They spent a few days at the castle and were to go hunting the next morning. Hamíd slept fitfully that night before rising at dawn. After a light meal, the hunting party assembled in the courtyard. Hamíd rode close to Ismail, not wanting to let him out of his sight. They rode all morning and brought down several small deer. By midafternoon, they turned back to the castle.
As they passed through a small dell, Hamíd reigned up sharply, causing those behind him to stop.
“Hamíd? What’s wrong?” Ismail pulled up beside him.
“I don’t know yet, sir,” Hamíd replied.
A silence had fallen in the forest. A prickle of apprehension ran down his spine, heightened as Zephyr snorted and began to rear and move about nervously. The rest of the group grew more alert and began to spread out behind them. Ismail pushed his horse a few steps ahead of Hamíd. A rustle in the bushes to his left caused Hamíd’s head to turn sharply. A young lion burst out of the undergrowth and headed straight for Ismail. Hamíd yelled a warning as he spurred Zephyr forward between Ismail and the lion.
The lion jumped as Hamíd turned to face it. Its powerful body slammed into his chest, sending them tumbling to the ground together. His arm went up as the lion went for his throat; its powerful jaws locked around his vambrace. They rolled over and over, and he screamed as its claws cut into him. His hand found a dagger, and he plunged it again and again into the lion’s side. Then all grew still. The lion lay on top of him with its jaws still clamped around his arm. His hand slipped from the bloody dagger handle as he began to lose consciousness.
The rest of the hunting party had watched in horror during the fight, unable to shoot for fear of hitting Hamíd. Emeth and Ahmed ran forward as it ended. Emeth pushed the carcass off Hamíd as Ahmed began trying to staunch the blood. Their movements galvanized the others into action. Nicar hurried to join Emeth and Ahmed.
Lord Rishdah looked up at the broken foliage that had been the lion’s hiding place. He froze as he saw two men with bows pointed down into the dell. He cried a warning as they fired. He ducked one arrow as it flew towards him; the other carved a deep groove in Ismail’s arm as he twisted in the saddle.
The assassins fled with Lord Jamal and his men in hot pursuit. Lord Rishdah ran to Ismail, helping him from his horse into the protective circle of guards as Ismail tried to stop the bleeding. Azrahil ordered the remaining men to guard the perimeter.
Nicar tore his cloak into strips to bind Hamíd’s wounds. The lion’s claws had raked down his upper left arm and his right thigh to the knee. Its jaws had gouged the underside of his arm unprotected by the vambraces. His mail coat had prevented any other serious injuries. Emeth and Ahmed held him down as Nicar finished tying the crude bandages.
“Where’s Ismail?” Hamíd rasped.
“He’s fine. But what were you thinking, idiot?” Emeth asked.
His question went unanswered as Hamíd lapsed into unconsciousness.
“Emeth, stay with him. Ahmed, we’ll need a stretcher. He needs proper care quickly if he’s to live,” Nicar ordered before running over to where Lord Rishdah was tying a bandage around Ismail’s arm.
“How is he?” Lord Rishdah looked at Hamíd’s limp form.
“Not so good, my lord. We need to get him out of here fast. I don’t have what I need for him with me.” Nicar reached for Ismail’s arm.
“I’ll be fine.” Ismail pushed his hand away. “Take care of him first.”
Nicar gave a nod and hurried over to where Azrahil and Emeth were placing Hamíd on a makeshift stretcher made of spears and cloaks. As Ahmed covered him with a cloak, Nicar could see blood already seeping through the bandages.
“Azrahil, how long until we make it back?” Nicar’s forehead creased in worry.
“It’s almost half a mile back to the castle, but I’m afraid that might be too long,” was Azrahil’s grim answer as he ordered men over to carry the stretcher.
They raced back to the castle as Hamíd moaned in his sleep, sweat beading his forehead. When they reached the castle, they took Hamíd to a secluded room and laid him on the bed.
Nicar found his pouch as hot water was brought to the room. He quickly washed his hands and began removing Hamíd’s tunic, calling Emeth over to assist him. Emeth removed his cloak and weapons and helped Nicar take off Hamíd’s mail coat and shirt. Emeth handed Nicar hot water and cloths, and he began washing the ragged wounds on Hamíd’s arm.
Though not as deep as they had first appeared, the edges of the cuts were bright red and hot to the touch. Hamíd flinched as Nicar bathed them. Nicar swore as the wounds already showed signs of infection. Emeth watched worriedly as he prepared a salve, which he spread on the wounds and wrapped in fresh bandages.
“It’s swelling, so I can’t stitch it yet,” Nicar explained as he ripped open the bloody pant leg to tend to the three slashes down Hamíd’s leg. The wounds on his forearm seemed uninfected, so he washed and stitched them.
Emeth laid his hand on Hamíd’s forehead as they finished. “He’s too hot.”
Nicar leaned over and felt Hamíd’s pulse. It was weak and irregular.
“Will he die?” Emeth’s voice trembled.
“I don’t know yet, lad, but I’m not giving up without a fight,” Nicar replied and sent him for more water and cloths. After Emeth left, Lord Rishdah came in.
“How is he?” he asked.
“Not well, sir. I don’t know what was on that lion’s claws, but it’s making the wounds worse.” Nicar drew blankets over Hamíd. “Forgive me, sir, but how is Ismail?”
“He’ll be all right. Jamal’s healer saw to his arm, but I’m afraid he’s still in shock over what happened. We all are. The whole place is in an uproar,” Lord Rishdah said. “Lord Jamal just made it back. I’m on my way to see him. Nicar, do your best please.”
Nicar nodded gravely. He didn’t need to be told. Hamíd was family.
Emeth came back accompanied by a servant carrying more water and herbs. Nicar made a potion and, as Emeth held Hamíd up, poured a little into Hamíd’s mouth. His eyes, clouded in pain, flickered open for a moment. Nicar dampened a cloth and began bathing Hamíd’s forehead. Emeth stood by, looking a little lost.
“Go and get cleaned up, Emeth. You can come and relieve me in a few hours. It’s going to be a long night,” Nicar said grimly.
* * *
Lord Rishdah went out into the courtyard to meet Lord Jamal.
“We got both of them,” Lord Jamal said. “But not before they talked. I know who’s after you now.” He led Lord Rishdah inside to a private chamber. “It’s Numair.”
Lord Rishdah started at the name. “You are sure of this?”
“Yes, I know he’s your brother—”
“Half-brother!” Lord Rishdah interrupted.
“Well, it seems that he’s tired of living on the eastern border. I must say, he’s done a good job of trying to make your death seem accidental.”
“He always was a small, scheming man,” Lord Rishdah said. “I’m sure the Argusians were only too happy to take the chance for revenge by killing me. But Numair has gone too far. He killed my son. He tried to kill me.”
“What do you plan?” Lord Jamal stood back to allow Lord Rishdah room to pace.
“There was always little love lost between us, so he’ll understand when I take my army to put him in his place,” Lord Rishdah said furiously.
“Well, this attack took place on my lands and against my future son-in-law, so naturally, my men and I are coming with you,” Lord Jamal said.
Lord Rishdah smiled. “Thank you, my friend.”
“How is your young guard? You know, in all my life, I’ve never seen anything like that.” Lord Jamal shook his head.
“He’s not doing well.”
“Let me know if he needs anything. My best healers are at your disposal,” Lord Jamal said.
“Thank you, my men are looking after him now. If you’ll excuse me, I should go explain things to my family,” Lord Rish
dah said.
Lord Jamal laughed shortly. “Aye, I’m sure I have some guests that want an explanation as well.”
* * *
Nicar stayed with Hamíd all night as his fever raged on. Nicar placed cold compresses on his forehead and changed poultices on his wounds, trying to draw out the infection. Emeth came in just after dawn. Nicar was sitting half asleep in a chair. He jumped when Emeth came up behind him.
“Any change?” Emeth asked.
Nicar shook his head. Hamíd lay still on the bed, laboring through each breath.
“I’ll stay with him. You’re exhausted.” Emeth patted his shoulder.
Nicar stood with a wince. “All right. I’ll be back in a few hours. He needs water. See if you can get him to take any.”
Emeth nodded. As Nicar left, he sat down in the chair by the bed. He poured a cup of water and moved over to the bed.
“Hamíd,” he said. Hamíd’s eyes flew open. “Here, drink this,” Emeth coaxed as he propped Hamíd up. He poured some of the water into Hamíd’s mouth. He swallowed and his eyes fell closed again. Emeth felt his forehead; he was still burning up. The hours stretched on as Emeth sat by, unable to do anything but listen to Hamíd’s ragged breathing.
Nicar came back later as he promised and began checking the bandages.
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Infection’s passed.” He crushed some herbs into a cup of water and handed it to Emeth. “Get that down him. I can start stitching now.”
Emeth turned to Hamíd again. He called his name, but no response came from Hamíd. Emeth glanced at Nicar preparing his things.
“Come on, don’t do this to me, mate,” he whispered. “Corin! Corin, come on, wake up!”
Hamíd’s eyes opened, dull recognition showing in their blue depths.
“Aiden, it hurts.” The hoarse words dragged from his throat.
“I know, Cor. Drink this, it’ll help.” He drew Hamíd up and held the cup to his lips. He swallowed some and winced as he coughed.
“Come on,” Emeth prompted. “All of it. Nicar’s going to start sticking you here in a minute.”
He drank the rest slowly and fell back into a restless sleep.
“Emeth, hold him steady,” Nicar said.
Emeth held Hamíd’s arm gently as Nicar began to stitch the wounds shut.
“So, is that his real name?” Nicar asked.
“What?” Emeth asked in return.
“Corin.”
Emeth looked up sharply.
“I might be older than you, but I’m not deaf.” Nicar smiled. “It’s a good name. Just like Aiden is a good name for you.”
“You know I changed it for a reason,” Emeth replied.
Nicar nodded in understanding. Emeth wiped fresh blood away as Nicar finished stitching. Nicar spread ointment on and re-bandaged the wound. They repeated the process on Hamíd’s leg and then turned to the small gashes and cuts he had also sustained.
Hours later, they finished. Nicar grimaced as he straightened up and felt Hamíd’s pulse. It was no different from the previous night. They covered him warmly with blankets as Ahmed came to relieve them. Nicar met Lord Rishdah in the hallway.
“He’s not doing well, Lord,” he said in response to Lord Rishdah’s question. “If the fever doesn’t break by tonight, he might not make it.”
“Have you told Emeth or Ahmed this?” Lord Rishdah asked.
Nicar shook his head. Around the corner, Emeth moved quietly away and then made his way outside.
Chapter 11
Emeth halted behind the back wall of the stables, slamming a hand against the sun-warmed wood in angry fear. He couldn’t do this again. Measured footsteps announced that Lord Rishdah had followed him. Emeth leaned against the wall in an attempt to compose himself.
Lord Rishdah wasn’t fooled. “You heard?”
Emeth nodded dejectedly, crossing his arms tightly across his chest.
“I feel so useless. He’s dying, and I can’t do anything to stop it!” he burst out. “I guess he knew it might happen though.”
“What do you mean?” Lord Rishdah tilted his head in curiosity.
“He asked Azrahil about his dream, and I figured you knew too. He first had it the night you buried Castimir. Castimir came and told him something would happen to Ismail, and that he needed to protect him. He’s had it several times,” Emeth explained.
Lord Rishdah leaned against the wall beside him, shaking his head in disbelief. “Emeth, what do you know about him?”
Emeth hesitated before forming a cautious reply. “Not much, other than his real name and that he’s from Aredor, sir.”
“But it seems that you know more than you tell.” Lord Rishdah saw straight through his reply again.
“It’s not my place, my lord.” He wasn’t about to divulge Hamíd’s secret.
“Well then, pray to Zayd or to your god that he makes it through this.”
* * *
He lay still, surrounded by darkness and pain. His last memory was a lion jumping at him and then after that came the pain. Around him in the black, he could sense something prowling, waiting to strike. He yearned to break free and to fly away, but he was pinned down. He tried to fight against it, but he couldn’t move. He was trapped!
* * *
Late in the afternoon, Emeth went to the stables and began brushing Narak in an attempt to clear his head. As he finished, he heard a disturbance a few stalls down. He moved over to see Zephyr prancing restlessly in the stall, throwing his head with thunderous neighs. Emeth went up to the door.
“Careful, sir,” a groom said. “That one’s half crazy. He fought the whole way back that day of the hunt. Almost hurt the soldier leading him.”
Emeth cautiously reached a hand out. Zephyr snorted as he drew in Emeth’s scent. He stood still and stretched his head toward Emeth.
“That’s it. Come on, you know me,” Emeth murmured.
The stallion took a tremulous step forward. Emeth gently stroked its nose and felt in his pouch for a lump of dried oats. Zephyr came forward to take the treat, snorting as he chomped the treat. Emeth rubbed Zephyr’s forehead.
“You were worried about him, weren’t you, boy? He means a lot to you, doesn’t he?” he whispered softly.
The stallion relaxed and nosed Emeth’s tunic, looking for more treats. Emeth laughed as he slipped inside the stall and began rubbing Zephyr down. He was feeding the horse the remainder of his supply when Ahmed ran up.
“The fever broke. He’s awake!”
* * *
Hamíd still lay in the darkness, exhausted and burning with pain. A light broke through overhead. He strained toward it, and broke free, flying toward it. He opened his eyes to see Nicar standing over him.
Nicar grinned in relief. “Welcome back.”
He gently propped Hamíd up and held a cup of water for him to drink. He drained the cup, and Nicar helped him settle back down on the pillows as Ahmed and Emeth burst in.
“You made it through! How do you feel?” Emeth breathlessly asked.
“Pretty terrible,” Hamíd said hoarsely.
“Well, you still look terrible.”
Hamíd flashed a tired grin. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
A relieved chuckle broke from Ahmed. “You should. We’re just glad to see you alive.”
“All right, you two. He’s hurt and needs to rest,” Nicar interrupted.
Ahmed and Emeth stifled grins.
“For once, I’m not going to argue,” Hamíd said.
“Good. I don’t suppose either of you told Lord Rishdah anything?” Nicar turned to Emeth and Ahmed. They both shook their heads a little sheepishly.
“Must I do everything myself?” Nicar raised his eyes to the ceiling.
Emeth made a face at him.
“All right, all right, we’re going!” Ahmed said.
As they went out, Hamíd looked at Nicar.
“How bad is it?” he asked.
“You got ripped up prett
y badly,” Nicar said. “But it should all start to heal now. I’m warning you though. It’ll take a long time. You need some proper rest. No arguments!”
“Yes, sir,” Hamíd replied, and within minutes, he was asleep.
* * *
Emeth and Ahmed went off in search of Lord Rishdah. They found Azrahil standing outside the council room.
“Lord Rishdah is inside with Lord Jamal. They are not to be disturbed,” Azrahil told them.
“What are they doing?” Ahmed asked.
“Lord Rishdah plans to move against Lord Numair after the wedding. They are planning their campaign,” the captain said.
“Good!” Emeth said in grim satisfaction. “That treacherous dog doesn’t deserve to live.”
“You’ll get your chance soon enough, Emeth.” Lord Rishdah emerged from the council chamber. “We leave after the wedding, two days from now. We still have a little time to continue planning. Now, any news?”
“It looks as if our hawk will fly again, sir,” Ahmed said.
“Good.” Lord Rishdah smiled in relief. “You two will stay with me for the rest of the day. Captain, make a list of the soldiers and supplies we have with us then send someone back home to alert Captain Jaffa to have my army ready to march in five days’ time.”
Hamíd slept soundly for the rest of the day and through the night. Nicar woke him only to take some water and drink some broth. Nicar felt his pulse that evening as he slept. It was strong and steady. He nodded in satisfaction. The young warrior was on his way to recovery. He checked to make sure Hamíd was warmly covered before leaving the room and heading to relieve Emeth on guard duty. As he took up his position, Lord Rishdah inquired after Hamíd again.
“He’s sleeping now, sir. He’s still a bit weak from the infection, but he’ll soon get his strength back,” Nicar answered.
“How long until he’s up?”
“Those wounds will take a while to fully heal. He’ll limp on that leg, if he’s lucky to walk at all, sir. But I’d say at least two months before he’s able to resume duties.” Nicar hated to give that news. With the oncoming war, they would need every soldier, and especially one with the training of the Phoenix Guard. Lord Rishdah frowned, obviously displeased by the news.
The Rise of Aredor Page 9
