The Winter of Swords by Aaron Bunce

Author:Aaron Bunce [Bunce, Aaron]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Autumn Arch Publishing
Published: 2019-02-07T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 26

Bloodlust

A massive weight lifted free and breath, blessed breath, entered his lungs. He greedily sucked in more air, coughed, winced with pain, and finally opened his eyes.

His mind ached and it was several long moments before he could understand what was going on around him. Hands wrapped around his arms as he was pulled up into a seated position. Sky’s face appeared before him, his expression pinched and his cheeks streaked with blood.

“Ama’lik, are you okay?” he asked.

It all rushed back to Julian. He remembered the attack, the masked man, and Tanea.

Tanea is…gone.

He pushed forward, attempting to get up, but heavy hands fell onto his shoulders and pushed him back down.

“Nope…stay down,” Nirnan grunted, dropping down next to him. A blood-soaked bandage was wrapped around his midsection and he bled from a number of smaller wounds.

“Are you injured?” Sky asked again. Julian eyed him warily, unable to tear his eyes away the splinted stub of an arrow sticking out of his friend’s chest plate.

Sky glanced down, ran a finger over the broken shaft, and cracked a nervous smile. “Yeah, it uh, missed. Hit at an angle and just gave me a scratch. Lucky.”

“Good…” Julian started, and then took another deep breath, still fighting off the dizziness. “Where did he go? He took…Tanea. I need to find her,” he asked, spitting the questions out.

“Easy, Ama’lik. There is nothing you can do for her in your state,” the big man said, wincing, then through a hand on his shoulder and held him down again. Julian grunted and cursed. He wanted to argue, to fight, but knew it wouldn’t do any good. The big man was right.

After several excruciating moments they let Julian stand. His chest ached horrible, the simple act of breathing now a painful affair. He limped back into the camp, trying to straighten out his thoughts.

Julian came upon Stark prone on the ground, his neck clawed wide open. His face was frozen in a horrible mask of pain and fear. He knelt over him, the moments bleeding away, trying to reconcile his death, failing to find reasons not to blame himself. He moved to close Stark’s eyes and found his skin still warm. He was so freshly passed that Julian half expected him to spring from the ground, laughing that it was all a joke.

“We lost Stark. Nirnan took a couple nasty pokes, but he’s strong. Those that came from the north camp didn’t fare well. Banner is the only one still standing. We lost one dog, we think another ran off, or it’s dead, too. The last one, Judge, is licking his wounds by the fire,” Sky said.

Julian nodded, but turned and moved off, unable to find the words to respond. He came upon several gnarls still alive. One had almost clawed its way out of the camp, so he finished it off with a thick chunk of firewood.

What was the point of all this? What? The fires will scare the little beasties away from the city? Everyone locked behind stout doors and stone walls are still safe.

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