Chapter 446: Wounded Witches
Hours later, with little more than two hours before the sun would cast its harsh rays on the icy world of the High Pass, Nyrielle finally approached the chambers that Talauia had converted into a small clinic for Ashlynn and Heila.
The corridors leading here were lined with soldiers, many of them gladiators who had been defeated by Heila in the arena of the High Fen. Once, they had been the diminutive witch’s opponents, but many of them had come to possess a deep respect for the small, horned woman who fought with everything she had.
Now, hearing that something had finally brought her down, none of them felt even the slightest satisfaction at seeing the woman who defeated them suffer a similar fate. Instead, many shuffled nervously where they stood, adjusting their weapons in their sheaths or repeatedly checking the straps of their armor as if to ensure that it was still buckled firmly in place.
None of them had fought against the Frost Walkers. That honor had gone to Tausau’s Mongrel Horde and Savis’s Black Wolf Brigade. The implication that some of the greatest gladiators of High Fen’s current generation weren’t strong enough to fight in this battle spurred many more of them than were needed to show up here, where they could stand and protect the woman to whom they’d pledged their service...
But many of them wondered, what if their leaders had been right? What if they really weren’t strong enough to face the Frost Walkers at their strongest?
"Kurtz," Nyrielle said, more warmly than she’d spoken while outside the fortress, when she spotted a familiar figure standing next to the door. "Did you arrange all this?"
"Your Eternity," the horned gladiator said, dropping to one knee as soon as he realized Nyrielle was addressing him. "Madame Zedya and Captain Lennart have taken charge of securing the fortress. I asked a few of the big fellows to join me," he explained, gesturing to a pair of nearby Tuscan mercenaries. "The rest just volunteered."
"See that some of your men are able to rest, Mister Kurtz," Nyrielle said as she brushed past Heila’s loyal guard. "You are guarding my darling Ashlynn as well as your Lady Heila. The day is always more dangerous than the night," she said, entering the room and closing the door without waiting for a reply.
While the hall outside felt crowded with so many guardians, only a select few had been allowed inside while the Thistle Witch tended to her patients. To one side, Ignatious sat on a simple folding chair, holding Heila’s hands as she slept peacefully under a large pile of furs.
At the foot of the oversized bed, another small figure lay in an undignified heap, half covered by a small blanket of her own. Emmie had worked hard to fetch Heila’s things, helping Talauia to dress the Willow Witch in fresh clothes for sleeping and even following the Thistle Witch’s every direction to help wash away the blood and dirt of the battle while Talauia tended to her wounds but the night had been long and the young squire finally collapsed before she could return to a room of her own.
When Nyrielle examined Heila closely, it was clear that the diminutive witch’s complexion had improved under Talauia’s care, but she was still far too pale, with cheeks that looked sunken and a brow that trembled with the worries that haunted her sleep.