“And the others?”
Kei dunked a bit of bread into the stew and swallowed it. “If they get through this night, then I think they’ll all live. At least they will if we can keep the Prijian medic away from them, or at least make the bastard wash his damn hands before he pokes them any more.”
Tiko chuckled. “I think he might have learned a few things today. I’ll send him north with his comrades—hopefully he won’t kill too many of them.”
“When will they leave?”
“Tomorrow, in the morning. When will the wounded men be ready for travel?”
Kei considered. “Two, three days at the very least. A couple possibly sooner, but I’d caution you to wait. Lieutenant Vikis is in a very serious condition—I can’t give you an estimate for him, or even if he is likely to live. If the general survives tonight, then he should recover enough within a week to be able to tolerate travelling.” Kei refused to think of how he would feel if Arman died. He had to work in the here and now, and here and now, Arman was still alive.
“Well, Darshek want him sent north as fast as possible—we’ll use wagons, of course. Three are on their way from Ai-Rutej.” Tiko hesitated, and Kei used the delay to eat some more. He was starving, and the stew was wonderfully warm and good. “I know you want to go home, but do you mind delaying so you can travel with the wounded at least as far as Ai-Albon? I can’t really spare our medics, and they don’t have anything like your skill. It might make all the difference to the injured men’s survival.”
“No, I don’t mind. I’ve been gone all this time, a week hardly makes any difference.” Kei had yet to really fully appreciate he was such a short time away from being home again. He was too tired to be excited—so much had happened today, with the ambush, his aborted flight right into the arms of the waiting Darshianese soldiers, and then the swift bloody battle which had seen Arman and many of his men felled. Ai-Albon seemed as far away as ever. “Just tell me what’s happening with the war.”
Tiko frowned a little. “What do you know?”
“Nothing at all, other than the loss of communications with the north, and that the siege at Darshek is still ongoing.”
The captain grinned. “Oh the ‘siege’ will be going on for a good while yet. The only people it’s affecting are the Prij.”
“Huh?” Kei’s hand paused on its way to his mouth. “I don’t understand.”
Tiko tapped the side of his nose. “The Prij didn’t take anyone by surprise, and supplies were hardly disrupted. Darshek already had taken in extra stocks and then we made other arrangements.”
“The Andonese?”
“Exactly. They’ve been using a northwest route—longer and more dangerous, but one the Prij had overlooked or dismissed. They also sent us the men in arms to let us retake the interior. That’s why it all took so long—but the Rulers knew it was going to happen. The Prij are wasting time, resources and manpower in trying to block access from the sea, and good luck to them. They can send as many soldiers as they like over the pass too—we can close that any time we want.”
Kei was astonished. He hadn’t realised the Andonese would come to their aid militarily, but it made sense—the northern race had long-standing trade agreements with the Darshianese, and were at threat from the Prij too. They probably thought it better to stop the Prij advance in Darshian, rather at their own doorstep. “And the hostages? Will they be rescued?”
“I think they’re making plans but they wanted to free north Darshian before they moved on Kuprij—I’m not involved directly in the strategy, you understand. You can provide us with valuable information there—where are they being held?”
“All over Utuk, in households of the nobility. The last time I saw all of us together—” Kei stopped, grimacing as he remembered. “You know about the Ai-Vinri hostages?”
Tiko nodded. “Yes, very unfortunate—the second lot were removed two days before our forces took control of Tirko Pass and this fort. Ai-Vinri knew rescue was on its way, but there was nothing they could do without tipping our hand.”
Gods, what an irony—and on top of the even greater one, too. “I was there when they were executed. We were all rounded up. That was the last time I saw the others.”
“Damn vicious bastards,” Tiko spat. “And for what reason? Because one of the Prij couldn’t keep his cock in his trousers. Not that they care since it’s one of our women he raped.”
“No, they do care. At least,” Kei carefully amended that statement “General Arman did. He found out and sent orders the men be punished. Only...I suppose that order never got there, if Ai-Vinri was rescued so soon.”
“No, it probably didn’t but it still doesn’t eliminate the fact ten of our people were murdered,” Tiko said in a grim voice. “If what you say is right, I can see this presenting a problem for a rescue—they would probably kill the hostages before any force wins control of Utuk.”
Kei felt sick, his appetite now gone. “Yes,” he said dully. So close to safety, and yet his friends were still likely to die because no one could contact them.
“I’ll need to question this general. When will he be up to it?”
“Tomorrow, possibly. More likely the following day. He’s very ill, Tiko. I won’t allow him to be made worse.”
Tiko wasn’t irritated by his protectiveness, which was only what Kei would extend to any patient. “I’m not planning on doing that,” he said mildly. “But he’s a catch for us, that’s for sure. I’ll have our mind-speaker pass on to Darshek what you’ve said—perhaps you can give us some more information tomorrow when you’re less tired.”
“I’ll do what I can. What’s happening to the other Prijian prisoners?”
“They’re being kept in a camp outside the city. I believe there are still some wounded in the villages between here and Darshek, so we’ll collect them on the way north, but the others were marched away as soon as we captured them.”
“What will happen to them?”
“That’s up to the rulers of the Prij,” Tiko said with a shrug. “We don’t want to keep them longer than we need to, but we’re not sending them back to be put into battle against us again. If they stop this hostility, they can have their people back.”
Kei thought of the little he knew of the sovereign of Kuprij, and considered it unlikely the lives of her soldiers were high on her list of priorities. He started as Tiko touched his hand. “You’re falling asleep where you sit. Get some rest. You’ve done good work, Kei. These men were lucky you were here today.”
Kei got to his feet, wobbling only a little. He was nearly at the end of his energy, but he needed to do one more round of his patients. “Luck had little or nothing to do with it, Tiko.”
“There’s a bed for you in the barracks—”
“No, I’ll sleep in the infirmary. I might be needed.”
“Would the Prij be so devoted to Darshianese wounded, I wonder?” Tiko put his bowl and mug on the side to be washed.
“Probably not, but considering the state of their medicine, that’s no bad thing.”
Tiko clapped him on the shoulder and grinned, making Kei jump. “Pity we can’t wait for them all to die of bad physicians and save us the trouble of fighting them. I’ll say goodnight now—tell any of the men if there’s anything you need.”
Kei nodded, and walked out into the cold to go the short distance across the courtyard back to the infirmary. He was grateful in a way to be so tired. He’d been so busy, so absorbed in the surgery and treating the injured, that he’d been able to push away the multitude of emotions he’d felt from the hundreds of troops, Prijian and Darshianese, who were sheltered in the fort as he worked. Now he was too exhausted for his soul-touching gift to be more than a dim presence at the back of his mind. It had felt good, in fact, to be useful, doing what he was trained to do and what he loved to do. He hated the reason he’d been needed—but had he not been there, more men would have died outright than had done. The night would tell if that difference would be ma
intained.
The injured lay in long, orderly rows. Most were Prij—as he’d worked on the less seriously injured soldiers, he’d been told how Arman’s men, led by their general, had charged the Darshianese force in a suicidal rush. If the Darshianese had wanted to destroy them, it would have been easy. But the Darshianese archers had aimed for beasts, not men—a number of the injuries, Arman’s included, had been caused by their injured or dead animals falling, throwing their riders and trapping them. There were also sword thrusts, concussions and arrow wounds, certainly—the Darshianese had suffered more in that respect, although there had been no deaths and only two serious injuries. Once Arman had fallen, his men’s will to fight had died away as they found themselves completely surrounded. Kei was glad—he had no wish for these men’s deaths, whatever they thought of him or his kind.
Most of the patients were asleep. One or two shifted restlessly in pain, but didn’t wake as Kei passed them—they were all otherwise resting peacefully. Nev, the son of a healer same as Kei, was one of two soldiers in Tiko’s ranks acting as a medic. He sat on a stool by the side of Arman’s lieutenant, who’d taken a spear through his chest and who was the most gravely wounded of the survivors. “He’s stable.”
“Good. I think I stopped all the bleeding, but I might have missed something—keep an eye on his colour and his breathing and wake me if you think it’s worse.” The man was young and strong. There was still the risk of infection and lung fever, but if he could make it through tonight and the next day, he had a good chance.
Nev nodded. Kei moved to the cot where Arman lay. There was a campstool next to his bed too, and a lamp on a small table. Kei took it and held it close so he could see Arman more clearly. He looked pale, hardly surprising, and his mouth was drawn down as if he was in pain. Kei set the lamp aside and put his fingers on the pulse on Arman’s neck—it beat strongly, and since Arman didn’t react to his touch, he was probably deeply asleep. With the amount of pijn inside him, that wasn’t surprising. Even badly injured and bleeding internally Arman had fought hard against the drug which Kei needed to take effect before he could begin to repair Arman’s torn liver and broken ribs. Arman had come close to puncturing his lung in his struggles, but fortunately a combination of Kei’s reassurance and the pijn made him calm down. It had still been a close thing. He’d attended to the lieutenant first, having the graver injury, but when he’d finally turned back to Arman, he’d found his abdomen rigid, the man grey faced and sweating, barely at the edge of coherency. He had a broken leg too, which caused him agonies—but it wasn’t the leg that came close to killing him.
While Kei had worked to prepare him for surgery, Arman had called his name and Loke’s several times. Just as the pijn finally took hold, he had grabbed Kei’s shirt weakly. “Loke’s waiting,” he’d whispered, eyes glazing with pain and the drugs. It had sent a chill through Kei—surely Arman wasn’t that eager to die?
I’m sorry, Loke, you’ll have to wait a bit longer for your friend, he thought grimly. He dipped a cloth in the pan of water sitting on the table, and wiped the sweat from Arman’s face—the infirmary was warm enough with the men and the stove at the end, but Arman was developing a slight fever. Kei hoped that wouldn’t become a major one. He checked the bandages were still clean, the drain was still in place and that his leg was resting correctly. There wasn’t any more he could do tonight.
Kei nearly passed out as he stood. All right, that’s my limit. He staggered to one of the empty cots and was asleep almost before his head touched the blankets.
~~~~~~~~
The fire in his belly was eating him, spreading to his leg in agonising flames that made him clench his fist and grit his teeth against it, afraid to scream because once he started, he wouldn’t stop. But then there was a mug at his lips, and a bitter cold liquid on his tongue which he swallowed because it was either that or choke. Not long after that, the roaring inferno of agony died down, and he felt a cool hand on his forehead, a gentle hold on his wrist. He opened his eyes. Wherever he was, was not well lit. But he wasn’t dead—not unless Lord Niko’s angels looked like Kei.
“Wait a moment—the pijn will work soon.”
Most of that made no sense, but he grunted to express a little of his pain and to show he was listening. He brought his hand up to the pain in his gut and met bandages. “Where...?”
“Fort Trejk. You’re a prisoner, but quite safe.”
Kei’s voice was gentle, his face calm but tired. He looked uninjured. Arman had confused memories of the man trying to calm him, and shouting orders to help him. “My men...where?”
Kei turned and wet a cloth, then he wiped Arman’s face. It felt good, which probably meant he had a fever. “Twenty-three died. We have fifteen here with you, injured but recovering. You and Lieutenant Vikis are the worst.”
“Vikis? Where?”
“Here. Don’t move, Arman. He’s asleep. He was speared in the chest, but I hope he’ll make it.”
He remembered his mount collapsing quite suddenly under him, and being trapped under the animal’s huge body, his crushed leg caught awkwardly in the stirrup and twisting agonisingly. After that, it was all confusing. A lot of pain, and some desperation at being captured instead of dying in battle. “Why are you here?”
“Because I was caught too.” There was a faint amusement in his voice. “Fortunately by friends.”
Arman hadn’t been, and he was probably still alive only because he was a valuable prisoner. But his men.... “Please, don’t kill the men.”
“The Darshianese don’t kill prisoners of war, general.” This was a new voice, coldly correct, someone older, he guessed. He grunted again as he tried to turn and see who it was. “Kei, is he up to being questioned?”
“Not yet, Tiko. He’s just woken up and is in pain.” Kei moved, then Arman saw the man behind him—clearly an officer by his demeanour, although he wore no uniform. Kei was in a defensive position as if he feared the officer would hurt Arman. “Can’t it wait?”
“For a while. General? General Arman?” The man sat down in the seat Kei had vacated. “I’m Captain Tiko.”
“Where are my men? What are you doing with them?” He kept a hand over the agony in his side, trying to fight the drowsiness from the drug
“They’re being sent north to Darshek. I assure you they’re being well treated. Kei is taking personal care of your injured, for which you should thank him because he’s under no obligation to do so, not for the Prij.”
“A healer heals,” he heard Kei snap. “Don’t imply I pick and choose, it’s dishonest.”
That’s my Kei, Arman thought hazily.
Tiko blinked. “My apologies, healer. I only meant that with having been taken prisoner, you might not feel well-disposed to the Prij.”
“I would even treat Senator Mekus if he was in pain. Get on with it, Tiko, he needs to rest.”
Arman almost smiled. Kei sounded so well and normal. “And me? What of me?”
“You’ll rest until Kei judges you well enough to travel, and then the Rulers of Darshek wish to meet you. You’ll be treated with consideration, which I imagine is a novelty to you. The idea of prisoners being treated well, I mean.” Tiko’s voice was cold—he had no love of the Prij, for sure. Arman couldn’t blame him. “I’ll need to interrogate you later. You understand that?”
Arman nodded slightly. Tiko stood. “Then I’ll leave you to rest, or I’ll face our healer’s wrath. I would normally let you address your men before they left, but we can’t keep them here, and you’re in no state to make a speech. I can pass a message to them, if you like.”
Arman wasn’t sure what would be appropriate—he’d never had to address his men in defeat before. “Just...thank them for their courage, and wish them luck and the blessings of the gods. If you would,” he added, uncomfortably that he was at this man’s mercy.
“Yes, I will. I’ll call on you later.” Tiko said something quietly to Kei which Arman couldn’t hear, nor Kei’s response,
before he walked away. Arman heard his voice a moment or two later further up the room.
Kei bent over him. “I need to change your bandages and check the drain.”
Arman let Kei’s gentle hands pick at him and move him—it hurt, but in a distant way which had to be the effect of this drug that he’d been given. “Will I die?”
Kei jerked upright and then scowled at him. “Absolutely not. Loke can have you when I’m finished with you and not before.”
Arman stared, wondering if Kei had any idea how that had sounded. “Then what’s wrong with me? Did I get a sword slash to my stomach?” He couldn’t remember it, and the armour should have protected him...they didn’t seem the type to cut open a prisoner for no reason.
“No, you were crushed by an urs beast. You suffered a torn liver and a lot of bruising internally, two broken ribs and a broken leg. You’ll be damn sore for a while, I’m afraid.”
Arman stared at him as he bent over to change the bandages. “You... did something? To my stomach?”
“I had to operate to repair the tear—you were bleeding to death. Nearly did bleed to death, actually. Good thing you’re such a strong bastard.”
“My lord,” Arman nearly corrected, just to tease him. Then he realised what Kei was saying. “You said...you said before Loke needn’t have died...you could have saved him, really could have,” he whispered. Gods, had Loke really died of ignorance?
Kei touched his hand. “Possibly—I don’t know. Even if I’d been there...please, don’t distress yourself.” He reached for the cloth again and wiped Arman’s face again. “Everything looks all right. How do you feel?”
“Like I was stepped on by an urs beast.”
“Close enough.” Kei finished with the bandages, and put the used ones aside. He sat down again and took Arman’s wrist in his hand, feeling his pulse. “You need to stay calm. I spent a lot of time stopping your bleeding, and you have a lot of healing to do. You’re safe. We won’t mistreat you. I won’t allow it.”
His servant was now the master. Kei’s whole demeanour was subtly different, not that he’d been craven before—but he was also far more subdued than he should be, considering he was now free to do as he wished. “You should be on your way home.”
Kei's Gift Page 33
