men huddled as far away from the dragons as they could get, and Sara knew she would not have to worry about an escape.
She did worry about Kelena, though. Marika had stanched the flow of blood, but she had not tried to pull out the arrow. It was embedded too deeply for her simple skills. She had covered her friend to keep her warm and gave her sips of water to keep her from becoming dehydrated. She had laid out Jacson, too, and covered his face with his cloak.
Sara hesitated beside his body. She had not taken the luxury of time to think about what he had done for her. It was too painful. It was impossible to believe that his vibrant energy and talkative soul were gone from their midst. His sacrifice broke her heart. She couldn't think about it, could not accept it, not this soon. There was still much to do before she could try to reconcile Jacson's death with her vision of reality.
Turning away from the dead, she knelt by the wounded squire and took her hand. Kelena's blue eyes had faded to a watery gray. Her freckles stood out like tiny drops of ink scattered across parchment. Her breathing came in ragged gasps through her clenched teeth.
"Get it out," she begged. "Just yank it. I don't care."
Sara gently squeezed her hand. "I can do better than that," she reassured the young woman. "Hang on another minute or two." Hurrying to Cobalt, she found her healer's bag in a pouch on her dragon saddle and brought it back.
"Light a fire," she tossed over her shoulder to anyone who would listen. Derrick and Saunder nearly knocked each other over in their eagerness to obey. Quickly they cleared a patch of earth, built a fire ring, and started a fire using cut wood they found in the yard of a nearby burned-out cottage. Marika took a small cooking pot out of her gear and collected snow to melt for water.
Sara sorted through her bag while they worked. She had packed her bag specifically for treating wounds, and everything she needed for this operation was there. Deep inside she found a small package wrapped in soft leather. Within lay three glass vials of a precious liquid Sara had learned to make herself.
Drink this," she told Kelena, pressing the vial to her lips. "It is a special syrup I make from herbs and flowers that will help you rest."
The syrup did its work, and in moments, the squire was asleep. With Marika's help and the concerned attention of Saunder, Derrick, and the others, Sara carefully cut out the bolt, packed the wound with a poultice to help prevent infection, and wrapped it with clean bandages. She saw, thankfully, that the tip of the bolt was not barbed and it had not damaged the bone or the artery in the thigh.
Sara gave her worried audience a smile when she was through. "I certainly miss the clerics' magic at times like this."
"Will she be all right?" Saunder wanted to know. For such a quiet loner, he was very attached to his friends.
"Barring fever, infection, bad weather, avalanches, or blood thirsty knights, she'll be fine."
The others grinned at each other. Even Argathon and Kazar looked relieved.
"She's the first one I've ever seen knock Treb on her backside," Argathon said with a trace of respect.
Sara realized then the afternoon had slowly dwindled to twilight. She put the talon to work gathering firewood and erecting crude shelters from pine branches and whatever they could scavenge. She refused to let them take anything from the destroyed cottages or go anywhere near the corpses that still littered the ground, They could make do with what they had brought. She also had them build a fire and shelter for the prisoners and share part of their food with them.
No one tried to argue with her. It was a quiet and sober group that obeyed her orders and worked diligently to prepare for the night.