Page 22 of Weaving Winter

I wanted to help, and then I thought—what melts ice? Fire. I returned to the tent and found a torch to the side. It hadn’t been used yet, so I held it in the fire. The flames cracked as the resin on the torch caught hold. I grabbed a blanket along with the torch and hurried to Quen’s side, sliding to my knees beside him. He was bleeding out, so I wrapped the blanket around the wound, tying it tight, and—wrapping the end of the blanket over my shoulder—I began to drag him back toward the tent. I was almost there when the snow spider scuttled toward me.

I dropped the blanket and turned to it, holding the flaming torch aloft. The flames crackled and the spider moved back, hissing. I grabbed hold of the blanket again and pulled him into the tent, shutting the flap and buttoning it shut so the creature couldn’t follow me in.

Quen moaned. I set the torch safely in its holder, then quickly knelt to examine his wounds. The blanket was soaking up blood but he needed the wound tended to and I wasn’t sure whether the healer was out with the others. Grimacing, I cautiously pulled the blanket back. The puncture was deep, but from what I knew of anatomy, I thought it might have missed the major organs. I glanced around the tent, spying the water bucket.

I found a towel and dipped it in the water, then began to wash the blood away. I needed something to compress against the wound, so I took hold of another blanket and used the dagger to slice it into quarters. I folded one quarter into a compact bandage and pressed it against the wound.

“Hold on, Quen. Just hold on,” I whispered.

“I’m trying,” he stammered out.

“Can you hold this against your side while I tie it on?” I hated asking him to help but I couldn’t keep up the compression while trying to tie it against him.

He nodded. “Put my hands on it, would you?”

I lifted his hands to the blanket and he let out a curse but pressed against the makeshift bandage. While he held it, I cut the piece of blanket into three wide strips and, lifting his back into an arch with one hand, I slid the ties beneath him.

“Can you still breathe?”

He nodded. “It didn’t puncture my lungs.”

“This will probably hurt when I tie them off. Do you want a leather strap to bite on?”

He nodded and I placed the dagger’s sheath into his mouth. Then, as he bit deep, I tied the bandage strips tightly around the bandage, forcing the compression as much as I could while still allowing him to breathe. It wasn’t quite a tourniquet, but it was close enough to help stanch the flow of blood.

I sat back, breathing hard. I still didn’t know if he was going to make it, but at least now he had a better chance. But he looked like he was going into shock, so I took one of the heavier blankets and draped it over him and slid a pillow beneath his head. I washed his forehead, wishing I could do more. But this kind of wound was beyond my scope, at least under the current circumstances.

“Sit tight,” I said. “I’m going to peek outside and see what’s going on.”

“Asajia?” Quen’s voice was faint but his eyes were clear.

“Yes?”

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Today’s not a good day to die.”

“No, it isn’t. So you hang on till I can find the healer.”

I cautiously opened the tent flap and peeked out. The sounds of battle had faded with my focus on his wound, but now they came back. However, I could only see one of the ice dancers still out there. There were shards of ice on the snow, scattered across the center of the compound, but they were melting, even though it was freezing. A moment later, a shriek echoed into the night as the fourth elemental fell, and everybody stopped.

I could see several others were injured, but they were still on their feet. At that moment I caught sight of the healer and hurried over to her. “Quen’s severely injured. He’s in Fenling’s tent—I did what I could.”

“Come,” she said, following me as I led the way. “I need my bag—it’s in my tent which is next to Bran’s. Please fetch it.”

“How will I know?—”

“It’s a big bag made of leather. You can’t miss it,” she cut me off before I could finish.

I raced across the camp to Bran’s tent. Everybody else was checking to make sure that there weren’t any more of the elementals. I peeked into the tent left of his, and there saw a big leather bag sitting on a small table. I grabbed it and hurried back to my tent.

Dasheer—the healer—was kneeling next to Quen. She was examining the bandage I’d affixed to him. I handed her the bag and sat back, watching.

“If I can help, let me know.”

She began to unknot the bandage. “You did a good job on this. It’s not too loose, and not too tight. Find me a bowl of hot water, if you would.” She glanced up from her work. “Quickly, please.”

The only places I knew would absolutely have hot water were the mess tent, and Bran’s tent. I ducked into Bran’s tent first. By now, he was sitting there, with two of his men. They looked up as I appeared.

“I need hot water for the healer. Quen was hurt. He’s in my tent.”

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