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Tom frowned as if that made no sense to him and seemed on the verge of asking more questions.
“Go to my bag and fetch a cloth. We must try to bring her heat down,” Bertram said quickly before Tom could formulate any more queries.
“Yes, sir.” The batman stood up at once and went to do as he was told. Bertram arranged her body comfortably on his lap and held on to her, not liking the rattle in her breath at all.
His soldiers came back, leading the horses and Bertram pondered on the best way to get Letty on a horse and to the barracks. She was still unconscious in his arms. He looked up at his soldiers. “We need to obtain a wagon.”
“We can get one in the village,” one of the soldiers said.
“Good. Help me to put her on my horse.” Bertram maneuvered Letty to a sitting position and the soldier picked her up and put her on the horse. Bertram quickly climbed on behind her so that he could provide support, enclosing her with his arms and leaning her against his chest.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” he whispered against her ear. She gave a soft moan as if she heard him.
“Letty?” He watched her face but it remained slack, her cheeks flushed, long lashes hiding her eyes. She looked like a doll, flung carelessly aside and forgotten.
He lifted her cloak over her head, to keep her warm and sighed. “You’re going to be fine.”
Spurring his horse, he set course for the nearest village where they could find a wagon to comfortably transport her the several miles they still had to go to reach the garrison.
The village blacksmith had a wagon he was willing to sell them, his wife generously providing a few blankets so that Letty did not have to lie on the hard wood surface. Tom got in the back with her while one of the soldiers hitched the wagon to their horse. Bertram rode beside the wagon, his eyes mostly on Letty rather than the road.
They rode fast, so as to get to the barracks as soon as possible.
* * *
Her body was swaying.
She was lying on a hard, flat surface that was listing from side to side. Letty frowned, eyes fluttering as she tried to get them open.
What is happening to me? Did I already get on the boat? Are we on our way?
Her belly twisted with regret at the distance she was putting between her and the Duke. Her throat burned and she felt afraid that she might be about to cry again. If Andre the smuggler saw her cry, she didn’t even know what would happen. He might slash her throat and throw her in the sea. She swallowed the lump, trying to move her arms and wondering why it was so hard to do.
Am I tied down?
Her heartbeat began to accelerate with fear and she tried her best to get her eyes open. The sunlight was blinding and she blinked. Suddenly a dark shape cut off the light and loomed over her. She wanted to jump backwards but was not in control of her limbs or her movement. The dark shape seemed to have bulging red eyes and a long white tongue that reached towards her and licked her face.
She tried to scream in fear but her throat was too dry. The…thing…made sounds she couldn’t quite hear and suddenly there was something pressing against her lips and liquid trickling down her throat. She didn’t know what it was. If the Thing was poisoning her, she couldn’t scream and couldn’t run.
Sleep.
She didn’t know where the voice came from—if it was internal or external—but she obeyed it for lack of any other options. The world slowly darkened around her and she sank gratefully into the blackness.
Did they poison me?
It was her last thought before she surrendered to oblivion.
* * *
“How is she doing?”
Tom turned to him with a smile. “She woke briefly, I think. I wiped her face and fed her water. She kept it down and then went back to sleep.”
Bertram nodded. “That’s good. Has her temperature improved at all?”
Tom shook his head regretfully. “I’m afraid not, sir. She’s still very hot.”
Bertram sighed, manfully suppressing his worry. “Keep wiping her face and maybe loosen the cloak.”
Tom nodded. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“We will be arriving shortly.” He turned to one of the soldiers. “Johnson, I need you to ride ahead and have the physician waiting for us.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” The soldier took off at a fast gallop and Bertram relaxed a little, knowing he’d done everything he could possibly do.
It wasn’t long until they rode into camp and straight to Bertram’s tent where he found the soldier he’d sent ahead waiting with the camp physician. He nodded his gratitude before slipping off his horse and heading to the wagon.
“Mr. Fischer, we’re glad to see you. We have a patient for you, if you would be so kind.”
The physician climbed into the wagon to examine Letty. Upon touching her forehead, he gave a surprised grunt. With a frown marring his own forehead, he turned to Bertram, “If we don’t get her temperature down soon, this patient will die.”
