Karigan pulled away. “What is that?” Too many times her aunts had insensitively slathered stinging potions onto scrapes and cuts when she was a child.
In the struggle to find the right words, the Eletian screwed up her perfect features. Under different circumstances, the effect would have been comical. It did, at least, seem to demystify the Eletians somewhat; put a more human face on them. Karigan sensed that this Eletian was much younger than the others she had met, but that still meant she could be hundreds of years old.
Ultimately the Eletian gave up trying to find a common name for the healing salve, and said, “We call it evaleoren. It’s leaf. Healing it is.” The woman made a crushing motion with her hand as if to illustrate the process of its making, but quickly gave up with a slight frown.
Karigan nodded and allowed the Eletian to dab the salve on her face. It did not sting at all, and in fact dulled the pain. It possessed a pleasant herby scent, and she felt her cares lightened, as though the salve mended more than the wound on her cheek, but her spirit, as well.
“Good for horse, too,” the Eletian said.
Karigan lifted Condor’s hoof so the salve could be smeared across his wound. He bent his neck around, trying to see what was going on.
When the Eletian finished, she smiled. “Heal he will. A poultice—I will make it.”
“Thank you,” Karigan said with genuine relief. It was the first moment of sanity she had felt all night.
The Eletian then glanced down the picket line, and her bright smile faded. “Other messenger . . .” She shook her head, again unable to express herself.
“Ty?” Without another word, Karigan sprinted down the picket line.
She found Ty soon enough. He squatted next to Flicker, who lay on her side weakly thrusting out her legs. Her mouth foamed with blood. There was a deep wound in her belly. Ty ran his hand along her neck, again and again.
An Eletian knelt next to Ty at Flicker’s head, his hand beneath her forelock, rubbing between her eyes. He spoke to her softly in his own language, calming her. She stopped thrusting her legs, but her sides heaved, and labored breaths gurgled in her throat.
“She will stay quiet,” the Eletian told Ty.
He nodded. With his back to Karigan, she could not see his expression, but Flicker’s ears moved, listening to words he whispered. He stroked her neck once more, then clenched a knife in both hands and raised it above his head. He stabbed downward, throwing his whole body into the stroke.
Karigan reeled away with a sob. She squeezed her eyes shut and clapped her hands over her ears. She couldn’t bear to hear Ty’s grunt of effort, the knife thudding into Flicker’s neck again and again. She could not bear to witness Flicker’s crazed screams and thrashing. The mare would not understand why her Rider was hurting her, why he was using brute strength to saw through the thick layers of flesh and muscle of her strong neck. She would not understand he was doing her a mercy.
Karigan prayed he found and severed the crucial artery quickly.
Blind and deaf to Ty’s plight, her mind carried her to other dark imaginings. What if it had been Condor? What if it was she kneeling there at his side, having to wield a knife into his neck? She bit her lip to force the images away and tasted blood.
It was a long time before she mastered herself and dared to open her senses to the scene she had turned away from. Ty stood over the still form of Flicker, his uniform blackened by blood. Some had splattered his face. Fleetingly she thought how unusual it was to see Ty disheveled, to see any stain on his uniform. It was surreal.
Light from distant muna’riel gleamed in Flicker’s dulling eye. Her tongue lolled slack from her parted mouth. The blood still gushed from her neck, forming a river in the soil.
Ty did not weep. He merely stared down at her. Karigan stood beside him and put her hand on his shoulder.
“The Eletian knife,” he said. “It was very sharp. Made it quick. The Eletian kept her calm, magic I think.”
Karigan closed her eyes and released a slow breath. There had been mercy after all.
“She was in great pain and mortally wounded,” he said. “I had to.”
“I know.” Karigan spoke comforting words that eventually trailed off into silence. There was, she realized, nothing she could say.
Karigan did not know how long she stood there with Ty when a soldier approached them.
“Captain Ansible asks that one of you ride to Sacor City to take the news to King Zachary,” the soldier said.
“My horse is injured,” Karigan said, and then she glanced significantly at Ty and Flicker.
“There’re other horses.”
At first Karigan bristled, then forced herself to cool off. There was no way the soldier could know the bond between Green Rider and messenger horse, and she could not blame him for the callousness of his words. He looked just as weary and strained as anyone else after the night’s events, and had likely lost close companions. One dead horse would mean little to him by comparison.
“I’ll do it.” Ty’s words were so quiet, Karigan wasn’t sure she heard them. “I’ll ride to Sacor City.” This time they came more strongly.
“Ty—” Karigan began, but his look of pain and resolve silenced her.
“One of your messenger horses is over yonder,” the soldier said, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. “Won’t let us near one of the corpses.”
“Oh gods,” Karigan murmured.
They found Crane standing over Ereal. He must have slipped his halter during the melee with the groundmites and come in search of her.