Free Isabella Rockwell's War by Hannah Parry Page A

pushed to one side. Her heart fell further.
Inside the den, it was quiet; too quiet. There was an unfamiliar
smell, sweet and cloying.
    Close to the
fire, curled like a seahorse, lay Lily. She was fighting for every
breath and her lips were blue. Next to her sat Ruby with tears
pouring silently down her cheeks as she bathed Lily’s white face.
Zachariah held Lily’s hand and seemed to be muttering something,
prayers maybe, whilst rocking back and forth. His eyes never left
Lily’s face and Isabella could hardly bear to look at him, such was
the pain she could see there.
    Barely knowing
what she was doing, Isabella took her bag off.
    “When did she
become sick?” she asked quietly.
    “Since this
morning. She seemed so tired so I let her sleep, but when I tried
to wake her I found I…” Ruby gulped, “I couldn’t.”
    “Has she woken
at all since then?”
    “Only
once.”
    “Did she
recognise you?”
    Ruby nodded,
eyes filling again.
    “That is
good.” Isabella looked at Lily closely. With her face so still her
resemblance to Zachariah was more pronounced. Isabella felt her
skin. It was hot to the touch as if a furnace burned away deep
inside her.
    “She is very
ill,” she said, almost to herself.
    Zachariah
seemed to see her for the first time.
    “What are you
doing here? Go away, leave us in peace.” Such was the anger in his
face, it took all of Isabella’s courage to stay put.
    “I have a
little experience of healing.”
    “So?”
Zachariah’s eyes were bleak. Isabella had seen this look before
and, despite his indifference to her, she felt compassion for him.
How well she knew what he faced. She reached out and touched his
sleeve.
    “I helped to
nurse people who were sick at home. I know a little. At least I
could make her more comfortable.” As if in response to this Lily
took a deep and rattling breath and let out a little moan.
    “Let her,
Zachariah. Please. Otherwise we’ll have to get Doc Rogers,” begged
Ruby, but Zachariah interrupted her, never taking his eyes from
Lily’s face.
    “I’m not
having that sawbones anywhere near her…” Isabella didn’t stop to
listen, she was on her feet stoking the fire as high as she
dared.
    “We don’t have
much time,” she said gathering up some bedding and placing it
against the warm brick of the wall. “Bring her over here and sit
her up gently against this. If she sits up the water in her lungs
will drain downwards and she will find it easier to breathe.”
Zachariah glared at her, but did as she suggested.
    “We must now
see about her fever. We need water, which is warm, but not hot – as
if you are feeling nothing – that is the temperature it must be.”
Ruby, glad to be asked to do something, leapt to her feet, but
William was ahead of her, filling pots from the jugs of water they
collected each morning from a pump on the street corner.
    Isabella took
out her medicine pouch and unrolled it. Each little pocket bulged
with its remedy and Isabella sent up a silent prayer of thanks to
Abhaya. Taking a tiny dried yellow flower from one pocket she
handed it carefully to Ruby.
    “Let William
finish the bathing water. This is Aremenia Asia and is powerful
against fever. You need to boil this flower in one cup of water for
exactly three minutes. If it cooks for too long the medicine in it
will be lost.”
    As Isabella
crushed the flower into the cup of water, a smell was released
driving away the dense smell of infection and replacing it with the
scent of lemon and the clean air of the mountains where the flower
had grown. Isabella unwrapped Lily from her bed linen, her every
move watched by Zachariah and then dropped a few drops of mint
essence into the tepid water William carried over to her. She
ripped a piece of cloth in half and gave one piece to
Zachariah.
    “Here, bathe
her gently. This will help to bring the fever down too.” Zachariah
took the cloth and began to bathe Lily’s skin, which was white and
stretched tightly over her