52. BY DAWN’S FIRST LIGHT




Elodi and Toryn stood beside Nyomae’s bed. She had collapsed upon freeing Dorlan and mercifully had stayed out of harm’s way. Bardon and the First Horse had held fast against a determined strike by the Ruuk. But once the enemy became aware of Nyomae’s intention, and Dorlan had joined the attack, their lines had come close to breaking. Had Nyomae failed to free Dorlan, none would have seen the day out.
Elodi turned to the healer. ‘Thank you. We will sit with her through the remainder of the night. But please, tell me, how is Captain Gundrul?’
The healer gathered her bottles and herbs. ‘I’m afraid it’s not good news, ma’am. He worsens. The captain has a strong constitution, but I believe a poison troubles him, no doubt delivered by the foul blade that opened his leg.’
Elodi’s hand went to her mouth. ‘This is grave news. Please, see to it that he gets all the care he needs.’
She nodded. ‘It is a poison I know well, ma’am. But my supply of tinctures runs low with so many requiring attention. I have done all I can. The rest is down to him.’
‘Is Captain Ruan with him?’
‘He is, ma’am. I instructed Ruan to talk to him. It may help the captain’s spirit in his fight to overcome the poison.’
Elodi managed a smile. ‘Then I trust the spearman has many a tale of their shared exploits. If any can help, I imagine it would be Ruan.’
The healer glanced to the other beds. ‘There are others in need of my skills. Please excuse me, ma’am.’
‘But of course. And please inform me if there is anything I, or my captains can do to aid you.’ Elodi sighed. ‘To lose Aldorman is a great blow, but if Gundrul fails to see the dawn, that would be a loss difficult to endure. He has served without question, and an Archonian with a stout and loyal heart. So many have fallen this day. How many more will be lost this night?’
‘He is strong. Gundrul will recover.’ He smiled. ‘If only to annoy Ruan.’
Nyomae groaned. Elodi looked down at her drawn face. ‘Can you help her, Toryn?’
‘I shall try. But I have little strength left.’ Toryn placed his hands on Nyomae’s stomach. He took a deep breath and let the warmth flow through his limbs. His hands tingled and grew hot, yet Nyomae remained cold to the touch. He redoubled his efforts but could not penetrate the icy shield about her. He dropped back. ‘It’s no use. I sense she’s resisting my help, but I can’t figure out why.’
Elodi kneeled. ‘I cannot begin to imagine what she endured to wrest Dorlan from Uleva’s grip. And the warlocks must have attacked.’ She stroked Nyomae’s brow. ‘She is a remarkable woman. If we lose her…’
‘Perhaps she shuts herself away from the world to heal herself.’
‘I dearly hope that is the case.’ Elodi looked up to see the thin canvas of the tent had turned pink. ‘Dawn comes.’
Toryn and Elodi stepped out into a fresh breeze. But while the air was clear, the day’s first light revealed the true horrors of the battle. The reserves had worked throughout the night to recover the wounded, but the countless dead still lay where they had fallen. Broken bodies, helms, breastplates, and weapons littered the plain for as far as they could see. Toryn looked to their faces. Some looked as if they slept, others still looked in pain. While he did not know many of their names, Toryn knew many by sight. It had been a gruesome fight for survival. How many did not even see the sword, axe or hammer that struck the fatal blow? And did others die defending his back? Toryn would never know if another had sacrificed their life to save his. Nyomae had chided him whenever he mentioned luck, but surely in the violence of battle, a weapon landing an inch one way or the other, made the difference between life and death. Luck had to play a part — unless the unseen gods deemed otherwise and deflected blows with unseen hands. Or did the Maidens’ Song determine when your time had come?
Toryn’s gaze fell upon the body of a young woman. No wound was visible, but she lay as if gazing at the sky on a summer’s afternoon. Her hand still gripped her sword. Did she look into the eye of the warrior who took her life? Did she feel pain? Each casualty would have a story to tell, but it was unlikely it would ever be told.
Elodi’s warm hand slipped into Toryn’s. She whispered. ‘Up there. I need to see the sun rise over unspoiled land.’ She led him up the slope to the ridge where they could look across the hills. A mist clung to the valley below, masking the stream running through it. She leaned against Toryn. ‘If only it was just the two of us. How I dearly wish we could watch the clouds float by and listen to the birds with an untroubled heart. Yet Nordryn sits in Keld with an army,  warlocks escape to fight another day, and how many more Ruuk and Norgog yet live to avenge their defeat?’ Her voice faltered. ‘And I have yet to retake Calerdorn and free the people of Harlyn. And how did the Amayans fare? Will we ever be at peace, Toryn? And what of the spiders? If they rebuild their nests while we’re still weak…’
Toryn pulled her close. ‘You are strong, Elodi. But you must take time to recover. Let others take the burden from you for a while. You have saved the realms. Without your leadership, this region would have been lost, and the host heading south to take Archonholm. Take heart in your victory. As painful as it feels, it’s still a victory. They had every right to believe they would destroy us, but you’ve proved otherwise. We can regroup and rebuild, and we have allies in Nyomae and the Amayans on their return. Together, I believe we can form a force the enemy will now fear.’
Elodi turned to face him. ‘Thank you, Toryn. I note you fail to mention your vital role. We have much to do. I must free Harlyn and strengthen the borders. Nyomae and Gundrul must recover. And your father has to be found.’ Reluctantly, she looked back to the battlefield. ‘We may have inflicted heavy losses and reduced their numbers, numbers that may take many years to replace.’ Her eyes wandered up to a cloud passing over the sun. The air chilled. Elodi sighed. ‘I fear the ultimate victory will be won by those who can master and wield the old powers of this world.’



THE END

To be continued...

Crown of Sorrows
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