(eng) Pam Brondos - Fourline 02 by On the Meldon Plain

Author:On the Meldon Plain [Plain, On the Meldon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Nat sat on the ground near the bend, peering through the spindly bushes. She set her sword in the sandy soil and rolled her orb in her hands, looking across the sandbar to where the river abruptly turned and merged with a rust-colored tributary. Water lapped over the red mud of the riverbank. Benedict huddled near a rotted root ball. Blood trickled from beneath the bandage pressed against his forehead.

“Hold still.” Annin peeled the blood-soaked wad of cloth off his forehead. She held his face steady with her palm as she spread an opaque ointment over the cut. Blood mixed with the ointment, leaving a pink smear. Annin quickly covered the wound with a fresh bandage.

“Keep your hand here.” She brought his palm to his temple. “Do you have another bandage? I’m out,” she asked Nat without looking at her.

Nat tossed her satchel to Annin and kept her gaze focused on the river, watching for Andris and wondering how much longer Annin would keep up her cold demeanor. She’d agreed to patch up Benedict after his fall from Andris’ horse because Soris had insisted. She’d flat-out refused Nat’s request.

Annin ferreted through the contents of the satchel and extracted a thin piece of cloth. She tied the strip around the bandage and secured it behind Benedict’s head. Benedict closed his eyes. “You’re lucky.” Annin gathered the old bloody bandage and remaining strips of cloth. “The rock missed the blood vessel by a hair’s breadth.”

“I feel anything but lucky.” He opened his eyes and watched Annin as she collected the remaining debris. He shifted as if sitting on a cactus.

“Don’t thank me or anything. I could have left you in that gully to bleed your brains out.” She spun away with her hands full of bloody garbage.

Nat glanced at Benedict. His chin pressed into his chest, he gently probed the area around the wound with his fingers. “She’s lying, you know,” she said to the Hermit.

“Hmm?” He lifted his head. Puffy purple bags hung below his eyes in contrast to the pale pallor of his skin.

“She would have helped you even if Soris hadn’t insisted,” Nat said. She knew Annin’s initial refusal to help Benedict was because Annin was still mad at her. “She’s too much Ethet’s apprentice not to,” she added, swallowing her earlier hurt. Even if Annin had castigated her and was now ignoring her, she had to try to create the unity they needed to get through this mission.

Benedict didn’t respond. The corners of his mouth turned down. She looked away toward the river and sighed. What am I supposed to say when he won’t even acknowledge that she helped him? Andris wanted her to keep the peace, to keep Annin in line, but Benedict was the real problem. She let go of the branch, and the leaves sprang back into place, obscuring her view of the river.

“Why can’t you put your feelings about them aside?” she asked.

He looked up, startled by her question.

“You locked her in a cabinet when she was a child, but she just willingly helped you.

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