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“Of course.” Frustrated, Mott kicked his boot against the ground. “It’s just that I don’t like the feeling of being on this trail, so exposed.”
I didn’t like it either, but Tobias looked up at me and shook his head. Now that he had washed the blood from Mavis’s ankle, it became apparent how bad the injury was. The rope had cut deeply into the flesh and probably would become incredibly painful once full feeling returned to his leg. Even now, Mavis was beginning to show signs of strain and held on to his thigh, as if that would help.
Tobias stood and then pulled me aside. “If we do nothing, it’ll become infected. He’ll lose the leg, and since he won’t be able to walk on it, he’ll possibly lose his life too.”
“There’s nothing we can do about that,” I said. “Cutting him down is one thing, but we’re not physicians. We have no provisions to help him.”
“I’ve been studying medicine.” Tobias smiled meekly, almost as if he was embarrassed to admit it. “I figured with you as our king, knowing how to heal injuries would be a good idea. Please, Jaron, let me help him.”
er, Tobias’s mind seemed to be moving in a different direction. “Where do you suppose she is?” he asked.
“Amarinda could have made it back to Drylliad by now,” I said. “And if not, Harlowe will have sent out orders to search for her everywhere.”
“So will Vargan.” He shook his head, clearly angry with himself. “I promised to protect her, and I didn’t. If anything happens —”
“Trust her to protect herself. She is intelligent and resourceful, and stronger than she’s ever been given credit for.”
“I know all that!” Tobias nearly spat the words at me. “I know who she is, and probably better than you!”
I turned to him and might’ve been harsher if the worry wasn’t etched so deeply into the lines of his face. In a gentle tone, I only said, “We will find her, Tobias.”
We fell silent then, and my attention went down the hill to a trail that looked as if it had been worn by hundreds of footsteps. I doubted they were Carthyan — no commander of mine would’ve led our soldiers on a march this close to Avenia’s border. It was too risky.
But someone — likely soldiers of Avenia or Mendenwal — had recently come through here.
We ducked low, just in case they were near, and then watched and waited. Within a few minutes, Mott joined us and we debated whether to follow their trail or to proceed to Falstan in an entirely different direction.
“Wait a minute.” Tobias held up his hand to silence us. “Just wait. Do you hear that?”
If I listened carefully, then I did hear something. It sounded like a moan, rising up the hillside from somewhere near the trail below.
Tobias rose up tall, clearly with the intention of going down to investigate, but Mott pulled him back.
“He sounds injured,” Tobias hissed. “We have to help if he is.”
“He’s an enemy,” Mott said. “You’ll help him get well enough to return to the battlefield and kill more of our men.”
“But that man isn’t our enemy.” Tobias turned to me. “Isn’t that what you said before, that only their king is your enemy?”
I had said that. But had I truly meant it? It was certainly possible that the moaning was a trap to lure us in, which was the last thing I wanted to face. If we met on the battlefield, that man and I would have to engage in a fight where only one of us walked away. But if he was injured and helpless, off the field of war, did I then have an obligation to try to save his life?
Obligation or not, I couldn’t just leave him to die. During my time with the pirates, I had promised myself that I would not go down the dark paths they had followed. I would not become as they were.
So I nodded my permission at Tobias, then Mott and I pulled out our swords to accompany him down the hillside. This didn’t feel like a trick, but we had to be cautious nonetheless.
Tobias saw the man first, and to my surprise, he started laughing. We caught up to him and couldn’t help but join in. This man — this supposed enemy — wasn’t much older than I, and had all the ferocity of a frightened lamb. He had become caught in a hunter’s rope that had grabbed his leg and whisked him upside down and into the air. Everything that wasn’t attached to him had fallen out of his reach, including a poorly made sword that barely looked sharp enough to skewer a plum. He wore a livery similar to our own, and must have been upside down for so long that his face had now become as red as his hair. Truly, he was a ridiculous sight.
When he saw us coming, he hailed us as friends and said, “I beg you to help. Please, get me down.”
I walked around the area, beating at nearby bushes to be sure no one else was hiding there. He rotated his weight until he turned to Mott, the oldest of our group and the one he would naturally suspect was in charge.
“I’ve been here over a day, sir, and the pain is becoming intolerable. As a fellow Avenian, I beg you to help me.”
With my Avenian accent, I asked, “What is your name?”
“Mavis Tock. My father is a candlemaker, in the south.”
“Ah, then you must have learned your fighting skills from him. How did you get into this position? Are you being punished?”
