The setting sun lit the underside of the blanket of clouds. The red tint in the sky balanced the red tint of the mud left on the nearby battlefield. Pairs of men carried bodies on stretchers into what had become the hospital tent. Viator followed the line of stretchers to the door of the tent and stepped in.
He was assailed by both the glare of lanterns, and the sounds of the wounded and dying. His eyes were quick to adjust. The sounds and smells were harder to filter out. A bucket of bitter-smelling water was thrust into his hands.
"You, grab some rags from over there. Do what you can to clean the wounds. Start over on that row of tables. Get a move on!" A medic gestured to a set of tables where the wounded waited for the help of a healer of for the release of death. Viator did as asked, becoming just another anonymous figure in the tent. He examined the wounds he cleaned. Some had been made by swords and spears. Many more showed that the soldiers had faced sharp claws. Those wounds would be harder to stitch. He hoped that the soldiers who bore these cruel wounds had been too caught up in the fight to see what they fought. Whatever had been added to the water helped clean away the grime and excess blood; perhaps it prevented infections, too. Pleased to be doing something useful while he waited, Viator cleaned wounds and made the injured soldiers as comfortable as he could.
The tone of the room changed as a half-dozen men and women entered the tent. Several of them were still armored and none showed any sign of injury. Viator watched the group.The head medic stopped what he was doing, rushed over to the group and knelt to their leader. "Your highness, are you unwell?"
King Modnar, a solid man whose dark hair was just beginning to gray, took the medic's arm "Yes, I am fine. Please get up. How are the men doing? I have heard strange tales of the fight and I have come to see for myself. What can you tell me?"
"Tell you?" Piotor asked the king. "Oh, the claw marks!" He moved quickly to a cloth-covered table. "This is the worst of all we have seen so far. You can see the bruises at the neck and punctures where he was held. But the horrible part is lower - something ripped into his belly and then up into his rib cage. I - I cannot say if his heart is still in the body."
While Piotor described the death of this soldier, Viator had crept closer to hear and see better. He caught his breath as he saw an image of the the claw and the arm and the rest of the creature which killed in this manner. He fought to keep control of himself. When he looked up, King Modnar was standing in front of him. "Did you want something?"
"I am sorry, your Highness." Viator stammered, "I was wondering. I saw bodies still on the field. Probably too hurt to bring in to be helped, if you take my meaning. Would you mind if I gave them what comfort I can?"
The king looked pained. "They fought well. Too many were made widows and orphans this day. Yes, tell them their king honors their sacrifice."
It was full dark now and the moon played peek-a-boo with the wisps of clouds. Viator carried his staff in one hand and lifted the hem of his robe with the other. The moon gave just enough light and reflected off of armor and discarded swords to let him find the bodies. The first four he examined were cold, long dead. The fifth soldier breathed slowly. Viator knelt, placing his staff on the ground by the body. He placed on hand on the man's forehead and the other over his heart.
"Tell me - are you weary of the fight? Do you wish to sleep now or is there someone or something you would fight for?"
A quiet voice, as much felt as heard replied "It's just me and my sister at the farm now. My da joined the army last year and not seen him since. She can't mind the farm, just her. She needs me. But they say iffen ya just leave the army, they hangs ya."
"Then come with me. Join my army and live to see your sister." The hand over the heart moved to the gash on the soldier's leg. Flames danced between palm and thigh. "Stand up now, Hoefner. You are the first to join my army, one which will hold back the darkness from our world."
Hoefner stood. His breathing was strong. His leg now supported his weight. Looking through his torn leggings, where a spear thrust had been draining the life from him, he saw a golden sunburst.
Viator searched more bodies, finding mostly the cold, newly dead. After nearly an hour, a body stirred at his touch. He placed his hands over head and heart and asked this soldier what path he preferred
"I want to fight. Those sneaking, thieving bastards. I wish this war had started years ago. I heard they took the Limyar forest from us - drove out honest Dunnards!"
Whispering some quiet words to help the soldier sleep and let his body heal or die as fate decreed, Viator stood and leaned on his staff. Though the enemy army was led by King Eyod of Tyanar, the people of that country were as much the victims as the Dannards. He took a deep breath and immediately regretted it. He watched the half-moon set and chose a new direction across the battlefield.
By the end of the night, Viator had found nine more soldiers
He was assailed by both the glare of lanterns, and the sounds of the wounded and dying. His eyes were quick to adjust. The sounds and smells were harder to filter out. A bucket of bitter-smelling water was thrust into his hands.
"You, grab some rags from over there. Do what you can to clean the wounds. Start over on that row of tables. Get a move on!" A medic gestured to a set of tables where the wounded waited for the help of a healer of for the release of death. Viator did as asked, becoming just another anonymous figure in the tent. He examined the wounds he cleaned. Some had been made by swords and spears. Many more showed that the soldiers had faced sharp claws. Those wounds would be harder to stitch. He hoped that the soldiers who bore these cruel wounds had been too caught up in the fight to see what they fought. Whatever had been added to the water helped clean away the grime and excess blood; perhaps it prevented infections, too. Pleased to be doing something useful while he waited, Viator cleaned wounds and made the injured soldiers as comfortable as he could.
The tone of the room changed as a half-dozen men and women entered the tent. Several of them were still armored and none showed any sign of injury. Viator watched the group.The head medic stopped what he was doing, rushed over to the group and knelt to their leader. "Your highness, are you unwell?"
King Modnar, a solid man whose dark hair was just beginning to gray, took the medic's arm "Yes, I am fine. Please get up. How are the men doing? I have heard strange tales of the fight and I have come to see for myself. What can you tell me?"
"Tell you?" Piotor asked the king. "Oh, the claw marks!" He moved quickly to a cloth-covered table. "This is the worst of all we have seen so far. You can see the bruises at the neck and punctures where he was held. But the horrible part is lower - something ripped into his belly and then up into his rib cage. I - I cannot say if his heart is still in the body."
While Piotor described the death of this soldier, Viator had crept closer to hear and see better. He caught his breath as he saw an image of the the claw and the arm and the rest of the creature which killed in this manner. He fought to keep control of himself. When he looked up, King Modnar was standing in front of him. "Did you want something?"
"I am sorry, your Highness." Viator stammered, "I was wondering. I saw bodies still on the field. Probably too hurt to bring in to be helped, if you take my meaning. Would you mind if I gave them what comfort I can?"
The king looked pained. "They fought well. Too many were made widows and orphans this day. Yes, tell them their king honors their sacrifice."
It was full dark now and the moon played peek-a-boo with the wisps of clouds. Viator carried his staff in one hand and lifted the hem of his robe with the other. The moon gave just enough light and reflected off of armor and discarded swords to let him find the bodies. The first four he examined were cold, long dead. The fifth soldier breathed slowly. Viator knelt, placing his staff on the ground by the body. He placed on hand on the man's forehead and the other over his heart.
"Tell me - are you weary of the fight? Do you wish to sleep now or is there someone or something you would fight for?"
A quiet voice, as much felt as heard replied "It's just me and my sister at the farm now. My da joined the army last year and not seen him since. She can't mind the farm, just her. She needs me. But they say iffen ya just leave the army, they hangs ya."
"Then come with me. Join my army and live to see your sister." The hand over the heart moved to the gash on the soldier's leg. Flames danced between palm and thigh. "Stand up now, Hoefner. You are the first to join my army, one which will hold back the darkness from our world."
Hoefner stood. His breathing was strong. His leg now supported his weight. Looking through his torn leggings, where a spear thrust had been draining the life from him, he saw a golden sunburst.
Viator searched more bodies, finding mostly the cold, newly dead. After nearly an hour, a body stirred at his touch. He placed his hands over head and heart and asked this soldier what path he preferred
"I want to fight. Those sneaking, thieving bastards. I wish this war had started years ago. I heard they took the Limyar forest from us - drove out honest Dunnards!"
Whispering some quiet words to help the soldier sleep and let his body heal or die as fate decreed, Viator stood and leaned on his staff. Though the enemy army was led by King Eyod of Tyanar, the people of that country were as much the victims as the Dannards. He took a deep breath and immediately regretted it. He watched the half-moon set and chose a new direction across the battlefield.
By the end of the night, Viator had found nine more soldiers
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