By midafternoon, the Rangers had acquired Druja’s trail. While Ayela’s soldiers knew their jungle intimately, they were no match for the Rangers when it came to tracking. From the looks of the witch’s stride, she was moving slowly, probably due to her many deformities.
Not long after they found her tracks, they heard the roar of a dragon in the distance and made for the top of a nearby knoll that offered a vantage point above the canopy. Lacy caught her breath when she saw two dragons launch out of the jungle, one dark green, the other brilliant silver.
Even at this distance she could almost feel the ferocity of the battle taking place. It reminded her of two cats fighting, with all of the speed, viciousness and intensity … yet this fight was taking place in the air, between two creatures each as big as a house. The fury of the battle shattered the relative calm of the jungle, sending every other creature to ground, even the most fearsome predators.
As furious and frenetic as the fight was, it lasted only a few minutes before the shade-possessed dragon pinned Tasia’s wings to her body and drove her into the ground. He burst from the jungle moments later, roaring into the afternoon sky in triumph.
“Tasia,” Wyatt whispered.
“We have to see if she’s still alive,” Lacy said.
Ayela nodded, gesturing to three of her men to run ahead. They vanished into the jungle a moment later. It took the better part of an hour before the rest of the party reached her. She was sprawled out awkwardly in a trampled patch of jungle, blood staining her brilliant silver scales.
Wyatt ran to her, closing his eyes in relief when he felt warm breath at her snout.
“Tasia, how badly are you hurt?”
“Bad enough,” she said weakly. “The shade is protecting the witch. He left me to die slowly-said it would hurt more that way.”
“Can you transform into a woman again?” Ayela asked.
“To what end? I’m more vulnerable as a woman.”
“Yes, but we can care for you and shelter you as a woman. As a dragon, we can’t move you.”
“I guess I don’t really have much choice,” Tasia mumbled, closing her eyes and whispering words in some ancient tongue. A few moments later, she morphed into a woman, severely injured with a deep set of gashes across her side and one arm broken so badly that bones were protruding from her flesh. She gasped in pain and fell unconscious.
Ayela’s men were already busy preparing to carry her to safety, lashing several blankets to two stout poles they’d cut and stripped bare. Ayela knelt next to Tasia, examining her wounds before opening her bag and setting out several jars.
“This is going to take some time,” she said, “but it has to be done or she’ll die.”
“If the shade is protecting the witch, we’re going to need a plan before we do anything, anyway,” Wyatt said, kneeling next to her. “How can I help?”
“Help me roll her onto her back … carefully.”
Tasia moaned but didn’t wake. Ayela opened a jar of white powder and poured half its contents into the gashes along her side, packing it into the wounds. The bleeding began to subside as the powder mixed with blood and started to clot. Next she scooped out a generous dollop of salve made from deathwalker root and carefully applied it over the powder before dressing the wounds with clean bandages.
“That should keep her from bleeding to death,” Ayela said, turning to the broken arm and sprinkling some of her white clotting powder on it. “I’m glad she’s unconscious, because this is going to hurt a lot.”
She gently dabbed healing salve on the jagged ends of the protruding bones. Then she took a deep breath, seeming to settle her nerves.
“Sit beside her,” she said to Wyatt, “then put your foot into her armpit and take hold of her wrist. When I tell you to, pull her arm straight and don’t stop until I say so. We need to set the bones or she’ll heal wrong.”
Wyatt swallowed hard, but nodded, getting into position and looking to Ayela. She knelt beside the arm and examined the break closely one last time before nodding to herself.
“Wren, I need you to be ready with the clotting powder. Pour it onto the wound when I say, then hold the wound closed until the bleeding stops.”
Lacy watched with a mixture of horror and fascination as Ayela went to work. When she nodded to Wyatt, he began to pull gently but firmly, extending Tasia’s arm while Ayela guided the bones back into place, her delicate fingers reaching into the gashes, guiding the jagged ends back together. Blood flowed freely, dripping into the dirt. Tasia moaned.
“Slowly ease off the pressure,” Ayela said. Once Wyatt had released the arm and Ayela was satisfied that the bones were set as well as possible, she nodded to Wren and pulled her fingers from the wound.
Blood began to gush. Wren quickly dumped the jar of clotting powder onto the wound and covered it with her hands, trying to stem the flow of red while Ayela smeared some healing salve onto a bandage. On her order, Wren let go and Ayela quickly pressed the bandage into place, tying it firmly around Tasia’s arm. Blood seeped through but seemed to be subsiding. Ayela wrapped another bandage around the first and set the arm in a splint before her men carefully lifted Tasia onto the makeshift litter.
“She needs better care than I can give her,” Ayela said, worry in her voice.
“What more can we do for her?” Wyatt asked.
Ayela shook her head, shrugging helplessly. “Just take her someplace safe where she can heal.”
“If that’s all we can do, then that’s all we can do,” Wyatt said. “We’ll leave four of my men and two of yours to carry her to safety and tend to her until she heals.”
When they set out tracking Druja once again, it suddenly occurred to Lacy that she would probably be very dead right now if she had accompanied Tasia. A fact that reminded her yet again just how little power she had in comparison to her many enemies. And yet, here she was, surrounded by soldiers risking their lives in pursuit of her goals. It was a sobering thought that made her reconsider the nature of power itself. While she couldn’t hope to stand against Phane or Rankosi or Druja alone, she could build alliances and forge relationships that would bring allies to the battlefield in defense of their common interests.
Her mind wandered to thoughts of her father and his customary style of leadership. He always sought to include those with a stake in the outcome of an enterprise, whatever that may be, from delivering clean water to the people to establishing trade relations with neighboring territories. By presenting his interests honestly and without apology, he gained the trust and respect of those he dealt with. By respecting the interests of the other parties at the table, he earned their loyalty and friendship. While they walked, she tried to glean lessons from his many negotiations that she could apply to her current situation.
The trouble was, she faced threats greater than any he had ever faced, with the sole exception of his last stand against Zuhl-the outcome of which didn’t bode well for Lacy’s hopes that she could find a way to protect her people and the Seven Isles through alliances and negotiation alone.
A Ranger’s hasty appearance from out of the jungle brought her back to the present.
“We’re being followed,” he reported to Wyatt.
“How many?”
“Dozens, maybe more. They seem to be keeping their distance.”
Ayela sighed, shaking her head sadly. “It’s probably my brother.” She motioned for two of her men to fall back and confirm her suspicions.
“Do I need to be concerned?” Wyatt asked.
“I don’t think so,” Ayela said.
“I’m going to need more than that, Princess,” Wyatt said. “Is he a threat?”
“I don’t think so,” Ayela said, helplessly. “Ever since he brought that cursed bone back, he’s been paranoid and irrational, spending more and more time in the jungle with his most loyal soldiers.