Chapter 9

"Is it bad, Captain?" asked Willy, his voice full of worry.

Dasian knelt to the level of his cot in his tent and gently laid Anaella on it. She was still unconscious. Probably from the loss of so much blood, Dasian thought. An arrow had embedded itself deep in her arm. He had broken the shaft and jerked it through the other side, knowing it would have damaged the inside more if he had pulled it out directly. Blood was still pouring from it, even though he had tied it tightly with a cloth.

"Go get me some water, Willy. Get Tnsaiu, too."

He ripped the sleeve off from around the wound and began to take off the cloth. Anaella didn't stir as Dasian unwrapped the bloody cloth from her arm. He wiped up the blood as much as he could without water. He glanced at her face to see if there was any pain as he touched the wound. Her face had a little dirt and blood, but she still looked beautiful.

Willy reentered and set the pail of water beside the cot.

"Tnsaiu is working on other wounded men. He doesn't look too happy, either. I heard him mumbling something about being a spy, not a doctor. But he's still doing it. He'll have to amputate a few arms and legs."

"Fine, you go help him. Just keep fetching water."

While he was washing the blood from the wound, Anaella woke up. She tried to sit up, but Dasian told her to lie down. She did and winced at every stroke of the wet cloth.

"There's still some of the arrow in there," he said, when he had examined the cut carefully.

"Get it out," she said, almost begging. "I can feel it. It hurts." She shut her eyes tight, as Dasian got out his knife.

Willy had returned, and he watched as Dasian tried to find the piece of metal with the knife. The sharp tip of the knife against the raw flesh of her arm was very painful, and he watched Anaella's knuckles whiten as she clutched the edge of the cot. He sympathized, her greatly and said softly, "It's okay if you cry, Anaella. There are a lot of men crying right now."

She opened her eyes and looked him in surprise, the pain forgotten momentarily. Dasian glanced up to see if there were tears. But Anaella responded, almost with confusion in her voice. "You mean with tears? I can't do that. I've never done it."

"Then you should get some sleep and regain your strength," said Willy, a little bit confused at this trait.

Dasian held up his knife. On the tip of it was tiny piece of metal.

"Does it hurt as much?" he asked.

Anaella shook her head, her grip loosening. He wrapped a clean white cloth around her arm and tied it tight. Ignoring Willy's suggestion, she sat up and stood, shaking a little. Dasian wiped his hands free from blood and washed his face. He was about to leave when Anaella again noticed he limped.

"What's wrong with your foot?"

Dasian hesitated too long.

"He twisted it the day we attacked Jengo's camp," informed Willy with a slight grin.

"Aren't you supposed to be helping Tnsaiu?" Dasian growled.

"But that was three weeks ago," objected Anaella as Willy quickly exited. "Didn't you care for it?"

He shrugged. "It was a bad twist. Later Willy dropped a bucket on it and that made it worse."

"Let me see."

Dasian gave her a strange and confused look. He almost shook his head but then gave in, sat on the cot, and took his boot off. She took his foot in her hands and examined it. His ankle and the top part were purple and swollen. She handled it so gently and carefully, his foot did not seem as sore; unlike his camp physicians; one touch of their hard, wrinkled hands, and Dasian pulled his foot away in pain and annoyance.

"This isn't a normal sprain," she murmured. Dasian grunted. She spread a mixture of herbs and water gently on to the swollen part, and then wrapped it up in a fresh cloth. As Dasian put his boot back on, he was surprised the pain was nearly gone.

"How did we win?" she asked, washing her hands and face. She was still on her knees as Dasian stood up.

"Your mirage did the trick. Throughout the whole battle, parts of Felipe's army were retreating. Gespian's army arrived, and that scared them off completely. I guess they let one more rain of arrows launch before fleeing entirely." He nodded to her arm and said, "You were caught in it. It's a good thing they fled when they did. As soon as you fainted, so did your magic."

She blushed slightly and murmured, "I am only glad that I can help."

He opened the tent flap and extended his hand to her, and she pulled herself up. Her arm still hurt, but she ignored the pain as she stood in the tent doorway beside Dasian, taking in the scene.

Drifting clouds covered the full moon and the night sky, which was dotted with various dazzling stars that twinkled and smiled down on the camp. A huge bonfire snapped and blazed not far from the tent. The men were celebrating. Their off-tune voices of victory were loudly singing. Wine was flowing freely, but wisely. Some of the men danced around the fire, twisting and jumping. Willy was playing his beloved lute, and the joyful music made the night air happier.

All of the battles that Dasian's men had won in the past three months had surprised themselves and Felipe. For six long years the rebels hadn't had much success. They would attack parts of Felipe's armies, then run back into hiding. Only recently had they met the enemy head on. So far they had had much achievement.

As Dasian and Anaella approached the camp, one of the men looked at Anaella and whispered something to his pal. His comrade got a gleam of excitement in his eyes, and raised his half-full goblet to Anaella and asked, "Aren't you a fairy? Don't fairies dance?"

Anaella didn't respond but looked at the man blankly.

"Aye!" shouted another man. "Show us a fairy dance!"

Anaella wanted to shake her head, but the other men caught on, and began to ask her to dance.

"It wouldn't hurt," said Dasian, looking at his men's hopeful faces. "These men are used to an unsightly and harsh world. It would ease their minds some to take a glimpse of the beautiful fairy world. They are as curious as kittens and mean no harm."

"It takes my arm's strength to do it," she objected.

"Then show them a mirage," he murmured, sitting down and leaning his back against a big oak tree. Anaella consented, and sat down beside him.

The man hopping around the fire thought he had drunk too much wine, when he saw a lovely girl, with long flowing red hair, dance past him. He fell back in amazement as more girls, equally pretty appeared around the fire. The soldiers watched in awe as the twelve fairies, dressed in long, sinuous, colorful gowns danced gracefully around and over the fire. They swirled and leapt, turned cart wheels, and waved long pieces of bright cloth.

Smaller flower-sized fairies buzzed around the men, spreading gold dust. One man reached out and tried to touch one of the colorful pixies, but she fell right through his hand, and disappeared in a burst of shimmering dust. The whole dark night around the men was filled with tiny lights, sparkling around them. They were awestruck and could not say a thing.

Then gradually, the fairies began to disappear. The tiny fairies seemed to pop into shining sparks before the men's eyes. There were suddenly only ten fairies dancing around the fire, then eight, until there were only two left. They, too, disappeared in a waterfall of glitter in mid-leap over the bonfire.

The campfire roared with clapping and approval. They jumped up and tried to repeat the dance as much as they could, but failed miserably. Still the partying continued. The prince and Sir Loban were there, and another bonfire had to be built for the army. Many of the men lay wounded in the tents, but could still hear the songs of joy to comfort them. Others, exhausted from the battle, laid out their mats between the two fires and fell asleep despite the noise. Some fell asleep because of too much wine, snoring loudly.

Dasian stared at the fire with an unreadable expression. There was a small smile on his face as he listened to his men tell of their comrades' courage in battle. They were modest, and few men boasted of their own strength, but rather of the strength of his neighbor. He almost jumped when he felt something lean on his shoulder. He looked down and smiled lightly. Anaella had fallen asleep and had slumped to his shoulder for relaxation. Magic took strength, and Anaella had just tired hers out. It was then he realized his hand had been lightly resting on hers. He was too tired to care, and laid his head back on the tree to sleep. Soon the party died down, and the men bedded down where they were. The songs gave way to snoring and cricket singing.

Anaella's eyes flung open, and she jerked her head up, looking around warily. The fire had died, leaving a big pile of glowing red coals. All the men were asleep, many breathing loudly. She arose shakily and wrapped her cape tighter around herself in the chilly night, for the sun was not yet up. Stepping quietly over and around the dozing men, she made her way to Tnsaiu's tent, set way off at the edge of camp. He was awake and squeezing out bloody pieces of cloth and hanging them out to dry.

"I tell you, Anaella, this is no job for a wizard and a spy," he murmured, without even glancing at his visitor.

"Why don't you just use your magic and make it easier?"

He sighed and sat down on a stool, giving her his full attention. "One must not use his magic for everything. They will get lazy and will not know how to do anything. Once a magical person or creature starts to lose his knowledge, or does not learn, their magic dwindles away. If I were to use my magic all the time, I would forget how anything worked without it and therefore, my power would leave."

Anaella nodded in understanding, then asked, "Could you cover for me while I'm away?"

"Where are you going?"

"Back to the forest of Ardunt."

He shook his head and said scolding, "Desertion will get your head chopped off."

"I won't be deserting. I want to go to the witches and ask them some questions about Felipe and myself. Can you think of anything the witches might want in exchange for some answers?"

"No," he replied flatly. "If there is anything we wizards don't know about, it's the witches. Their magic is strong and protects them from others. We only know what we need to know about them. Either way, whether you are deserting or seeking help from the witches, you'll likely be killed."

"I have to know, Tnsaiu. You know that. I don't know who I am, and I must find out. While I'm there, I might be able to get something out of them about Felipe's main plans."

Tnsaiu hesitated; questioning in his mind if the hard suspicious Captain would believe his words, and if he was sending a very important person to her death. He sighed and waved his hand. "So be it. If this is what you really want to do, then I'll make sure your absence is not suspected."

"Thank-you, Tnsaiu." She bowed slightly and turned to leave the tent. She was stopped abruptly when she saw Dasian striding up to the tent, his eyes riveted on a piece of paper in his hands. He looked like he had been awake for hours and already had a cheerful mood. He stopped when he saw Anaella and gave her a good morning smile.

"Ah, Anaella, just the one I need. I've got to get a few messages out to some camps in the south and I need to take care of business. Willy is worn out and I'm sure he would like to stay here for once. I need you to deliver a few messages, and perhaps even spy on an important enemy camp in the region."

Anaella's heart rose and sank at the same time. She was eager to go with Dasian on a mission, but it meant she must wait another week before finding out her much wanted answers.