"I will." Those two words held a quiet dignity. She glanced at his face. It was neutral, careful. He would not purposefully embarrass her; she knew that as if he had spoken it aloud.
Elaine touched the edge of white fur. Fredric raised his hands slightly to allow her to pull the covers down. She drew them off slowly, a knuckle's length of pale flesh coming to light at a time. His left arm bore a bite mark that still leaked blood. It would leave a nasty scar, but it was not serious unless it became infected. Infection took many a warrior when the wound itself wasn't a killing blow.
There was a patch of scar tissue near the center of his chest. Elaine touched it gently with her fingertips. The skin was rough and thickened like any scar. She ran fingers over his chest, as if to test that the rest of his skin was soft and unblemished, then back to the scar. It was white with age, an old scar, right over the heart. Something large had speared him there, long ago.
"This was a killing blow," she said.
"Aye, Silvanus brought me back from that one." His thick fingers caressed the scar, eyes distant with memory. "It was a good blow, straight through the heart."
"How many times has he brought you back?"
"Three, counting today."
"But that's.. that's …" Elaine had no words for it. She had seen so many die with wounds not half as serious as that one heart blow. But, of course, Fredric had also died, just not permanently. It was outrageous. and wondrous.
Elaine lowered the covers another handspan or two. Even his stomach was flat and strong. Low on the stomach was the wound that had killed him this time. She folded the furs carefully at a line just below his waist. In truth, perhaps just a fraction lower. She tucked the covers firmly just below his hip bones. The smooth white skin of his stomach was in ruins.
Claws had sliced him open in ragged furrows. Teeth had torn great gaping hunks of flesh from his stomach. Even if it hadn't been a murderous wound, it would never have healed. There wasn't enough flesh left to fill in the hole. The wolves had eaten down through the muscle, shoving their muzzles into his stomach and intestines. This wasn't like closing the edges of some great wound, or mending a pierced heart. Hunks of flesh were gone, swallowed, before he was healed. The scar tissue was a great pinkish mound that covered most of the stomach.
Elaine touched the wound. She could almost feel the new flesh sinking away under her fingers. Scar tissue held his stomach and intestine together, scar tissue where it should never have been.
"Is this-and your arm-your only wounds?" she asked.
"My left leg, I think." His hands were back, clutching the covers. "You can draw away the furs from my leg." It was clear that pulling the covers farther down was not an option.
That was fine with Elaine. She lifted the furs from his left leg, folding them back to midthigh. It left his long body bare, save for a swath of fur across his groin, and one covered leg. His bare leg was long and muscled. His white hair had made Elaine think Fredric old, older than Jonathan, but this was a young body.
The claws had hamstrung him. The wound was partially healed, the deeper flesh knitted together in a pink mass. The lip of the wound still gaped where the claws had sliced, but the profound damage was healed.
"How did he heal only part of your wounds? How did the magic know to heal your worst injury? Is it possible to heal many lesser wounds and.run out of spell before a killing wound is mended?"
Fredric laughed. "Girl, I don't know. I'm no cleric. I've seen Silvanus do many wondrous things, but I've never thought to ask how he does it."
Elaine looked at his laughing face. She was puzzled. "Didn't you want to know how the healing worked?"
He shrugged broad shoulders. "As long as it works, that's all that matters."
"Spoken like a warrior with no hobbies," Randwulf said.
Elaine turned back to what she'd assumed was a younger man. After seeing Fredric's body, she was no longer sure. Randwulf seemed younger at least in actions, if not in years.
Randwulf lay naked on the furs save for a white underpant. Elaine turned away, staring very hard at the tent wall.
"Where is the injury that killed you?" Just asking the question sounded ludicrous.
"Don't you want to search for it, like you did with Fredric?"
"I don't think so," she said.
"Elaine, can you help me over here?" Konrad asked.
She let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. If Konrad needed her help, he would probably tend to Randwulf himself. The brown-eyed man with his curly hair was too eager for her hands.
She crawled over to Konrad, who was still kneeling by the unconscious elf. He had cut away the sleeve from the torn arm. Only a handspan of arm remained. The end should have been jagged with naked bone and ripped flesh, but it was smooth. The skin had pulled together, hiding the end of the arm in a smooth golden-skinned stub.
"Is it healing?" she asked.
He nodded. "I believe so,"
"What do you need my help for?" she asked.
"I need a second opinion."
She glanced at him. His handsome profile was serious, no smile, no teasing. He turned to her, full-faced. His green eyes studied hers. If it had been anyone but Konrad, Elaine would have said he looked uncertain.
"If this were a normal amputee, I would cauterize the wound to stop bleeding and keep infection from the flesh." He ran his hand over the stub. "Feel it."
She didn't want to, but Konrad had never asked her opinion before. He had taught her to clean and bandage simple wounds. Her most common task was to preview the wounded and give Konrad a report of who was the worst injured. But once Elaine gave her report, she followed his orders, did as he directed. She Would not be squeamish now.
Elaine ran fingertips over the stub, The skin was soft, as a newborn babe's, smooth; no jagged bone jutted beneath the skin. The stub was fleshy, as if the end were filled up with meat. It was smooth, solid, and perfect.
"It's healed," she said, softly.
He nodded. "Should I burn the end of the stub, or not?"
"Oh, no. It's healed. Burning it would just injure it further. Don't you think?" Elaine knew that cauterizing the wound was the wrong thing to do, but she couldn't resist asking for his approval. She hated herself just a little bit for that last question.
He stared down at the elf, running his hand over the smooth stump. "I think you're right. But this is so far beyond my poor skills, I almost don't know how to tend them."
"You tend the wounds that aren't completely healed and leave the others alone," she said.
"Do I? Have you looked at the other two?"
"I haven't seen to Randwulf's wounds yet."
"Tell me of the first man's wounds."
She did. When she had finished, he sighed and went to Fredric. "See to Randwulf."
Elaine sat there for a moment, angry. She was not in the mood to be teased or tormented. She had been embarrassed enough for one day.
Konrad knelt by Fredric, hands seeking the wounds she had told him of. He did not second-guess her by looking for other wounds, but went only to the areas Elaine had mentioned. It was a measure of trust. Once he had searched each body himself; now he simply took her word. He might not love her, but he respected her, and that was worth a great deal, worth enough to risk the teasing Randwulf and much more. Just because he didn't love her, did not mean she didn't love him. Love is like that. Once it exists, it is not so easily killed.
Randwulf had cuddled back under the covers. Apparently, it was too cold in the tent for such blatant flirtation. The sight of only his curly brown head sticking out made it easier for Elaine to go to him.
Perhaps he had been merely teasing, that when it came down to it, he would behave himself.
And pigs would fly.
Randwulf's smile was lovely, but there was a hint of evil in it, a knowledge in his eyes that was too intimate to be directed at a strange young girl. It seemed as if he knew what she looked like without clothes on, or wanted to.
Heat rushed up her face, but with the embarrassment came anger. Enough of this, she thought. She knelt before his covered figure, face set in a businesslike scowl. "What are your injuries?" She made her voice cold and distant.
He didn't seem to notice. "Oh, I am badly hurt, all over. I think you had best see for yourself." With that, he whipped back the covers, and Elaine looked down. She studied the ground as if her life depended on it.
Randwulf's face appeared in her line of vision. He laid his head in her lap, gazing up at her. "Don't you want to see my wounds?"
She stood up abruptly. His head thunked onto the frozen ground. He closed his eyes. "Now my head hurts, as well."
"I hope it does," she said. She was angry with him, but more with herself for letting him bother her so. She had tended a few strangers. But none had made it so difficult. It was easier to pretend her investigation, her touch wasn't intimate if the patient pretended also.
"There, I've fixed it," he said.
Elaine was almost afraid to look, but she did. He lay covered to his chin. His face looked very young, peeking from above the furs. He looked boyish and adorable, but the gleam in his eye was a little too grown-up for the act to be convincing. At least he was no longer naked. Elaine would take what improvement she could get.
Elaine knelt beside him one more time. Her fingers curled around the fur to pull it back. His cheek rubbed against her knuckles. She lifted the fur and her hand out of easy reach. If he had tried kissing it, she would have jerked away and left him to his own devices, but the movement was one a cat might make. An overly friendly cat.
She lowered the covers slowly, eyes searching his body for injuries. His skin was not as pale as the paladin's. He looked as if he would brown in the sun. His chest and arms were shapely but slender compared to Fredric's. He could not boast nearly as many scars. He was either luckier, a better fighter, or newer to adventure. Elaine thought the last., Both his forearms bore bite marks. It looked as if a wolf had grabbed each arm and held on. They were fearsome wounds, but nothing to die over. Rand-wulf's flat stomach was unblemished, skin smooth.
He lay back on the furs, a slow smile on his face. He looked very pleased with himself. Elaine fought the urge to slap him. It would probably have made him laugh. She did not want to amuse him. She realized, strangely enough, that she wanted to hurt him. Or at least make him as uncomfortable as he had made her.
Elaine took a deep breath and let it slowly out. She pulled the covers below his waist. She gave only a quick glance before moving on to his legs. If the death wound had been in a very intimate place, Kon-rad could bloody well search for it himself.
His legs were short, almost stocky, muscled from walking, but uninjured. A white scar like a bolt of frozen lightning traced his right thigh, but there were no new wounds.
Elaine sighed. "Please, turn over." Randwulf's wounds would of course be in an out-of-the-way place. He couldn't possibly have done it on purpose.
She glanced at the slow curl of his smile. He stretched, arms straight over his shoulders. Every muscle in his body strained. He was like a contented cat that had already drunk its fill of cream. His dark eyes stared at her as if she were the proverbial canary.
Konrad and Fredric were just an arm's length away. He couldn't possibly do anything to her. He was simply flirting or teasing, or both. But it meant nothing-nothing real. Randwulf had only as much power over her as she gave him, and she'd given him far too much already.
"Turn over, Randwulf, now." Her voice was a good imitation of Tereza's when she'd had all she could stand of silly children and indoor games.
Randwulf blinked at her, his smile slipped around the edges. He rubbed his hands down his chest and across his stomach. Her eyes followed them, as he'd wanted them to. The hands started to slip farther, but she grabbed one bloody wrist, wrenching the skin in two different directions. He gave a hiss of pain.
"Turn over so I can look for injuries, or I'll put salt in these wounds."
"You wouldn't dare," he said, but there was doubt in his eyes.
"Salt cleanses a wound and prevents infection."
His eyes narrowed as if he didn't believe her. But there must have been something in her face that convinced him. He began to turn over, slowly, giving her time to admire the way his body worked.
Elaine kept her best no-nonsense look in place. She consciously pictured Tereza at her most cross. The look that had always sent Elaine and herself running.
Randwulf never took his eyes from her face, looking for some reaction besides disapproval. He didn't find it. He gave a small sigh and settled onto his stomach, though he did keep his face turned so he could watch her.
Elaine was staring, open-mouthed at the back of his neck. His hair had been just long enough to hide it from the front, but now. Jaws had crushed the back of his neck, broken his spine. Tooth marks imprinted the skin, but the neck itself had filled back up, like a waterskin inflating. He moved well enough that it was clear the spine was not severed. The tooth marks filled with blood like miniature rain puddles with rain.
But the blood did not flow. The wound looked raw, but the blood seemed to be held in suspension by some invisible force. If the wound were swabbed with a damp cloth, would it bleed afresh?. Would they start it to bleeding? Would it stop once it started? With magic healing, who knew?
Randwulf watched her face. "Is it that ugly?" He was young and handsome, and the horror on her face bothered him.
He had handed her a way to hurt him; all she had to do was lie. The one thing she could not do.
"It is not the appearance of the wound, but the terrible injury it must have been. Your spine was broken, snapped. How can you be healed of that?"
"I don't know," he said.
"Is this the first time you. died?" she asked.
His small white teeth bit his lower lip, his eyes uncertain. "The first time."
"Were you frightened?"
"Of dying?"
She nodded.
"I was frightened when the wolves grabbed my arms. They held me with their mouths the way two men would have held me with their hands. Then I heard the man-wolf behind me. His breath was loud and hot against my neck. I think I screamed. There was a moment of sharp, horrible pain, then nothing. I didn't feel a thing." He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, fingertips tracing the tooth marks, ever so lightly. "No pain, but I felt myself slide away. I felt myself die."
Elaine just stared at him. She couldn't think of anything to say.
"Elaine, may I speak with you," Konrad said. He stood, forced to stoop by the low ceiling. He went to the tent flap. "Outside."
Elaine fought to keep to her face blank, stood, and followed him outside. The wind hit her face like a cold slap. She lifted her hood in place, struggling against the wind to hold the furred cloak close to her body.
Konrad's long hair spilled over his face, tangled by the icy wind. With his back to the wind, his cloak streamed out around him; no need to hold it next to his body-the wind did that on its own. The tent cracked and bucked in the rising gusts.
Konrad led her a few steps from the tent, hand half-draped over her shoulders. He drew her into the circle of his arms so they could talk above the wind and rippling tent hide. That was all. The physical closeness that made her chest tight meant nothing to him. Elaine reminded herself of that as he leaned near her cheek to speak.
"If we cleanse the wounds, will they start to bleed again and not stop? Does the magic used to partially heal them change how we should treat them?"
She wanted to say something clever and certain, but that would have been an outrageous lie. Lives might be at stake. It was not a time for lies. "I don't know."
"You know more magic than I do," he said. He was really looking to her for an answer. Elaine had never claimed more knowledge than she had. If she didn't know, she always said so, but now was sorely tempted. Konrad's face was close enough to kiss. His eyes looking at her, seeing her.
Elaine drew a deep sigh. "I've
only been studying magic for a few days, Konrad. I'm no expert, but Gersalius is." She was rather pleased with that last thought, pleased to have come up with a good idea, if not a good answer.
"I cannot leave them alone. Could you speak with the wizard, then report back to me?"
"I could stay with them while you spoke with Ger-salius." It was a generous offer. The last thing Elaine wanted to do was go back in that tent. Randwulf's serious eyes and his strange voice as he had related his death story had frightened her. She preferred even his teasing and flirting to that.
"No, if anything should go wrong, I am the best healer in camp-at least awake. And the wizard will speak more freely to you. Don't you think?"
Again, he was asking her opinion. This time she could give an answer. "Yes."
"Then go talk with the wizard. I'll wait here. I won't tend their wounds unless something goes wrong."
"I'll hurry," she said.
He gave an abrupt nod, almost a bow, and ducked back inside the tent. Elaine stood there for a moment in the rattling wind. Konrad had asked her opinion twice in one day. It was not only a record, it was a nine days' wonder. What was wrong with him?
THIRTEEN
Gersalius's tent was smaller than the rest, with strange curlicues of carved wood mounted above the entrance. Elaine hadn't really inspected the wizard's tent closely. Now she looked at the wooden carvings. They were attached to the tent itself, not tied on. It was almost as if the wood grew straight out of the hide. She could make nothing of the carvings themselves. They were of no animal or image she was familiar with, just designs of wood and paint.
Elaine called, "Gersalius, it's me, Elaine. I need to speak with you."
The wind gusted, making the tent strain and pull at the tiny tent stakes. The wood carvings swayed in the wind as if they were antlers on some live beast.
"Gersalius?" Elaine called. She waited in the cold, huddled against the wind. "Gersalius, please, if you're in there, answer me."
Death of a Darklord (ravenloft) Page 10