Word of Traitors_ Legacy of Dhakaan - Don Bassingthwaite [99]
“It will be ruined.”
“I have others.”
She nodded. Dagii sat down on an abandoned pack and she went around behind him. Slowed by his armor, the arrow hadn’t penetrated deep, but it had dragged bits of padding and linen with it into the wound. Ekhaas tore the hole in the shirt a little wider, then took a firm hold of the broken shaft and pulled. Crusted blood broke and fresh blood seeped out. Dagii grunted softly, but she could feel the tension in the broad muscles beneath her fingers. A leather flask had also been abandoned by the fire. She opened it, sniffed and tasted the contents, then sluiced water over the wound until it was clean. Then she pressed one hand over the hole and sang a healing song.
Dagii drew a short breath as the magic worked on him. Ekhaas could feel a little of the song as well, vibrant and energizing. She shifted the song, sending it deep into his flesh, and reached around him with her other hand to touch the place where an elf scimitar had broken his armor. He flinched slightly at the second touch, then relaxed into it.
Maybe she allowed herself to sing slightly longer than was absolutely necessary.
The clearing of a throat made both her and Dagii jump a little bit. Keraal and the two lhurusk stood a discreet distance away, carefully looking anywhere but directly at them. Ekhaas ended her song and stepped back. Dagii rose and the three waiting hobgoblins came forward as if they had only just seen the two of them standing there. All three were smiling, even the lhurusk that Dagii had struck. “A triumph, Dagii!” he said.
“You fought well, Uukam—and you, Biiri.” He nodded to both lhurusk, then to Keraal. “And you, Keraal. Ta muut.”
Keraal didn’t bend his head. “Ekhaas duur’kala turned the tide,” he said. “Her song started them running. But a triumph?” His ears lowered and he shook his head. “I wouldn’t call it that.”
Biiri and Uukam looked ready to protest but Dagii raised a hand to them. “I agree with Keraal. How many warriors did we lose?”
“About half,” said Biiri. “Twenty or so. It could have been worse.”
“Yes,” said Dagii, “but it could have been better. I count ten dead elves.”
“Five more fled at the end,” said Keraal. “Ekhaas forced seven away.”
“Four archers lie dead in the dark. Plus three who tried to ambush us.” Chetiin came strolling past Ekhaas.
The reaction from Keraal, Uukam, and Biiri was immediate. They grabbed for their weapons and dropped into defensive crouches, their ears back and their teeth bared. “Shaarat’khesh!” snarled Uukam.
“Easy!” Dagii said. “He’s a friend. He’s—”
“I’m Maanin,” said Chetiin smoothly. “I’m with Dagii to redeem the honor of the Silent Clans.” He crossed his arms and waited. Slowly the three warriors lowered their weapons, though Keraal was the last to do so. His ears twitched and he looked to Dagii and Ekhaas, then nodded.
“Maanin,” he said. He looked back to Dagii. “One of the Silent Blades instead of one of the Silent Wolves?”
“Do you want to argue with four more elves dead?” Ekhaas asked him.
Keraal’s eyes narrowed but he bent his neck in the slightest of nods.
“Maanin’s place here is not the issue,” Dagii said. “Ten elves dead here, four and three dead below the hill, twelve fled in fear or defeat.” He put his hands on his hips and looked around at all of them. “Twenty-nine Valaes Tairn sent against forty Darguuls. If not for Ekhaas’s song, I think that more than half our number would be dead right now. Don’t claim a victory here—claim a lesson learned.”
The others had no response.
Dagii nodded. “Uukam, Biiri, give the warriors a short time to celebrate, then order them back to discipline. The camp needs to be restored and sentries set again. It’s possible the elves may try their luck again. Keraal, pick out those who fought worst in the battle—they’re to collect the dead and bury them in the morning.”
Keraal’s ears flicked.