Reflections of a Friend
By TSS
Disclaimer: See First Chapter.
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CHAPTER THREE: The Healer
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PRESENT
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Ardeth Bay found that he could not leave Adira, he was far too worried about her to even think of it. She had not made a move towards waking, but lay as still as if she were dead. Again and again he had to check that her heart was still beating, and that she still breathed.
Feeling ashamed to witness this side of their tiger-like leader, the other Med-jai stayed away, allowing Ardeth to keep his vigil as they waited to the physician from the Hidden City to come. He paced by her side, or would merely sit and stare at her as he prayed. Never had Ardeth been in such a frenzied state of mind, and none could understand why he would be so now.
Unless the rumors were true....
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PAST, 22 Years
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Adira and Kaliq, while far from getting along, were at least tolerating one another. It had been three years after that day of introduction, and there was an uneasy period of peace between the three of them.
Serving as a middle man, Ardeth managed to stay neutral. He did not understand the hostile attitude the other young man harbored, and feared that it might lead to trouble. But the side of him that his father called "weak" was determined to give Kaliq the benefit of the doubt. And now, with Adira growing strong in combat, Ardeth did not think it would be long until she won the respect of any who doubted her.
Dressed all in black, garbed like a boy, it was difficult to tell that Kaliq was even a female. She had a small, lithe form and handled herself with an inner dignity that was slightly different from the other young warriors, but her skill with the light sword, daggers, and even a fairly accurate aim with the fire-arms, distracted from any feminine characteristics she picked up.
At eleven years old, Adira had managed to even impress Hamdun Bay, commander of the Med-jai, and had earned a place of honor at the family table. Ardeth found that the younger child's company was pleasant, and got along well with her. The continuous, cruel tongue of Kaliq was a harsh contrast, and Ardeth's friendship with the other boy began to dim.
Kaliq noticed.
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PRESENT
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Ibrahim Makeen, the greatest physician among the Med-jai, had at last arrived. Many warriors were pleased to see him at last, as he so gathered by the hopeful look in their eyes when he and his apprentices rode into the camp. His students quickly dispersed themselves to go to the men, as Ibrahim was about to do, when Bashshar came to him in great haste.
"My lord healer," Bashshar greeted, his face stony. "It is good you have come. We have one who is in great need of your skills."
The old healer nodded, and followed the younger warrior towards the center of the camp. Towards the place where the commander's tent had been set up. "Surely," Ibrahim said in surprise, "Ardeth has not fallen!"
"No, but the one dearest to him has," Bashshar commented, his own grief apparent. All of the Med-jai in Ardeth's tribe had met Adira, and had come to know her well when fighting by her side. "Adira Manara came to battle, against his command."
"I am not surprised, that girl was always a free spirit," Ibrahim murmured. "How is he taking it?"
"He has not left her side," Bashshar responded, wondering how the old man could ask such a question. "Surely you know how close they are! They are inseparable."
"True." Ibrahim sighed. "What is her injury?"
"She has lost a great deal of blood from a stomach and shoulder wound, and she has been unconscious ever since we found her on the battle grounds." Bashshar pulled aside the tent flap, peering inside at his commander. Ardeth was bent over Adira, offering up another prayer to Allah.
The healer walked inside, motioning for Bashshar to leave. He came and knelt by the woman's side, ignoring Ardeth, and began to devest her. Ardeth looked up from his prayer in surprise, opened his mouth as if to speak, but was silenced by one harsh look from Ibrahim. "A commander, no matter how dear one warrior is to him, should not forget the others who fall under his eye."
The reproach was harsh, and it stung Ardeth greatly. He recoiled from Ibrahim, staring at him in shock. "None have been wounded as badly as she--"
"But there are wounded, and there are those who have died," Ibrahim interrupted, his eyes dark. "Your father raised you to be a better leader then that, Ardeth, and you have learned better then this. Now leave this tent, see to the others, look into the haunted eyes of your men, and then return to your personal worries."
Aghast, Ardeth came to his feet, tempted to argue with the old man. But, looking down at the horribly wounded Adira, he realized he had no choice if he was going to grant her the modesty she deserved. Furious, Ardeth left the tent, nearly knocking aside the warriors who came into his path as he marched to the oasis to get a drink of the water. His mind, however, was sharp, and he took in the other men as he went.
Their eyes were full of grief and pain, which they tried to hide when their commander strode by, and those who were wounded sat quietly, eyes blank, as they were treated. Guilt settled into the pit of Ardeth's stomach, he closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. His anger was gone, his compassion now filled him. Coming slowly to his feet, Ardeth began to go from man to man, concern evident in his eyes and tone as he talked to each of them of their wounds, whether emotional or physical.
Ibrahim saw this, when he called for someone to bring him water and stuck his head out of the tent to accept it. A smile lit his old eyes for a moment, then he became serious once more as he attended to the woman who lay unconscious. "Adira," he murmured, "little one, you have truly served under a great man. Now, please stay a little longer, I am afraid he still needs you."
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Off to camp! Enjoy the story! Reviews, remember, are a girl's best friend.
