Page 39 of The Infernal Battalion

“Do you think you could help her?”

“I’d have to examine her, but...” Abraham looked down at his hands, and his voice softened. “I won’t leave someone to die if I can help it. But if they consider my gift to be demonic, there’s no telling what they might do. We know they serve Elysium.”

“On the other hand, they seem to serve the Priests of the Black,” Winter said. “Which might mean they know all about the Penitent Damned.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I can’t order you, but—”

“I’ll do it,” Abraham said. “I’d do it regardless. I just wanted to warn you.”

He said this to the spearwoman, who nodded and gestured toward the tent. Winter went along with them, after one last check on Alex, and no one seemed to object. The flap at the front of the tent was low enough that she had to enter on her knees, and it was a tight fit for the three of them plus the patient, who was buried under a heavy pile of furs.

“I’ll need to look at her,” Abraham said.

The spearwoman nodded and gestured for him to get on with it. Abraham pushed the furs aside, revealing a girl a year or two younger than the leader. She was naked, and Winter felt herself flush slightly, but Abraham looked her over with a clinical detachment. A bandage, crusty with blood, was wound around her stomach, and seeing the placement of the wound made Winter’s heart sink. When Abraham untied the bandage and raised it gently from the skin, the sudden stench was all the confirmation she needed.

Gut wound. And a bad one, by the look of it. Any cutter from the Second Division gathering wounded would have left this girl where she lay in favor of those who might have a chance to survive. A wound to the muscle might heal clean, and if a limb was injured it could be amputated, but a puncture to the viscera meant festering and a long, nasty death as sure as sunrise.

Winter suddenly was back in another tent, on another continent. Bobby had taken a similar wound, after making Winter swear never to take her to a cutter. At the time, Winter had been foolish enough to imagine she might be able to do something about it on her own. Graff, a veteran sergeant, had disabused her of that notion, and only Feor’s sorcerous intervention had saved Bobby’s life. For a while.

She shook her head and wiped at the tears pricking her eyelids. The question is, is this woman as naive as I was? Or has she guessed that Abraham has something more than ordinary healing to offer?

The spearwoman was looking down at the girl, and her fierce expression was gone, replaced with an overwhelming grief. She’s desperate.

“Please help her,” she said in Murnskai even Winter could understand. “My sister.”

There was a long moment of silence.

“I’ll do what I can,” Abraham said. “But we need to be alone.”

The woman nodded and crawled out of the tent without another word. Winter hesitated for a moment.

“You’re sure about this?” she said. “She knows that’s not a wound anyone can live through. Which means she’s going to know—”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Abraham said, looking down at the dying girl. “She’s here. I’m here. I can’t just ignore her.”

Winter nodded slowly.

“We’ll deal with the consequences when they happen,” Abraham said. He let out a long breath. “Wait outside, please. It’s easier with no one watching.”

Winter pushed her way out of the tent on her hands and knees, clambering awkwardly to her feet beside the spearwoman leader. Someone had draped a fur blanket over Alex’s shoulders, and she looked comfortable enough. The rest of the spearwomen were still going about the business of setting up the camp, but throwing frequent glances in their direction.

“He’ll help your sister,” Winter said, in her halting Murnskai. “He is... a very good healer.”

The spearwoman nodded vaguely. She was staring into the forest, in the direction the red-​eyes had come from. Winter followed her gaze, searching for movement, but there was nothing but the dead trees.

“What’s your name?” Winter said. “I’m Winter.”

“Winter.” The woman frowned, and touched her chest. “Letingerae.”

“Letin... gah... ray?” Winter struggled with the unfamiliar syllables. The woman grinned, for the first time since Winter had met her.

“Leti,” she said. “I’m Leti.”

“My friends are Alex and Abraham,” Winter said, pointing. “What’s your sister’s name?”

Leti looked away. “Vess.”

“Winter?” Abraham’s voice came from within the tent. “You can come inside now.”

Leti pushed through the tent flap so quickly the whole structure shook, Winter worming her way in after. Abraham was undoing the bandage from Vess’ middle, using it to scrape at some of the dried blood and pus. Even through the grime, it was clear that there was unbroken skin underneath, and the girl’s breathing was visibly eased. Leti’s eyes widened.