A Curse of Tooth and Claw: Chapter Twelve

In which we learn what happened to Solana Ramirez.

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The Commander

Solana woke up in the infirmary tent covered in blood. Dirt smeared all over the white bedsheets of the cot she'd been assigned. Her fingers were stained with soot and her face was streaked with grime. Her hair, which she usually kept tied back in a tight bun, hung loose and messy. Not one inch of her uniform remained unmarked.

The sound of explosions and screams still echoed in her ears. She closed her eyes and tried to remember what had happened. Kiki and her friends had escaped the dungeon. That much she was certain. It was what happened after that was still unclear. 

Solana tried to sit up, but a wave of nausea and dizziness hit her. She felt the back of her head. There was a large bump, with dried blood caked on it. She touched her face and winced. Her lips were swollen, her face was bruised and her skin was chafed and raw from where the acid had splashed. 

The tent's flaps opened, letting in a shaft of sunlight. Solana squinted and saw a familiar figure. "Bernat."

Bernat kneeled in front of her and put a hand on her forehead. His azure eyes narrowed as if he was going to say something, but he just shook his head and stood up. "You're alive," he said, his words slow and deliberate, full of emotion.

Solana was surprised at the relief that she heard in Bernat's voice. And she couldn't help but smile. "I'm alive," she repeated, in a whisper. "I'm alive."

"What happened?" Bernat asked, looking away from Solana. She couldn't help but wonder if he was looking away because he couldn't stand to look at her. Was she really so hideous? Solana pushed that thought deep down in the space where she buried all of her other feelings. It didn't matter what Bernat thought, she chided herself. He was her second-in-command and nothing more. Any feelings she may have for him were a sign of her own weakness.

"Sol?" Bernat's eyes were full of worry. His eyes had a way of locking onto things yet still be seen darting around and behind. His eyes seemed to follow everything around him. It was as if he was always watching, taking everything in so that nothing could get the jump on him. 

"There were explosions. The walls shook and there were screams from the lower levels. I went down to see what was happening and found Slayer Xochicale. She'd been freed by Healer Luna and Officer Artchete. They had some kind of acid. It burned through the iron hinges." Solana recounted what she had seen with precision, but faltered when she came to the last part. "The acid burned through my uniform. Xochicale escaped and left me for dead. Then, the whole building—"

Bernat cut her off. "The explosions in the upper levels started a chain reaction. The Attendants who found you barely got you out before the roof caved in."

Solana frowned and a wave of sadness washed over her as the fragmented memories pieced together. The crash of stone against stone. The screams. The flames. The calls for help. She'd been powerless to help those that had been trapped inside. 

Solana hated that feeling. It was a feeling she'd vowed she'd never fall victim to again after the Corps had taken her in off the streets. The memory of sleeping in cold alleyways and fighting off rats for scraps returned fresh and raw. How she'd searched for her parents, her aunts, and uncles but had found no one. How her cousins had tried to stick together but, in the end, it was everyone for themselves. No one could afford another mouth to feed. 

Solana knew that her story was anything but unique. Once the darkness had split the kingdom in two, there were more orphans than the kingdom knew what to do with. There was no use in wallowing in self-pity for her lot in life. It was the same lot that most of her subordinates also faced. All she could do was bottle those memories up and stuff them into the darkest corners of her mind and pray they'd never resurface and get in her way.

Solana tossed off the sheet that had been tucked around her and sat up, determination fueling her every move. The past was the past and she had larger problems at hand. Like getting her regiment in order. Learning how many were trapped in the dungeons and extracting them as quickly as possible. "How many?"

Bernat cast his eyes to his boots. "We're not sure yet."

"That's unacceptable, Slayer," Solana said as she pushed herself to a stand. The world tilted sideways for a moment and she grabbed Bernat's arm to steady herself. "Give me something to work with," she demanded.

Bernat stared at her, not speaking for a long moment. 

Solana plowed past his silence. "We know how many were in the upper levels—how many were in the dungeons, in the barracks, on the Wall. We have rosters for a reason. Call a muster. Do a roll call. It's not that hard."

Bernat opened his mouth to speak but closed it again. He seemed to be struggling with something. Solana narrowed her eyes. "Bernat?"

"Sol, I think you should sit down."

Solana suddenly became aware that she was still holding onto Bernat for balance. He smelled like the campfires and Slayer leathers. It was a smell that was unique and distinctly his. It made Solana long to reach up and take a deep inhale. She wanted nothing more than to lean in and rest her head on his chest. Being this close to him sent her heart on double time.

Bernat seemed to also become aware of their prolonged contact. His eyes traced the sweep of her lips and hers did the same. His gaze slowly searched her face as if seeking permission. 

Solana wanted to lean forward and close the distance between them. To run her fingers through his midnight black hair. To touch the stubble along his jaw. She could feel his heart beating through his chest at twice the usual rate. How she longed to close the chasm of responsibility and duty that separated them. But to do so was an abuse of her rank and she would do no such thing. 

Solana abruptly broke the contact and took a seat back onto the edge of the cot. "Spit it out, Bernat," her voice had an edge to it that she didn't usually use with her second. 

The light in Bernat's eyes dulled for a moment at the sudden distance between them. But it was quickly replaced with his typical efficient exterior. "It's not just the people who are trapped," Bernat blurted out.

"What do you mean?" Solana's stomach turned over. She didn't like the look on Bernat's face. It was the same look he'd had when he'd told her about the breach the other night. 

"There was another attack last night. After the dungeon collapsed. There have been--disappearances."

She curled her hands into the sheets until she could feel her nails pressing into her skin. All of these half-answers and tip-toeing around her like she was some fragile doll. "Just give it to me straight," she snapped.

Bernat frowned and turned his eyes to the floor. He took in a deep breath as if to steady himself. Trying to look calm, he explained, "Reports from the Slayers and Attendants who responded to the breach indicated that the demons were taking people. The demons appeared to drag them back to the Cicatrix."

Solana's heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. The world slowed as his words settled on her. "They're--what? Taking our people? Into the Cicatrix?" she repeated, her voice brittle with fear. She would have thought it was impossible, but the look on Bernat's face said otherwise. 

"That's what witnesses are saying," he replied, his eyes cautiously watching her as if waiting for her to explode into action. "But we don't know why the demons are doing it."

Solana looked down at her scarred hands. Fear of what the demons were doing combined with the worries of what they were going to do in response, and the people trapped in the dungeons... It was all so much. Her mind was whirling with thoughts of people being captured and what was happening to them now. Bile surged in her throat at the thought. 

Solana had to do something. Those were her people out there. Her responsibility. They deserved action on her part, not this pathetic wallowing. Solana felt a rush of determination ignite inside her soul. 

"Gather our gear, Bernat. Meet me at the supply hall in fifteen minutes. We're going after our people." Solana rushed to her feet and immediately tipped forward. 

"Take it easy!" Bernat admonished, catching her in his arms and slowly setting her back onto the cot. "You're in no shape to be going anywhere."

"Are you my second or my babysitter?" Solana snapped. Shame at showing such physical frailty clawed at her insides. This was not who she was. She was the youngest Commander in the history of the Demoncorps. She had rows of stars on the insides of her wrists to prove that she was more than capable of taking down demons. She'd risen from gutter slum to what she was now. It shouldn't have bothered her so much to be in such a weakened state, but it did nonetheless. 

Bernat pursed his lips and crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't say a word but his eyes said it all. She wasn't going anywhere until she was fully healed. 

Solana's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Damn it all," she muttered. "Get me a Healer. The sooner I'm on my feet, the better."

"Like you had any other choice," Bernat said a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips. He turned on his heel to get the attention of the nearest Healer leaving Solana to consider everything she'd just learned. 

Solana signed as Bernat's words still echoed in her mind. She was still having trouble with the news he'd shared. The demons were actually taking their people. Why would they, she wondered. What were they doing? Were her people even still alive? 

She stared at the rows of stars lining her wrists, one for each kill, and shook her head. It didn't matter. She would get them back or she would die trying.

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