“Another one!”
The cutter’s tent was a concentrated mass of human suffering. The air was thick with smoke, shot through with the scent of blood and shit to form a concentrated miasma. The floor was awash in vileness, mixing with dirt to make a sticky mud that spattered everyone to the thighs. Raesinia’s ears rang with screams, curses, and desperate pleading.
Hannah and her assistants strode through this morass like horrible angels, bone saws in hand. At the door, two men surveyed the incoming casualties and turned away both those who would live at least a few hours and those who would die for certain. The rejected were laid outside, where their howls added to the din. Those “lucky” enough to merit the cutter’s attention were taken to one of the tables, strapped down, and given a wooden bit to put between their teeth.
That Hannah was an expert was apparent from how few strokes of the bone saw it took her to remove a limb. Razor-?sharp teeth sliced through flesh with ease, and when they met bone they made the awful, almost musical sound that was capable of reducing any soldier to shudders. In no time at all, the ruined arm or leg tumbled to the ground and the cutter turned away, already moving on to the next victim. Her assistants tied off the stump, reducing the pumping blood to a trickle, and gathered up the discarded flesh to add to the pile outside. Transporting the patients afterward was a task for any able-?bodied people who happened to be nearby. Which, in this case, included the Queen of Vordan.
You said you wanted to help, Raesinia told herself as she grabbed a lanky young man by the ankle. Another soldier took him under the armpits, and together they walked him out the tent flap, mud squelching underfoot. The hospital tents were long since full, and they were reduced to simply laying casualties in the dirt. They maneuvered the youth into an open space between an old man whose left leg ended just above the ankle and a volunteer woman whose colorful linen dress was splashed with blood.
The young man’s breath rattled in his throat. Raesinia didn’t think he’d live. Only half of those Hannah operated on did, she’d been told, and she was one of the best cutters. The old man was either swearing or praying, so quietly it was hard to tell which. The woman was still and silent. Too silent. Raesinia watched her a moment, then nudged her partner. He glanced at her, shook his head, and grabbed her by the ankles, dragging the corpse away. A moment later, two men set a mop-?haired soldier with a splinted leg in the space thus vacated, deaf to his constant shrieks.
Underneath the screams and groans, the cannonade continued, a deep grumble like constant thunder. There was fighting on all sides of the hill now, and from the left and right came the occasional sounds of musketry. Closer, the Second Division and the volunteers had repelled three assaults, waves of Vordanai and Murnskai soldiers breaking against the breastworks like surf on a beach. Each time, after the enemy pulled back, the bombardment began again, the massive battery Janus had assembled pounding the hillside with solid shot. Howitzers joined in as well, less accurate but more deadly, throwing pot-?shaped bombs that exploded into shards of spinning metal.
Raesinia looked up to find another casualty team approaching, two girls who couldn’t be older than twelve or thirteen carrying an older woman on a stretcher. They left their burden at the tent flap and turned away. One of the pair, dark-?haired and wide-?eyed, was clutching her stomach, and her skin was pale as death under the blood and grime. Her companion had to support her through the mud. Raesinia got to her feet and stepped in front of them.
“You’re hurt,” she said, as the pair blinked at her. “You’re not going to the cutter?”
The uninjured girl’s lip twisted into a snarl, but her companion just shook her head. She tugged her shirt up a few inches to show a deep gash in her stomach, crudely stitched shut with twine.
“Gut wound,” she said. “It’ll fester by nightfall. Better they help those that might live.”
“You don’t—” the other girl said, then choked off in a sob.
Hannah would probably say the same thing. Raesinia looked around, satisfied herself that no one was paying attention to them, and put her arm on the girl’s shoulder. “Come with me.”
“I want to help,” the injured girl said. “While I can.”
“Just come here, all right?”
She didn’t put up too much resistance as Raesinia walked her around the side of one of the hospital tents, her crying friend following behind. Away from the frantic movement at the entrance, flies covered the pools of blood and discarded limbs with a thick, living carpet. They rose in a buzzing, complaining cloud as Raesinia approached; then they settled again. Somewhere, crows were cawing.
Abraham sat on a stone at the rear of the tent, eyes closed, head lowered. Raesinia told the two girls to wait and knelt in front of him. She had to poke him before he responded with a low moan.
“Too many.” His voice was breathy. “There’s too many.”
“I know.”
Raesinia felt her heart twist. She didn’t know Abraham well, but his compassion was obvious. Even a single person in pain made him want to help, let alone this nightmare. And while his gift was extraordinary, it wasn’t without limits.
“Can you handle one more?” Raesinia said. “It’s a small wound, but deep. A little girl.”
“One more.” Abraham opened his eyes. They were bloodshot, as though he’d been on a three-?day bender. “I can... handle one more.”
Raesinia beckoned the injured girl over. She hesitated at the sight of Abraham, but he mustered a smile, and she took a few stumbling steps closer. Raesinia caught her elbow and guided her forward, and Abraham put his hand against the skin of her stomach.
The wound, crusted with dried blood, closed as though it were being pulled together from underneath. The twine worked its way out, falling away. The girl gave a soft sigh, her eyes rolling up in her head, and Raesinia had to catch her under the arms before she fell. Her breathing was steady, and color was already returning to her cheeks.
“What happened?” Her friend hurried over, eyes wet with tears. “What did you do to her?”
“She’s going to be okay,” Raesinia said. “Find somewhere she can rest, and stay with her.”
“I need to get permission.” The girl was trembling. “From the lieutenant.”
“You have my permission.” Raesinia looked the girl in the eye and saw the moment recognition dawned.
“I—?I didn’t...” she stammered.
“It’s fine.” Raesinia transferred the unconscious girl to her friend. “Can you take her?”
The girl nodded. “Th-thank you. Your Highness.”
Raesinia smiled, trying to ignore the screams and the boom of the guns. The two girls moved off, one carrying the other, and she looked back at Abraham. His eyes were still open, but he didn’t seem to be looking at anything in particular. Raesinia frowned nervously.