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“What for?” I lightly touched their arm.
They cried out.
“What do I need fire for?”
“Cauterize the wound,” they managed. “Stop the bleeding.”
“What about the poison?” I pressed. This time, when I touched their arm, they didn’t respond. Of course they would pass out.I’ll just have to hope Cian can heal the poison on his own.
Carefully, I stripped off whatever pieces of Cian’s armor I could and cut off the rest. The wound was red and inflamed. He let out a barely audible whimper whenever I probed it.
I cleaned the knife in the stream first, and then in fire because that’s what I had. When it was cool enough not to burn, I went back to him, eying the wound. “This is really going to hurt.”
No response.
Nisang’s knife wassharp. It slid into the wound next to the arrowhead and the swollen flesh.
Cian’s face twisted in pain, fingers curling into the cool dirt.
The arrowhead was shallower than it had seemed. I traced around it, knifepoint always in touch with the iron arrowhead. Blood poured out of the wound, smelling like dead flowers, crushed and decaying in blood.
The arrowhead came out in one bloody piece, pulled straight out. I tossed it aside and thrust the knife back into the flame, waiting a lifetime for it to glow red hot. Blood was already trying to clot in the wound. That was a good sign, right? More of it trickled out of him, flowing down his chest in dark rivulets. Too much, and he was healing too slow.
His eyes opened only once during the whole thing when I pressed the red-hot blade against his skin and held it there. They snapped open and hooked on mine, quivering and darkening from blue to red. His breathing quickened and a dirt and blood crusted hand came up to grip my wrist. He held my gaze through the whole thing, and when I took the knife away, promptly passed out.
There was little more I could do for him, so I focused on Hellion. I couldn’t find a break in their arm, but when I started looking higher, I noticed swelling near their shoulder. Trian had broken his clavicle once, and it’d looked like that, so I assumed the same had happened to Hellion. I couldn’t do much for it except make a rough sling to limit the movement of their arm. There was a deep gash on the same arm, high up and weeping. It needed stitches, but I didn’t have the equipment. The best I could do was try to clean it out and cover it with some makeshift bandages.
With night closing in, I curled up between them, my cloak over all three of us. Hellion shivered constantly, but Cian barely responded except to moan when I accidentally bumped him.
Something kicked my foot in the darkened early hours of the morning. I opened my eyes and started at the sight of three shadows leaning over us. Nisang’s knife was in my hand as I slid in front of Cian. “Who are you? What do you want?”
Three sets of familiarly shaped wings sprang out. Gargoyles, and not ones I knew.
One of them grabbed me by the arm and yanked my knife hand forward. Stone fingers twisted my arm, drawing a hiss of pain from me.
Nostrils flared. “Where did you get this knife?”
I glared at them in silence as they passed the knife around. Cian was their lord, and that should have meant they owed him their loyalty and assistance, especially now. But Cian was only half-gargoyle and had suggested their prejudices ran deep. They might be as likely to kill him as save him.
The third gargoyle snorted and narrowed his eyes at me before he tucked the knife into his belt.
“Hey! That doesn’t belong to you!” I shouted.
“Nor does it belong to you,” said the gargoyle calmly. “I know this knife.”
I studied them and took a chance. “Then you must have known Nisang.”
The three of them stilled at that, standing back.
“Are you the one they call the Maelstrom Mage?” the gargoyle asked. “The one who lamed the dragon? The hero of Lach Ban-Lenon?”
“I am,” I said carefully. “And that knife was a gift. Youwillreturn it. Now.”
“Prove you are who you say you are. Conjure some lightning.” He gestured to the clear sky.
I glanced back at Cian and Hellion. With no training, I wasn’t sure I could replicate what I’d done at the battle, but I had to try for them.
I closed my eyes and let out a breath, trying to recreate the feelings I’d experienced when Brenna’s dragon was right in front of me. The first thing I’d felt was fear. Easy enough to replicate. I was terrified that Cian and Hellion would die if I failed them now. Yet that fear had given way to determination, followed by a terrifying emptiness.
