Ursa stared at the heavy, gilded doors of what used to be the grand hall of the castle, now the infirmary for those injured, or worse, dying. Back on earth, she would have been one of the brave-hearted maidens, rushing in there to heal those she could; to put her weave to good use, some of it anyway. But now? Now she froze, still in her battle armory, still with the signature of her Commander's weapon buzzing through her veins. Still with blood-encrusted clothes and trimmings. She'd managed to at least wash them off her face and hair. The cold water dripped now and again from her limp hair, crawling down her spine. Yet she froze.

In and out, many men and women went, some healthy, some hobbling, some bawling their eyes out. Amer too had slipped in a while ago, and Papa, but she couldn't bring herself to walk in. She could hear the chatter behind the door, dull, then loud every so often, with anguish.

The worst of the injured soldiers were inside, Anteri or Chymer. It did not matter anymore.

More were being brought in from the battlefield. Where they were all being fit was a question she pondered, rather than the one soldier she was keen on. One soldier who was already inside from what Papa told her earlier.

Attin.

Attin was inside.

Papa had told her this was where he'd brought Attin before the truce was called. Truce between two opposing armies, now melded into one, one that vowed to save their queen... but how? She could not even fathom. Chymer keep was days away. Mama was days away. By the time they reached her, would they even be able to save her? Would Attin be there...?

Alas, she did not know how extensive his injuries were...

The door opened then as a maid rushed out with a bucket sloshing red with blood and bandages. "Forgive me, commander, but your brother calls you to join him."

Is that Attin's? Ursa struggled to peel her eyes off the red. "Thank you."

"He's right over there." She shrugged in a vague direction, standing there holding the door ajar. But Ursa didn't need instructions. She could hear her brothers' voices over the din. Papa? He'd been quiet far too long.

She drew a breath in as she watched the maid hurry away to fetch fresh water from the well in the courtyard. Then she finally stepped in.

***

"Why the long face, sister? Disappointed to see me still kicking?" Attin winked as Ursa came into view, looming tall over the cot where he lay. He could hear the wince of pain in his own voice, though he tried to keep her from hearing it. She did not need to know how close to death he'd been. 'An inch to your right, my lord'—the physician had said, though Attin had only heard the words 'my lord' with interest—'and you would have bled surely to your death.'

"I see your tongue is intact!" She tried to smile.

He watched her sit at the edge of his bed, eyeing Amer, stood on the other side with Papa nowhere to be seen. "Where is Papa?" she asked then, a look he couldn't place washing over her features.

"They are at the castle temple. It's the only place that's not crawling with folks—trying to figure out how to get to Chymer, to..." Amer glanced his way and tapered off.

"What? What is happening?" Attin tried to sit up straight, folding over in pain as the stitches to his side strained. "I put my feet up for a minute and you two look as though the world is ending."

"You don't worry about a thing. Just rest." Amer stood, ready to leave. "I might try to see if I can be of use to them... though I don't see how..."

Before Attin could speak again, his brother scurried off through a large set of doors, presumably to get to the temple.

"Will you tell me what is going on? Before I get off this bed and march after him myself?" Attin threatened Ursa. "You know I will. I can just portal there!"

Ursa grabbed his hand urgently, shaking her head. He felt a shudder through her grasp. He tried to push her off. "You know your healing isn't for weavers. They don't work on us."

"Oh, do shut up and let me try anyway, won't you?" Tears glistened in her eyes. He hadn't seen her cry in a long time, and his insides squirmed uncomfortably. "I've done much harm... just let me try..."

He nodded. As fast as he could. She closed her eyes and clasped his hand in hers, squeezing it as if she was concentrating hard to will his flesh to mend. He returned her squeeze. "You did what you had to, Ursa. We all did... to save Mama..."

At that, a sob broke her facade, and she launched herself at him, careful not to touch his wounded side. "Oh, brother, what was the point in all this bloodshed, in you, near-dead when"—she hiccuped—"Mama is all but lost to us. Why do you think Papa looks to be mourning, or Amer ran away as fast as he could...?"

"What?" Attin asked, pushing Ursa away. "Speak clearly. What has happened?"

And for the next few minutes, his sister filled him in on what transpired on the battlefield—how it had come to a stop, and how they had learned the truth about why Rava had taken their mother.

"We cannot let this happen." Attin tried to push himself off the bed, but Ursa wouldn't let him. "That's our Mama, sister. I will not sit here daring to heal when she is having her heart ripped out!"

"Then what do you suggest we do?! She will die if something were to happen to you."

He'd never heard Ursa lose her temper, yet there she was, glowering down at him, and the entire room came to a standstill. Even those screaming in pain stopped abruptly. Eyes stayed on them, gawking.

"She'll die if she goes through with this!" Attin snapped.

"What do you suggest we do?" she asked again in a hush. "Chymer is days away. We're too late."

"Not if I go." He smiled meekly. "Not if I take a few with me, and by a few, I mean the entire army... or at least those still standing..." he said, glancing around the room, "... if I can."

"You don't possibly mean that. You're injured." Ursa stared.

"Injured, sister. Not dead." He reached for her hand and clasped it. "We haven't time to lose."

"What are you—" she was saying in the infirmary one second, "—doing?" in the temple the next.

"Ah ha! It works!" Attin screamed with glee, just as he dropped to the ground with a thud. Alas, the cot had not traveled with them as he had not been holding it. He moaned in pain and pounded the cold cobalt stone beneath him with his fist. "I am injured, but I can still move."

"You scared the life out of me!" Ursa yelled at him, looking as though she would strike him. Instead, she gave him a hand and pulled him to his feet while the elders stared, surprised at the interruption.

"What is the meaning of this?" Papa glared from one to the next. "Ursa, he should be resting in the infirmary. Why have you brought him here?"

"I—I didn't..." she said.

"I did, Papa." Attin hobbled towards the front, with Ursa helping him, still in utter shock. "I can still travel, and Ursa tells me Mama needs our help yesterday!"

"I'm not sending you there alone, Attin. It is out of the question." Papa glared down the line of wooden seats they were passing.

"You're not listening, Pa! I was saying I can travel, and I can transport people. You, Ursa, Uncle Rea, our army."

"Weaving without injury takes a toll, son, but weaving with injuries? You're lucky that blade—"

"—wasn't an inch to the right." Attin rolled his eyes. He hadn't meant to, but it just happened. I'm not a child anymore! "Tell that to Mama when she asks why we abandoned her."

Papa opened his mouth like a fish and closed it.

Uncle Rea stepped forth with a furrowed brow. "Perhaps we should listen to the boy, Ovek. You and I are out of ideas. Maybe his will be better than our nothings."

"I agree, my lord. We should listen to fresh new minds. They are not as tired and old as we." Klune Ord, who'd somehow survived the battle, with a fresh scar or two, also stood among the council of lords, discussing strategies.

Attin nodded at the man. Thank you.

He nodded back.

"Aye." Others rumbled.

"Fine." Papa sighed. "Let's hear it. What do you propose?"

Attin grinned from ear to ear, eyeing the men around the room. "We're gonna need Vin for this!"

... to be continued in part 2...