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The BloodVaine EpicChapter 92: House Of Healing
The Cross Knights were dangerous opponents, Sir Dractor realized as he clashed with them. Now quite Imperial Cavaliers, but close enough as to make no difference in the current situation. And he was outnumbered about 36 to 1. The odds weren’t in his favor.
On the other hand, the Cross Knights were decided below his level of skill. It was not for no reason that he had come with the Old Man to Dametreos. Sir Dractor was a master of all kinds of warfare and weaponry, and good as they were, the Cross Knights were no match for him. And while he was an expert with all forms of combat, their forte was on horseback. As he had already noted, they was horseless.
It was a terrible battle all the same. Sir Dractor had never before felt gratitude for his armor and its superior craftsmanship. Even as he cut down Cross Knight after Cross Knight, he felt his armor being dented and scraped, and the few weak points and uncovered spots were being mercilessly attacked.
Sir Dractor was never certain how long any of his battles lasted, but that one against the Cross Knights seemed unusually long. Finally, the last Cross Knight, seeing that his companions were all dead or severely wounded, turned to flee. He made it maybe ten yards, when Sir Dractor, catching sight of him from where he had felled the last of his comrades, turned, and flung his great broadsword at the fleeing Cross Knight.
The sword connected with the Cross Knight’s armor, but didn’t stop. It’s point snapped off, and it’s direction changed, but it continued forward, driving itself into the Cross Knight. With a scream of pain, the Cross Knight collapsed, dead.
Sir Dractor stopped to catch his breath. He looked down at his shield. It was hammered beyond repair. He dropped it.
Then the sound of soldiers caught his ear, and he turned. A score of Del Grakken’s Dragon Masters, their allegiance apparent by their lack of pink paint, caught sight of him and charged, dropping their halberds to attack.
Sir Dractor was too tired to fight, and there we no weapons at hand. Without hesitation, he threw off his much-battered helmet, to lighten his weight, and then took a great running leap over the trench. He took off across the battlefield towards the makeshift infirmary.
The Dragon Masters were not quite willing to be thwarted. Rushing over to the nearest catapult still standing, they loaded it, and lobbed a thirty pound boulder at the rapidly-vanishing Sir Dractor.
Shainya, at the infirmary, was helping move Bjarn into camp. She happened to glance up in the direction of the battlefield, just in time to see the boulder smash into Sir Dractor from behind. The great warrior collapsed to the ground.
Green Fox slowly, painfully, got up from his makeshift bed. He knew something was wrong. All he could hear was Jack shouting orders, and some muffled cursing. There was a figure in a bed in the center of the room, but he knew not who it was. He whispered to a Forestman standing nearby.
“Oi... you.…”
It took him four tries to get his attention.
"Ah...what?”
“Who’s that everyone’s fussing around?”
“It’s Lord Bjarn, mate. He’s hurt. Hurt real bad.”
“Help me over, will you?”
The Forestman put Green Fox’s arm over his shoulder, and they slowly hobbled to the bed. Bjarn lay there, horribly disfigured. His legs and arm were a bloody mess. Jack and his apprentices hovered over him, performing many surgical acts too gruesome to look at. He winced as he heard a loud crunch. Green Fox asked the man sitting next to him, a man witha long brown beard and unusual armor with a bull emblem on it.
“‘Ere, mate, what happened?”
Barbod looked up at him, his face downcast.
“Had a run-in with some Cross Knights. They broke his legs and his hand. I don’t know if he’ll make it or not…”
Green Fox staggered out of the tent, grabbing a long spear to support him.
“No...it can’t be... Bjarn...he’s going to...he can’t now...he can’t...not now...I have to make my peace...while I still can…”
Jack opened the flap and called out to him, “Fox! Where are you going!?”
“It’s something I have to do…Jack, I have to go. Have to make amends…”
He trailed off. Jack solemnly nodded his head, and went back into the tent. Jack Craft was using every skill he could to save Bjarn from death. Barbod had been watching and helping as he watched his friend slowly disappear.
“Lord Barbod!” Berlin came rushing into the small tent.
“What is it Berlin?” Barbod replied back.
“I know of a way to save Bjarn. But we must fine the Lone Ranger, but we lost him when we clashed with the Cross Knights at the gate.” Berlin said.
“What does the Lone ranger have that can save Bjarn?” Barbod asked.
“Those two key chains around his neck. They can be used for many different things. And yet can only be used once.”
“I don’t understand. Why didn’t he tell us this before!” Barbod snapped at Berlin.
“I don’t know how to answer that my lord. But please, in order to save Bjarn. We need to find the Lone Ranger.” Berlin replied.
“BRIX AND BLOX! Quick! Give me that tool right there, he’s starting to bleed!” Jack yelled out as he tried to stop the bleeding.
Bourne scowled as he watched Berlin scurry off.
“I would not trust a man’s life, any man’s life, to a couple of trinkets.” he stated to no one in particular.
“Can’t you do anything??” asked Shainya frantically, tears starting to leak out from the sides of her shining eyes, “Can’t you tell Bjarn’s bones to stiffen and heel like you did to the beams of wood??”
Bourne shook his head. “The difference between wood and human bone cannot be measured. Only Bjarn can convince his bones to grow together, only Bjarn can control his body. You, Jack, Reno, can aid him in the process thought herbs, splints and bandages, but it will be the will of Bjarn that will mend his bones and flesh. I cannot control the minds of others, what ever other might say. I convince creatures of simpler minds to do something that aids me or someone else, but I can not force anything to do something against it’s will.”
Jack had controlled the bleeding, and he seemed to be a little more relaxed. “Ol’ Bjarn will live, alright, but he’ll be livin’ with nary a hand not legs lest someone else can aid ‘im.”
Reno patted Jack on the back. “You’ve done enough, let me take over. It hasn’t been the first time I’ve...had to work on Bjarn.”
“Aye, brix and blox, you’re right…”
In another tent, Keavur woke, every muscle in his body burning. He would have screamed in agony, yet it was to painful. He looked around the room.
“Derrek…why have you left me…?” Keavur murmured, although it hurt very much.
Keavur knew Derrek was gone, yet he knew it was for the good.
“Derrek died saving you, Keavur. He will always be your brother.” Radjar wisely said.
Keavur nodded as a tear rolled down his eye. Then he drifted into sleep. Radjar was still weak from the blow of losing Derrek, but he had not lost his nerve for battle.
The ‘infirmary’ outside the gates of Orion was a ramshackle camp of pavilions, tents, and other hastily erected shelters, set up along the ridge where Gladwheel’s rangers had been. Gladwheel had taken charge of the Forestmen rangers, and Fraun was his 2nd in command. Gonderin was commanding the rest of the Forestmen army, which had taken severe losses and was down to only 426 men.
The Dark Forest army, due mostly in part to Gereld’s tactics, had lost less men and was numbered in the high 500's. The Wolfpack army was mostly stationed inside the city, making sure BloodVaine would not dare to leave the Golden Court.
Radjar lay on the green grass, bloodied by the day’s engagement, as a healer tended to his minor wounds. Radjar shunned him, preferring to lay alone and contemplate what had happened. Across from him at another tent Lord Bjarn, the Tree-King, lay on the verge of death. Radjar knew himself that if Bjarn died, no one would be there to stop the Wolfpack and Dark Forest, much less any of the Forestdwellers, from falling into conflict once again. Radjar recalled the body count for all the people he knew during the BloodVaine War.
Kellynwyn. Dead. Bella. Dead. Derek. Dead. Lord Void. Possibly dead. Countless Forestdwellers, Crusaders, Knights Kingdomers, Fright Knights, Royals, Falcons, Bulls, and Dragon Masters. Dead.
It was far too much to bear. So many people close to Radjar had died this day, so few months after the end of the Fell and Alliance wars. Had Dametreos ever been so threatened? Had it ever seen such tremendous power rip the world apart?
It was then when Fraun, bronze locks unkempt and matted with blood, strolled up and rose the sleeping Radjar. He jolted up, startled.
“Are you alright?” he said without his usual candor.
“I think so…” came Radjar’s unsure reply.
“Well...buck up…” Fraun said, letting a weak grin.
Radjar grinned back half-heartedly.
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