“Destroy the very future of the tribes.” Joden spoke with a cold voice. “With a city-dweller affliction.”
“Joden?” His tone puzzled me. But Joden only gave me a curt nod, and then turned and left.
So the hours flowed, with no real sense of time. Warriors came and warriors died, and jars of fever’s foe and sleep-ease passed through my hands. I worked, slept when I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer, and ate when Marcus put food in front of me. There was an occasional glimpse of Keir, as he worked to keep his army together. Which is why I cannot say when Marcus appeared at the entrance to the stilltent, babe in hand, his face mottled and pale.
“Lara? She won’t eat.”
“Perhaps she’s finally noticed just how bad gurt tastes.” I kept my voice light as I moved to his side.
“I thought she was sleeping. I checked on her regularly, but she slept on. I didn’t think to touch her.”
I placed my hand on the babe’s forehead. The heat of her skin burned my fingertips. She didn’t open her eyes at my touch, just whimpered slightly.
“Goddess. The lake, Marcus. Now.”
Marcus turned and ran into the sunlight.
I grabbed a jar of fever’s foe and followed, gasping for air as I ran behind him. My legs trembled, but I forced them to move. Others raised their heads as we passed, curious.
Marcus never stopped. He splashed right into the lake, up to the waist, submerging himself and the babe in his arms. He was balancing her on one arm, stripping away her blanket and swaddles, letting them sink as I entered the water. I ran to him, the cold water pulling at my legs. The little one kept her eyes closed as the cold water hit her skin, but there was no cry, just a slight whimper. Hands trembling, I got a dab of the dark brown paste on my finger, and placed it in the babe’s mouth.
Those dark eyes opened, and hope blossomed in my chest. She looked so sad, but I held my breath, waiting for her to protest the taste of the medicine.
Instead, she hiccupped once and closed her eyes.
A crowd had gathered on the shore as word spread that the babe was ill. Marcus continued to bathe her, cupping water in his free hand and pouring it over her head. He held her carefully, keeping her eyes and nose above the waterline.
The sound of running feet brought my head up, and Is-dra burst through the crowd, splashing into the water. “Meara?” She asked as she came close.
“She’s sick.” Those were the only words I could force out. The babe lay so limp in Marcus’s arms, her entire body flushed, as if burned by the sun. Isdra, breathing hard, held her cold, wet hands to Meara’s cheeks. “She’s on fire.”
“Lotus?” Marcus asked.
I shook my head. “Not for babes. Too dangerous.”
I’d brought the feeding cup, and Isdra filled it with water, trying to get her to drink. But the little lips were limp, and she did not swallow.
“Here, let me try.” Marcus switched Meara into Isdra’s arms. The wet tip of Isdra’s braid, Meara’s favorite toy, brushed against her cheek. Meara opened her eyes to look at Isdra. The woman warrior crooned to her. “You’ll be fine, little one.”
Meara closed her eyes, hiccuped and drew a last breath.
I knew, oh Goddess, I knew. One so small, so tiny. I reached out and grabbed Marcus’s arm as he lifted the feeding cup. He looked up startled, staring into my face as I shook my head, unable to speak the words. Then he knew as well, and the pain tore though him. “Skies, no.” He raised his head, and let out an anguished cry.
Isdra threw her head back as well, wailing to the skies.
An answering lament rose from the shore. The crowd that had gathered raised their voices as one, sending a mournful cry like I had never heard into the air. For all the warriors that had died, I’d seen no outward grief. But for a tiny baby of a Xyian village, these hardened warriors raised their voices in sorrow, tears in their eyes.
But the sight of Marcus’s head thrown back, his neck taut, his pain raw filled my soul with rage. I snatched Meara from Isdra’s arms and flipped her over, cradling her chest in one hand. “No, no, no.” I denied this was happening even as I slapped my hand down on her tiny back. This can’t happen, I won’t let it happen, Goddess, please, Skies, please.
I struck her again, and again, turning as Marcus reached to stop me, calling out to any power that would hear, begging—
Meara took a breath.
I froze as I felt the movement of her chest, holding my own breath as I waited for more, turning again to avoid Isdra, hoping—
Meara took another breath, and then my heart leapt as a cry, a wonderful, angry cry filled the air.
Isdra and Marcus were beside me, and helped me lift
Meara up onto my shoulder, crying and coughing and spitting her outrage.
Joyous voices rose from the beach, and we staggered back through the water, supporting each other. Many hands reached out to help us as we drew near, pulling us onto the shore, taking great care not to disturb the crying babe in my arms. As one, we sank to our knees, as those around us knelt as well. I lay my head on Isdra’s shoulder, crying, as Meara’s keening continued and the crowd swirled around us.
Meara was furious, her eyelashes thick and dark with tears. Someone handed us a drying cloth, and Isdra took the babe to get her dry. I reached to cradle her cold foot in the palm of my hand, trying to warm her perfect little toes, never so happy to hear a baby cry. With one arm around Isdra’s shoulders, I closed my eyes, and we rocked her gently. Just a babe, the last of her village, whose name I’d lost. The scent of lavender still lingered on her skin. So close, so very close.
What’s a babe, amidst all the dead about us? Yet all hovered about, enjoying the miracle of a child almost lost to us. I drew a ragged breath, wishing I could voice my joy. But I was so exhausted, all I could do was lean against Isdra, and try to stifle my sobs.
“So this is what comes, of being accursed.” Iften’s voice cut through my sorrow. He was standing there, outside the mourners, his hands on his hips. “This city-dweller’s filth threatens children.”
Marcus glared at him. “We are not accursed.”
“Cover yourself, cripple.” Iften’s lip curled in a sneer. “You offend the skies, and the very waters of this lake.”
I caught my breath, expecting an explosion. But Mar-cus flinched back, and sagged to the ground, flinging one arm up over his head.
“We are not accursed.” Isdra spat. “It is an illness, as the Warprize has said.”
There was a rustle in the crowd about us, and from nowhere a cloak appeared. Marcus grabbed for it, and was soon wrapped in its folds. He said nothing.
“As the Warprize has said.” Iften scoffed, pointing off in the distance to the smoke rising on the horizon. “Such a comfort, her brave words. But one less body to add to her tally, eh? One more she sickened so she could claim to have healed?”
Marcus struggled to his feet, but I grabbed his arm, holding him back. Isdra glared at Iften, clutching the babe to her shoulder.
“For myself, I will offer to the elements to protect what is left of this army. And leave you to your business.” Iften turned, and stalked off.
Marcus collapsed back onto the ground, and I leaned into him. He wrapped his arm around me, sharing his cloak. We sat in silence for long moments, the crowd about us quiet, as if in shock.
Warm hands touched mine and I turned my head to find Ortis kneeling next to me, that huge, lumbering man with the deep voice. His hands were a warm contrast to mine. “Joden is not here. May I do the honor?”
I didn’t know what he meant, but Marcus and Isdra both nodded, so I did too. Ortis sat back on his heels, and spoke. “The fire warms you.”
The crowd responded, their voice in such unison that it raised the hairs on the back of my neck. “We thank the elements.”
“The earth supports you.” Ortis said, his voice a bit louder and stronger.