Mortimer cut off her protest. "No arguments, Mage Isolde. Your safety is paramount. I'll not have you risking your life unnecessarily." He gestured towards the relative safety of the infirmary. "Go, tend to the wounded and the exhausted. There will be time enough for heroics once the city has been secured."
Isolde bit back a retort, knowing it would be pointless. Mortimer was right - as a mage, this is the only thing she could do within her abilities. With a curt nod, she turned and strode towards the infirmary, the weight of the earlier horrors heavy on her shoulders. Her back ached from the fall from the height of the earlier window, she felt liquid drip from her forearm Isolde glanced down at her arm, seeing blood trickling from a jagged gash. The adrenaline was fading, and the pain began to throb insistently. She gritted her teeth, tearing a strip of fabric from her already tattered robes. She wrapped it tightly around the wound, grimacing at the sting.
