1.30.1 Bandits

The tang of blood filled the air in the carriage room, thick and metallic. Isha wrinkled her nose and twiddled her thumb as she watched Castra crouched beside the unconscious woman, examining the wounds that littered the stranger's body. Her breath caught at the sight. Who could have done this to her?

Deep holes filled the diamond-like carapace of the half-cniad woman, drilled to reach her flesh. She had seen many injuries in her time in war zones—her mother had taken her to, but this was different. This was an abomination.

Those weren't wounds received in battles, but wounds received in captivity—they were too precise, with a sense of purpose to them. But what were those purposes? Torture? But what would anyone gain anything from torturing someone so young? 

She can't be older than fifteen.

Perhaps the reasons were far more sinister. Who could do something so horrible.

"Isha, stop gawking like a child in a menagerie," Castra called over her shoulder, not taking her eyes off the injured woman. "And tell the driver to start the carriage. We need to get moving immediately. Sooner we reach a town the better."

Isha nodded and scrambled to obey, barking a command to the carriage driver. Moments later, the carriage jolted into motion. As the carriage lurched forward, she stole a glance back at the scene. Castra's steady hands were applying some ointment to the woman's injuries.

"Castra," Isha said, settling next to the woman. "Will she be all right?"

Castra grimaced, her hands hovering over the wounded girl, glowing an electric blue. "My healing magic isn't the best... I only learned rudimentary healing for emergencies—" she gestured at the woman's mangled form "-It'll take hours to bring her back to reasonable health, even with all the spells and pills in my arsenal."

"Hours?" Isha gasped. "What happened to her?"

"Blood loss and exhaustion." She paused, wiping sweat beading on her forehead with the back of her hand. "These holes in her carapace… They wanted to harvest Cniad blood. It's incredibly valuable for producing various alchemical pills."

Isha's stomach churned. "That's barbaric."

The thought of the woman being tortured for her blood, sent a shiver down her spine. "It must have been terrible. I can't imagine what she must have gone through."

"Her wounds are fresh," Castra said. "Whoever did this must still be close."

Isha nodded, she had been thinking along the same lines.

Slight colour returned to the wounded woman's face. Castra sighed, the glow in her palm diminishing, then winking out. "That's the best I can do right now."

Isha blinked, wasn't she a [Great Mage]? "Surely, you haven't used all your Mana?"

Castra gave her a disapproving glance. For questioning her? "This is not about Mana, Isha, it is not everything. Compatibility and mindset are equally important. I don't have a mindset of a healer and healing magic is incredibly taxing for those without an appropriate class." 

Isha flushed. "I spoke in ignorance. I am sorry."

Castra shook her head. "Ignorance isn't a sin, Isha. Do not apologise for it, as long as you strive for improvement."

Isha acquiesced.

"Now, help me with her," Castra said, gesturing at the wounded woman.

Isha cradled the woman's head, pinching her nose while Castra forced the unconscious woman to swallow a pill. 

Castra spoke even during the procedure. "This is a blood pill. It helps replenish lost blood. The pill isn't made for Cniad, but as she is a half-breed, it should work."

The woman stirred, before going into a coughing fit. A groan escaped the woman's lips. Her eyelids fluttered open, her eyes murky grey and unfocused.

"What happened to you?" Isha asked in a gentle tone.

The girl looked up at her with wide eyes, filled with horror. "I... I don't know," she said. "I thought... I thought I wouldn't make it."

"Where are you from? Maybe I can help find your family," Castra said, leaning close to the woman.

The girl swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper, and her words were croaking gibberish.

Isha's brow furrowed in concern.

"Easy, easy," Castra soothed, her voice motherly. "Just tell us your name. Can you do that for me?"

She struggled, her mouth opening and closing before she finally managed to form the words. "Nairobi... my name... is Nairobi."

The girl's eyelids fluttered closed once more. 

"At least we know her name," Isha said, trying to sound optimistic.

"Yes," Castra said, wiping her hands with a wet cloth. "It should allow me to use a spell to find her relatives if need be."

Isha gaped. She had no idea such spells were possible.

The carriage jerked to a halt, throwing Isha forward.

"What now," Castra cursed.

"What's wrong?" Isha demanded to the driver, through a speakeasy window. "Why have you stopped?"

"Bandits. Its Bandits," he shouted. "There are about fifty of them. They are going to die, aren't they? Do they believe a carriage like this travels without a guard for no reason? Fools! Naika preserve them, but they are going to die."

Fear, cold and sharp, clawed its way up her heart. In her panic, she failed to notice what he had said, and his calm tone. Isha instinctively reached out for her Mana, synergising the fastest offensive spell she knew [Whispering Arrow]. 

They were in the middle of nowhere, with a wounded woman who needed their help, and now bandits? Images of blood, of battles long past, filled her vision. This day keeps getting worse.

Castra gripped Isha's shoulder with firm hands, her voice a steady anchor in the storm of Isha's panic. "Calm down, girl. Did you hear panic in the driver's voice? I am here, aren't I?"

Isha's frantic breaths stopped, not because of Castra's words, but because of the utter lack of apprehension in her eyes. Castra, unlike Isha, wasn't scanning their surroundings for escape routes, her gaze fixed on Isha's.

She may have calmed down a bit, but Isha didn't dismiss her spell, ready to be unleashed at the moment's notice.

Castra stepped out of the carriage, Isha trailing behind her like a lost puppy. Isha's heart hammered against her ribs. There were indeed more than fifty bandits, their faces obscured in the evening shadows.

"Stay behind me," Castra said, her voice calm as ever. "You will be safe. I'll take care of them."

Isha recoiled, hissing in disbelief. "Are you insane? There are at least fifty of them, they'll rip you to shreds! We should run away."

Her voice trembled with a mix of terror and astonishment.

"I've seen what a group of warriors can do to a Great Mage, and I promise you it isn't pretty."

Casta sighed, a long suffering sound that spoke volumes. "Those were proper warriors, Isha," she said, gesturing dismissively at the ragtag group of bandits. "These? Not so much. They won't even make me break a sweat."

Ignoring Isha's frantic protests, Castra marched towards the bandits, her steps a quiet confidence that sent shivers down Isha's spine. Isha could only follow. After all, where else could she go? It wasn't as if she could run and escape alone, not with those mounted warrior after her.