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khagan’s army was close enough so that this
nightmare could end soon.
It would be hours yet, the dark-skinned,
sharp-eyed healer named Eretia had claimed
when Elide had vomited upon seeing a man
whose shinbone stuck clean through his leg.
Hours yet until it was over, the terse healer
had chided, so she’d better finish heaving and
get back to work.
Not that there was much Elide could do.
Despite the generous gift of power that ran
through the Lochan bloodline, she possessed
no magic, no gifts beyond reading people and
lying. But she helped the healers pin down
thrashing men. Rushed to get bandages, hot
water, and whatever salves or herbs the
healers calmly requested.
None of them shouted. They only raised
their voices, magic glowing bright around
them, if a soldier was shrieking too loudly for