Pagan Siege (Tribes of Britain Book 5) by Sam Taw (10 best novels of all time TXT) 📕

Ren turned to see of whom I was speaking. Without a thought for his own safety, my friend dashed into the narrow gap, bending low and dodging the forked tongues of flames snaking out from the huts either side. He pushed Kewri over until he could latch onto his wrists, tugging and heaving with all his might to drag the giant away from further harm. When they were beyond the narrowing, I took one arm from Ren and dug my heels into the earth, lending my meagre weight to the task.

We pulled him on to the soft sand near to the river mouth and flipped him over. Even in that dim light, I could see the damage done. It took all my strength to hold in the tears. His hair had shrivelled to a matted mass on his scalp, his shoulders were blistered with pus filled sacks, but worst of all was his lower back. The seared and charred skin had sloughed off as we dragged him free. All that remained was the bloodied and weeping soft flesh and rendered fat from beneath. A massive flap of skin hung from the open wound, caked in dirt and debris.

I could barely contain my emotions as he lay there panting and murmuring through the pain. Every one of my senses pricked me alert, the familiar scent of roasted meats and the revulsion at my stomach’s response, the clamour of the turmoil filling my ears and the distraction from my duties, the cold breeze at my back and the warmth of the inferno on my face. I needed my mind to focus, yet I found myself spinning.

Ren sharpened my wits. “Shall I get river or sea water?” He shook me by the shoulder, as if he knew that I was struggling.

“What? Oh, sea water…and cloth, if you can find any.” I rummaged in my medicine kit and took out what willow I could find, ramming it into Kewri’s mouth and commanding him to chew. If ever there was a time for poppy resin this was it but my searches confirmed what I already knew. My stock was empty and there was no way to procure more.

Returning a short time later, Ren placed a pail of sea water at my side and offered up his own tunic for cloth. “Wouldn’t it be easier to drag him down the beach to the sea?”

It was an option, but I feared that the surging waves would do him more damage. Added to the fact that more and more survivors had staggered from the blaze to seek my help, I knew it was not feasible to spread my patients over a wide distance. “No, we’ll just have to make do right here.” I said, emptying my bag onto the ground. I’d seen and treated burns before, but never on this scale. When small patches were damaged, I could cut away the dead bits and the healthy sections would grow to replace them. That’s if it didn’t rot first.

Senara rushed to help, dropping her quiver and bow, she took her lead from Ren. He carried my balms and ointments, bandages and willow bark and set about pasting and binding those in need.

Kewri was a mess. I knew my efforts would give him more pain, but there was no other option. Sloshing sea water over the whole area, I gently teased and stretched the skin over the exposed flesh. The edges were brittle, flaking off in my hand. It was unlikely that stitches would hold the skin in place, yet what other choice did I have?

While Ren and Senara tended to the less severe burns of the other warriors, I contemplated my approach. Accuracy and neatness were unimportant. I had to act fast if I was to prevent the rot setting in and finishing him off.

Taking a few moments to sharpen my best bone needle on a rock, I threaded the soaked lengths of gut from my bag and began my work, hushing and calming my patient with comforting words as I anchored his missing skin back in place. Kewri bore the pain better than any I’ve ever known. He neither flinched nor cried out, but I could see his clenched jaw and his fists tighten every time my needle pierced his sore body.

When my labours were over, I struggled to my feet. Tallack’s men were laying out two more bodies by the side of the river. The first I could not recognise at all. His face was smashed in and charred, as though the roof timbers of his hut had fallen while he slept. I could tell from his clothing that he was one of the Head Hunter Clan.

The manner in which he died was a tragedy. It prevented him the honour of a place in the Summerlands with our Chieftains and warriors of old. Instead, he will pass through the earth and forever spend his days in the Underworld. At least it was a quick death and he would have not seen the end coming.

The second man was less fortunate. Most of his torso and limbs were blackened. Those carrying his body informed me that he’d run towards the river shrouded in flames, but failed to reach the water.

As the blaze raged along the valley, Tallack and his men were beaten back by the intense heat and futility of their efforts. Those who were able, lifted Kewri and carried him to the beach along with all that could be salvaged from camp. We were back where we had started but with many lives lost.

During the course of the night, the breeze dropped and the eerie glow in the sky lessened as the fires burned out. My back ached, my knees were bruised and my heart was heavy. I had all but exhausted my stocks of balms and pastes. Senara tried to forage for more herbs at dawn, but came back empty handed and desolate by mid-morning. In the end,