Blood and sand do not make a particularly pleasant pairing. Wounds and sand were even worse. There was no way of getting the substance out properly and it insisted on worming its way into every crevice possible. Strange observations when there was a gleaming stake of wood covered in blood in the boy's hand and a soon to be dying man below him if nothing was done.

Even with his hand on the leg, Knight, as Arrosh had taken to calling him in his mind, writhed away and noise came from him that could not be termed as a scream as it was far beyond that. The girl too screamed, a hand flying over her mouth as the sight seemed to bring her to her senses - or closer to them at the very least. However, the shard was out of his leg and there was still work to be done. He tossed it to the side, prepared to do the bloody work.

"Hold still, man, lest you bleed to death." Arrosh managed to say through his teeth, pinning the leg and tying a ripped part of the shirt tight above the knee and the rest around the wound itself. In truth, there was no way of knowing if that was how one was supposed to do it. Obviously, there would be need of it to be properly looked at later. For now, this would have to do. They could not say he didn't try. Moans still came from Knight but he had yet to speak an intelligent word of the common tongue.

The sound of feet pounding across the sand and the sound of Corin's voice came towards them, "What's going on?" He rounded the large section of wreckage, stance ready for a fight.

"No outside danger, sire." Arrosh answered before nodding to the man next to him, "Merely an injury that needs to be fixed."

"You saved his life." Aravis came at a slower pace, having given the wreckage a wide berth for better viewing purposes before plunging headlong into the unknown.

Arrosh stood and looked down at his hands, once more in his short life he found himself covered in another man's blood. Oh, how different the circumstances were. Memories of the blood from the last man swam before his eyes and his stomach curled in on itself. What a fool he had been! A fool destined for death. Not before he could save his sister if he could help it. "If someone will stay with him and the gir- Miss Fesh. I will finish searching for survivors." If he could just save his sister, he would face a lifetime of terrors in recompense for all that he had done.

Corin had come to crouch over Knight, inspecting the wound, "I learned a bit of this sort of thing in my training. In case there was an instance in a fight or battle where assistance was needed immediately and no help could be got. I will see what more I can do." No more sounds of agony came from the knight. The ragged breaths and the rise and fall of his chest were the only indication that he still lived now.

Aravis went to Fesh, taking a seat beside her and began to speak to her in soothing tones. The curly, blonde girl had started to stare vacantly ahead again. Maybe she had hit her head and was addled by it. Arrosh couldn't tell. Never had he seen a person like that. Mayhaps the queen could help her.

There wasn't much of the beach left to search before the sand met with the water and a grassy embankment that seemed to lead up to the rest of the mainland. Sparse trees ran along the ridge above. One could only hope that there were no nearby villagers. People did not often take well to foreigners who were not obviously wealthy and unable to immediately benefit them through some form of trade or gold.

Up and down the beach he went. There were more people than he had thought on first glance. There seemed to be most of the crew on the shores - all dead. They must have crashed close by if that was the case. Even the captain, a kindly, grizzled man with a long brown beard was found, or half of him at least. Where his lower half had gone was beyond what Arrosh could guess or care to know.

"Help, please." The soft, hoarse whisper came from what Arrosh would have sworn was a pile of rubbish. "Help."

Coming closer to it, he saw through the cracks of the pile a man. The small smile that grew across his face could not be helped. It was Orran.

--

"He is stable for now." Corin brushed his hands off and stood, "But he will need it properly cared for when we get to the nearest village. Surely they will have at the very least some form of healer there." He had needed to fix the bandaging and now set about getting the man more comfortable.

Once again, he took a scan of the area. "We'll have to get a stretcher - or make one rather. Send out a scout or two ahead to get the lay of the land while the others scavenge the wreck for anything useful."

If there hadn't been wood, supplies, and bodies scattered everywhere it would have been a pretty area. A spot you would take a family for an afternoon picnic or the like. Did they do that in Calormen? What sort of people were they now? He had not been here since he was a boy. The first time, and last for that matter, had been blasted terrible. Were the people all that harsh?

"He saved my life." Fesh brought Corin from his thoughts, she was staring at the young man, her voice soft, "When I was separated from the queen and nearly fell into the ocean, he kept me from falling. Before the waves broke us apart when we both were tossed in he gave me something to keep afloat." Her face crumpled and went into her hands, "And this is how he pays for it."

"Worry not," Aravis rubbed her back, "All shall be well in due time."

Corin agreed. It was a blasted, blasted tragedy for all these lives lost. Good men they were. At least from what he had heard of them. Cor himself swore his life on the captain due to a diplomatic mission gone wrong that left him indebted to him with his life. Only the best crew for his wife was to be had.

In spite of all the bad, they still had two natives of the land with them and several lives intact. One of which had lived there his whole life. A plan would be made once the situation was assessed and they would be right as rain.

--

Aravis cast her gaze about the beach as she comforted the maid. Home. Or what had been. Not once over the years would she have thought she would ever come back to these shores. Traitor as she was.

Now here she was, shipwrecked. Over a decade later, her tale must have been long forgotten among the tarkaans and the like. They had planned on never setting foot near Tashbaan or even announcing who they truly were, just in case. For all those in Zalindreh would know, they would be wealthy barbarian traders. Aravis herself would be disguised as a slave so the want of another would not seem as suspicious since Archenlanders were forbidden from such atrocities. However, Aravis was not naive enough to think none did it. Every barrel has its bad apples and no country was without its criminals.

Or, that had been the plan. Now, they had not even the money to buy a fish in the market. Much less a girl.

What ever were they to do?