Dragon Wife by Diana Green

Author:Diana Green [Green, Diana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Dragons
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press Inc.
Published: 2014-10-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Orwenna was put to work in one of the medic tents. A matronly woman, wearing a brown apron, took charge of her, demonstrating what to do with arrow wounds, sword cuts, and the like. Buckets of water, linen bandages, and other necessities were stacked on low tables. Next to these were wooden benches for the soldiers to sit on. The worst injuries were dealt with by physicians in neighboring tents.

As wounded men began arriving, brought in wagons or hanging onto comrades’ shoulders, Orwenna felt overwhelmed. She’d never seen so much blood in her life, and some of the soldiers were alarmingly young. They wore little armor, and their weapons were rudimentary.

She wondered if King Elric had forced recruitment from villages, as he marched south. That would explain the ill equipped infantry. It was a questionable practice, swelling the ranks of your army with farm boys. Inexperienced soldiers meant higher casualties. It was an ugly trade off.

Orwenna’s feeling of inadequacy was soon replaced by a desire to help these young men. Though she knew little of medicine, she could clean and bandage wounds well enough. In addition, she gave the soldiers her kindness. She smiled and spoke with them about their homes and families, offering what small comfort she could.

As the battle dragged on, a constant stream of men stumbled through the medic tent, needing care. Orwenna lost track of time. As soon as she finished with one soldier, another was waiting, face pale, hands clammy, eyes dilated with shock. There was no end to them.

She was busy cleaning a leg wound on a lanky red-haired lad, when a deafening roar carried from the battlefield. Everyone froze, struck by the terrible rage in the sound. There was a power and wildness to it, beyond anything human.

Orwenna sucked in her breath, certain it was Huroth who roared. The impulse to run from the tent and find him was strong, but she stopped herself. What good would she be to him, out there? He was a veteran warrior and knew how to take care of himself. Right now, she needed to care for this freckled farrier’s son. His thigh had been run through with a spear, and it was a mess.

The afternoon gradually wore into evening, as the numbers of wounded soldiers began to thin. They brought news that the battle was won. The dragons had chased the Keskan army south, and the killing was over.

“You should take a break, and find something to eat,” the brown-aproned nurse said. For the life of her, Orwenna couldn’t remember the woman’s name.

“Don’t you need a rest too?” she asked. “You’ve been at this longer than me.”

“I’ll go, after you get back,” the woman answered. “Now shoo!”

Orwenna didn’t need further prodding. She was tired, and her stomach felt uncomfortably hollow. In a corner of the tent, she found the satchel of food they’d brought from Whiterock, along with the remaining full canteen.

It was stuffy and close in the tent, so she took her supper outside, thinking the fresh air would do her good.

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