20. Comfort Amidst Death
Comfort Amidst Death
Aradia
Her hands shook as she slipped into the tent.
War, as real and eye-opening as the fliers described, was laid out in the wails of men and women.
Magi sawed off limbs with nothing but an inflamed butcher’s knife.
Soiled bandages and overloaded cots were strewn about, holding together soldiers and civilians alike from both sides of the war.
At the end of the day, everyone bled the same colors.
Here in the medic tent, magi and healers' only purpose was to save lives.
“Don’t just dawdle! Hand me those bandages,” a magi yelled at her as she wrapped a man’s head together.
Aradia spun into action.
Bandages, bandages? Bandages!
She caught sight of clean white gauze and rushed back to the magi. The moment she neared, the sickening smell of fluids smacked her in the face. She doubled over, a hand covering her mouth.
“Pull yourself together girl or get out of here,” the magi said. “I don’t have time to hold your hand and these people have gone through enough without you swooning over them.”
Tears brimmed in her eyes at the stench but Aradia nodded quickly. She fought the urge to cover her nose and mouth with her cloak but one glance down at the man missing half his face filled her with shame.
“How can I help?”
“Tie him down,” the magi said.
Aradia blanched.
“Help me sew his ear back on.”
Oh gods, give me strength!
A new wave of nausea made her pause with a hand on her stomach. The magi raised a brow as if to challenge Aradia to run out of the tent.
She sucked in a tiny breath, and immediately wished she hadn’t. The strong taste of herbs, ointments and balms coated the air and seeped into her very pores. She sat down all the same.
The magi nodded. “Bring me the needle and thread.”
“Here.”
It slipped twice in the magi’s hands, slick with warm blood. Aradia forced herself not to coil away or wipe her fingers. It would only get worse from here.
“Do your best to distract him.” The magi sighed before she settled near the man’s head.
Aradia’s breath caught in her throat as she looked around at the other healers.
They held their patients’ hands, shouting comfort which did nothing over the painful screams of agony.
Some lathered victims in herbs or salve to stop the spread of infections.
She had no such remedy. She opted for what she knew best.
“It’s going to be okay.” She intertwined her fingers in the man’s death grip. “You’re in good hands.”
She glanced at the magi who was working, hoping what she said was true. The man squeezed her hand until Aradia swore out loud. He needed a distraction. A soft hum passed her lips as she began to sing.
“There once was a lady who lived in the valley,
With hair full of golden rays.
She was the town's little silly ole sappy,
For she carried her love for days upon days.
Up streams of starlight and mountains of old,
Her love for her country was brazen and bold.”
“All done here.” The magi dipped her hands in clean water and smiled down at the man. “Get some rest now.”
Aradia squeezed the man’s hand with a slight smile.
He returned it through his hazy pain-filled gaze. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Proud tears brimmed her eyes.
“Come on,” the magi tapped her shoulder. “There’s more folks who could use some singing.”
Aradia stood and followed the magi with renewed strength.