Chap 7
Medjai Healer Oath
Upon my heart and in the presence of Allah, I make this vow before my people, that according to my ability and judgment I will keep this oath:
As a healer I vow to ease suffering, heal the sick and wounded, bring comfort to those who are in need,
to maintain the best quality of life and to honor my ancestral sister healers before me, learning the wisdom they have passed down from generation to generation.
I will not take a life willingly unless my peers determine there is no alternative and will continue with diligence to keep informed of advances in medicine.
I will treat without exception all that seek my ministrations, so long as the treatment of others is not compromised.
To maintain the utmost respect for all human life from the first spark of creation to natural death, I take this oath with the blessing of Allah and will uphold my vow until my own departure
~*~
Asiya watched the helpers leave the compound and felt another wave of sorrow wash over her heart. She turned around and saw Is'af and Na'ima walk into the building, her heart heavy with the knowledge that inside, there was a man who had died a senseless death. A death she would readily admit she would never condone, although she knew of the warrior's oath and having taken one herself, could understand the willingness to die to preserve the Medjai beliefs.
Knowing the two women were more than capable of starting the preparations, she was about to return to her quarters when Na'ima came running over to her side.
"Is'af and I need you," she said breathlessly and tugged on Asiya's sleeve.
"Why? Surely you both have the knowledge to perform the rituals."
"It's not that," Na'ima urged. "Please hurry."
And they both ran inside the building where Asiya found Is'af standing away from the body, her eyes round with surprise. Something had obviously frightened the healer.
"Is'af? What is the matter?" Asiya asked.
The other woman simply pointed to the body and as if on cue, a low, guttural moan issued from its parched lips and chilled the soul, making the healers petition Allah with prayers for protection.
Asiya felt Na'ima cling to her arm as it became quite apparent that Sued was wrong.
The warrior was alive.
~*~
The healers had discarded the warrior's weapons, robes and left him in the loose fitting pants for modesty's sake as they cleaned the numerous cuts on his body. Asiya cleaned the narrow bloody path left from a bullet on the top of one shoulder but still couldn't find the source of his fever. They all felt it as they tended to him, for it radiated off his body and concerned Asiya. If the source of the infection causing the fever wasn't found soon, they would surely lose him in the end.
"This makes no sense," she muttered and paced around the table while Is'af and Na'ima waited further instructions. "There has to be a wound lower."
"Abdul-Nasir usually tends to those injuries," Is'af said.
"Agreed but he's not here," Asiya countered. "Would you let this man die because we were afraid to remove his pants?"
Na'ima stepped forward. "I am not afraid but suggest we only cut off a portion of the fabric, leaving the rest of him covered."
Moments later, after splitting the pants open on both legs from upper thigh to mid calf they found the cause of the fever, a raging infection on one muscular thigh; a recent wound.
Asiya sighed with relief for now she understood and could treat his illness appropriately. Quickly she called for a kettle of hot water, a stack of clean bandages and a poultice made of elm, wormwood and powdered charcoal. She asked Is'af to make a drink out of the rind of a pomegranate to help the warrior's body rid itself of the fever and the last step was to tie the warrior's hands to the table, to decrease his thrashing about when Asiya started the cleansing. A quick slice of her dagger opened the puffy skin and yellowish fluid slowly started to drain out.
"Again, this makes no sense," she murmured as she bent close to examine it. "See the other marks here and here? Someone else has been trying to heal this man."
"And not very effectively," Is'af dryly observed.
Asiya dipped a bandage into the hot water and glanced over to the other women, hesitating to start the painful process of flushing out the wound.
"Are we ready?" She asked, poised with the steaming material over the thigh, her hands red and stinging from the hot water. Both healers nodded and each pushed down on one shoulder as Asiya flipped the cloth onto the thigh. His reaction was swift and instinctive, his body jerked away from the branding heat of the cloth, an agonized cry ripped from his throat and his hands pulled against their restraints. Each time Asiya cleaned the wound with another hot bandage, wiping away dead skin and infection, the warrior cried out and twisted in agony until his struggles grew weaker. At last, when the wound bled true and free of any contamination, Asiya finally stopped and he sagged back down into oblivion.
All three healers sighed with relief for the hardest part was over, and Asiya bent closer to study the injury. She was certain there was something more to it and was surprised that his own tribal healers had done such an inept job at healing him. Frowning, she noted the size and jagged edges of the skin.
"Looks like an arrow wound to me," Na'ima said as she too leaned in for a closer look.
Is'af also peered over to give her opinion. "Perhaps there is something still in it, for what else could have caused this illness?"
Asiya nodded her head and as gently but as firmly as possible, she pried it open and asked for someone to bring a light closer to help with the examination. Using a small, curved knife, she began probing the wound, acting on instinct rather than fact. She had a particular look on her face indicating the stubborn set of her mind and the two women patiently waited for her conclusions. She grimaced when she heard the warrior moan in agony, briefly closed her eyes against the knowledge she was inflicting further pain as more blood began to seep down his leg and onto the floor, drop by precious life-giving drop. Asiya was ready to stop but suddenly saw a small black object lodged almost down to the bone. Head bent closer, shoulders hunched over, hands slick with blood, she wielded her knife with delicate precision until at last the object pulled free.
"Na'ima, flush this out, quickly."
A moment later, as the remaining water poured over the area, the object floated free and Asiya caught it with her fingers. She held it up for observation and all agreed, it was the tip of an arrow.
"Well." Asiya sighed. "Now that makes sense."
~*~
Quadamah and his warriors arrived back at his village near sunset, the pounding of the horses' hooves sounding like muffled thunder as they rode through the streets. They came to an abrupt stop in a cloud of dust and the commander dismounted, barking terse orders to his men.
"Lu'ay, get the wounded inside. Then send out two patrols and four scouts, I want the perimeter under watch immediately in case of attack." Quadamah ordered and his warriors rushed to do his bidding.
"What of the American?" Lu'ay asked, gesturing towards the unconscious body.
The Commander didn't hesitate. "Bring him inside with the others and tell Sofian I ask for him to personally treat O'Connell."
"Aiwa sayiidi."
"Tamim." The commander called over another warrior, a suspicion already forming in his mind about the ambush earlier today. On the ride to the settlement of the Fourth, several of Nabil's men had told him of the enemy's knowledge and precise timing of their attacks, as if already knowing the details of the exchange.
"Send out messages to all the tribes but do not use our courier. Chose whatever warriors you need but tell them of our losses. Commander Nabil has been captured and we've lost Commander Bay."
"May Allah have mercy on his soul," the warrior murmured sadly and quickly left to send the messages.
Quadamah walked into the main room of the building, but before he could question about the condition of some of the men, Sofian intercepted him.
"You ask too much of me."
Quadamah sighed. "What have I asked, healer?"
The man gestured to the cot where O'Connell lay, the huge frame hanging slightly over the edges, the white fabric of his shirt stained scarlet from his wounded shoulder. "I am to treat the American?"
"Yes."
Sofian snorted with disbelief. "He is a foreigner, the one partially responsible for raising the priest and probably responsible for the death of our warriors. How can I treat him?"
Quadamah suddenly grabbed the healer's robe in clenched fists and hauled him up. "Then let me revise my order; I don't ask for your aid, I demand it. While you may have your own reasons for not treating O'Connell, the greater good would be for him to recover. He was a friend of Ardeth's and has proven his worth, to me and to those who fought earlier today." The robes were abruptly released and Sofian stumbled backwards.
"Perhaps I was hasty in my judgment." The healer straightened his clothing and took a shaky breath.
"Perhaps."
Over the next few hours, Quadamah stayed to help the healers with the men, and personally held down O'Connell while Sofian dug out the bullet from his shoulder. Only when the American's wound had been treated and dressed, did he allow himself a reprieve and stumbled in exhaustion from the building around midnight.
He walked back to his home and noted with relief the light coming from the interior. His wife, Yasmine had stayed up waiting for him and as soon as he walked over the threshold, he was enveloped into her loving embrace. The weary commander finally let the events of the day past out of his soul and into the warmth of his wife's love. It was absorbed without question, silent and compassionate until finally the warrior was taken to bed.
~*~
The healers had spent most of the night by the warrior's side, taking turns as they fought the infection induced fever that raged through his body. They had decided to leave him in the preparation room as a precaution with his bouts of delirium, his hands still tied in the restraints as he relived the countless nightmares in his mind. Eventually he quieted down only after getting another light dose of the pomegranate concoction laced with some laudanum but, his skin still shone with an unnatural sheen, evidence of the persistent high fever. At dusk, they moved him into one of the smaller chambers in the main building and Na'ima had agreed to take first watch for the next few hours, Is'af was to relieve her in four and Asiya's turn would be near dawn.
The elder healer took advantage of the break, changing out of her soiled robes to eat and quickly bathe. She sent one Solman, one of the old sentries for the compound, to Cairo with a message for Sued and alerted the other, Ma'mun that she would be retiring for a few hours and to awake her if there were any problems.
It seemed she had just laid her weary body to rest on her sleeping pallet when she heard the terrified scream of Is'af followed by a loud crash. Asiya jumped up and flew out of her room, having no regard for her present state of undress and hurried down the corridor where she met up with Ma'mun and Na'ima, who were both standing in the chamber's doorway in shock. She pushed past them, flew into the room, and pulled up short, surprised by the scene that greeted her.
"Is'af, what happened?" She asked.
The healer was backed up against the far wall, cornered by the partially clad warrior, who was very much awake and brandishing a small dagger with deadly accuracy. His eyes were wild and glittering with fever, his hand shaking as he spun away from Is'af to greet the new threat that suddenly appeared in his fevered brain. His raven colored hair was plastered to his hot skin and he looked savage and predatory.
"He cut me with my knife," Is'af wailed, holding one hand cradled against her chest. "He just woke up and lunged at me, I tried to stop him and that's when he grabbed it."
Ma'mun did what he had been trained for and raised his weapon, pulling back the hammer on the ancient pistol, aiming at the warrior and intent on protecting Is'af.
"No!" Asiya cried and pulled the gun down. "Wait, listen to me. Let me try something, please."
With her hands raised palms upwards, she slowly advanced on the warrior, alternating between a soft chant and a whispered plea.
"Shhh, it's all right, no one will hurt you now…it's all right, we're here to help you," she said over and over, advancing a step at a time in tune with the beat of her heart. "Please give me the knife."
His eyes darted nervously between Ma'mun and Asiya and he did what came instinctively, he crouched into a fighting position, forgetting his injured thigh. When it couldn't comply with his demand, still too weak for the muscles to obey, he half fell to the floor and stayed down for a moment, hands on the ground, before he could gather any strength and try once more. He fell for a second time and smacked his hand on the floor in frustration and agony, as the pain he must have felt from the still healing wound coursed through his body. He fought back the tears gathered in his eyes and tried to stand once more, only to fail.
He plunged to the ground but stayed on all fours, dark head hung low, lungs heaving from the exertion, his battle hardened body for once failing at what he demanded it to do.
He tried to rise but lacked the strength to move and he voiced his anguish in a long moan through clenched teeth.
"It's all right, it's all right," Asiya said in an antiphonal chant as she finally reached his side and with one quick motion, grabbed the knife and flung it away from his hand. Disarmed and startled, he fell onto his side and tried to crawl away from the healer, his face showing a grief so raw Asiya felt her own tears gather in her eyes.
"No, no, no," he moaned over and over again. "I have to go and save her, I tried to reach her but I couldn't do it. I must save her."
"What is he saying?" Asiya heard Is'af ask and she barked out a command for everyone to leave.
"I will handle this," she ordered and emphasized it with a wave of her hand. "Ma'mun, take them and get out now. If I want anyone, I will call."
She stayed focused on the warrior as she heard everyone slowly leave the room, Na'ima offering to tend to Is'af's hand, and Ma'mun hesitating in the doorway before he left.
"If you need me…" She heard him offer in a low voice, but she didn't dare acknowledge it. Instead, she stared at the warrior who was now curled up almost in a fetal position, moaning a name she couldn't quite catch. And swallowing hard against her own fear, she knelt down and reached out, gently touching his hot shoulder.
He flinched in response.
"It's all right," she whispered again and scooted closer, slowly uncurling him and pulling his unresisting body into her lap. "It's all right."
"No, I needed to save her, she … needed me to come and get her and I couldn't…because of me she died," he whispered and moaned again as memories washed over him, that she could see were clearly etched in his mind and heart and would be with him until the day he died.
Asiya held onto the warrior tighter, like a mother rocking a child to sleep as her hand gently smoothed back the hair from his face. She didn't know what to say, to help ease his suffering so all she could offer was the comfort and warmth of her arms.
~*~
Gradually he relaxed in her embrace, his face losing the savagery and tension, his body slowly unwinding as he tentatively reached up with his own arms and held onto the softness that was offered. How long had it been to have been held like this? To feel skin as soft as silk against his own, to feel the suppleness of a woman's body pressed close to his, the contrast of hard against soft. His hands crept up her arms until they gently held onto her shoulders and he pulled himself deeper into her embrace, his head almost nestled against her breasts and he couldn't help but sigh deeply.
Either a reality or hallucination, he wasn't sure, he just knew he couldn't resist it and he closed his eyes, praying the nightmarish images wouldn't be there to plague him.
Instead he saw a face, oval in shape with high cheekbones, delicately arched eyebrows and deep, mysterious eyes that captured him with their intensity. He saw the strong, supple hands tend to him, heal and finally hold him and he opened his eyes to gaze up at his savior.
"Warrior?" asked a sensual, husky voice.
"Healer," he replied in a weak and unused voice.
~*~
A smile tugged at Asiya's mouth and she decided, for the moment, to stay and sit with him, although it wasn't at all proper and probably violating one of the oaths she had taken as a healer. Abdul-Nasir had warned his protégée's not to become involved with patients, especially the warriors, for such flirtation with men who kill could end up costing a healer what was valued most – the ability to preserve life. She shifted her weight and tightened her arms around him and he allowed himself to completely give himself over to her, as trusting as a child. Within moments, he was fast asleep and Asiya leaned against the wall, her own fatigue finally catching up with her.
They stayed that way for the remainder of the night, two halves completing a whole, the scales that weighed their hearts – together – finding a perfect balance.
Medjai Healer Oath
Upon my heart and in the presence of Allah, I make this vow before my people, that according to my ability and judgment I will keep this oath:
As a healer I vow to ease suffering, heal the sick and wounded, bring comfort to those who are in need,
to maintain the best quality of life and to honor my ancestral sister healers before me, learning the wisdom they have passed down from generation to generation.
I will not take a life willingly unless my peers determine there is no alternative and will continue with diligence to keep informed of advances in medicine.
I will treat without exception all that seek my ministrations, so long as the treatment of others is not compromised.
To maintain the utmost respect for all human life from the first spark of creation to natural death, I take this oath with the blessing of Allah and will uphold my vow until my own departure
~*~
Asiya watched the helpers leave the compound and felt another wave of sorrow wash over her heart. She turned around and saw Is'af and Na'ima walk into the building, her heart heavy with the knowledge that inside, there was a man who had died a senseless death. A death she would readily admit she would never condone, although she knew of the warrior's oath and having taken one herself, could understand the willingness to die to preserve the Medjai beliefs.
Knowing the two women were more than capable of starting the preparations, she was about to return to her quarters when Na'ima came running over to her side.
"Is'af and I need you," she said breathlessly and tugged on Asiya's sleeve.
"Why? Surely you both have the knowledge to perform the rituals."
"It's not that," Na'ima urged. "Please hurry."
And they both ran inside the building where Asiya found Is'af standing away from the body, her eyes round with surprise. Something had obviously frightened the healer.
"Is'af? What is the matter?" Asiya asked.
The other woman simply pointed to the body and as if on cue, a low, guttural moan issued from its parched lips and chilled the soul, making the healers petition Allah with prayers for protection.
Asiya felt Na'ima cling to her arm as it became quite apparent that Sued was wrong.
The warrior was alive.
~*~
The healers had discarded the warrior's weapons, robes and left him in the loose fitting pants for modesty's sake as they cleaned the numerous cuts on his body. Asiya cleaned the narrow bloody path left from a bullet on the top of one shoulder but still couldn't find the source of his fever. They all felt it as they tended to him, for it radiated off his body and concerned Asiya. If the source of the infection causing the fever wasn't found soon, they would surely lose him in the end.
"This makes no sense," she muttered and paced around the table while Is'af and Na'ima waited further instructions. "There has to be a wound lower."
"Abdul-Nasir usually tends to those injuries," Is'af said.
"Agreed but he's not here," Asiya countered. "Would you let this man die because we were afraid to remove his pants?"
Na'ima stepped forward. "I am not afraid but suggest we only cut off a portion of the fabric, leaving the rest of him covered."
Moments later, after splitting the pants open on both legs from upper thigh to mid calf they found the cause of the fever, a raging infection on one muscular thigh; a recent wound.
Asiya sighed with relief for now she understood and could treat his illness appropriately. Quickly she called for a kettle of hot water, a stack of clean bandages and a poultice made of elm, wormwood and powdered charcoal. She asked Is'af to make a drink out of the rind of a pomegranate to help the warrior's body rid itself of the fever and the last step was to tie the warrior's hands to the table, to decrease his thrashing about when Asiya started the cleansing. A quick slice of her dagger opened the puffy skin and yellowish fluid slowly started to drain out.
"Again, this makes no sense," she murmured as she bent close to examine it. "See the other marks here and here? Someone else has been trying to heal this man."
"And not very effectively," Is'af dryly observed.
Asiya dipped a bandage into the hot water and glanced over to the other women, hesitating to start the painful process of flushing out the wound.
"Are we ready?" She asked, poised with the steaming material over the thigh, her hands red and stinging from the hot water. Both healers nodded and each pushed down on one shoulder as Asiya flipped the cloth onto the thigh. His reaction was swift and instinctive, his body jerked away from the branding heat of the cloth, an agonized cry ripped from his throat and his hands pulled against their restraints. Each time Asiya cleaned the wound with another hot bandage, wiping away dead skin and infection, the warrior cried out and twisted in agony until his struggles grew weaker. At last, when the wound bled true and free of any contamination, Asiya finally stopped and he sagged back down into oblivion.
All three healers sighed with relief for the hardest part was over, and Asiya bent closer to study the injury. She was certain there was something more to it and was surprised that his own tribal healers had done such an inept job at healing him. Frowning, she noted the size and jagged edges of the skin.
"Looks like an arrow wound to me," Na'ima said as she too leaned in for a closer look.
Is'af also peered over to give her opinion. "Perhaps there is something still in it, for what else could have caused this illness?"
Asiya nodded her head and as gently but as firmly as possible, she pried it open and asked for someone to bring a light closer to help with the examination. Using a small, curved knife, she began probing the wound, acting on instinct rather than fact. She had a particular look on her face indicating the stubborn set of her mind and the two women patiently waited for her conclusions. She grimaced when she heard the warrior moan in agony, briefly closed her eyes against the knowledge she was inflicting further pain as more blood began to seep down his leg and onto the floor, drop by precious life-giving drop. Asiya was ready to stop but suddenly saw a small black object lodged almost down to the bone. Head bent closer, shoulders hunched over, hands slick with blood, she wielded her knife with delicate precision until at last the object pulled free.
"Na'ima, flush this out, quickly."
A moment later, as the remaining water poured over the area, the object floated free and Asiya caught it with her fingers. She held it up for observation and all agreed, it was the tip of an arrow.
"Well." Asiya sighed. "Now that makes sense."
~*~
Quadamah and his warriors arrived back at his village near sunset, the pounding of the horses' hooves sounding like muffled thunder as they rode through the streets. They came to an abrupt stop in a cloud of dust and the commander dismounted, barking terse orders to his men.
"Lu'ay, get the wounded inside. Then send out two patrols and four scouts, I want the perimeter under watch immediately in case of attack." Quadamah ordered and his warriors rushed to do his bidding.
"What of the American?" Lu'ay asked, gesturing towards the unconscious body.
The Commander didn't hesitate. "Bring him inside with the others and tell Sofian I ask for him to personally treat O'Connell."
"Aiwa sayiidi."
"Tamim." The commander called over another warrior, a suspicion already forming in his mind about the ambush earlier today. On the ride to the settlement of the Fourth, several of Nabil's men had told him of the enemy's knowledge and precise timing of their attacks, as if already knowing the details of the exchange.
"Send out messages to all the tribes but do not use our courier. Chose whatever warriors you need but tell them of our losses. Commander Nabil has been captured and we've lost Commander Bay."
"May Allah have mercy on his soul," the warrior murmured sadly and quickly left to send the messages.
Quadamah walked into the main room of the building, but before he could question about the condition of some of the men, Sofian intercepted him.
"You ask too much of me."
Quadamah sighed. "What have I asked, healer?"
The man gestured to the cot where O'Connell lay, the huge frame hanging slightly over the edges, the white fabric of his shirt stained scarlet from his wounded shoulder. "I am to treat the American?"
"Yes."
Sofian snorted with disbelief. "He is a foreigner, the one partially responsible for raising the priest and probably responsible for the death of our warriors. How can I treat him?"
Quadamah suddenly grabbed the healer's robe in clenched fists and hauled him up. "Then let me revise my order; I don't ask for your aid, I demand it. While you may have your own reasons for not treating O'Connell, the greater good would be for him to recover. He was a friend of Ardeth's and has proven his worth, to me and to those who fought earlier today." The robes were abruptly released and Sofian stumbled backwards.
"Perhaps I was hasty in my judgment." The healer straightened his clothing and took a shaky breath.
"Perhaps."
Over the next few hours, Quadamah stayed to help the healers with the men, and personally held down O'Connell while Sofian dug out the bullet from his shoulder. Only when the American's wound had been treated and dressed, did he allow himself a reprieve and stumbled in exhaustion from the building around midnight.
He walked back to his home and noted with relief the light coming from the interior. His wife, Yasmine had stayed up waiting for him and as soon as he walked over the threshold, he was enveloped into her loving embrace. The weary commander finally let the events of the day past out of his soul and into the warmth of his wife's love. It was absorbed without question, silent and compassionate until finally the warrior was taken to bed.
~*~
The healers had spent most of the night by the warrior's side, taking turns as they fought the infection induced fever that raged through his body. They had decided to leave him in the preparation room as a precaution with his bouts of delirium, his hands still tied in the restraints as he relived the countless nightmares in his mind. Eventually he quieted down only after getting another light dose of the pomegranate concoction laced with some laudanum but, his skin still shone with an unnatural sheen, evidence of the persistent high fever. At dusk, they moved him into one of the smaller chambers in the main building and Na'ima had agreed to take first watch for the next few hours, Is'af was to relieve her in four and Asiya's turn would be near dawn.
The elder healer took advantage of the break, changing out of her soiled robes to eat and quickly bathe. She sent one Solman, one of the old sentries for the compound, to Cairo with a message for Sued and alerted the other, Ma'mun that she would be retiring for a few hours and to awake her if there were any problems.
It seemed she had just laid her weary body to rest on her sleeping pallet when she heard the terrified scream of Is'af followed by a loud crash. Asiya jumped up and flew out of her room, having no regard for her present state of undress and hurried down the corridor where she met up with Ma'mun and Na'ima, who were both standing in the chamber's doorway in shock. She pushed past them, flew into the room, and pulled up short, surprised by the scene that greeted her.
"Is'af, what happened?" She asked.
The healer was backed up against the far wall, cornered by the partially clad warrior, who was very much awake and brandishing a small dagger with deadly accuracy. His eyes were wild and glittering with fever, his hand shaking as he spun away from Is'af to greet the new threat that suddenly appeared in his fevered brain. His raven colored hair was plastered to his hot skin and he looked savage and predatory.
"He cut me with my knife," Is'af wailed, holding one hand cradled against her chest. "He just woke up and lunged at me, I tried to stop him and that's when he grabbed it."
Ma'mun did what he had been trained for and raised his weapon, pulling back the hammer on the ancient pistol, aiming at the warrior and intent on protecting Is'af.
"No!" Asiya cried and pulled the gun down. "Wait, listen to me. Let me try something, please."
With her hands raised palms upwards, she slowly advanced on the warrior, alternating between a soft chant and a whispered plea.
"Shhh, it's all right, no one will hurt you now…it's all right, we're here to help you," she said over and over, advancing a step at a time in tune with the beat of her heart. "Please give me the knife."
His eyes darted nervously between Ma'mun and Asiya and he did what came instinctively, he crouched into a fighting position, forgetting his injured thigh. When it couldn't comply with his demand, still too weak for the muscles to obey, he half fell to the floor and stayed down for a moment, hands on the ground, before he could gather any strength and try once more. He fell for a second time and smacked his hand on the floor in frustration and agony, as the pain he must have felt from the still healing wound coursed through his body. He fought back the tears gathered in his eyes and tried to stand once more, only to fail.
He plunged to the ground but stayed on all fours, dark head hung low, lungs heaving from the exertion, his battle hardened body for once failing at what he demanded it to do.
He tried to rise but lacked the strength to move and he voiced his anguish in a long moan through clenched teeth.
"It's all right, it's all right," Asiya said in an antiphonal chant as she finally reached his side and with one quick motion, grabbed the knife and flung it away from his hand. Disarmed and startled, he fell onto his side and tried to crawl away from the healer, his face showing a grief so raw Asiya felt her own tears gather in her eyes.
"No, no, no," he moaned over and over again. "I have to go and save her, I tried to reach her but I couldn't do it. I must save her."
"What is he saying?" Asiya heard Is'af ask and she barked out a command for everyone to leave.
"I will handle this," she ordered and emphasized it with a wave of her hand. "Ma'mun, take them and get out now. If I want anyone, I will call."
She stayed focused on the warrior as she heard everyone slowly leave the room, Na'ima offering to tend to Is'af's hand, and Ma'mun hesitating in the doorway before he left.
"If you need me…" She heard him offer in a low voice, but she didn't dare acknowledge it. Instead, she stared at the warrior who was now curled up almost in a fetal position, moaning a name she couldn't quite catch. And swallowing hard against her own fear, she knelt down and reached out, gently touching his hot shoulder.
He flinched in response.
"It's all right," she whispered again and scooted closer, slowly uncurling him and pulling his unresisting body into her lap. "It's all right."
"No, I needed to save her, she … needed me to come and get her and I couldn't…because of me she died," he whispered and moaned again as memories washed over him, that she could see were clearly etched in his mind and heart and would be with him until the day he died.
Asiya held onto the warrior tighter, like a mother rocking a child to sleep as her hand gently smoothed back the hair from his face. She didn't know what to say, to help ease his suffering so all she could offer was the comfort and warmth of her arms.
~*~
Gradually he relaxed in her embrace, his face losing the savagery and tension, his body slowly unwinding as he tentatively reached up with his own arms and held onto the softness that was offered. How long had it been to have been held like this? To feel skin as soft as silk against his own, to feel the suppleness of a woman's body pressed close to his, the contrast of hard against soft. His hands crept up her arms until they gently held onto her shoulders and he pulled himself deeper into her embrace, his head almost nestled against her breasts and he couldn't help but sigh deeply.
Either a reality or hallucination, he wasn't sure, he just knew he couldn't resist it and he closed his eyes, praying the nightmarish images wouldn't be there to plague him.
Instead he saw a face, oval in shape with high cheekbones, delicately arched eyebrows and deep, mysterious eyes that captured him with their intensity. He saw the strong, supple hands tend to him, heal and finally hold him and he opened his eyes to gaze up at his savior.
"Warrior?" asked a sensual, husky voice.
"Healer," he replied in a weak and unused voice.
~*~
A smile tugged at Asiya's mouth and she decided, for the moment, to stay and sit with him, although it wasn't at all proper and probably violating one of the oaths she had taken as a healer. Abdul-Nasir had warned his protégée's not to become involved with patients, especially the warriors, for such flirtation with men who kill could end up costing a healer what was valued most – the ability to preserve life. She shifted her weight and tightened her arms around him and he allowed himself to completely give himself over to her, as trusting as a child. Within moments, he was fast asleep and Asiya leaned against the wall, her own fatigue finally catching up with her.
They stayed that way for the remainder of the night, two halves completing a whole, the scales that weighed their hearts – together – finding a perfect balance.