Into the Fray: Volume 1 of The Sorcerers of Jhanvia Series (40 page)

His eyes lit up, “The pain…it is gone.”

“I have used my magics to temporarily diminish the pain.”

Dubhni and the lieutenant helped him stand, and the big man patted him on the shoulder. The warlord commanded through a strained voice, “Put her on my horse.”

“Yes, my lord.” He motioned a few other soldiers over. They picked up Kaitra and draped her across the base of the neck of their commander’s horse.

Dubhni requested, “Soldier, bring me a cloth and some water.”

He walked over to one of the horses, retrieved the items she requested and brought them to her.

She carefully wiped away the blood, revealing a deep cut in the skin, but no discernable damage within. She explained, “It looks to be but a flesh wound. It will take some skill to sew this together. I recommend we field dress this now with some gruto leaves and wrap it. When we get back to the castle, we can properly mend it.”

“Do it,” he commanded.

She went about her assigned task, placing several sticky leaves across the wound in an effort to seal it shut. Then she wrapped cloth tightly around his waist to hold everything in place, just as the effects of her spell were wearing off. She said, “That should get us home. How does it feel?”

He smiled painfully, “Like someone sliced me open.”

“I’m sorry, my love. It’s the best we can do for now.”

He kissed her cheek, “No need to apologize. Let’s go, shall we?”

She nodded her acknowledgement.

Zakrell grimaced from the ever-increasing pain he felt as he carefully mounted his horse. He motioned for his contingent to follow, and they headed away from the village with their prize.

Culain waited until Zakrell and his lieutenants passed into the trees before he ran over to see to the Valtyr. He knelt next to her and put his fingers in front of her nose. Then he leaned down and put his ear against her back, where he could hear her lungs struggling to pull in air.

“Keril, she’s still alive. Come help me get her inta my hut,” Culain was fearful for her.

Keril motioned for some help. He and two village men carefully picked up the warrior and carried her over to the old man’s hut.

“Put her on the bed,” Culain said holding the door open.

They laid her gently on her back. Blood was flowing freely from the wounds in her chest and back. Blood ran from the corner of her mouth as the bleeding in her lung was pushed up with each breath.

Culain asked, “Can Liane help?”

“I’ll fetch her,” Keril said, as her turned and hurried away.

The old man knelt next to the bed and took her hand, “Ah, lass, what were ya doin’ takin’ on such a motley bunch. Ya shoulda known they’d ‘ave no honor.” He pushed her hair away from her face. She groaned and moved a bit, grimacing from the pain.

“Lay still, lass. Help is comin’.”

Kidreyli coughed up blood and tried to speak. The words were nearly inaudible, “Where’s Kaitra?”

“They took her.”

She tried to sit up but was knocked back by the pain. “Must get her…back,” she struggled to get the words out.

“We will,” he said as he wiped the blood off her face with a cloth.

“No, y…you don’t…understand. The things…she will do. We must get her back…before they turn her.”

“Turn her? What d’ ya mean?” Culain looked confused.

Kidreyli reached over and took a firm hold on his shirt, “Promise me…if we don’t succeed…one of us must…kill her.”

“What?! I could never kill her.”

“Please…you know how much she means …to me. The things she will do…evil things…in their name. If we can’t get her back… we must kill her.”

Liane, followed by Keril, came through the door with a pouch she used to carry her healing supplies. She said, “Help me. Hold her up by her shoulder while I treat the wound in her back.”

“Culain,” Kidreyli spoke with difficulty with her eyes closed.

“Aye, lass. I’m here.”

“Take my horse. Go north…find my mother.”

The old soldier hesitated, “But I can’t leave ya…”

Kidreyli interrupted him, “I’m dying…please…hurry.”

Culain looked at Liane and Keril, “I’ve got t’ go.” He grabbed up Tyral’s saddle and continued, “Do what ya can t’ help her and watch over her ‘til I get back.”

“We will,” Liane confirmed.

In her mind, Kidreyli called out for Tyral.

“I am here,” Tyral responded.

“I think I’m dying, my friend.”

“I know.”

Kidreyli commanded in her thoughts, “Take Culain and go to Lynbuañan. Find Talenyan and bring her here. Please, hurry.”

“We’ll fly like the wind,” Tyral said as she strode up in front of Culain’s hut.

“Ohhh my,” Culain was surprised at the size of the Katrion that came up to him. He tossed the saddle over Tyrals’ back and lashed it firmly in place. He struggled to get his foot high enough to reach the stirrup, but he managed and pulled himself up. Once he settled in, Tyral set off, catching him a bit off guard. He hung on for all he was worth as the great Katrion accelerated to speed.

akrell’s horse trotted across the drawbridge followed by Dubhni, his new favorite lieutenant and a small contingent of foot soldiers who were breathing hard in an effort to keep up. The hoofs clopped loudly on the stone path as they passed through the main gate and into the open courtyard inside the castle grounds. The big man pulled up his horse in front of the main entrance and tried to slip off without experiencing too much discomfort, but the wounds inflicted by the Valtyr sent sharp pains through his side as he hit the ground.

“Cacsi,” he swore as he stood still for a moment wincing in pain.

“My lord, please let me help,” the lieutenant came up to assist.

“I’ll be all right,” Zakrell said, “What is your name again?”

“I am Rantil.”

“Well, Rantil, I appreciate what you have done for me. Killing that Valtyr was pleasant to see, but I wish you would have made it more painful for her after what she did to me.”

The young man smiled and said, “I’ll keep that in mind if the opportunity ever presents itself again.”

They both laughed and Zakrell requested, “Bring the woman and follow me.” He motioned for Dubhni, who ran over and took his hand.

“Yes, my lord.” Rantil pulled Kaitra off the commander’s horse and draped her over his shoulder. He looked over at one of his soldiers and commanded, “Attend to the horses.”

He heard, “Yes, lieutenant,” as he turned and followed Zakrell and Dubhni through the doors and along the main torch-lit hallway toward the great hall. As they reached its threshold, they could see Satreka on the far end of the room wearing the great red cloak that once belonged to Kutrik, dealing with some administrative matters with a young soldier.

“Lord Satreka,” Zakrell announced, “We have returned with the sorceress as instructed.”

“Ah, Zakrell, it’s good to see you again,” Satreka said as he walked toward them. “All went well?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Satreka walked around behind Rantil and lifted Kaitra’s head, “She’s quite pretty. Did she give you any difficulty?”

“A little,” Zakrell replied. “I administered the potion you gave me as instructed when she started to wake on our journey back. She has been unconscious since then.”

“What of the Valtyr?” Satreka asked.

“She and I battled and she caught me with her sword. In my weak moment she came at me again and Rantil here demonstrated his loyalty by coming to my defense. He put a blade through her chest.”

“So, she is dead, then?”

“Yes, my lord,” Zakrell replied.

“Pity,” Satreka lamented. “She might have served us well in our efforts. Probably for the best, though. One less complication in dealing with this one,” he said, referring to Kaitra. He looked over at the slender woman standing beside his friend, “And you are?”

Zakrell interjected, “This is Dubhni. She is the woman I have chosen to be with, and she has chosen me.”

“It’s an honor to meet you, my lord,” Dubhni said as she bowed.

“Believe me, the honor is all mine,” Satreka replied. “So the mighty warlord Zakrell has finally found love?”

The two of them just smiled.

“Where did you meet?” Satreka asked.

“In Triami, a few months back,” Zakrell answered.

Satreka said, “I am so pleased that my good friend has found someone. My wish is that both of you find eternal happiness.”

“Thank you,” Zakrell replied.

“Yes, thank you, my lord,” Dubhni reinforced their gratitude.

Satreka turned his attention to the young soldier, “So, Rantil is it?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Well done, soldier. Well done. Zakrell doesn’t compliment his men without good cause. You must have impressed him with your skill and cunning. Now, take her down to Dulica’s chamber and have Klur bind her securely. We will be there straight away.”

“Immediately, my lord,” Rantil said as he turned and headed off at a quickened pace with his charge.

Satreka smiled at Zakrell, “He seems eager to please.”

“He is decisive and intelligent. We might be wise to keep him close. My sense is that he could serve us well.”

“Then we shall keep him close. So…about your injury?”

“The Valtyr caught me in the side,” he said, motioning toward the wound.

“Let me look.” Satreka lifted his shirt a little and saw the extent of the damage. He noticed Zakrell wince in pain as he lifted his arm. “My friend, this needs attention straight away.”

The big man said, “But, my lord, I’ll be….”

Satreka ignored his expected ‘I’ll be fine’ comment, which was his standard answer to anything related to his health, and called out to the young soldier at the other end of the room, “Trakan!”

“Yes, my lord,” he came to attention.

“Go and fetch Natilya. Tell her that Zakrell has been injured and needs her healing talents.”

Without a word, the young one ran off to his charge.

Zakrell said, “That’s really not necessary.”

“I think it is. I need you well and able to fight.” Satreka put his hand on his shoulder, “You’re my good friend. I don’t want you experience any ill effects from this. You and I, we have much to accomplish.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, come over here and rest yourself.”

He gave in to his wishes and took a seat on one of the benches next to the large table. Dubhni stood behind him.

Satreka spoke up, “So, tell me about this sorceress. What is she like?”

“Her talents are formidable. She flung two of my men away from her as if they were made of straw. She has great passion and depth, as demonstrated by her reaction when we killed her companion. She stood face to face against overwhelming odds and confronted us with exceptional courage and confidence. Her compassion runs deep, as she was willing to submit to us to save the village.”

Satreka mulled over his words for a moment and then smiled, “This is just too convenient. A woman with strength, passion and power. All we need to do is sway her to believing in our cause and she could turn out to be one of our most valuable assets. I need to do something to diminish that sense of concern for others, though. We can’t let that get in the way of our success, can we?” he asked through a sarcastic smile.

“No, my lord,” the big man answered.

Natilya swept into the room with a sense of urgency in her eyes, “My love, you called for me?”

Satreka explained, “Zakrell has been injured in battle. I was hoping you could tend to his wounds.”

“Of course. Zakrell, let me look.”

The big man carefully lifted his arm and she peered under his shirt.

Natilya looked at him with a meted scorn, “You were just going to ignore this, weren’t you?’

“Well, I…,” he started to say.

She shook her head, “When will you ever learn? This happens every time you get hurt. And who put all these gruto leaves on this wound?”

Zakrell just looked at her with eyes reminiscent of a child of five years being admonished by a parent. Dubhni was a little insulted, and a little embarrassed, by her comments about her efforts to field-dress his wounds.

Satreka stood about ten feet away rubbing his beard with the back of his fingers, smiling and occasionally laughing under his breath at the torment on the face of the great muscular warlord who was totally overmatched by the beautiful, very pregnant Valtyr.