Published via Ecency

Hello Readers

Trying to get onto a better writing schedule, but honestly it has been tough. I won't bore you with all the details of the pain things have become, so enjoy today's update.

For those of you with a queasy stomach, see this as a trigger warning.

“Can you hear me?” he asked.

She muttered something, but it was in a language he didn’t recognise. She tried to swat him away, but the blows were nothing. Her arms fell to her side, and her breath became shallow once more.

“At least there is some fight still in you.” He reached into a pouch at his side.

He produced a small vial and pulled the cork out with his teeth, while he used the finger on his other hand to part her cracked lips.

Slowly, he poured the mixture of sweetened water between her teeth and lips, nothing more than a few drops at a time. At first the liquid did nothing but run out of her mouth, but then she opened her mouth and swallowed a little. Then, she coughed before moaning in pain.

“That’s enough for now.” Venator took the bottle back. “That will help with the shock of what I am about to do.”

She muttered something, but he still didn’t understand her. He ignored her mumblings and looked to the reason she hadn’t managed to get further than what she had. He waved his hand over the injured leg, displacing a small cloud of flies. Had he not been a huntsman his entire life, his own vomit would have joined the several dry piles he had noticed.

It was a bad break. The inner support leg bone was jutting through the outer edge of the leg. It was likely that the smaller, outer bone was dislocated, if not shattered, within the leg. The edges of the exposed bone were starting to go a grubby colour. He then noticed what the moss had been used for. It had successfully staunched the blood, but who knew what kind of filth was on it when it was jammed into the open wound caused by the bone. He understood, though. Survival came first; she had expected help, but it had never come. She had been alone, in agony for days.

“No wonder you’re muttering in strange tongues.” He touched the moss.

It was mostly dry, hard, and gave ample space with little white worms to feed on the tortured and exposed flesh. The dressings were in the same condition but stained in blood and seepage from the wound and maggots.

Ignoring the writhing mass of feeding maggots, Venator moved the dressings aside and noted the condition of the tortured flesh. The edges were blackening, and pus was seeping. The wound itself was an angry red with streaks moving away from it. He dared not examine the injury more than he had.

“You may not like this, but it looks like the decay eaters have given you just enough time for us to find you.” Venator looked around. “Now, I need to get you out of here.”

The river had carried her downriver far enough that getting her to the shaman’s house would take no more than a few hours if he carried her, but there was a river between him and safety. Even if he could get them both over the swollen river, transporting her would be agony, and with her so weak he wasn’t sure how much more torture she could take. He needed to splint the leg before anything else.

Leaving Kay where he had found her, he travelled into the forest to look for saplings long enough to splint her leg from ankle to mid-thigh. Once he found what he was looking for, he cut the saplings down and took them back with him. He laid the saplings down next to Kay, then went to the river to get more strips of moss.

He looked back at her, noting the torn shirt and exposed skin. The bruises he was sure were from her misadventure, but the precise cuts that littered her abdomen were something he had never seen before.

He returned and laid the moss against the top and underside of the broken leg and bandaged them in place with bandages from his pouch. The whole time, Kay was muttering, as if in deep conversation with someone. She was shaking her head now and again. The mutterings became more urgent, as if she were arguing.

“Can’t make the infection worse than it already is.” He muttered, turning his attention back to the injury. “I don’t have much time.”

He laid the first sapling under her leg, looping the bandages around but not tightening them. That would come later. He gently coaxed the second branch in place over the top of the leg. He then took a deep breath, rested a knee on her left thigh and muttered.

“Scream if you have to.”

Then in one swift motion, he pulled the two sets of bandages in his hands. They tightened at the same time. There was a swift intake of breath behind him, but he wasn’t done yet. He tied the bandages in place and then continued to add more around her thigh, above the break, below it, and her ankle. She was screaming towards the end. It wasn’t a sound he was unused to. He just wasn’t used to it being because of him.

A hand gripped the back of his shirt and pulled weakly at him.

“I…have…done…nothing…to…deserve…this.”

The voice didn’t sound as if it were coming from the mouth of one dying. There was power; there was hate. Venator had to ignore it, but he at least knew that she could understand him. Without turning back, he added the last few knots, listening as the breath of the one behind him became hitched in pain.

“Good. You still have strength in you. Hold onto whatever hate is in you now.”

Once he was done, he got off her thigh and turned to watch her single eye trying to focus on him as she sat half raised. She was trying to place him, but with her brain as fever-addled as it was, he didn’t think she could see anything substantial.

He once more opened the vial with the honey water and helped her drink some. It was barely a mouthful, and she ended up vomiting it back up. Venator sighed; he wasn’t sure if she was going to make the trip, but he was going to give her every opportunity.

He came to stand behind her as she was retching, pulling her up by her underarms. She was shorter than him, so he would be able to keep her leg from hitting anything as he travelled. He needed to move fast. He then threw her over his right shoulder, so her face would press into his back as he moved, but the left leg wouldn’t hit his legs as he travelled.

“Not ideal, but I have to move fast. Try to remain conscious.”

While Kay’s brain was too deep in a fever to understand him, she did remain conscious for the first hour of travel. Her world was a blur of green, browns, and greys. She vomited a few times, producing nothing but dry heaves, but the rocking motion eventually lulled her.

“You’ll be left behind again. Just you wait and see.”

She couldn’t find the voice, but she no longer had the strength to argue back. The blurs eventually became solid black.

We will be switching back to Saita with the next update.

For those of you who have never heard of Fell Dragon you can find Book 1 here, Book 2 here, Book 3 here, and Book 4 here, Book 5 here, Book 6 here, Book 7 here, and Book 8 here
If you have any questions, feel free to ask me. I love discussing my books!
As the series continues, it will combine with another book series I wrote. To avoid confusion about what is happening, introductory chapters will be introduced separately so that you don't have to be lost. However, these chapters will contain spoilers. You can find these chapters here:
Races Explained
Banishment
Royal Guard
Saasha’s Direct Family
Saith Characters Recap
Human Characters Recap
Alternate Timeline Brucel
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