His horrified gaze took in every detail. An arrow protruded from her back, and from the arrow, a patch of red was spreading across the soft blue material of her blouse. She was absolutely motionless, her eyes closed, and several terrifying moments passed before the slight motion of the arrow let Roxton know that she was still breathing. He dropped to his knees at her side, scrutinizing the arrow. He grimaced. The arrowhead was buried deep in the muscle, and he would have to turn her over to see if it had gone through. But turning her over could potentially worsen the problem.
He got up hurriedly and ran to look at the other arrows the dead native had in his quiver. He let out a short breath. The arrowheads were smooth, so if it was not too deep, it was possible that he could pull the arrow out rather than shove it through her. And he had not detected any poisons on the arrowheads, so Anna was spared that as well.
Roxton went back to his daughter and dropped to his knees beside her. He gently started to roll her slightly to check the arrow. It had not gone through. He let out a small sigh of relief; that would have meant two wounds to deal with. As he started to turn her back, he heard her let out a small moan.
"Anna?" He held his breath as her head tilted back, and she drew in a shuddering breath. Her eyes opened, wide and dazed, and he winced at the pain he saw in their green depths.
"Daddy," she whispered. "Daddy, it hurts."
He clenched his jaw. He gently cupped her cheek.
"I know, sweetheart, I know. But it's going to be fine, Anna, I'm here. I'll take care of you." He shifted her a little awkwardly, trying not to hit the arrow. "How, Anna? How did this happen?"
"Did you see the archer? The one with a knife in his throat?"
"Your work, I take it."
She smiled a little, but a grimace of pain swept it off her face. He waited helplessly as she gritted her teeth and waited for the pain to recede.
"He was waiting. He was waiting in case the main attack failed. He was aiming an arrow at you, Daddy. I didn't have a clear shot, and no time to get to him before he shot. So I did the only thing I could."
She was pale, Roxton noted. Shock had dilated her eyes, and her skin was too chilled for his liking. He shook his head and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
"Oh, Anna," he whispered. "You didn't have to, my little love, you didn't. I wouldn't have wanted you to be hurt in place of me." He gazed down at her, and she stared back with tears pooling in her eyes.
"It was my choice, Daddy."
He opened his mouth to reply when a warm wetness touched the hand that was supporting her back. He glanced down, and let out his breath in a rush. The blood soaking her blouse had spread even more. He looked back at her.
"Anna, I have to get this arrow out and stop the bleeding. It'll hurt, but I need to. You're already-" He bit off his words, afraid to say more. She smiled wanly at him.
"In shock, I know, Daddy," she replied. "Every day there's a chance of something happening, so Aunt Veronica made sure that we all knew what to expect with an injury. And I know shock can do nearly as much damage as the injury itself."
He was about to respond when he heard the rustle of something moving through the brush. He turned his head sharply towards the sound.
"John? John, where are you? Is your friend all right?"
Marguerite's voice drifted through the trees. She was close. Roxton felt just a bit calmer. She would be able to help him tend to Anna. However, Anna didn't share his sentiments. Her eyes widened even more, and she gasped.
"No!" she whispered. "Daddy, she can't see me! Please!" Her hand came up to grasp his shirt with desperate fingers. He gazed down into her panic-stricken features.
"Anna, she can help us. I can tend to your wound better if your mother helps me. I'm not about to let that wound kill you because I couldn't treat you properly."
She swallowed. "No, Daddy. I can't let her see me. Remember? You weren't supposed to see me either. Uncle George said so! With Mother being what she is, I couldn't even begin to imagine what damage could result if she sees me!"
"You could hide your face, Anna, and Marguerite could just help me with your back. She wouldn't know-"
"My clothes, Daddy," she interrupted, with a whimper. "Mother's not stupid. She knows perfectly well that the Maanti don't dress like this. If she sees me dressed like this she won't stop. She'll find a way to see me. And Daddy, if she sees me…"
He looked at her for a long moment. Her words came back to him. I can't risk that, Daddy, please. She had risked her life to come here, and risked it again to save him. What kind of callow man would throw it all away when she was begging him not to? But he couldn't bear to chance her health.
"Anna, please. I need her to help me. I won't lose you."
She looked back at him without words, her lower lip trembling. It was a seeming impasse. He knew he couldn't treat her by himself, and she didn't want her mother to see her. He heard Marguerite getting closer, and Anna began to look even more frantic as she gazed in the direction Marguerite was coming from. Roxton's jaw tightened. Then, an idea came to him. He turned it over in his mind. Far-fetched it was, yes, but it might be their only chance. His quick intake of air startled the girl, and Anna gazed up at him.
"Daddy?"
He focused on her. "Anna, you said that one of your abilities included a sort of masking of reality. Could you do that enough to mask your clothes and make yourself look as though you were wearing Maanti dress?"
She looked thoughtful for a moment. "I don't know, Daddy, I've never tried it on myself. And I don't know if I could fool Mother. She…knows things."
"But you said that she didn't have this ability of yours. You might be able to maintain your illusion for just a little while." She still looked doubtful, so Roxton allowed some pleading to creep into his voice. "Anna, we need her to help you. Please, sweetheart, just try."
She swallowed hard, and her eyes flickered again to where Marguerite would emerge from the trees. She bit her lip and nodded, then closed her eyes, concentrating. Roxton blinked hard. The air around Anna seemed to swirl, and suddenly she was wearing an outfit similar to what they'd seen Maanti women wearing. His jaw dropped. He gingerly touched the clothes, and blinked again. Though his eyes were telling him he was touching a mangled top made from the heavy green weave the Maanti favored, his hand told him he was touching smooth cloth very similar to what Marguerite would wear. Apparently the illusion was visual only. He would have to make sure that Marguerite didn't try to touch Anna's clothes.
He quickly pulled out his knife and felt for the torn edges of Anna's blouse. He slipped the knife underneath the cloth and slit upwards towards her collar, then down almost to her waist. It was an odd sensation to see his knife slide easily through seemingly course fabric that should have snagged it. The cloth sagged, and he pulled it away from the wound. Roxton gingerly probed the area around the arrow, and Anna hissed in protest. He snatched his hand back, and then stared at the pale skin of her back. The Maanti were not this fair. He only hoped that Marguerite would be distracted enough by treating the injury to think the paleness was due to the trauma.
Marguerite finally emerged from the trees, one hand clutching a wad of bandages and the other firmly gripping her pistol. When she saw Roxton, she briefly relaxed, but then caught her breath at the sight of the young Maanti woman lying on the ground, an arrow lodged in her back. So the girl had been hurt in the attack. She saw that Roxton had already cut the cloth away from the wound. Good. Less for her to do. She advanced towards them.
Roxton, his hand resting gently on Anna's shoulder, felt her tense. "Gently, now," he murmured soothingly, and she relaxed just a fraction. He watched Marguerite carefully as she approached, but there was nothing in her face to indicate that Anna's appearance was out of the ordinary. She reached them and crouched down next to her husband.
"This is your friend?" she asked softly, her eyes assessing the ugly wound. Roxton nodded, his hand gently smoothing a few dark strands of hair from the young woman, whose face was turned away. Marguerite cocked her head slightly. That gesture had been…fatherly. He did the same thing to Anna. She dismissed it; Roxton obviously felt some guilt that this girl was hurt, and was only trying to soothe her.
She turned her attention to the problem at hand. The arrowhead was buried in the girl's flesh. It would not be easy to extricate it. She handed Roxton the bundle of bandages, then pulled a small piece from the top of the bundle and took out the canteen hanging at her waist. She wet the cloth and began to wipe away the streaks of blood on the girl's back. The girl-Anjes, she told herself, John said her name was Anjes-whimpered as Marguerite came closer to the wound. Marguerite stopped and glanced at Roxton.
"Did the arrow go through?" she asked him quietly. He shook his head, and Marguerite closed her eyes briefly. It would almost have been easier if the arrow had gone through. Then they could have merely broken the shaft and pushed the rest through. Now they would have to pull it out, and she knew for certain that the edges of the arrow would catch on the swollen muscle surrounding the wound. She opened her eyes and looked determinedly at her husband.
"John, I'm going to try and pull the arrow out. You need to brace her. Unless you want to try and get the arrow out?"
Roxton shook his head. He knew that he would probably have an easier time removing the arrow, but then Marguerite would have to touch Anna to hold her still. Marguerite was no fool. Even in the midst of an emergency such as this, she would be perfectly aware that was she was touching was not what she was seeing. She would ask questions. He couldn't do that to Anna.
Marguerite took a deep breath, and instructed Roxton to hold Anjes still. He gripped the girl's arms tightly, and nodded to Marguerite. She stood up and reached down to grasp the arrow firmly. She braced herself and pulled.
The first two tries only succeeded in raising the arrow a fraction each time. Marguerite gritted her teeth. She could hear the sobbing that Anjes was trying to hide. Roxton's face was looking more and more stricken. Marguerite knew that his guilt over the girl's injury, even if it was not his fault, was consuming him. They had to finish this now. She tightened her hold on the arrow, and then gave an almighty heave. The arrow came loose, and Marguerite stumbled back slightly. Anjes screamed as the arrow tore free of her skin. The sound tore at Marguerite's heart, even though she knew that removing the arrow had not been an option. The wound began to bleed heavily, and Marguerite dropped the arrow. She dropped down next to Anjes and, reaching over the girl, grabbed the bundle from Roxton.
"Here, John," she said, shoving some of the bandages into his hand. "Put pressure on that wound." He met her eyes, and Marguerite was startled at the pain she saw there. He dropped her gaze and firmly pressed against the injury. Marguerite looked at him a moment more before she pulled out the small bottles of carbolic acid and salve that had been wrapped in the bandages. She opened the cap of the bottle of acid and touched Roxton's hand.
"John, this is going to hurt her, but you know that it's necessary. We need to clean that wound." He nodded and removed the blood-soaked cloth. Marguerite hesitated for a few moments before she poured some of the stinging solution onto the girl's back. Anjes shrieked even worse than before, her body jerking in pain, before she mercifully passed out. Marguerite gamely continued, pouring the carbolic onto the cloth she used earlier and wiping the surface and edges of the wound. With a gentle hand, she smoothed Veronica's healing salve on the girl's back. Roxton helped her finish the bandaging of the wound.
Roxton passed a hand over his eyes. He knew that he must look awful. Having to hold his daughter down as Marguerite removed the arrow and used the carbolic acid to clean the wound, hearing Anna's cries of pain, had been so difficult that he was surprised his heart was still beating and not lying in pieces in his chest. He reached over and captured Marguerite's hand.
"Thank you for helping her," he said quietly. Marguerite gently pressed his hand, wondering again at the haunted look in his eyes. This was more than just guilt. She resolved to question him about it later.
Marguerite carefully gathered up the used bandages. Leaving anything with blood on it out here was only begging raptors, or other dangerous predators, to attack. She looked at Roxton. He was still sitting next to Anjes, who was moving slightly. She was coming around. Marguerite walked over to them to check on the girl. She reached over to turn the girl's head, but Roxton's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. Marguerite looked down at his hand and back up to his face.
"I just wanted to check to make sure she's breathing properly, John, and to check her temperature to see if any infection was setting in."
Roxton sighed. He'd been too abrupt, he knew, but to let Marguerite look at Anna's face was to break his word to his daughter. He smiled apologetically.
"I know, Marguerite, it's just that she doesn't want any of us to see her. She didn't even want me to see her." That's the truth, he thought wryly, just not the whole truth. And I'm going to have to see how much not-whole-truth I can get away with now.
"Do you remember that the Maanti believe that the actions of the whole are infinitely better than the actions of the one?" She nodded, and he continued. "If we see her, then the next time we trade with the Maanti, we would be able to pick her out of the crowd. It would disturb everything, she believes. I would wager that Anjes is not even her real name." And isn't THAT the truth.
"But you know what she looks like."
"I made her look at me. That was out of her control. But this isn't. Don't you think it would be easier to have one person keep knowledge a secret, or many, Marguerite?" he said, his eyebrows raised. "What would Parsifal say?"
She gave him a look, but conceded his point. It was indeed much, much easier to have one person keep secrets than many.
"Then you have to figure out a way to keep her face, hidden, John, because we need to take her back to camp. We can't leave her out here."
He nodded. He'd thought about this, and he wasn't going to leave his daughter alone and hurt in the jungle.
"I can carry her, Marguerite, and you can go ahead of me. If you bring me a blanket, then I can cover her face and still keep her at the camp."
"That sounds fine, John. We can respect her wishes. After all, she saved us."
Roxton smiled a little sadly. "Yes, she did. And now we're going to return the favor."
He waited for Marguerite to start, and then gingerly, carefully, lifted Anna into his arms. She groaned as he shifted her to a more comfortable position. He looked down into her face.
"Anna?" he whispered. She opened her eyes, their color dulled slightly by pain. She gave him a ghost of a smile.
"I heard you, Daddy," she said weakly. "Thank you for keeping my secret."
He kissed her hair and cradled her close. She turned her head into his shoulder, and he walked after Marguerite to the camp.
When Marguerite reached the edge of the camp, she quietly explained the situation to Veronica and Challenger. They agreed to respect Anjes' wishes, and Veronica handed Marguerite a blanket. They waited for Roxton to reach the edge of the camp. Veronica and Challenger gasped slightly at the slightness of the form in Roxton's arm, and at the blood-spotted bandage on her back. The girl's face was turned away from them, but the tenseness of her body showed that she was clearly awake. Marguerite solemnly handed Roxton the blanket, and he tucked it around the girl, draping a fold of it over her head to hide her face. He strode into the camp and carefully laid her down next to the fire away from the rest of the group.
After making sure that Anna was settled, Roxton joined the rest of the group as they stared down at the only attacker to survive.
"Is she all right?" Veronica asked, indicating Anna. Roxton nodded.
"She's hurt and groggy, but she's going to be fine." He would not allow any other outcome.
"We checked the others outside the camp, but the ones who broke their legs killed themselves before we could get to them. This is the only one left."
Roxton looked down at the man with an expression that boded little good for him. The man stared back defiantly, but even his wild black tattoos and outthrust chin could not hide the fear and incredulity in his eyes. Roxton gestured to Marguerite.
"I want to find out what this piece of filth and the others were doing here, and why they attacked us. That girl over by the fire risked her life for us; I want to know why."
She nodded. She understood attacks because they had crossed into forbidden territory, or in the case of the Vantu, for food, but to her best knowledge they'd never done anything to any of the Maanti to warrant an attack. She stared at the captive.
"Who are you? Why did you attack us?" she asked him in his own tongue. His eyes widened slightly, but he said nothing. She asked again, and again he refused to speak. She crouched down to look him in the eye.
"I want you to understand," she said quietly, "that the man standing next to me will happily tear you limb from limb if you don't answer. You tried to kill us, and you hurt a friend of his." The man looked confused at her words, but he could clearly see the malice in Roxton's expression.
Marguerite dropped her voice even more. "And the rest of us will not lift a finger to stop him."
The man sneered at that.
"Perhaps you and the old man would not, but I know that other woman, that Veronica, would not let me be killed."
"You could have taken her away from her child and her husband. She does not take that well."
The man looked at Veronica to find her staring at him and fingering the knife hanging on her belt. He swallowed.
"Still, nothing you do could compare with what my leader Kirdon would do."
Marguerite smiled. It was not a nice smile.
"Would you really like to test that idea? We can be very…inventive."
The man searched their faces, clearly not liking what he was seeing. He finally sagged slightly. Marguerite knew he had given in. She nodded to Roxton and began.
"I will ask you only one more time. Who are you, and why did you attack us?"
"I am Sirdo. I did not decide to attack you. It was our leader, Kirdon," the man replied. "He told us what we were to do, and why."
"You wanted to kill us," Marguerite stated. "But why?"
Sirdo shook his head. "No. Not all of you. Only the hunter. Kirdon told us that he needed to die so that we could secure our destiny."
Marguerite was startled. Roxton was the target? Why him? Why would this group want to attack her husband? Roxton touched her arm.
"What is it, Marguerite? Did he say why he attacked us?"
She nodded. "They weren't really attacking all of us, John. They were coming…for you."
What will he tell them? And will Anna be able to get back home? Stay tuned for chapter 6! And please, please, hit that little purple button and review!