The elf came on but he was shaking his head. He said something then turned and rejoined the others. Another brief conversation and the cat and the spectral elf ran off to the north. The three others bent immediately to their task, and as Erys watched and the forest slowly obscured his view, packs were torn apart and bodies were searched. Erys’s last memory was of the elves systematically shredding every item of kit and clothing.
Wanting nothing more than to find a place to hide, Erys clung onto the CloakedWalk, turned and walked forward at last, hoping to find the river to follow all the way to the coast.
Yron had done everything he could. Dragging Ben-Foran into the obscurity of the forest, he’d laid him down on a clear patch of ground and used his soaking leather jerkin as a pillow of sorts. He’d lit a fire using rubbed bamboo and fashioned a rough tripod from damp wood. They both still carried the mugs they’d run from the temple with; Yron had forbidden Ben to discard his, knowing they might prove vital. He’d filled both from the river and balanced them on the tripod.
Taking off his shirt, he’d cut it into strips and put them in the water to boil. Finally, hoping no predators were attracted to Ben’s bloodied body, he made a quick hunt for legumia bark, rubiac fruit and vismia stems. He found none of the latter. He could have done with its antiseptic qualities and reminded himself to keep looking, assuming Ben survived.
The youngster was conscious when he returned and incredibly was struggling to sit up.
‘Lie back, boy,’ said Yron. ‘Best you don’t look.’
‘It’s bloody agony,’ said Ben.
‘I know. I got the odd nip myself.’ It was an understatement. Though the piranha had concentrated their attack on Ben’s legs, the Captain had been the victim of more snaps than he could count. Most were little more than exploratory attacks but enough were full-blooded bites to cause him serious pain. He mustn’t forget to treat himself. Ben would not be served by his own death.
Yron dropped the bark into the mugs and waited as it bubbled and spat.
‘You’ll be fine, Ben,’ he said. ‘You’ve broken nothing. It hurts like hell but I can numb the pain later. For now I have to clean it. That’ll sting but you’ll know it’s doing the job, right?’
The commentary was as much for Yron as it was for his frightened lieutenant. Yron stared up at the sky, seeing the smoke trailing up into the canopy. The cloud had disappeared and strong light was shining down, bringing with it humidity and heat. He was aware they’d have to try and move soon. The smoke, while keeping away the flies, was a beacon for any watching TaiGethen and their silent ClawBound brethren.
When he’d waited as long as he could, Yron took the mugs from the tripod and placed them by Ben. He cut the remnants of Ben’s trouser legs away, took a deep breath at what he saw and gave the stricken man a reassuring smile.
‘It’s not so bad,’ he said.
‘Liar,’ replied Ben. ‘Sir.’
Yron hooked a piece of cloth from a mug with a stick, let it cool a little in the air, then dropped it into his hands where he balled it up.
‘Try not to cry out,’ he said gently. ‘I have to do this.’
He began to clean the right leg, beginning at the foot. At the first touch of the infused cloth, Ben tensed and bit down on a scream. Yron pressed on; he really had no choice.
He had no real idea how long he worked. Meticulous and tireless for hour after hour, he cleaned each wound separately, biting his lip as he looked at the torn flesh, the flaps of skin and the deep bite wounds. The right leg was torn to bits. Bone and muscle were exposed and he covered what he could with the makeshift bandages. Perhaps magic could save it but they were far from such help and Ben’s survival chances were already low.
The left leg was better but his buttocks had both taken bites as had hips and lower stomach. Yron cleaned and bandaged, refilled the mugs again and again, kept the fire going and, latterly, made rubiac poultices for himself to try and combat any infection.
Finally, he dressed Ben in the remains of his trousers, helped him back into his leather armour, having used his shirt for bandages too, and sat him up. Ben-Foran