TheRedKing (20 page)

Hypatios unsheathed a dagger and Areus pulled another dagger
from his boot. They lunged at each other. He screamed as Hypatios’s blade
plunged into his thigh. Areus tried to stab Hypatios’s side and back, but Hypatios
blocked the blows with his dagger, though the tip of Areus’s blade slashed his
arms in places. If he managed to land a blow to Hypatios’s chest or stomach, he
could kill him since he wore no shirt of mail. Then Areus felt something tight around
his chest and ribs. Glancing down, he noticed a thick black-and-red snake had
coiled around him, crushing him. Hypatios laughed, even as Areus’s dagger slashed
across his chest. Hypatios had managed to spring back so that while the wound
bled freely, it didn’t appear to be too deep.

Forgetting Hypatios for a moment, Areus turned his attention
to the snake. Surprisingly, Hypatios dropped his dagger to grasp Areus’s hand,
preventing him from cutting the reptile.

“Beauty, go!” Hypatios bellowed.

The snake tightened around Areus and he felt his ribs crack.

“Go!” Hypatios screamed, his grip weakening on Areus.

The snake dropped to the ground and Hypatios drove his knee
into Areus’s injured ribs. He managed to shake the dagger from Areus’s grasp
and it was lost on the rubble-covered ground.

Hypatios’s blood-bay stallion approached and despite his
wounds, Hypatios mounted, clinging to the horse.

Cosmo jogged to Areus and he mounted as well, grunting in
pain. He kicked Cosmo who galloped after Hypatios.

Shoulder to shoulder the horses raced, heading into the
woods. It was dark, almost impossible to see. The thickness of the trees forced
the horses to slow. They stopped in a moonlit clearing on the edge of a rushing
stream.

Areus dismounted, his wounded leg almost giving out beneath
him.

Hypatios slid off his mount, clearly suffering from his
wounds.

His breathing and vision hindered by the helmet, Areus tore
it off. Hypatios ripped off his as well and dropped it. For the first time Areus
got a look at his enemy. Was it a trick of the moonlight through the trees, or
was Hypatios truly scarred so hideously on one side of his face?

“The honorable Areus initiates a nighttime battle,” Hypatios
said, his voice raspy from pain, but dripping with malice. “I didn’t think you
had it in you.”

“At least I fight my own battles and don’t rely on mystical powers.”

A sinister smile flirted with Hypatios’s mouth. “Jealous,
are you?”

“Why should I be? Your demonic powers haven’t helped you
much tonight.”

“No? How are your ribs?’

“Better than your face.”

They lunged at each other, attacking with fists and knees.
Falling to the ground, they rolled so close to the edge of the stream that mud
and water soaked their clothes, mingling with their freely flowing blood. Then Hypatios
had a small knife in his hand. Areus wasn’t sure where it came from—some hidden
sheath perhaps. He plunged it into Areus’s thigh. Areus punched Hypatios with
all of his remaining strength, knocking him into the rushing water.

Gasping, Areus managed to push himself to his feet. Dizzy
and almost unconscious, he tripped over a fallen branch and landed in the
stream as well. The water crashed over him and pushed him toward the cascade
over which Hypatios had already fallen.

Areus’s last thought before he blacked out was
Delia
.

Areus was vaguely aware of making an effort to keep his head
above water, to snatch a painful breath whenever he had a chance among the wild
waves. He managed to catch hold of a large branch. After that he remembered
little until he woke, still clinging to the branch on the muddy shore of a
brook on the edge of the forest.

Water lapped his face and leaked through chinks in his mail,
making his attire so heavy he could scarcely breathe. Each time he tried to
force air into his lungs, it was pure agony.

Steeling himself, he pushed to his knees. Pain shot through
his calf and he cried out sharply, remembering the arrow wound. He trembled so
much that he thought he might collapse face first in the mud.

Somehow he managed to crawl onto drier ground where he lay
against a boulder, wondering about his chances of survival.

He heard no sounds of battle and guessed he had been washed
too far downriver for Cosmo find him. Even if the horse had been nearby, Areus
wasn’t sure he could ride.

Hypatios’s knife was still wedged in his leg.

He had two choices—to stay here and die for certain, or use
what strength he had left to find help, if possible.

Areus would not die here in the woods, not without seeing
Delia again. Not without knowing for certain his bastard brother was dead and
Lortia safe.

First he needed to tend his own injuries as best he could.

It was still nighttime, but the moon provided enough light
for him to see. Using the boulder for support, he rose, but nearly blacked out.
His leg was on fire and his ribs felt as if knives were tearing through him. He
could scarcely breathe. Then he remembered the big black-and-red snake. What
had Hypatios called the revolting creature? Beauty.

If only he’d had the chance to sever its scaly head before
it had broken his ribs, but he hadn’t even noticed the creature until it had
him in what might have been a death grip.

Areus remained still against the boulder until his vision
cleared, then he glanced around for branches that might be dry enough to build a
fire. He staggered just a short distance before he fell, pain shooting through
him. He groaned and decided it was better to remain on the ground to collect
wood. When he’d gathered enough, he started a fire using the flint he carried
in his supply pouch.

He removed his mail shirt and breathed a sigh of relief that
ended in a bout of coughing. He tasted something metallic and covered his mouth
as he coughed again. Glancing at his hand, he saw it was sprayed with blood. His
heart pounded, but he tried to calm himself. Had a rib punctured his lung?

The shirts he wore beneath the mail were wet from the river
and bloodstained in places, but any minor nicks were the least of his concern
at the moment. He removed a small knife, used for menial tasks, from his supply
pouch. He cut one of his shirts into strips. Then he took a piece of bark
between his teeth and pulled the arrow out of his leg. It was excruciating and
he nearly blacked out again. The needle-like arrow had luckily left a clean wound.
He bound his calf tightly with the fabric, layering it as much as possible. He
had considered cauterizing the wound by heating the knife blade in the fire,
but that would be a last resort. He had seen too many men die of infection
after cauterization.

Hypatios’s small knife was still in his thigh. Gritting his
teeth, he pulled it out. Blood spurted from the wound. Using the rest of the
cloth, he bound that one too. He rested for a while after, but not too long. If
he fell asleep, he might not wake.

Areus killed the fire and stood. The night had grown quite
cold and snow had begun to fall.

He wasn’t sure how seriously his ribs were injured, or if he
had suffered other internal injuries during the fight and fall into the
cascade. If he didn’t die from his injuries, he might very well freeze to
death. He needed to keep moving.

He made it a short distance before he staggered against a
tree and sank to the ground, coughing.

“Delia,” he murmured. Somehow just saying her name comforted
him. He wished he was with her right now, her soft, firm body close to his, her
small hand caressing his face.

They had scarcely started to know each other. He wanted a
lifetime with her, not to die alone here—wherever this place was.

He pulled himself up again and pressed on, though his
coughing worsened until he could hardly breathe. After a short time, he glanced
at his injured leg and saw that he was already bleeding through the bandages.

Yet he was at the edge of the forest, the trees giving way
to rolling meadows. Surely there was some settlement nearby?

Wasn’t that smoke in the distance?

Before he went on he desperately needed a drink. He
staggered toward a nearby brook. It was frozen, but he used his knife to crack
the ice on the edge and take some water. He followed the brook toward the hill
that seemed so far away.

He slipped on a patch of ice.

“Papa, what’s wrong with that man?”

Areus tried to open his eyes, but they were so heavy.

“Luke, go home and tell your brother to fetch the wagon. Run
now,” said a deep male voice.

“Yes, Papa.”

A hand rested on Areus’s shoulder and the man asked, “Can
you hear me, sir?”

Areus tried to respond, but he wasn’t sure if he actually
formed words.

“You must have been in the battle that’s going on just a few
miles from here. That’s Lortian colors you’re wearing, am I right? Don’t worry.
You’re in Fernhill, not far from the castle. We’ll get word to your people.
What’s your name?”

“Areus,” he rasped.

“Areus…the king?”

“Yes.”

“By the Spirit. Hold on, Your Majesty. The wagon is almost
here.”

“Delia.”

“Your new queen. We’ll get word to her. Don’t worry.”

The man touched his shoulder again and Areus’s eyes slipped
shut.

* * * * *

“It was awful, ma’am. When the farmer brought him to the
castle in the wagon, he was half dead, wheezing blood with every breath. Our
King Daniel sent for a Knight of the Ruby Order who had arrived in Fernhill
just yesterday morning. Crag is his name. He’s a Zaltanian himself. Born and
reared there, they say. After he examined King Areus, he sent for four other Knights
who held him down while Crag performed the most evil surgery I’ve ever been
unlucky enough to witness. Cut him and shoved in some kind of hollow tube. I
swear I’ve never heard sounds like those that came from your king, poor soul. Our
King Daniel’s physician tried to stop them, but he couldn’t. It was done too
quickly and the Knights were too strong. Let the poor man die in peace, the physician
said, but Crag insisted the surgery would save King Areus’s life. Our King
Daniel said if he dies, Crag will burn at the stake—Knight of the Ruby Order or
not.”

Hearing this story from the young, wide-eyed messenger from
Fernhill, Delia thought she might either faint or be sick. Having received the messenger
in the great hall, she managed to control herself and did neither, however she
sank into a nearby chair, her legs weak. Areus was dying and a sadistic Knight
was torturing him in his final hours, supposedly in the name of healing. She
never would have expected such a man would be part of the Ruby Order.

“That’s too much information, you fool,” Etor growled at the
messenger, then glanced at Delia with concern.

“Sorry, sir. I didn’t want your queen to be surprised by her
husband’s condition when she arrives.”

“Then King Areus still lives?” Etor demanded.

“Yes sir. When I left, he was weak and ravaged by a fever,
but still among the living.”

“I must go to him,” Delia said and stood. “Immediately.”

“The snow is falling harder, ma’am. I wouldn’t recommend
traveling, especially in your condition,” Etor said.

“I don’t care. I will be with him.”

“If anything happens to you, Areus would have my hide,” Etor
stated. “I cannot allow you to—”

“You cannot allow? In case you’ve forgotten, I am queen. The
only thing that will keep me from Areus’s side is an arrow to my heart. I’m not
asking your permission, Captain. I’m issuing a command. You will stay here and
see to the safety and function of Lortia. I am going to Fernhill.”

* * * * *

Delia, in the company of Echo, Cosma and Alexa as well as
Cyril and three other guards, left for Fernhill within the hour. They were just
half a day’s journey from King Daniel’s castle, so they arrived at dusk.

During the journey, they had conversed little. Delia knew
her companions shared her deep concern for Areus, yet she couldn’t help feeling
alone. She had never loved anyone the way she loved him. He was the strongest,
most decent man she had ever known. She couldn’t bear the thought of him dying
before his time, nor could she bear the thought of him suffering the way the
messenger had described.

While she wanted to reach the castle as soon as possible,
she was terrified of what she would find.

Upon her arrival, King Daniel and Queen Rebecca of Fernhill
met her personally. Rebecca was a chestnut-haired woman with cool, blue eyes. Daniel,
tall and clean-shaven with sable hair streaked gray at his temples, was about
ten years older than Areus.

“How is my husband?” Delia asked without preamble.

“Holding his own at the moment,” replied Daniel.

“Where is he?”

“Take some time to rest,” Rebecca said. “Prepare yourself.”

“Your messenger has already prepared me. I want to see Areus.”

Daniel nodded. “All right. Sir Crag is with him now.”

“Crag? According to the messenger, he’s a demon as well as
Zaltanian. Why would you allow him to treat Areus?”

The king and queen exchanged glances.

“We might have been wrong to accuse Crag of incompetence,” Daniel
said. “It appears his unusual surgery might have saved Areus’s life.”

“When he arrived, he was coughing blood,” Rebecca informed.
“His ribs are broken and his lung injured. After Sir Crag’s surgery, his
breathing eased and the bleeding stopped.”

Hope surged through Delia. “Then he’s getting well?”

“He has multiple wounds and a fever. He also lost a lot of blood
before the farmer found him. I think it’s best you talk to Sir Crag. He can
inform you better than we can,” Daniel said. He motioned for a page and
instructed him to escort Delia and her group to the chamber where Areus was
resting.

They followed the boy up a flight of stone stairs and paused
outside a door at the end of a long corridor. The page tapped and a moment
later a tall, chestnut-haired man wearing the black robes of the Ruby Order
opened the door.

“Sir Crag,” the page said, “this is Queen Delia, come to see
King Areus.”

Crag nodded to Delia, then glanced at the others. “It’s best
to keep visitors to a minimum at the moment.”

Alexa gently pushed Cosma forward and Delia nodded.

“This is Areus’s mother,” Delia said.

Crag’s brow furrowed. “I thought his mother was dead?”

“It’s a long story,” Delia told him. “Please, can we see
him?”

Crag stepped aside. Delia’s stomach clenched as she entered.

The scent of medicinal herbs hung on the air. Areus lay in a
large bed across the room. Though Delia was a healer and had steeled herself
for this, she wasn’t as prepared as she’d hoped to see Areus in such condition.

Feverish splotches marked his otherwise pale face. His hair
was lank and his half-closed eyes sunken. Covered to the waist with sheets, his
torso was bound to support his broken ribs.

She wasn’t sure if he was aware of her presence until she
sat on the edge of his bed and touched his burning cheek.

“Areus,” she said.

His gaze shifted to her and a spark of recognition
brightened his dull eyes. A faint smile touched his lips.

“Delia.” His voice was scarcely a whisper.

She smiled, though she felt like crying instead.

Areus’s eyes closed again.

“He has two leg injuries that have become infected,” Crag said,
standing nearby, Cosma beside him.

She looked as worried as Delia felt.

“I’m treating them with an herbal remedy that is very
effective at cleansing wounds.”

“What is it?”

“It’s rather unusual.”

“I’m a healer, Sir Crag, so I might have heard of your remedies,
although the surgery I’m told you performed on Areus is unknown to me.”

“I can understand why. Sir Blaze taught all members of our
Green Sash Faction how to do it and many lives have been saved because of it.”

“It’s done with a tube and from what the messenger told me
excruciating for the patient.”

Crag nodded. “The first time I saw Blaze do it was on a
farmer who was injured in a fall. I thought to myself, by the Spirit, he’s
killing that man, but it saved his life. If you’ve ever met Blaze, you’d know
he has connections to the spirit world.”

“I have met him. He’s an interesting man.”

Crag smiled fondly. “To say the least. Sometimes his spirit
guides reveal things from the future to him, or even from worlds beyond our
own. Because of this, Blaze’s healing techniques are quite advanced. Many
people fear his unconventional methods. I remember one time we were lending aid
to a tiny village in the east. There were five of us Knights and the entire village
ran us off with burning stakes and pitchforks, thinking we were demons because
we were treating fevers with cool water and ice.”

Delia nodded. “The sisters believed those with fevers should
be kept warm.”

“A common practice, but a potentially deadly one.”

“So I’ve learned. Until I met Seth, our chief healer in
Lortia, I thought they were right. Seth believes in keeping fever patients cool
as well. I believe he mentioned learning that from Sir Rain. Have you been
treating Areus in such a way?”