Free Destiny's Star by Elizabeth Vaughan Page B

horses. No one owns the horses. They just are.”
    “But, if you don’t own a horse, how do you get one?”
    “You call one to you,” Bethral explained. “If you can’t do that, you don’t survive long on the Plains.” She caught her breath as she shifted her hip.
    “I’d best see to that leg,” Ezren said. He switched to the language of the Plains. “Lander, what is the name of your friend?”
    “Ouse,” Lander answered. “His name is Ouse, Storyteller.”
    “All right, the two of you are going to help us.” Ezren knelt next to Bethral.
    The young warriors looked confused, but they knelt as well. Ezren clenched his jaw when he saw Bethral shake her head. “I don’t see why you are bothering to—”
    “I told a story, didn’t I?” he demanded, reaching out to loosen the bindings on her leg.
    “Yes,” Bethral said. “Yes, you did.” There was resignation in her voice.
    “Then you can put up with my attempts at healing.” Ezren gestured for Ouse to sit at Bethral’s shoulders and for Lander to grab her ankle. “I acknowledge that I do not know what I am doing, but it is better than doing nothing at all.”
    He finished untying the bandages. “Now, Lander, I want you to grab her ankle and pull. A strong, slow pull. And you, Ouse, I want you to brace her, so he can pull the leg straight, understand?”
    Bethral made sure that they did, translating quickly. Ouse nodded, and brought his arms under hers, hugging her ribs. Lander grasped her ankle and leaned back, a slow, steady pull.
    Bethral closed her eyes and stayed silent, but Ezren could see the pain in the lines on her face.
    The bone shifted under the skin. Ezren moved fast, retying the cloths and the wooden swords as tight as he could, making sure the toes faced the right way.
    Bethral was stoic, but she was pale and breathing hard before they were finished. Once the task was done, she lowered herself to the pillows and sighed with relief.
    “I wish I knew what I am doing.” Ezren drew the blankets up to cover her. “Or that what I am doing is actually helping.”
    Gilla and a black-skinned young woman came into their area with their arms full. Bethral craned her neck to look around Ezren. “Is that a sword?”
    Ezren glanced at a long scabbard sticking out from under the pile. Gilla pulled it free and handed it to him, but Bethral reached out her hand to intercept it, looking almost greedy. Gilla said something, and Bethral replied as she pulled the odd wooden sheath free. “Oh, this is lovely.”
    “I have never seen a sword like that before. How can you wield that?” Ezren asked.
    “Two-handed. It’s a lovely blade, but Gilla says it’s not of much use here on the Plains. It can’t be used from horseback, and not many are big enough to wield it properly.”
    The blade was bright and very thick. The pommel was large, of polished metal. The handle was wrapped in leather, and there seemed to be two sets of crosspieces. “I don’t see how it could be more effective than a regular sword.”
    “You can put a man down fast, with one blow.” Bethral stifled a yawn. “And if you hold it properly, it can punch through armor like—” She lost the battle, and yawned widely.
    “We can talk more in the morning. You should sleep.”
    Bethral blinked, her eyes watering. She sheathed the sword and laid it next to her pallet. “I won’t argue with that.” She started shrugging out of her tunic under the blanket.
    Ezren turned away. “I will give you a bit of privacy, then.” He left the tent, escaping into the night air, ignoring the odd looks that the young ones gave him. They might be comfortable with naked bodies. He was not.
    He saw to his own needs, then headed back to Haya’s tent. The stars were coming out in the spring sky, and there was a slight breeze. He paused to look out over the grasslands and the herd of horses that lay beyond.
    This land was so lovely, yet so harsh. It was hard to believe that these people could live