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Old 12-12-2003, 10:05 PM   #176
Ealasaide
Shadow of Tyrn Gorthad
 
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Sting

Kaldir

Kaldir had only followed the orc trail southward for a short distance, when it took another sudden buttonhook turn, this time back into the west. Raising his head, Kaldir looked into the setting sun and realized with mounting horror that the orcs were now heading directly for the campsite where he had left Mrs. Banks and Benia Nightshade. Taking a firm grip on the reins, he kicked the gray horse into a full gallop. When the dreaded sounds of clashing metal reached him through the thunder of his horse's galloping hooves, Kaldir drew his sword and urged the gray stallion faster.

As he grew nearer, he could see a fierce battle raging between a dark-haired man and two orcs. Two other orcs already lay dead. Mrs. Banks and Miss Nightshade were visible as well, doing their best to aid the man as they could. As the third orc fell, the man took severe blow to his side.

"Faster!" urged Kaldir into the ear of his horse as he leaned low over the horse's mane. "Fly, Nico!" The horse responded with a fresh surge of speed, but Kaldir feared it would be too late. The man already seemed to be faltering as the orc drew up to deliver his death blow. But the blow never came. There was a flash of jewels as the man struck suddenly upward into the orc's torso. The orc staggered backward and fell. Kaldir pulled his horse to a halt and leaped to the ground just as the stranger crumpled to his knees. Kaldir recognized him only as Benia rushed forward, catching the man in her arms as he lost consciousness.

"Dulrain!" he murmured. Seeing that all the orcs were dead, Kaldir sheathed his sword and walked to where Benia crouched over the prone figure of the ranger. When he saw the carved whistle swinging on its leather thong around Benia's neck, he understood. She had called for Dulrain in her moment of need and, as promised, he had come. How strange, yet how fortunate, that he himself had been so careless with Dulrain's gift, thought Kaldir, remembering for the first time how he had tossed aside the whistle earlier that afternoon and simply forgotten to pick it up again. Perhaps it had been fate. Whatever it was that had made events unfold they way they had, Kaldir decided that he would not allow Dulrain to die for it.

If it had not been for Dulrain, Benia and Mrs. Banks would already be dead.

Reaching Benia, Kaldir helped her in laying Dulrain out comfortably on the ground. The wound would have to be treated at once.

"Is he dead?" Gilly asked softly from behind him. When Kaldir glanced up, he saw a ugly bruise beginning to darken on her cheek. She would have a black eye to match it before the evening was out.

"No," he shook his head. "He lives, but we must act quickly so that the wound doesn't fester. Find what wood you can and build a fire."

Taking off his cloak, he folded it into and pillow and pushed it gently under Dulrain's head. Benia, her face streaked with blood and dirt from the battle, had already begun trying to clear the clothing away from the mouth of the wound. Kaldir caught her hand. "We'll need water. Bring one of the skins from our supplies." She nodded and did as he told her, but he could tell that it was only with deep regret that she left the side of the injured man even for a moment. When she returned and delivered the water skin to him, he noticed her hand close immediately around the hand of Dulrain as she knelt once more beside him. Her lips moved softly as she murmured something to herself, a prayer perhaps, in a Haradrim dialect.

"The wound is deep," he heard himself reassuring her as he examined the wound. "But the edges are clean. There is no sign of poison. It will be painful for a while, but he should recover." Using the water from the skin, Kaldir washed the area of the wound carefully. Dulrain stirred, murmuring something undecipherable. Kaldir leaned forward as he repeated it.

"For Dalrin and Kaldir!," whispered Dulrain, his eyelids fluttering as he swam back into consciousness. Instinctively, his hand moved in search of a weapon. Benia interlaced her fingers through his, stilling his movement.

"Shhh..." she whispered, smoothing his hair with her other hand. "You are with friends."

Kaldir noticed Dulrain's body relax as his gray eyes met Benia's and stayed there.

"Talk to him," he told her. She nodded, but rather than talking, she began to sing. In a soft voice like the voice of a nightingale, she sang a lay of the desert night. As it was in a dialect Kaldir had little familiarity with, he was unable to understand more than a few words here and there, but those words evoked images of a silvery moon and softly blowing sands. It was a sad song, something about loss and a maiden's unrequited love.

To his surprise, he felt a mouse-gnawing jealousy at the back of his heart that she would choose such a song to sing. Denying it, he pushed the jealousy aside. The wound must be treated. By then, Gilly had come back with a pan of hot water she had heated on the small fire she had managed to build with little more than sticks from the bramble bushes. She watched as Kaldir extracted the long, slightly used athelas leaves he had used outside Bree to aid in healing Benia's ankle from the pouch on his belt. From deeper in the same pouch, he came up with some fresher ones as well. He deposited all of them into the hot water where they soaked for a moment before he bathed Dulrain's wound with the sweet-smelling brew.

"When I'm finished," he said to Gilly. "You might try bathing you face as well. It will help keep the swelling down."

Gilly looked surprised and raised a hand to her face. "Oh, yes, that ol' orc did give me quite a walloping, didn't he?" she said. "I was so worried about Mr. Dulrain here that I hadn't given it a thought.

As Benia completed her song and began a new one, Kaldir finished with the athlelas water, which he handed back to Gilly. Then, after retrieving a clean shirt and a few small vials from the pack on the back of his horse, he returned to Dulrain's side and applied the contents of the vials, healing oils, to the wound, which he bound with strips torn from his spare shirt.

He leaned across to Benia and touched her shoulder. "He should be moved now. Into the campsite and near the fire." Benia nodded and stepped back, in order to allow Kaldir to move Dulrain . As Kaldir bent down to lift him, Dulrain stayed him with a raised hand.

"No," protested Dulrain. "I can walk."

"Tomorrow you can walk," answered Kaldir. "Tonight you rest." Without giving the ranger any more time to object, Kaldir lifted him and carried him the short distance to the fire. Setting him down, the bounty hunter smiled with the good side of his face. "And it's a good thing you can walk tomorrow. You weigh a ton."

Dulrain laughed weakly, but paled and broke off abruptly as a jolt of pain took him.

"Where's Dir - my horse?" he asked, recovering.

"He's fine," answered Kaldir. "I will see to him now. You rest." Kaldir started to go, but paused at the mouth of the briar hedge and came back. Bending down, he caught Dulrain's hand in a firm grip. Looking into Dulrain's eyes, he nodded.

"When in need, one will always find the other," he said softly. "Thank you. I owe you their lives." This time there were no troubling flashbacks, no flashes of distorted, disjointed memory. Kaldir remembered.

Releasing his brother's hand, Kaldir rose and left the campsite. There were horses to be seen to and orc bodies to be dealt with if they didn't want a host of scavengers to be upon them by daybreak. For him, the evening's work was just beginning.
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