Me neither, Conlan murmured.
Daratus stepped forward, leaving only a few feet between him and Conlan.
“Surrender!” he snarled. “Now!”
Conlan held his father’s icy blue glare. “No.”
“You would sacrifice the thing you love to obtain the power of a king?” Hernas asked. He sounded impressed. “You have a colder heart than I imagined.”
Conlan did not bother responding. He took a breath, his expression empty.
Freddie, Amelia, on the count of three, destroy the shield. Will, tell Arran to join in if he has any strength. One, two, THREE!
Tears filled Amelia’s eyes, but Will could see her silver-grey exploding across the surface of the shield, just as he saw Freddie’s red and orange, and the green and brown of Conlan releasing Eleanor’s energy at the shield. The colours were so intense, the bombardment so savage that the enemy were obscured from view behind it. Moving quickly to Arran’s side, Will nudged the stunned boy, speaking with quiet urgency.
“Arran, they need your help to take the shield down, if you have any energy left.”
Arran nodded, and immediately began exploding out the energy he had taken from Will. The blue-purple pounded against the shield, which was now beginning to resemble a living, ever-shifting and strangely beautiful Jackson Pollock painting.
Freddie staggered, bending over, his hands resting on his knees he panted. His last remaining energy was spent, his orange and red fading from their attack. Arran patted his shoulder and gave him a smile, and the slightly fainter red and orange of the energy Freddie had given to the boy exploded anew across the shield, replacing the purple and blue. Will could see that the shield was starting to weaken, the bombardment making it vibrate and undulate. Then, with a cry of pain, Conlan clutched his side and dropped to his knees. Will and Cai rushed forward to help him to his feet.
“I am fine,” Conlan insisted, waving them away. “It was Eleanor’s pain I felt.”
With a loud cracking noise the shield collapsed. Amelia and Conlan, the only ones with any real energy left, unleashed the full force of what they had at those who had cowered behind it. Working together, they threw bodies into walls and slammed them into the floor with far more force than would be needed to merely incapacitate them. It was a brief and unrestrained attack, one which left all their enemies unmoving. At that moment, Will could not find it in himself to care if they were alive or dead.
“Forgive me, my beloved,” Conlan whispered, catching sight of Eleanor’s still body where it had been flung like a discarded doll. Staggering forward, he dropped at her side, resting a filthy hand on her face.
Shaking, terrified at the blood he could already see pooling around her, Will rushed to Eleanor and moved her carefully onto her back, ripping the buttons off her shirt in his desperation to get to the wound.
“Is she going to be okay?” Freddie asked, his frightened face looming over them. “Please tell me she’s going to be okay…”
Will raised his head, looking at Conlan, who nodded and stood, pulling Freddie away.
“Let Will work, Freddie.”
Will did not hear the rest of Conlan’s words. There was an alarming amount of blood. Wiping what he could away with the bottom of her shirt, Will could see the large puncture in her right side. It was not the thin, clean cut Hernas’s blade had given him the impression it would be. Once the weapon was deep inside her, the merciless man must had twisted it violently, increasing the size of the wound, making it far harder to heal and causing it to bleed profusely. As he placed his fingers against the ragged hole, Will could feel it sucking in air, bubbles of blood appearing around it. The blade was more than long enough to have punctured her lung. Which meant her lung was collapsing as her chest cavity filled up with air from the outside, crushing it, and the air inside her lung was being pushed out of the knife wound. Will closed his eyes and could almost see the onset of a potentially fatal condition. Eleanor’s strained, gasping, shallow breathing backed up this theory. Tearing a strip from Eleanor’s shirt, folding it into a pad and pushing it into his patient’s side, Will tried to slow down the bleeding and stop more air from being sucked inside. Someone knelt on the other side of Eleanor and Will looked up into tortured green eyes.
“I’ve sent Freddie down to the balloons to get your medical bag,” Conlan said, his eyes moving to Eleanor’s face. “Is there anything else you need?”
Forcing himself to think calmly, taking deep breaths and looking back down at his patient, Will talked as he considered the injury. “I need some beeswax candles—they are expensive, so I’m sure the Lords will use them—two empty bowls, some oil—cooking oil would do best—a bowl of clean water and glue—the stuff Mickle used to build our bows. I’m sure there will be some around here somewhere.”
“Beeswax candles, cooking oil, two empty bowls, a bowl of clean water and hoof glue?” Conlan repeated back, his confusion compounded by the panic and anguish he was struggling to control.
“I need it all now, Conlan,” Will ordered sternly, hoping to push him into action.
“Thirty percent was generous, wasn’t it?” Conlan said, his eyes telling Will he was expecting the worst.
“If I can keep her breathing, she will heal,” Will said, not wanting to give him false hope, and very much aware of the blood soaking through the pad he had applied.
“Do the best you can,” Conlan said in a rough voice, his agony strong enough that it radiated out from him, making Will wince. “If she dies, her blood will be on my hands, not yours.”
What followed for Will was the most terrifying experience he had been through since Amelia was hit by the arrow that had nearly killed her. It was even worse in some ways, because the responsibility for Eleanor’s recovery was all on him. Thinking as fast as he could, ignoring his headache and trembling hands, Will barked orders in all directions. Eleanor’s more rapid Avatar healing was not in evidence, and Will knew why when he heard Arran explaining to Conlan that the Enforcer had stripped both Eleanor and himself of energy after flinging them around the room. However, as more of Will’s medical training surfaced, he knew that this was fortuitous: the last thing Eleanor needed was for her injuries to heal quickly.
When Freddie returned with his medical bag and Amelia came back from checking on Davlin and Gregor, Will advised her, without looking up from Eleanor, that Mickle and Arran also needed checking. Meanwhile, Conlan had sent Cai and Elroy off to find the items Will had requested. While he waited, he used his liquid antiseptic to wash his hands and then set about removing as much of the blood as possible from Eleanor’s side, cleaning around the wound. The bleeding had slowed, although Will could not decide if this was a good thing or not. By the time the items he needed were assembled, Will was certain his course of action was the right one. Eleanor’s breathing was becoming more labored, and she was starting to show signs of hypoxia, as there was less blood available to pump oxygen around her body.
He had to hurry.
“Freddie!” Will barked as he placed the large beeswax candle in the empty bowl.
“Yes?”
Will did not bother looking up. “You’ve balanced your energy. It’s back to normal, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” Will continued. “I need you to melt this candle, carefully. Melt, don’t burn.”
Freddie concentrated, and before Will’s eyes, the candle became liquid, the uneven surface blurring and collapsing in on itself. Will removed the wick and threw it aside, then grabbed the jug of oil and poured a little at a time into the hot wax, agitating the mixture with his finger, the heat barely registering. The more oil he added, the more the wax began to congeal; by now, the mixture was turning into a thick, sticky paste. Will nodded to himself. Not quite petroleum jelly—more like royal jelly—but this might just work.
“Knife,” Will demanded, holding his hand out as he reached for the resin-like block of ‘hoof glue’. Freddie placed one of his small emergency knives in Will’s ha
nd. Using the hilt, Will knocked a large chunk off the block, dropped it into the other empty bowl and poured water over it. “Freddie,” Will continued. “I need you to heat up this mixture until it’s simmering, understand?”
“Is the abomination dead yet?” Lord Hernas asked from the far wall, where he sat tightly bound. He was the only one who had so far regained consciousness, and it was the first time he had spoken. Will ignored him. “Hey!” the man said a little louder. “I asked you a question. Has the pathetic animal breathed its last?” Freddie turned to move in Hernas’s direction.
“Freddie, stay here! Concentrate on what you’re doing!” Will ordered. “He’s trying to get a rise out of you—ignore him. Eleanor needs you right now.”
“I want to tear him apart, and you’ve turned me into a Bunsen burner,” Freddie muttered.
“I’m giving you the chance to help save the life of someone you love. Conlan must be the one to deal with Hernas,” Will said. Freddie snarled his frustration, but nodded.
Amelia came back into the room, stepping with disdain past the dead body still impaled on the door. She came to kneel on Eleanor’s other side, facing Will.
“How’s Davlin?” he asked, watching as the ‘hoof glue’ melted far too slowly into the water Freddie was heating up.
“Conscious,” Amelia said. Will raised his head in surprise to find grey eyes stripped of life, displaying instead the blank, unfocused gaze of the traumatised. Amelia’s mental health was, however, a problem that would have to wait until later. “I’ve treated his injuries as best I can,” she continued. “There doesn’t seem to be anything broken, but his burns are nasty. I cleansed them with that apple cider vinegar solution and covered them with the pulp from that yellow plant—you said it was good for burns.” It’s good for when you accidently touch a too-hot soup spoon, not for when you get blown up! Will thought bitterly, but kept it to himself. Amelia had done the best she could, and the vinegar solution and aloe plant she was talking about would do no harm. I just don’t have the knowledge or the tools to help them properly. “He’s shaken, and I suspect a little deaf right now,” Amelia said, continuing her report. “I’ve given him a large dose of lepdrac, and Cai has moved him to a bedroom down the corridor near Gregor. Cai is staying with him.”
Will nodded. He wanted to asked about the others, but the glue was ready, the substance now a thin golden colour. Taking a square of bandage material, Will dipped it into the mixture and gave it to Amelia to hold the two corners so it dried. Then he added more of the glue resin into the bowl of hot liquid.
“What exactly are you doing?” Amelia asked.
“Eleanor’s lung has collapsed—the blade punctured it—and it’s letting air out. And because of the hole in her ribs, every time she struggles to draw a breath she’s pulling more air into her chest cavity from the outside, which is crushing her lung further,” Will explained as he watched the glue thicken. “If we give her more energy and she starts to heal more rapidly, the holes will close with the air still in her chest, and her lung will stay crushed. I’m making a bandage that I can use to cover the hole in her ribs. I’m going to glue it down on three sides, and under the fourth side I’m going to add a layer of this beeswax jelly. It should act as a one-way seal: air will be able to exit the hole as she attempts to breathe and pushes it out, but it won’t be able to get back in. That should slowly allow her lung to re-inflate.”
There was silence. Distracted by it, Will raised his head. Amelia’s look was loving adoration, but Freddie was staring at him open-mouthed.
“You’re incredible,” Freddie said slowly.
Will smiled at the compliment, knowing he was unable to hide his pain and fear. “Only if she lives, Freddie. Only if she lives.”
Once the glue was ready, Will took the bandage that had now cooled. The thin coating of glue was like a varnish, which made the bandage airtight when he stuck it into place. He ensured there was enough jelly to maintain the seal, hoping the piece of gauze would be light enough to let the air out. It was all he could do; now they just had to wait and see.
Amelia suggested that she might be able to create a shield over Eleanor’s face that would separate out the smoke in the air and increase the oxygen levels a little, helping to keep the patient oxygenated. Will left her trying, with strict instruction not to move Eleanor or give her more energy, and to contact him immediately if there was any change. Then, pulling himself wearily to his feet, he grabbed his medical bag and went to check on the others. The sun was going to be up soon, the Protectors would be starting to come round, and Will had no idea where Conlan was or what was going on.
Will found Gregor in a bedroom down the corridor from the Lords’ day room. He was sat on the bed, eating sausages as quickly as he could get them into his mouth. To the side of him was a tray that had obviously held other foods the old man had demolished.
His stomach rumbling and a headache pounding through him, Will introduced himself, amused by the enthusiastic hug the old man gave him. He checked Gregor while the old man continued to eat. Gregor had suffered sustained physical abuse, but beyond being hungry and bruised, there did not seem to be any life-threatening injuries. Will left him still eating and moved to the next room, where Davlin slept in the bed and Mickle slept in a large comfortable chair. Sat in a chair opposite Mickle, Cai smiled a greeting.
Will nodded questioningly at Mickle. Cracked ribs, Cai mouthed at him. Will pointed at his medical bag, indicating an offer of medical attention for Mickle. Cai shook his head and mouthed, He will be fine.
Will nodded and moved on to check Davlin, taking care not to wake him. The man lay on his front, the thin sheet stained in places with his blood and yellow plant sap. Amelia had done a good job, but he would be in pain for a long time to come and would most likely carry some unpleasant scars for the rest of his life. Will took his last bottle of lepdrac from his medical bag and put it on the bedside table near Davlin’s head, knowing he was giving up his chance of being able to function normally until they made more.
“He protected me…” Arran whispered from the doorway.
Wanting to keep his patients asleep, Will walked towards Arran, guiding him gently out of the room and back into the corridor. Arran barely noticed, his eyes still on Davlin.
“When Bram threw us out of the room and the doors slammed shut, trapping Lady Eleanor inside, I suggested the special bags,” Arran continued. “Davlin was not convinced, but we had no other way to reach her; Bram had taken too much of my energy. When the thunder happened, Davlin pushed me to the ground and covered me. In my entire life, he is the only person who has ever attempted to protect me.” He paused. “Is he going to die?”
Feeling all the weight of his responsibilities, Will sighed. “I do not know, Arran,” he whispered in reply. “But he is strong. I believe he will pull through.”
“I am glad to hear it,” Arran replied. “Conlan sent me to find you. He wishes for an update; do you have a message I can give?” Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Will shook his head. Conlan was yet another patient he needed to check up on.
“No message. Take me to Conlan.”
Arran looked shocked. “You would leave the injured?”
“I have done what I can here; the rest is up to them for the moment. Amelia or Freddie will let me know if I am needed. Take me to Conlan.”
Arran nodded and led Will back down through the cold, deserted tower to the dungeons. They could hear yelling as they walked towards the Protectors’ mess hall, Arran walking a little faster, worry in his eyes. They met Elroy standing guard at the door, shuffling uncomfortably.
“Is all well here?” Will asked.
Elroy shrugged. “We got the conscious Protectors to move the unconscious ones into the Protectors’ sleeping cells, then bolted the doors. Conlan just brought up two men from the lower dungeons, and now they are in there arguing.”
Will nodded. “Arran and I will stay with Conlan now. Elroy, you go back upstairs, keep an eye
on the Lords. Hernas was getting ‘rude’ earlier; if he tries that again, gag him, understood?” Elroy nodded, heading back down the corridor as Will and Arran entered the Protectors’ mess.
“Why give up such a defensive position?”
The loud Dwarfish come from the large man in dirty clothes who leant in towards Conlan’s face, his hands on the table Conlan sat behind. Another thinner man stood next to him. It took Will a moment to recognise the person yelling as Cai’s father, and a further moment of searching his memory before he realised he had never been given the captain’s name. The other man was Daman, looking even more dishevelled than the last time Will had seen him, his face badly bruised. Will walked towards them and smiled as they noticed his approach.
“Perhaps the Avatar of Water can talk some sense into you, Alaric’s heir,” Daman said. Will took one look at Conlan’s expression and knew that whatever they were arguing about, they were not going to get their way. He told them about his blood right to the throne? Does he think it will make his claim more legitimate to them?
“Hello, Avatar of Water. We have never been formally introduced,” Cai’s father said, extending a hand for Will to shake. “My name is Erit.”
With as friendly a smile as he could manage, Will shook Erit’s hand, aware of the blood that covered his own. “It is a pleasure to meet you again, Erit. Please call me Will.”
“I did not ask Arran to pull you away from the injured,” Conlan said with a frown, before giving Arran a dark look. Arran flinched as if Conlan had struck him.
“Don’t blame him,” Will said, switching to English so they could talk privately. “Occasionally I make my own decisions. You need a healer, too. I have done what I can for the injured, Eleanor included, and it’s now just a matter of time.”
Will caught sight of the ocean of desolation Conlan was concealing as his mask dropped for a moment, his voice a rough whisper. “Is she conscious? Does she need me?”
Will (Book 2) Page 45
