"No... no, no, no, no!"

Tia slid onto her knees and turned her friend over. Mommu coughed again. Blood pulsed onto the ground, staining her leggings.

"Enlil... Enlil!" she yelled. Her hands shook as they fumbled with the front of Mommu's tunic. There was a big gash in his abdomen. It wasn't as deep as Nisroch's, but the blood wasn't stemming.

She tore the cloth out of the way, exposing his front. Blood seeped out incessantly from the jagged gash from Asag's first attack. Mommu had pushed her out of the way, having sensed the Mawlinese's intentions. He had taken the blow that would have killed her.

No... no! Mommu cannot die! He cannot! Tia's thoughts were in a flurry as she fumbled with the cloths, forming them into a messy pile and pressing hard on the wound as she had seen Sarpanit do many a time for injured farmworkers. The healer had always managed to stem the flow after a few minutes.

The blood soaked through the material, apparently unaffected by the makeshift gauze.

"No... stay with me," she pleaded, patting his cheek. His skin was cold and clammy. "Mommu! Mommu!"

"It's... cold, Tia," he said, his voice barely audible. Enlil scooped him up with ease. Mommu's head lolled, his eyelids fluttering. Even his curly hair seemed limp.

"Do not sleep, do you hear me? Answer me, Mommu!"

"Ye... yes."

"Get Sarpanit! Get someone. Anyone!" she shouted to one of the men, who nodded and sprinted away. She took off her short cloak and folded it roughly before shoving it on top of Mommu's wound. Enlil's front was beginning to be soaked with blood also, leaving bloody footprints in the sand with each step. Mommu's complexion was getting paler. His half-closed eyes were unseeing.

Desperation clawed at Tia, worse than any hunger or anxiety she had ever experienced. She felt so helpless. All the Wind magic in the world would not help her in this situation. There was nothing she could do beyond pressing as hard as she could on his body wound as they rode back to the battleground, blood dripping all the way.

The fighting appeared to have stopped, not that Tia gave a damn. By that point, it had been many minutes since the boy had lost consciousness. The blood wouldn't stop flowing no matter how much she dabbed at or pressed on the wound. Her heart was racing like mad and her skin was cold; Mommu's hands were even colder. Her brain was empty except for the constant repetition of "Please". There must be something, anything that she could do. There must be something that she was missing. A key ingredient? A magic word?

She couldn't accept that she was helpless to watch her friend die.

All through this, Enlil said nothing. He held him securely in his strong arms, taking long, steady strides towards the tents that had been erected by the Gwentians. The worn, holey canvas rippled with the desert wind; it had dipped in temperature again. Sarpanit drew the front tent flap back, her heart-shaped face withdrawn and pinched. Her blue eyes darkened at the sight of the injured boy. Without another word, she jerked her head, inviting them in.

"Sarpanit is going to heal you, Mommu. Do not worry. We will be there. Stay strong!" urged Tia.

Mommu was silent.

*****

Enlil nipped in and out of the medics' tent as he had to assist the others with taking care of injured soldiers. He explained it to her, offering consolation and reassuring her that he would return as soon as he could. She didn't take any of that in. She just felt hollow, empty. It took her several minutes before she realised that she had been carrying Mommu's Caster staff as well. She ran her hands along the grooves that wrapped themselves around in a spiral along the shaft. Her previous staff was identical to Mommu's, but he always took better care of his items. His staff was clean and polished in the right places, with little chips or scratches. Tia's, on the other hand, was always scuffed and dirty, used more often than it should and often without adequate caretaking.

Mommu used to always remind her to clean her hands and her staff before every lesson with Master Anu, back in Mooncliffe. He never minded when she got him into trouble, whether it was not doing his duties properly because he had to finish hers too, or being discovered to have been covering for her when she snuck out. He had never expected anything in return. He always had her back. This was her chance of repaying him for everything, and yet there was nothing she could do, except sit on the dusty benches with the other injured soldiers and wait.

Mommu cannot die, she told herself. Regret and guilt gnawed at her insides, making her heart heavy. I have so much to tell him, so much to show him. We barely got any time together at the feast in Capital and then at Sciennes. He still knows nothing of the Book of Wind. He cannot go yet!

She turned to the sky and for the first time, prayed. She didn't believe in a higher existence – it was not Dernexes' custom – but Master Anu was out there, part of the Wind now. He and the other Windcasters who had passed: Master Mami, Master Enki, Master Marduk, Ki, Kingu, Sin, Nintu, and Nisroch could see her, hear her, and they could see what was happening. She prayed and begged for their help. She didn't know if they would, or could, help, but it gave her some hope and comfort to know that she was doing what little she could.

There were voices around the small tent. People sitting on the benches were conversing with each other; discussions were being held over their heads by the medics. None of their words made any sense to her, but it was strange to feel that during all this time, when the men were talking about home or chattering about the weather, her best friend was lying on one of the beds in the tent next door, possibly dying, or even dead. Life was still moving on.

Sometime during the long wait, Enlil had returned and sat by her side, holding her hand. He might have spoken to her, but she couldn't recall the content of what they spoke about. He might also have comforted her too, but she still felt numb and empty. Hours dragged by and dusk was approaching. She couldn't bear it if she had lost Mommu. She had let him down so much. It was worse not knowing, to have that thin sliver of hope dangling in front of her.

"I cannot do this, Enlil."

Her friend eyeballed her with those all-seeing pale eyes. She stared down at her lap, scrunching up the fold of her over tunic with her one gloved hand.

"What can you not do?" he said in a soft voice. She took a while to collect her thoughts, to make them coherent amidst the storm that was spinning in her head.

"I thought... I thought I knew what war entailed. The death of all the Masters and Windcasters should have made me ready to face the prospect of death – my death and others' deaths. I thought... I thought..." She swallowed. "I thought I could make a concrete decision and not regret it. You were right all along. Things are not black and white. There is no single decision that would guarantee a happy result for everybody involved."

"That is life, Tiamat," he said, his tone gentle. She shook her head, her ponytail whipping her cheeks.

"'That is life'?" she echoed. "Mommu is dying in the room next door, and I cannot face it! I am not ready for it! I cannot stand being so helpless, Enlil. I cannot shoulder such responsibility. So many people depend on me." She turned to face him, tears brimming and her mouth downturned. Enlil used his remaining hand to wipe a tear that was trickling down her cheek. "I cannot. I am not ready for this."

"Escaping from it will not make you any more ready. People will still go to war. People will still die. We do what we can so that we may sleep at night, knowing that we have done our best. If you quit now, even more people will die, because you were not there to save them."

"But I am causing the deaths of the opposition if I were to be involved."

"And you directly condemn your comrades to death if you did not get involved. You need not kill for your people. Give them the resources; allow them to grow. Let them stand on their own two feet and make their own decisions. But at the moment as long as they lay in the dirt, helpless and weak, you condemn them to death. You cannot give yourself pressure for what you cannot help with, but if you stay on the sidelines, you will be plagued by thoughts of 'If only': 'If only I had taken him in', 'If only I had not turned him in', 'If only I had told him'. They can be soul-destroying."

"Why do you know so much about this?" she said, sniffling. Each breath made a little cloud puff in the air as the temperature plummeted again.

"Master Anu told me this. It is for the very same reason that he fought for Dernexes in the last Great War."

It took several seconds before she understood his words. She stared at him, her worries temporarily forgotten.

"That was his... reason? He told you that?"

"I had guessed as much. Scribes talk."

Tia was silent.

"You think he would have used the Wind in such a grievous manner so lightly?" he chided her. "He had no choice. King Ea was going to send the men in either way. If the Windcasters had not entered the fray when they had, all of Dernexes would have fallen as it had at the hands of the Mawlinese. The king was threatening him and all the Windcaters with the lives of their countrymen. Would you not have fought, too? Just as you had for the Gwentians?"

So that was why.

She felt so guilty. She had shouted such disrespectful, hateful things at him back in Kiramone, and she had never gotten the chance to apologise for it. Now he was dead. She had lost her chance. If only...

"Do not punish yourself," said Enlil, as if he could read her thoughts. "He would have been proud. You and Mommu were both the very Windcasters he had raised and wanted you to be."

The curtains parted and Sarpanit's head of red-brown hair poked through, just as Tia mopped her face again. Enlil nudged her, rising. Tia raised tired eyes up to see the Gwentian princess's face, which was drawn and tear-stained also, with swollen eyes. A lump rose in Tia's throat.

"Did Mommu...?"

Sarpanit gave a shaky smile.

"He's stable. He's sleeping now; he needs to recover the blood he's lost."

She gave a great sniff, hiccupping as she mopped her eyes with the sleeves of her tunic. Her hands trembled as she pulled stray strands of hair from her face and tucked them behind her ear.

"What is it, Sarpanit?" Even Tia could see that her friend was distraught. "Mommu is alive – you did fantastically!"

"It's not Mommu," she said, her voice breaking. "I... My seniors were working on another injured man in the bed next to Mommu's, and I saw that man's face when they failed to save him. I saw him, Tiamat." Her face crumpled. "It was Papa."

Tia threw her arms around her, hugging her. She was in so much pain that Tia felt her own heart break. Her own eyes welled up, but she knew Sarpanit needed her to stay strong for her. She ran a comforting hand up and down her friend's back. There was an overwhelming sensation of sadness for the girl who had treated her so kindly those past few weeks.

Sarpanit's shoulders heaved as her face was buried in Tia's shoulder. Tia didn't know what to do except murmur comforting nonsense. She was helpless to Sarpanit's grief, but she knew all too well the devastation bereavement of a father figure brought. There was so little she could do.

"I am sorry," she whispered. She felt Sarpanit shake her head.

"No... I shouldn't b-be sad. He d-died fighting for Gwent, just as he always said he would." She raised her head, giving a watery smile and dabbed at her eyes again. The flickering oil lamps that had been lit recently threw dark shadows across her face, making the tear stains reflect light. The wind outside was quiet; there was no sound around them except for the rustle of feet on sand and the sounds of people in discomfort. "He led a great life, rebuilt the Gwentian country, and did so much good. I should be celebrating his life."

"You are allowed to feel sadness," Enlil pointed out.

"He'll be upset seeing me weep like this for him. I should take you two to Mommu. I assume you two want to take guard by his bed, seeing as you both fought so hard to keep him alive."

Tia grabbed the older girl's hand as she turned to lead them inside. Sarpanit turned, deep blue eyes meeting Tia's large green ones.

"Dear, dear Sarpanit... thank you."