“Inti has the power to heal,” Matt said. “But there’s too much for him to do on his own. People will want food and water. The physicians will need help with the stretchers. The questions can wait.”
Flint nodded. He took one last look at Jamie as if trying to work him out, then turned away.
Very quickly, the army had divided itself into different groups. Those who had not been hurt, or who had been hurt only a little, were helping those who had been less fortunate, carrying them to the field hospitals, bringing them water or just staying close by to comfort them. The dead were left where they had fallen. There was nothing that could be done for them: their one solace was that their suffering was over.
Jamie found work for himself, filling water bottles from a barrel that had been brought on a cart to the centre of the field, carrying them to those men and women who were unable to move and who had yet to receive help. The first person he came upon couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen, and it was clear that he wasn’t going to live much longer. His chest had been torn open and his face was white. And yet when he saw Jamie he smiled. As Jamie trickled water between his lips, he held onto his arm and seemed completely at peace. It was as if he had wanted to meet Jamie all his life and now that he had, he was prepared to die.
It was the same, time and time again. Jamie noticed Matt walking among the wounded, stopping to clasp a hand or to kneel down and help someone drink. Everyone in the field seemed to know who they were – which was strange because Jamie wasn’t sure he knew himself. He went back to get more water, wishing that the day was over and they could all sit down and talk.
On the next journey he found Scar and Finn.
By now, Jamie could tell almost at a glance who was going to live to talk about this day and who was not. He could see at once that Finn was dying. The big man was lying with his legs outstretched and his back against the stump of a tree. Scar was kneeling beside him and Inti was there too. Corian and Erin were also near by, watching anxiously. Jamie was relieved to see that neither of the brothers had been hurt.
Inti had been leaning forward with his hands resting on Finn’s shoulders but as Jamie approached he straightened up and glanced at Scar, signalling that there was nothing more he could do. Jamie could see why. Whatever Inti’s power, he had arrived too late. Finn had taken a terrible blow to the shoulder and lost too much blood. He was very close to the end.
Finn saw Jamie and managed to bend the fingers of one hand, gesturing at him to come closer. Jamie held out a water bottle but Finn shook his head. He no longer had the strength to swallow. Nor did he need to prolong what little life he had left.
“Sapling!” he said.
As Scar turned round and noticed him for the first time, Jamie saw that there were tears in her eyes.
“You did well.” Finn coughed and a few specks of blood flecked his lips. “I knew you would. Didn’t I tell you?”
Jamie nodded but couldn’t speak.
“Finn…” Scar began.
Finn took her hands in his. “You’re not to cry, Scar,” he whispered. “I’ve told you before. It’s not fitting.”
“How will I manage without you?” Scar exclaimed.
“Don’t be foolish. You have your friends. The Five…” Finn patted her hand. It was all the movement he could manage. “But we had adventures together, you and I. People will remember them and talk of them one day, perhaps.”
“Oh, Finn…” Scar couldn’t hold back the tears any more.
“You’re going to be on your own now. But you don’t need me any more. I’m not sure you ever did.” Finn reached up and gently stroked her hair one last time. “We won,” he said. “That’s all that matters.” Finn looked adoringly at her. Then his head fell back and Jamie knew that he would never speak again.
He couldn’t bear to see any more. He snatched up the water bottle and hurried away.
The day wore on, the sun set and at last all the activity began to wind down. The physicians had done what they could. The wounded were resting. And those that had been chosen to die had done so quietly and without complaint. Jamie was almost overwhelmed with tiredness. Part of it was the exhaustion of the fight and the long hours spent working once the battle was over. But he recognized that it was something more. It was a reaction to what he had been through – so much happening so quickly, so many deaths. He was emotionally as well as physically worn out.
That was when Flint returned. Jamie had wondered what had become of his brother – for he couldn’t think of him any other way – but suddenly Flint appeared riding on a horse-drawn wagon which was piled high with sacks and barrels. He had taken six men with him and they had all returned with similar wagons. They tore through the middle of the field and stopped. Flint leapt to his feet.
“We’ve found food!” he called out. “The overlords had a camp on the other side of the valley and of course they kept all the best supplies for themselves. We have bread and wine and cheese and dried meat and fruit. So light a fire. Tonight we’re going to eat well.”
About three hundred men, women and children had come through the battle unhurt. Hearing Flint’s words, they broke into cheers. Jamie joined in. He knew that if Scott had been here, he would have found the food. That was how he had always been, scavenging for himself and Jamie whenever anything was needed. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed to him that Scott and Flint were one and the same – just as he and Sapling were more or less identical. It was impossible, of course. But then so was everything else.
The survivors must have been as weary as Jamie but somehow they found new strength. First they made a great bonfire out of scattered weapons, branches from the forest and their own catapult, which they dismantled and fed to the flames. They spread out cloths and carpets in front of the tents. Then they unloaded the wagons and distributed the supplies, making sure the injured weren’t forgotten. Soon what had been a field of death suddenly became the scene of a huge open-air banquet beneath a sky full of stars.
A makeshift table with five folding stools had been set up slightly to one side for himself and the other Gatekeepers. He went over to it. Matt was already standing there, deep in conversation with Inti, but the two of them stopped as Jamie approached. Matt poured Jamie a bowl of wine and passed it across. Inti held out a hand.
“It’s good to be with you,” he said.
Then Flint and Scar arrived. If Scar had been grieving for the loss of Finn, she didn’t show it. She seemed to be in a bad mood. She plumped herself down on one of the stools, poured herself some wine, drank it, then poured some more.
Flint had sat next to Jamie. “Have you seen the stars?” he asked.
Jamie looked up. The whole universe was ablaze. “It’s a beautiful night,” he said.
“I’ve never seen the stars. All my life there have only been clouds.” He craned his neck, gazing into the night. “People used to say that the sky could look like this. But I never believed them.”
Matt sat down. He looked exhausted. Scar poured him a bowl of wine. It occurred to Jamie that the Five were together again. But for how long?
He had lost count of the number of people who had approached him during the day as he made his rounds with the water bottles, but as the feast began, the five of them were left alone. It was as if it had been decided that they should be allowed to rest and – Jamie reflected – they certainly deserved it. They drank more wine and ate soft cheese and some sort of meat with chunks of tough, chewy bread. Jamie was surprised to find he was ravenous.
In another part of the field someone began a tune, playing on a pipe, and a moment later two others joined in with a drum and some sort of single-stringed instrument. The flames from the bonfire leapt up, sparks twisting in the air.