Chapter 9

"Better wake up," a voice said.

Veren Redmorning wondered why it did not sound like an Orc's voice. A second later he recalled the last thing he had seen. His eyes snapped open, and he stared wildly up at a thin violet face with one notched ear.

"Not very good blademaster," Glaive said, in a tone of some annoyance. The light of a new sunrise showed her face quite clearly. "Should kill dryad quick-quick. Very easy. Do it even with broken blade."

Veren made an inarticulate noise and sat up. This was harder than he expected. The Elf watched without discernible sympathy, shivering in her scant harness and disarranged bandages as she crouched in the bloody snow. She still clutched a gory sword in one hand.

Redmorning looked around in time to see both of his commanders headed toward him, looking grimly purposeful. The extremely bloody weapons both Orcs carried added considerably to this effect.

"She saved my life," Veren Redmorning said, to forestall any action he was likely to regret later. He waved a hand awkwardly at the dead dryad.

Lev wandered over to inspect the body as Kerd dismounted. She had collected a couple of scratches on her arms and shoulders, but seemed otherwise unharmed. She unfastened her cloak and laid it around Veren's shoulders as she knelt.

"How are we doing?" Veren asked, looking around for his second blade. He wiped it on the cleanest patch of snow he could find and sheathed it as Kerd spoke.

"It's over now. We lost two raiders, one grunt, and a peon who was inside the tower." Kerd nodded toward the still-smouldering remains of a watchtower. "I think everyone else is going to make it. One or two took serious cuts, but in the cold weather they probably won't fester."

"Any of the Elves get away?" Redmorning asked.

"No," Kerd Bladeleaper said. "Darksun, could you call Shel'yin over here? Don't try to stand up yet, Chieftain."

"I had the distinct impression we were outnumbered," Veren said.

"Not enough," Glaive said. She cleaned the blade of his sword and offered it to him hilt-first. He sheathed it awkwardly. Raising his arms pulled on the wounds across his chest, which still seemed to be bleeding. Judging by the color of the snow around him, he'd been lying there for a while.

There did seem to be quite a few dead bodies around him, including a number of archers with slashed throats in front of the great hall. Glaive followed the direction of his gaze.

"Easy as dryad," she said. "Too hard use bow up close."

Veren counted. "Demons," he said weakly. "You bloody well killed a dozen of them."

"How old did you say she was?" Kerd asked.

"Four tens, and five," Glaive said. She knelt with her arms folded around her upper body, shivering.

"Get her in by the fire, Kerd," Veren Redmorning said. "See she has whatever she needs. She's earned it."

Kerd looked to make sure Lev was coming back with the warlock. Then she pulled one of the Elf's arms across her shoulders, rose, and helped her into the nearby building.

Shel'yin knelt next to Veren and examined him critically.

"Kev'ran should not have cast the frenzy on you," he said. "You are not accustomed to its aftereffects. Hold still." And with that, he picked up the Chieftain easily and carried him into the great hall.

A couple of peons fed sticks into a new fire. Others laid out a few pallets for the wounded and unrolled bandages made of spider silk. Kev'ran was already there, getting water ready to boil, and a warlock whose name Redmorning could not quite remember was tending to Gedu Pouncefaster's leg. Lev Darksun went to check on this process as Shel'yin deposited Veren carefully on a pallet.

"Stay here, please," Shel'yin said. Veren found he was not at all tempted to disobey. His chest hurt, and he felt weak still. Had he really sat up on his own just a few minutes ago?

He turned his head to watch Shel'yin. The tall warlock went over to the fire and spoke briefly with Kev'ran. She quickly gathered up materials and carried them over to Veren's pallet.

"Shel'yin will carry the others in as well, since he is the strongest and the grunts are needed outside," Kev'ran said. "I am afraid this probably will hurt."

"See the Elf next," Veren said, as Kev'ran began to apply pressure to the parallel slashes on his chest.

"Need no seeing," said Glaive's voice. "Plenty easy fight."

Redmorning turned his head to see her seated on his right with a blanket wrapped around her. Someone had given her back her broken weapon. She held onto it with one hand as she held the blanket with the other.

"You fought well for us," Veren Redmorning said, trying to ignore what Kev'ran was doing. "I won't forget it. But why did you do it? They might have taken you back if you'd killed me."

"Too late for going back," Glaive said quietly. "Not forgive for kill a Sentinel."

Kev'ran poured something onto Veren's wounds. It stung more than it should have. Shel'yin was saying something about the aftereffects of the frenzy, he recalled dimly.

"I am Tattered Banner now," Glaive said. "If Chief keeps his word."

"I will keep it," Veren Redmorning said.