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)
Her eyes could barely stay focused after only taking a few nibbles and though she was still hungry, exhaustion won out and she went to the bed and dropped down on it. She still wore her cloak and, too tired to remove it, or any other garments, she pulled the blanket over her and tears tickled at her eyes as she curled into a ball to sleep.
Her heart ached for her husband. She wished he was there with her, holding her, loving her, keeping her safe.
“I miss you, Saber. Please come home to me,” she whispered as sleep took hold of her.
Chapter 12
Had it been two days or three? Or was it four? Elysia had lost count. The wounded had arrived day after day. Those who suffered no serious wounds were forced to return to battle. Some men, those not used to battle, begged her to leave their wounds fearful of being sent back to battle. Others, the warriors among them, urged her to patch them up, eager to return to the battlefield. And a few did, though it was unwise of them, and Elysia expected some would return wounded yet again while the battlefield would claim the others.
She was exhausted and she barely had time to eat. She actually couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten. Every time a batch of wounded arrived she feared Saber would be among them, wounded beyond her help.
“You need to eat and rest,” Lendra scolded, handing her a tankard.
Elysia cupped her hands around it and sipped, grateful for the hot brew. “I have no time.”
“You’ll have no time when you collapse,” Lendra warned.
“There are only two or three more who need my attention, then I will rest.”
“And eat,” Lendra insisted.
Elysia’s stomach answered for her, rumbling, and she nodded. “And eat.”
She didn’t mention Bram to Lendra, Elysia had heard Bram returned to battle and it explained why Lendra frantically searched the faces of the wounded, just as she did, each time a batch arrived at the keep.
“Need help here!”
The frantic shout had Elysia and Lendra turning, and Lendra gasping.
Rory stood bracing Bram up with his shoulder. Blood marred both men.
Elysia and Lendra ran to them.
“He has a wound to his arm and collapsed on the field. I brought him straight here,” Rory said as the two women helped get Bram onto a table.
“And you? Are you wounded?” Elysia asked.
“A minor leg wound that needs patching, then I’ll be on my way back. See to Bram first while I engage in some needful drinking,” Rory said and hurried off to a table that had been set with food and drink for whoever was in need.
“My chest pains me,” Bram moaned.
“And so it should, you fool,” Lendra chastised, though worry creased her brow.
A quick press to his chest told Elysia what she had suspected that his wound had yet to heal sufficiently for him to swing a sword. Thankfully the wound to his arm was not severe, but would require healing time.
“You’re not healed enough to fight and now with the wound to your arm, you won’t be fighting for some time,” Elysia said. “Unless, of course, you want to die or never be able to fight again.”
“I’m strong,” Bram snarled.
“It’s not about strength, Bram. It’s about being wise enough to remain strong,” Elysia said. “You might not be able to be on the battlefield right now, but there is much you can do here to protect the clan.”
“I haven’t seen Saber,” Bram said abruptly. “But more than one battle rages. He could be fighting there.”
It was a peace offering, Bram telling her about Saber without her asking and Elysia took it. “Thank you, Bram. Now let me see to your wound, then you can rest and, when feeling well enough, discuss with the men here what might be done to fortify the clan against any possible attack.”
“The enemy of the MacBridan wouldn’t dare come here,” Bram boasted.
“Is that a chance you wish to take?” Lendra snapped.
Elysia set to work on the wound to Bram’s arm while he and Lendra argued. They were still arguing when she finished and went to see to Rory’s wound.
Rory smacked his lips after drinking the last drop of ale from his tankard and wasted no time in filling it again. He moved his leg out from under the table, swinging it over the bench for Elysia to look at.
“Minor wound,” he announced, though not before gulping down nearly half the tankard.
First glance told her he was right.
“Fix it up and I’ll be on my way,” Rory said.
“Is there any end in sight to this feud?” she asked as she tended his wound.
“The MacFarden are fools. They thought because the cursed one was nowhere in sight that they had a chance to claim some MacBridan land. Even more foolish is that two neighboring clans joined them in their senseless effort. They poked the wrong clan, though I should say they poked the curse and will now suffer for it. Both clans will lose their lands to the Clan MacBridan, a clan that grows ever stronger.” Rory downed some more ale, dragging his shirtsleeve across his mouth when done. “Lord Odran and the other two cursed lords will never be free of that bloody curse and all they touch will suffer for it.”