The Warded Man

“What does she have to fear from that sour hag? It’s not as if Bruna will drive the suitors from her door.”
    Bruna knelt beside the injured, inspecting them with firm hands as Darsy unrolled a heavy cloth covered in pockets, each marked with symbols and holding a tool, vial, or pouch. Injured villagers moaned or cried out as she worked, but Bruna paid them no mind, pinching wounds and sniffing her fingers, working as much from touch and smell as sight. Without looking, Bruna’s hands darted to the pockets of the cloth, mixing herbs with a mortar and pestle.
    Darsy began laying a small fire, and looked up to where Leesha stood staring from the stream. “Leesha! Bring water, and be quick about it!” she barked.
    As Leesha hurried to comply, Bruna pulled up, sniffing the herbs she was grinding.
    “Idiot girl!” Bruna shrieked. Leesha jumped, thinking she meant her, but Bruna hurled the mortar and pestle at Darsy, hitting her hard in the shoulder and covering her in ground herbs.
    Bruna fumbled through her cloth, snatching the contents of each pocket and sniffing at them like an animal.
    “You put stinkweed where the hogroot should be, and mixed all the skyflower with tampweed!” The old crone lifted her gnarled staff and struck Darsy across the shoulders. “Are you trying to kill these people, or are you still too stupid to read?”
    Leesha had seen her mother in such a state before, and if Elona was as frightening as a coreling, Hag Bruna was the mother of all demons. She began to edge away from the two, fearing to draw attention to herself.
    “I won’t take this abuse forever, you evil old hag!” Darsy screamed.
    “Be off, then!” Bruna said. “I’d sooner mar every ward in this town than leave you my herb pouch when I pass! The people would be no worse off!”
    Darsy laughed. “Be off?” she asked. “Who’ll carry your bottles and tripods, old woman? Who’ll lay your fire, fix your meals, and wipe the spit from your face when the cough takes you? Who’ll cart your old bones around when chill and damp sap your strength? You need me more than I need you!”
    Bruna swung her staff, and Darsy wisely scurried out of the way, tripping over Leesha, who had been doing her best to remain invisible. Both of them tumbled to the ground.
    Bruna used the opportunity to swing her staff again. Leesha rolled through the dirt to avoid the blows, but Bruna’s aim was true. Darsy cried out in pain, covering her head with her arms.
    “Off with you!” Bruna shouted again. “I have sick to tend!”
    Darsy growled and got to her feet. Leesha feared she might strike the old woman, but instead she ran off. Bruna let fly a stream of curses at Darsy’s back.
    Leesha held her breath and kept to her knees, inching away. Just as she thought she might escape, Bruna took notice of her.
    “You, Elona’s brat!” she shouted, pointing her gnarled stick at Leesha. “Finish laying the fire and set my tripod over it!”
    Bruna turned back to the wounded, and Leesha had no choice but to do as she was told.
    Over the next few hours, Bruna barked an endless stream of orders at the girl, cursing her slowness, as Leesha scurried to do her bidding. She fetched and boiled water, ground herbs, brewed tinctures, and mixed balms. It seemed she never got more than halfway through a task before the ancient Herb Gatherer ordered her on to the next, and she was forced to work faster and faster to comply. Fresh wounded streamed in from the fires with deep burns and broken bones from collapses. She feared half the village was aflame.
    Bruna brewed teas to numb pain for some and drug others into a dreamless sleep as she cut them with sharp instruments. She worked tirelessly, stitching, poulticing, and bandaging.
    It was late afternoon when Leesha realized that not only were there no more injuries to tend, but the bucket line was gone, as well. She was alone with Bruna and the wounded, the most alert of whom stared off dazedly into space thanks to Bruna’s herbs.
    A wave of suppressed weariness fell over her, and Leesha fell to her knees, sucking in a deep breath. Every inch of her ached, but with the pain came a powerful sense of satisfaction. There were some that might not have lived, but now would, thanks in part to her efforts.
    But the real hero, she admitted to herself, was Bruna. It occurred to her that the woman had not ordered her to do anything for several minutes. She looked over, and saw Bruna collapsed on the ground,