The Choice of Magic - Michael G. Manning Page 0,152

flows of turyn no longer showed, indicating the watchers had withdrawn. At fifty yards, the company began to descend a steeper slope and there were still no enemies in sight.

Then a lone man broke from concealment behind an isolated boulder, running away from the shield wall. Shouts went up from the soldiers as they saw him, and the sergeants were busy once more keeping the men from speeding up to catch the stranger. “Hold the line, goddamn it!” shouted Sergeant Nash. “This isn’t a fucking race!”

They reached the bottom of the shallow ravine and started up the other side when a long line of men just twenty yards away appeared, pushing aside the cut bushes they were using to conceal themselves and raising crossbows. Will ducked his head and felt something heavy strike his shield.

“Forward, double time! Stay together!” shouted one of the sergeants.

Will could see the head of a heavy bolt had come all the way through his shield and was now wedged there, halfway through, and from behind he heard someone cry out in pain. Looking over the top of his shield, he saw the crossbowmen fire again before turning tail and running. Something hard glanced off the top of his steel cap.

Even at a double-time march, they had no hope of catching up to the fleeing enemies, but Sir Kyle was firm in not letting the men charge. They followed the crossbowmen for several hundred yards before the knight gave the order to slow to a normal march, and they continued at that pace for another half a mile before he called a halt. Shortly thereafter, they returned to the road and assumed a defensive formation.

Sir Kyle was sending another runner back. “Tell them to get the chirurgeon up here. They can put him on a horse. I’ve got men bleeding to death here.”

Will spotted Sergeant Nash and stepped toward him. “Sir, I have experience with wounds.”

A few minutes later, he found himself with two or three other men, trying to treat those who had been hit by crossbow quarrels. Six men had been wounded: three had in and out wounds in their lower legs, which were fairly simple, but two of the others had bolts buried in their chests. The sixth was dying, and Will knew at a glance there was little hope for that soldier, for the head of the bolt had gone through just beneath his neck.

The leg wounds were already under control, with pressure being applied, so Will went to one of the men with a bolt in his chest. Someone had already cut the shaft down so only a few inches of wood protruded. Taking out his knife, Will carefully cut the soldier’s padded gambeson away so he could see the wound itself.

The head had gone through the padding and sunk a full two inches into the unfortunate fellow’s chest, just below the collarbone on his left side. Ignoring the man’s screams, Will probed the wound, noting that only a trickle of blood emerged. It missed the artery, he thought with relief. If the head was barbed like the one that had gone through his shield, though, he couldn’t safely draw it out. Removing it might hit the artery at worst, and at best would cause a lot more damage.

“I need some feathers,” said Will, glancing up.

Sergeant Brummett was looking over his shoulder. “What?”

“Feathers,” repeated Will. “Preferably large ones, like the sort you’d make a quill pen from.” The sergeant went to see what he could find, and Will went to examine the other man with a chest wound.

The second chest wound was less serious, as it had only gone in far enough to bury the head of the bolt, and it was below the ribs. Will judged it could be removed safely, but he decided to wait on the feathers to minimize the damage it would do.

The company began marching again, while Will and the two other men who were experienced with wounds, Tims and Granthon, stayed with the wounded. Lieutenant Latimer rode up to them a minute later.

The lieutenant offered Will two quill pens he had scavenged from his writing kit. “This is the best I could find. The company will continue marching for another hour. After the chirurgeon gets here, follow the rest of the column and meet up with your squads. Doctor Guerin will have these men sent back to Branscombe.”

The officer started to mount up again, but Will called out to him. “We need a pot to