Ron suddenly gasped and lurched back, tripping over his own feet and falling to the ground. Tom spun, half standing, then halted.
Aeren stood a few paces away, Eraeth and another of the Alvritshai flanking him. He stared down at Brant, then held something toward Tom, murmuring in his own language. Tom hesitated, then stood and accepted what Aeren offered.
A small, clear, glass vial filled with what looked like pinkish water.
Tom looked at Aeren in consternation, but the Alvritshai motioned toward Brant, mimicked pouring the water over Brant’s wounds.
Tom returned to Arten’s side. “He wants us to pour this over the wound,” he said, as he began to remove the cork from the top of the bottle. It was sealed with wax, so he used the knife Arten had given him earlier to break it.
“And you’re going to use it?”
“We don’t have a choice. The blood isn’t stopping, and they haven’t given us any reason to distrust them so far.”
Arten didn’t respond, but he did pull the rags back from the wound and let Tom dribble some of the liquid onto the cuts.
Nothing happened at first, the pinkish water mixing with the blood, diluting it. Arten shifted, ready to start pressing the already saturated rags against the wounds again, but Tom halted him. “Look. It’s stopping.”
The flow of blood had grown sluggish. Tom poured a little more of the fluid onto the wounds, held his breath, then exhaled as the bleeding stopped completely. Both wounds were still there, on the chest and beneath Brant’s armpit, but they had clotted, and no new blood flowed from them.
Arten dipped his hand in the water from the bucket so he could wash the excess blood away from Brant’s wounds, but Aeren said something, clearly a warning, and he stopped.
“Maybe the water will wash away whatever this pink stuff is,” Tom said. He sat back, stared down at Brant’s slack face. “Bind it. And take him to Ana.”
Then he stood, noted with a troubled turn of his stomach that the rest of the Alvritshai were gone, then stepped toward Aeren and his two guards. “Thank you for this.” He motioned with the small bottle, tried to hand it back. There was still liquid in the bottom of it.
Eraeth frowned, said something with scorn in it, as if he’d been insulted, but Aeren shook his head. He pushed Tom’s hand back, closing Tom’s fingers around the bottle. “Keep.”
Tom nodded, and Aeren turned to survey the surrounding grass.
Where the dead lay.
Tom swallowed, gaze flicking from body to body. Flies were already gathering, buzzing in small clumps around the drying blood, the gaping wounds. He felt sick, skin flushed, as he counted nine men dead. Ten, counting the young man who’d foolishly raced after the escaping horse.
No. Eleven. The man he’d seen impaled by the spear before he’d even arrived at the wagons had been dragged into their circle by two of the women.
And then there was Clara.
He closed his eyes, bowed his head a moment to steady himself, then turned his face to the sky so he could feel the sunlight on his face. He breathed in the scent of smoke, of blood, of death, but also the grass, the earth, the trees.
He opened his eyes when he heard horses pounding toward them, and he saw Walter and the rest returning, driving their mounts hard. The anger that rose when he heard them stilled when he saw the panic on Walter’s face.
“Get everyone on the wagons,” Walter barked, his mount skidding to a halt before Tom and Aeren, the other riders not stopping, heading toward the wagons, shouting for everyone to move. “We have to get out of here. Now. As fast as possible.”
“What is it? What did you find?”
“The dwarren.” He flicked the reins in his hands, his horse skittish. Walter’s gaze darted across the open plains, searching, not resting on any one location. “That was only a scouting party,” he said. “They have an army, headed this way. And from what we saw, they could come at us from anywhere.”
“How?” Tom asked, his anger touching his voice. Behind him, he could hear the others driving the rest of the wagon train into panicked motion.
Walter held his gaze, his face as serious as Tom had ever seen it. “Because they live underground.”
Tom frowned. “Show me.”
“We must leave them. You have done enough. They can fend for themselves.”
“As the others did?” Aeren glared at Eraeth. His Protector’s flat but forceful statements infuriated him. “No. You saw what happened to the other wagons, what the dwarren did to them.”
“You approached this group against my advice. You tried to warn them back, to get them to return to the lands below the Escarpment, where there is relative safety from the dwarren and the plains. And when they would not listen, you led them to the burned wagons and the dead in hopes that they would return then.”
“The warning came too late!” Aeren spat. He stepped away from Eraeth and his other guardsman, ignored the look that passed between the two. He watched the settlers instead, the group of men racing about, gathering together a small scouting group while the rest prepared the wagons for travel. Women were salvaging what they could from the burned wagon and gathering up the wounded, loading the man that had taken an arrow in his shoulder into the back of one, some of the smaller children in the others. He had never seen so many children at once. Alvritshai children were rare and precious. They certainly would not have been allowed onto the plains at such a young age. The robed one, who appeared to be an acolyte of some kind, moved among them all, parents and children alike, comforting them, leading some in short prayers while they clutched the strange pendant he wore. A few were gathering up the dead, laying them together to one side.
Aeren felt something dig into his chest at the sight of the bodies. “It came too late,” he repeated.
Eraeth moved to his side. “Yes, and you ordered us to help defend them against the dwarren scouts. But if there are scouts, then the army will not be far behind. You know they cannot defend themselves against the dwarren armies, even with our help. And it is doubtful they will be able to outrun them.”
“Except that the dwarren army isn’t interested in them.” Aeren turned to Eraeth, saw his Protector scowl. “The dwarren scouts weren’t looking for these people, they were looking for their own kind. We’ve stumbled into one of their tribal wars. If we can determine where the other dwarren tribes are coming from, perhaps we can elude them.”
Eraeth’s eyes narrowed. “You are correct. The dwarren are not interested in the human wagons. That does not mean we should risk our lives-Alvritshai lives-for these… these savages!”
Aeren’s brow creased at the venom in Eraeth’s words. He held his Protector’s gaze, then asked, “When will the other Phalanx members return with news of the other dwarren’s whereabouts?”
Eraeth hesitated. “Not for some time.”
“Then we have time to help them further.”
Anger flared in Eraeth’s eyes. “No. You have risked yourself and the rest of your Phalanx already by simply contacting these people, let alone aiding them against the dwarren. And now you have given them the Blood of Aielan, the proof of the success of your Trial, all to save one man’s life? A man you did not even know! You have more than satisfied your obligation to these people. I refuse to allow you to continue. You will rejoin the House contingent waiting to the north and return to Alvritshai lands with us. Immediately.”
Shock coursed through Aeren at the tone in his Protector’s voice, even as Eraeth turned away, toward the other Phalanx guardsman. He’d spoken to him as if he were a child. No, as if he were a student.
But he was no longer Eraeth’s student.
“Protector!”
His voice cracked across the grass, loud enough and forceful enough that even the group of humans paused in their activity. Eraeth stilled, back stiff, then turned.
Aeren closed the distance between them in two short steps, stared hard into Eraeth’s eyes. “I have passed the Trial. I am now a full member of the House, with all of the rank and privileges and responsibilities that such entails. And whether you like it or not, these people are our responsibility. It began when we shared our food and wine with them. Or had you forgotten? We entered a bond with them then, and I intend to see that bond fulfilled,
