The Forgotten Field Novel - Chapter 47, 48
## Chapter 47 – THE FORGOTTEN FIELDS (NOVEL)
Edric shouted with urgency toward the others: “Her Highness is injured! She needs healing magic immediately!”
Hearing that, Sir Hart turned to a knight who came behind him and ordered him to bring a mage immediately. Shortly after, a young royal mage came running.
While the mage examined the princess’s condition, Edric and the knights began to remove the stones. Upon lifting the rock that was pressing down on her knee, her torn skirt revealed the completely crushed knee and calf underneath.
When Edric saw bone fragments protruding through the skin, he swallowed hard to suppress a groan. Even with healing magic, it was possible that she might never use that leg again.
“If we close the wound as it is, the bone will fuse crookedly and the entire leg could become deformed. We will have to move her to the camp and set the bones first,” the mage said in a heavy, low voice, his face grave as he studied the injuries.
Edric looked at him with a somber countenance. “Will she be able to hold out until then?”
“I have cast a recovery spell on her, so for now she should be stable,” the mage replied with a tired sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Even so, we should splint the leg so the injury doesn’t worsen. Do we have anything suitable for that?”
“Will this do?”
Sir Hart unbuckled his sword scabbard from his belt and held it out. The mage took it, weighing it lightly in his hand before nodding slowly.
“Yes, this will work. Hold the leg firmly while I bandage it.”
Immediately, Edric followed his instructions, carefully lifting the swollen calf. Just at that moment, the unconscious woman let out a piercing scream of pain.
Startled, Edric flinched and lost his grip. The shattered leg fell to the ground, splashing dark crimson red blood. Horrified, Edric froze…
…and in that instant, Varkas, who had been watching from a short distance away, rushed forward and firmly wrapped his arms around the princess’s torso, holding her immobile.
“Stop the bleeding, now!”
Snapping sharply back to his senses, Edric hurried to hold the leg again. Meanwhile, the mage tore his cloak and pressed the cloth hard against the long wound that ran from her thigh to her knee. The princess buried her face against Sir Sheorcan’s chest, letting out almost animalistic groans while wildly clawing at the knight’s nape with her blood-stained nails.
“That’s it! Now tie the splint!” the mage shouted with urgency.
Following his shout, the knights crouched down and tied the leg firmly against the long scabbard. When the emergency treatment finally ended, Sir Sheorcan lifted her up in his arms.
“I will carry her,” Edric said quickly, extending his arms. “Captain, your wound…”
But before his hand could touch her, Varkas pulled the princess’s body closer to himself in a sharp, defensive movement that made Edric freeze.
With a slight frown of irritation, Varkas pointed with his chin toward the path. “Just clear the way. We have no time to lose.”
“I-I’m sorry, sir,” Edric muttered by instinct, stepping ahead and raising his torch to illuminate the path.
Climbing a steep slope with the princess in that state was impossible, so they had to go around the rock wall to reach the camp.
As he moved through the dark forest, Edric looked sideways at Varkas. The knights’ torches cast a faint glow over one side of the man’s face: cold, distant, almost tired. Edric stared at him, but quickly looked away. It was not the time to wonder what was hidden behind that expression.
Forcing himself to push away the thoughts crossing his mind, Edric quickened his pace, making his way through the dense and somber forest.
She felt her leg as if it were on fire.
Talia groaned from the burning pain, feeling her skin burn as if boiling beneath the surface. With an immense effort, she half-opened her heavy eyelids, which felt as if they were glued shut.
A flickering light wavered on the ceiling above her. For a moment, confusion clouded her mind; then came the deep pain, a pain that seemed to break her bones. She twisted her body and let out a sharp cry.
“Hold her down! Don’t let her move!”
At the unfamiliar voice, her gaze lowered. A broad-shouldered, middle-aged man was leaning over her leg. One of his hands immobilized her thigh while the other poked at her blood-soaked knee with a small tool that looked like surgical forceps.
Talia’s eyes widened in horror. Panic flooded her chest. She tried to pull away with a twist, but someone standing by her head planted a hand on her shoulder, pinning her to the spot.
“Her Highness! Please, calm down!”
Talia gasped for air and looked up at the dark silhouette looming over her. The exhausted, haggard face felt familiar; it took her several seconds to recognize one of the maids Senebier had assigned to her. But there was no comfort in that discovery.
Her eyes, wide and dilated, darted between the rigid expression of the maid and the man poking at her shattered knee. Then, suddenly, she reached out and clawed at the maid’s face.
The sun-darkened arm that had been holding her down pulled back sharply as the maid screamed. Seizing the brief opportunity, Talia tried to crawl across the cot, but a rough hand emerged from nowhere, catching her wrist and pinning it against the mattress.
Talia thrashed like a trapped animal. “Let me go! I said let me go!”
“Please, Her Highness! We are healing your wounds, you must not move!” the man shouted desperately, pressing down on the princess’s torso with the weight of his armor.
Talia only fought harder. The agony seemed to fragment through every part of her body, but the terror —the pure, suffocating fear that she had to escape— drowned out everything else.
“No! Don’t touch me! Don’t touch my body!”
“Bring the sedative, now!” the man roared.
Talia locked her gaze onto his shadowed face, her eyes filled with terror. Her personal guard —the man who had always seemed clueless, almost harmless— now loomed over her with a hard, somber expression.
That familiar dread and helplessness coiled in her throat, choking her. She tried to reach his face to scratch it. “G-get away from me! Leave me alone!”
Her cries turned into catching sobs. The man muttered a curse between his teeth.
Desperate, Talia thrashed again, but the knight caught both of her wrists with a single hand and brought a cold glass vial to her lips.
“Drink this. When you wake up, it will all be over.”
Talia clamped her mouth shut. He did not yield. Pressing the mouth of the vial against her lower lip, he pleaded: “It’s not poison! It’s medicine to help you sleep, to keep you from feeling pain while we heal you. Please, Her Highness…”
But even before his desperate tone, Talia clenched her teeth and refused. She couldn’t trust anyone. Everyone was the same: waiting for the moment she was weak enough to hurt her.
She elbowed the vial away and sat up by force, dragging her bloody leg in a futile struggle to free herself from the beasts holding her down.
Then, the flap of the tent fluttered and a tall, slender figure walked in. Talia froze.
The man brought with him the scent of rain. He wrapped his arm around her torso like a trap, holding her firmly. He gave her no time to resist.
Standing behind her, Varkas locked her tightly in his arms and gave a brief nod to the knight. “Bring the medicine.”
The knight obeyed immediately. Taking the new vial, Varkas removed the cork with his teeth and brought the opening to her lips.
Talia’s trembling eyes locked onto the vial and then rose slowly toward the man’s face. Without any expression, Varkas spoke in a low, calm voice: “Drink.”
—
## Chapter 48 – THE FORGOTTEN FIELDS (NOVEL)
Drops of sweat formed on her forehead and rolled down, wetting the corners of her eyes.
It could be a medicine that brought unbearable pain.
Or perhaps even a deadly poison.
Even when she couldn’t shake that suspicion, Talia parted her lips.
He tilted the vial and poured the bitter liquid into her mouth.
When she coughed and instinctively turned her head to the side, he grabbed her jaw and pressed the bottle toward her again.
Talia swallowed the liquid filtering into her mouth helplessly and looked at him.
She saw the flash of light dancing through his pale eyes, as if they were veiled behind a curtain.
Talia tried to search for any trace of emotion within those inorganic eyes, but soon her limbs went limp.
She strained to keep her consciousness from fading, squeezing her eyes shut in resistance, but her mind grew increasingly confused and her vision blurred rapidly.
Her eyelids flickered once, slowly… and then Talia sank into a death-like silence.
She didn’t know how much time had passed.
It felt like it had been only a few seconds, or perhaps an entire lifetime.
When Talia finally focused her dazed eyes, she frowned at the rhythmic sound of horses’ hooves and the rattling of wheels.
As her blurred vision cleared, the somber interior of a carriage came into view.
For a fleeting moment, she wondered if it had all been just a dream.
The appearance of that terrifying monster,
Varkas running out to save Ayla and leaving her behind,
having been on the verge of being torn apart by the wyvern…
could it all have been nothing more than a nightmare from the night before?
But that comforting thought shattered the moment a wave of pain surged from her knees to her waist.
Talia bit her lower lip hard and clutched her burning knees.
Beneath her thin camisole, she could feel the rough texture of thick fabric.
When her trembling fingers brushed it, she realized that her entire left leg was wrapped in thick bandages, and her eyes opened wide.
Lifting her skirt, she saw blood and fluids staining the rags that adhered to her thighs and sides.
Her trembling hands brushed the dirty fabric before quickly pulling down her skirt and straightening up.
Inside the spacious carriage was a thick mattress stuffed with cotton, and summer cushions and blankets were scattered in disarray.
Talia stared at them for a moment, then grabbed the handrail attached to the wall and tried to pull herself up.
But her legs refused to obey; standing up was nearly impossible.
As she tried to straighten her stiff, leaden legs, pain shot up her spine. She collapsed with a dull thud.
The agony stabbing through her entire body ripped a cry from her lips.
“Are you alright, Her Highness?”
At her cry, the carriage suddenly stopped and the door burst open.
Talia narrowed her eyes at the man standing against the light.
It was one of the Royal Guards; his hair, already disheveled, was an even greater mess now, and his face was filled with concern.
He climbed into the carriage and rummaged through a small box in the corner.
“The pain must be severe. The healer prepared a painkiller in advance. If you drink this…”
“Why haven’t you used healing magic on me?”
Her sharp question made the man freeze.
Talia’s eyes narrowed with suspicion as she wrapped the sheet tighter around herself.
“Did my brother order you not to treat me?”
“N-no, of course not!”
He waved his hands frantically.
“The healer set the bones and healed part of the wound, but… Her Highness’s injuries were too severe to heal all at once. For the sake of your recovery, he thought it best to entrust you to the Imperial Healers once we reach the palace…”
Talia looked distrustfully at the man stumbling over his words, then lowered her gaze toward her leg.
Vaguely, she remembered: the giant rock crushing her knees and thighs.
Indeed, if they had tried to heal her completely back then, perhaps she would never have been able to walk again.
Although she recognized that reluctantly, she still grumbled.
“So you’re telling me I have to stay like this until we reach the palace?”
“I know it’s painful, but please endure a little longer, Her Highness. We are taking the fastest route to Gillian.”
Talia looked at him with half-closed eyes before turning toward the window.
Outside, sunlight poured over a vast plain where a long line of knights rode.
Her gaze wandered unconsciously in search of ash-blonde hair and, when she realized it, she clenched her jaw and slammed the curtains shut.
Even that brief movement left her exhausted.
“So my dear brother actually agreed to return to the palace. How surprising.”
“With so many casualties from the wyvern attack, Her Highness, he could not oppose the return. Someone had to organize the funerals for the fallen.”
Surprised by his unexpectedly bitter tone, Talia turned toward him.
Realizing his slip, the knight quickly changed the subject.
“In any case, Her Highness, you do not look well. Please drink this medicine first.”
He offered her the uncapped vial.
Talia stared at it for a long moment, then waved her hand lazily.
“I don’t need it. Take it away. I’m going to rest.”
“If Your Highness does not trust me, I can call Sir Shearkan.”
Just as she was about to lie down, Talia froze, looking at him with a rigid face.
Her heart skipped a beat as if it had been struck without warning.
To hide it, she curled her lips into a cold, fragile smile.
“Do I look like someone who trusts that man?”
“But, Her Highness, I thought you and he…”
“I don’t trust anyone.”
Her voice cut through his words like a whip.
Then, emphasizing each word as if spitting it out, she added:
“Especially him.”
“…”
“So stop talking nonsense and get out.”
The knight hesitated, parting his lips as if he were going to say something else, then sighed softly and left the carriage.
Moments later, the halted carriage began to move again.
Talia pulled the thin summer blanket up to her shoulders.
The pain that had subsided flared up again, searing her nerves.
She twisted and turned, swallowing her groans, and finally closed her eyes tightly as if to flee from the pain.
As the sun dipped toward the horizon, a robust mage came to cast a recovery spell.
Talia remained silent and accepted his touch.
She hated others touching her, but she no longer had the strength to resist.
“I will burn some incense that dulls the senses. It should ease your pain.”
Perhaps he had heard that she had rejected the medicine earlier; he placed a small censer by the entrance and lit it.
A thick, musty air soon filled the carriage.
Talia was about to rebuke him for his unnecessary fuss, but then she felt her tense nerves slowly relax.
The pain stabbing into her bones began to diminish and her consciousness became hazy.
The incense must contain herbs with sleep-inducing properties.
She gladly accepted the drowsiness that washed over her.
But the sleep did not last long.
Before she knew it, the pain returned, sharper and more ferocious than before.
Groaning, Talia forced her eyes open.
It seemed she would have to call the mage again to light more incense.
She rubbed her throbbing temples and struggled to sit up…
when suddenly, her breath caught in her throat.
Her pupils dilated as she stared blankly into the dense darkness surrounding her.
She didn’t even know what had startled her.
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