by Emmett Swan
Her fears were allayed, however, when Chimber’s handsome, friendly face entered the room. He sat down beside her with a smile.
“Glad to see you’re awake,” he said. “You had us worried there for a while.”
“You took care of me?” she asked.
“Well me, Jern, and a few others.”
“Where am I? What happened?”
“You’re in my cottage. Our little group was watching your attack from Bie Pass when you were set upon. We came down to help and brought you to safety after you were knocked unconscious.”
“And Keeman City?” asked Brechlin suddenly. “The defenses? I must go...”
She sat up and looked around for her clothes.
“Please, where are my things? I must go,” she said, grimacing with the sharp pain that once again overwhelmed her.
“Please lie back down,” said Chimber. He firmly pushed her down by her shoulder. She could not resist.
“There is nothing you can do,” he added. “Keeman is lost. The citizens have fled.”
“Lost?” she managed as the intense waves of pain subsided. “How long have I been out?”
“You’ve been unconscious for several days.”
“And the enemy? Where is the cadaver army?”
“I don’t know, exactly. They left Keeman heading west along the coastal road. Fortunately, they didn’t seem interested in our small village.”
“They’ll attack Gretly next,” said Brechlin. “And then strike at Capital Island. I have got to get back.”
“Try to relax,” soothed Chimber. “You will get home. Just not right away.”
Brechlin forced her tense body to relax. There was nothing she could do about it right now. She couldn’t stand up if her life depended on it.
“Can you send somebody to find out what’s going on?” asked Brechlin. “It’s important that I know.”
“We already have,” said Chimber. “I sent two men along a minor road that follows the southern coast. They can head up into the mountains at the western end of the island and look down on Gretly. They’ll be able to see what the cadaver host is doing. Better give them a couple more days. In the meantime, your wounds need attending. And then we’ll try solid food.” Chimber pulled out a container of ill-smelling ointment.
“Are you planning on putting that vile stuff on my wounds?” Brechlin asked.
“This is Frakar’s Ointment. An old family recipe, and yes, I’ve been putting this stuff on your wounds for days already. Probably why you’re healing so nicely.”
“That explains why I smell funny,” managed Brechlin, smiling weakly.
“Ah, a smile! A superb sign. Now, let’s pull down your covers.”
Chimber reached for the bed covers, and began rolling them down, but Brechlin hesitated, holding onto them. She was naked underneath and, to her surprise, felt vulnerable. But after a moment she relented, and Chimber gently pulled the blanket aside.
“A minute or two, and I’ll be done,” he said.
Brechlin watched the young man intently as he went about his work. She felt shy about her body, adorned only with bandages, being exposed to Chimber’s view. But he put her at ease with his tender professionalism. She even felt modest pleasure in having someone attend to her. She wasn’t used to such attention and fuss.
“We will have to continue dressing your wounds regularly,” he said. “I sorry about that, for I tell it’s awkward for you.”
“A bit,” she replied. “But it’s okay.” She noticed a pendant dangling from her neck and held it up. “What is this bauble I’m wearing?”
“It’s called the Tear of Life. It has aided your healing. I suspect it to be a piece of the White Mountain.”
Brechlin studied the piece of crystal with wonder as Chimber put the ointment away.
“Well, thank you,” she said. “It seems to be working. May I cover up now?”
“Not right now,” he replied. “The ointment needs to dry for a minute or two. But if you would rather, I’ll leave the room.”
“You can stay,” said Brechlin.
Chimber shrugged. “I looked you over carefully for wounds. Your body has quite a few scars. Have you been in many battles?”
“I’ve seen my share of blood. It goes with the job.”
“Ah, yes. The life of a public servant.”
“You don’t know who I am, do you?”
“I assumed you were an officer in Keeman’s police force—I saw the insignia on the horse you were riding. But I didn’t know they hired women.”
“They don’t. But the Queen’s Army does. Me and three other officers. All daughters of officers.”
“I know the Grand Marshal is a woman. Quite a leader, from what I hear.”
“Thank you for the compliment.”
“You? Are you saying you’re the Grand Marshal?”
Brechlin nodded. “She is I.”
“But, how did you end up--”
“I was leading a force intended to delay the attacking cadaver army while the citizens escaped. We were probing the defensive capabilities of the enemy host when I fell. Who, may I ask, are you?”
“Chimber is the name,” he replied. “Master gravedigger and sloop captain.”
“Glad to meet you,” she said sincerely. “And thank you for saving my life.”
“Well, that’s the least I could do for the queen’s right-hand man—er, woman. Now, cover up while I bring you some soup.”
“Not, I hope, another family recipe devised by old Frakar,” she said.
Chimber laughed. A deep, free roll of mirth. Brechlin’s eyes lit up with pleasure. She liked this man.
“A soup of my own design, I assure you,” Chimber said as he left the room.
* * *
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