Kerr, Katherine - Deverry 09 by Kerr Katherine

Author:Kerr, Katherine
Language: eng
Format: epub

By the time Nevyn and Maddyn rode into camp, the battle had long since ended. Exhausted men led exhausted horses out to tether; others carried wounded friends to the chirurgeons; those who’d come through unscathed were heading for the carts to fetch food for the rest. Down at the river’s edge men and horses alike waded out into the cleansing water to drink their fill after the thirst of battle. Nevyn rose in the stirrups to look around for the Prince, but a servant came running up to him.

‘My lord! Caudyr sent me to you. They’ve got a prize, and they’re trying to keep him alive.’

Nevyn dismounted, flung his reins to Maddyn, and hurried off after the servant. At Caudyr’s station Branoic stood watching while Caudyr himself stitched a wound in the right thigh of a man lying on the wagon gate. Caudyr had already wrapped the fellow’s head tightly with bandages, but blood was oozing through. Their prize lay mercifully unconscious, a middle-aged man with a broad face that seemed familiar.

‘That’s not Burcan, is it?’ Nevyn said.

‘It’s not, my lord,’ Branoic said. ‘His brother.’

Nevyn washed his hands in the bucket of water Caudyr had ready nearby, then took a place on the other side of the gate.

‘It looks as if you’ve done what you can for him,’ Nevyn said.

‘No doubt.’ Caudyr looked up, then paused to wipe the sweat from his arm on his shirt sleeve. ‘I mostly wanted your opinion. Think he’ll live?’

‘How much blood has he lost?’

‘A hellish amount. And this wound here goes deep. A javelin caught him just below the skirt of his mail, I’d say, and then he probably pulled it out himself.’

‘What about that head wound?’

‘He must have lost his helm and been thrown to the ground. It looks to me like a glancing kick from a shod horse tore part of his scalp off.’

Nevyn winced.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

He leaned down and listened to Tibryn’s breathing: shallow and ragged. When he laid a hand on his face, he found the gwerbret’s skin clammy and cold.

‘Fetch a blanket, Branno!’ Nevyn snapped. ‘He’s lost all his fiery humours with the blood, and the imbalance will kill him if we don’t keep him warm.’

With his wounds tended, and him wrapped in blankets and laid near a fire for good measure, Tibryn fought for his life all that afternoon. Whenever he drifted into consciousness, Nevyn got him to drink as much water as he could take and a few sips of herbal medications as well, but he could see how little good they were doing. Tibryn’s face stayed hideously pale, and his lips were bluish, as were the quicks of his fingernails. The pain of his torn scalp at times made him moan; it seemed to drain what little strength he had.

Not long after sundown Nevyn realized that the gwerbret was about to die. He knelt down beside him and laid a hand on his face - as cold and clammy as an eel. Tibryn’s breathing came in big gulping gasps.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.