Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 116749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Elysia gasped and paused when she entered the Great Hall. Wounded men covered the tables, the benches, and the floor. There was barely room to move. It overwhelmed her, but her first thought was to see if her husband was among them.
“Elysia!”
Lendra’s frantic shout had Elysia hurrying to her and taking quick glances of the wounded as she went.
“He bleeds much,” Lendra said, looking down at the young warrior on the table, blood covering much of him.
Elysia took a quick look, though knew beforehand that the young man wouldn’t make it. He’d lost too much blood and continued to do so. She shook her head at Lendra and at that moment the young man’s hand slipped from Lendra’s hand. He was gone.
“I don’t want to sound heartless, but he needs to be moved. We’ll need the space,” Elysia said, hating her own words but doing what had to be done. With a fearful heart, she asked, “Have you seen Saber among the wounded?”
“No, but I can’t be sure he’s not among them. There are so many,” Lendra said, fighting back the tears. “I will see that those who don’t make it are moved outside for family to claim.”
“Elysia! Elysia! Please help!” a man cried out.
She hurried to the table where a man writhed in pain, again her eyes rushing to scan the wounded for her husband, and was shocked to see it was Clyde.
“Help me, please. It hurts like the devil,” he managed to say.
Elysia took a quick look at his wound and recalled a similar wound that Bliss had tended. She examined the wound more closely, thinking of the color of blood Bliss had warned her to watch for. Seeing the blood showed no signs of warning, she knew what to do.
She called out to one of the servants she recognized, the young lass looking dazed and lost. “Dana, come here, I need your help.”
The lass hurried to her, appearing relieved that someone instructed her as to what to do.
“I’m going to give you leaves to brew. Clyde here will need it for the pain as will others. Brew a large batch,” Elysia instructed. “Come to me when it’s done and I’ll tell you who to give it to. Find someone to help you.”
Dana nodded and took the pouch from Elysia and rushed off.
“The wound needs to be seared,” she informed Clyde.
“Do whatever you think, Elysia, I trust you,” Clyde said and reached out for her hand.
His hand was smeared with dirt and blood, but Elysia didn’t hesitate to take tight hold of it.
“Please don’t let me die. I’m sorry I treated you the way I did, but please, Elysia, please don’t let me die,” Clyde begged.
“You’re not going to die. Once the wound is seared all will be fine. You will have pain for a while but you will live, Clyde,” Elysia assured him.
“Bless you. Bless you, Elysia,” he said, tears streaming down his cheeks.
Elysia left Clyde in the capable hands of a couple of men who had seared wounds before, promising she would be back to check on him. She hurried to quickly check each wounded man to see whose wound required immediate attention and who could wait, while offering comfort to wives, mothers, and loved ones the best she could. And, of course to see if her husband were among the wounded.
She was so busy she didn’t know that dawn broke to an overcast day, reflecting the sorrow of the clan. She did her best to save as many men as she could, but she lost five. They had been beyond her help. She fought for one warrior’s life whose wife begged her to save her husband, though he seemed beyond saving. She stitched his wounds, three of them, and had him carefully removed from the Great Hall to the couple’s cottage with precise instructions to the wife and a promise she would look in on him when she was finished here.
She’d been relieved not to find her husband there, though part of her had hoped he would be, though not with a serious wound. At least he’d be home with her, away from the horrors of battle. From the plethora of serious wounds, she surmised the battle had been a vicious one and as the whispers caught up with her, she heard the name repeated again and again—Odran. He was one of the cursed lords and he had unleashed his fury in a vicious battle. He was feared like the devil himself and Elysia began to shiver each time she heard his name whispered, never spoken aloud.
There were two warriors who she had left for last, their wounds minor compared to the others, though leaving both unable to fight. One had an arm wound that wouldn’t allow him to raise a sword and the other a leg wound that wouldn’t allow him to walk.