She was dying. In fact, if he could find a way to warm her body at that exact moment, there would still be a chance that she would lose finger or toes. She would certainly not survive the hours it would take to reach Pirchburg.
Prince Mikhail stopped and shifted her weight to free his hand and check that she was still breathing. Her clothing was stiff, as though it had frozen to her.
He glanced around. Steam rose in thick columns from vents in every direction. It was maddening that someone should freeze to death in a place called the Demon's Oven.
However, if he found a cave or shelter with a steam vent, the moisture would soak their clothing, making it impossible for them to cross the frozen plains afterward. She would need more than just heat at this point. She would need a skilled healer and salves and... and...
The small village beyond the Rainbow Pools! It was full of healers and apothecaries, and it was quite close.
Mikhail reached the horses and removed his cloak with one hand. He wrapped it tightly around the Princess, covering her face, and then set her down while he quickly ripped off his chest plate and gauntlets. Holding her against his body instead of cold metal might help to keep her warm.
His own horse was spent, so he chose the largest of the outlaws' steeds and mounted, holding the reins with one hand while cradling the Princess in the other arm.
It was difficult terrain to navigate quickly, but somehow, he found his way through the Devil's Oven and down among the Rainbow Pools. The ground between the pools and the village was level and even, and riding was much faster.
"Hold on, Princess," he whispered. "Hold on a little longer."
Without his cloak and armor, he could feel the cold creeping into his own flesh, but it did not concern him. The village was ahead. He could see the dark smoke of wood fire on the horizon like a beacon, a promise of warmth.
The village had no walls or gates. He rode between small stone houses and buildings with turf roofs stopping only when he saw a small group of elderly women carrying baskets and vases.
"Please!" he called out. "Please, she needs help! She's too cold."
The other women all glanced to the oldest of them, a wizened old crone with long white and grey hair twisted into thick locks and tied with strands of silver and leather straps. She hobbled forward with the aide of a wooden staff and motioned for the Prince to come to her.
With one wrinkled and shaky hand, she drew back the cloak from the Princess's face and bent down to examine her.
"Still breathing, I think," the old woman decided. "The heart is barely beating. We'll have to be quick. Thalme, ready the bath. Yulia, start the water boiling and bring the cloth, lots of cloth. Sashi, get the oils. Come along, young man. Bring her this way."
The old woman moved quickly for one bent with age. Still clutching the Princess tightly against him, he followed her down a narrow path between two houses and then stooped to enter a dome-shaped stone structure.
"Our clinic," the lady explained. "We see a lot of this sort of thing. The city folk come down to view the pools without proper clothing or a guide. They get lost, spend a bit too much time in the cold, and stumble in here half frozen. Lay her here."
Mikhail laid her on the table and stepped back as the old woman bent down to uncover the Princess. Around them, other women were hurrying in and out, lighting the fire in the pit in the center of the room, bringing baskets of thick cloth, suspending metal poles over the fire, taking out jars and bunches of dried herbs. As he watched, one of the women passed through a door opposite of where they had entered and left it open. Steam bellowed through it.
The old one tugged at the laces of the Princess's gown.
"Frozen," she muttered, "How did her clothes get wet? Did she fall into one of the pools? Thalme, bring me the knife!"
The woman hanging cloth over the fire, stopped, and brought the knife to the old lady who quickly cut through the Princess's gown, tearing the frozen fabric from her pale white skin.
Mikhail winced at the black and blue bruising across the Princess's exposed midriff.
The old lady scowled and glanced at Prince Mikhail with suspicion in her eyes but said nothing.
She snapped her fingers impatiently several times, and the women began to bring the newly warmed cloths they'd hung over the fire. The old one laid these over the Princes's legs and torso in layer after layer.
"Come here!" she ordered Prince Mikhail, and thrust a small covered jar into his hands. "Watch, and then do as I do."
She opened the jar, which contained a thick and greasy salve, and scooped it into her hands. She applied it first to the Princess's fingers and hands and then began to massage it in, using a rough circular motion.
Mikhail dipped his hand into the jar and copied her movements, taking the Princess's other hand and working the ointment into her cold white skin.
Her fingers were stiff and looked blue around the tips.
"Rub harder!" the old crone snapped. "You need to get the blood flowing in the extremities before we put her in the bath. Otherwise, it'll destroy too much of the tissue, and she'll lose most of her fingers and toes. You don't want a wife with no fingers or toes, do you?"
Mikhail did not bother to correct her. He frowned and began to massage harder. Two other women came to work on her feet. In a short amount of time, the Princess's pale fingers began to turn red and swell.
"Good, good," the old woman muttered. "Keep going, just a little bit more...
The Princess gave a low, pitiful moan and began to shiver. Mikhail glanced at the old woman, but she did not remark on it. When the girl began to shake so hard that her teeth chattered, Mikhail dropped her hand and reached to pick her up.
"What are you doing?" the old woman growled.
"She isn't warming! Look at her! She's shaking. We should-"
"She's shivering because she's improving, you dolt," the old woman slapped his hand away from the girl. "Her body has thawed enough to try and warm itself, that's all shivering is. Keep working on her fingers!"
Mikhail did as he was told, but watched the Princess nervously.
"Good," the old lady said and set the girl's hand down gently at her side. "Now we shall learn if we managed to save her hands and feet."
The elder peeled off each layer of warm damp cloth and tossed it aside until the Princess lay exposed in only her underbindings.
"Bring her this way!" she ordered the Prince and hobbled quickly to the far door.
Mikhail swallowed thickly and lifted the Princess's small, shaking form as gently as he could. The girl curled herself against his chest almost immediately, subconsciously seeking his heat.
He followed after the old woman again, ducking down to pass through the door and found himself in a steam filled room with a jagged edge pool in the center. Bundles of dried herbs floated on the surface, and one of the women was shoveling a white, powdery substance into it.
"You can disrobe first if you wish," the old woman informed him.
"I... why do I... need to disrobe?" he mumbled, genuinely confused.
"Someone will have to hold your wife in the pool. She'll fight. She'll likely scream as though it's killing her too. Make no mistake, it is a painful treatment. It will feel to her as though she's burning alive. Hold her tightly and keep her head above the water," she explained.
Mikhail glanced between the old crone and the two other women who stared back at him with expressionless faces.
He laid the Princess down by the side of the pool and turned his back to them, pulling his shirt over his head and kicking off his boots. When he turned around, he caught the quick glance and grins that passed between the women, and decided to leave his pants on.
He stepped down into the water and reached for the Princess.
As he submerged her in the water, her eyes snapped opened and her mouth gaped in a soundless scream. She gasped several times as though she'd been stabbed, and then began to struggle against him, kicking and flailing in his arms.
He crushed her against himself, holding her securely and sunk lower into the water. Her scream was ear-piercingly high.
"Sssh," he whispered in her ear. "I know. It hurts, I know. It will be over soon."
The Princess moaned and cried out once more before losing consciousness again.