The young warrior let out a slow breath and tried to breathe deeply. But he found that he could not. Some pressure, like a great band around his ribs, kept him from filling his lungs more than halfway. Khollo tried to look down his torso and see what this restriction was, but of course he saw nothing in the dark. He tried to move his arms, to explore the cursed band with his hands, but his arms were strapped down at his side and no amount of struggling would loosen those bonds.
Khollo swore and kicked out with his feet, which were unbound. His right foot met stone, and the contact hurt terribly. But his left foot connected with something else and sent it crashing to the floor.
There was a short pause, then muffled footsteps. The sound of a latch being lifted, and three slim lines of light seeped into the dim room, outlining the shape of the door. A dark shape moved into the opening, peering in curiously.
“Khollo? Are you awake?”
“Yes,” Khollo grunted. “What’s going on?”
The door opened wider, allowing more light to pass, and the figure moved closer. Khollo could make out a thin face, bushy gray hair, a long beard, and gray robes. The rest was lost to his eyes.
“You have been sick,” the newcomer replied gently. “Very sick. Do you remember anything? The battle?”
Khollo did remember. He remembered the clash of swords, the screams of the wounded. He remembered firing arrows into darkness. Then more memories crowded forth and he remembered the battle on the roof.
“Is Janis all right?” he asked suddenly, trying to sit up again. “And Sermas? And Hern? They both got thrown but I never saw – ”
“You do remember,” the man murmured. “Lord Kurkan is fine. He suffered only scratches. One of the cadets, Sermas, has a broken arm. The other, Hern, I think, was battered badly in his fall. He has a mild concussion and some bruising, but he will live.”
“And the rest?”
The man looked away. Khollo realized that he was quite old, older even than Janis by many years. “It is not for you to concern yourself with at this time,” he replied finally.
“The hell it is, they are my men,” Khollo growled.
The man sighed. “Fully four and fifty lay slain. Good soldiers all. Three and twenty are wounded. They will all survive, if we are fortunate.”
Half the garrison, Khollo thought in disbelief. Half the garrison is dead, another quarter wounded. Maybe twenty fit to fight. Khollo closed his eyes, wishing that he could wake up once more and try again. Maybe when he really woke up the casualties would not be so bad.
“I warned you,” the old man said gently. “I did not want to tell. As a healer, I prefer that my patients are burdened as little as possible with anything beyond their injuries. But you had a right to know, lieutenant.”
Khollo nodded slowly. “Thank you,” he murmured. “I suppose that you are the one who treated me on the roof?”
The old man nodded. “Yes.”
“Then thank you again,” Khollo said, smiling. “I’m afraid that I may have fought you. The process was rather painful and I knew that I was close to death. Thank you for not letting me rest until I was out of danger.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You were the voice!” Khollo explained. “There was a voice I could hear in my head telling me not to rest, that I must stay awake until the healers were done with me.”
The healer shook his head sadly. “That was none of us, lieutenant.”
Khollo’s smile froze on his face. “Oh,” he said finally, shrugging. “Perhaps I imagined it.”
The healer pursed his lips. “Perhaps.”
An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. “How bad are my injuries?” Khollo asked finally.
The healer looked away. “Very bad,” he said at last. “We’ve given you something that numbs the pain. Otherwise you would be in agony.” He paused. “That vertag broke seven ribs on the right side of your rib cage and carved sizeable wounds into your chest. By the time I got to you, you had nearly lost too much blood to have any hope of surviving.”
Well, you wanted to know, Khollo reflected.
“We cleaned and dressed your wounds and bound your chest,” the healer continued. “The problem was, before we sealed the wound, we noticed that a six-centimeter piece of your fourth rib was missing.”
“Missing?” Khollo asked, confused.
“Gone. We couldn’t find it,” the healer continued. “We smoothed the jagged ends by filing them down and bound your chest. I’m not sure how the missing section of rib will affect you though.”
“I suppose we’ll find out,” Khollo muttered. “Can I still fight?”
“We’ll see.”
Khollo sighed. “Well, that’s better than a ‘no’, I suppose.”
“Much better,” the healer agreed. “Are you hungry? It’s the middle of the night but I’m sure I could find something suitable in the kitchens.”
Before Khollo could reply, his stomach rumbled audibly. “I think that’s a yes,” he said with a wan little smile.
The healer smiled as well. “It is good to see you conscious. Lord Kurkan told us all how you risked your own life to save the others on the roof. And your arrows saved many a soldier during the battle as well. The others will be most relieved when I tell them that you are awake and up to taking food.” He rose. “I’ll be back shortly. Try to move as little as possible, your bones will heal faster that way.” The healer retreated to
