Free The Crown Of Yensupov (Book 3) by C. Craig Coleman

on Bodrin’s leg. “Well, we have to get help for Bodrin – we’re not equipped for this.”
    “We’re men from the South,” Hendrel called out. “An orc shot one of our crew and he needs immediate attention. We seek refuge.”
    They heard the guard talking with his comrades: “Orcs are nasty creatures. Their arrows are no better, and a wound from an orc arrow is likely to fester. You may land, but don’t touch your weapons.”
    When the boat broke through the cattails, the soldiers saw the Astorax and whipped out their swords.
    “What’s that?”
    “I’m the Astorax,” Astorax said, in language peculiar to the mountains of Heggolstockin. Some guards recognized it.
    “It’s not from Dreaddrac,” a soldier said. He kept his sword drawn and watched the deer-man.
    Bodrin drifted into shock, lying on his side, shivering with Tonelia wrapped around him to keep him warm. She rocked Bodrin as if a baby.
    “I brought you to this, my best friend,” Saxthor said.
    When the Heggolstockin guards saw the sailors’ plight, they decided to lend a hand. Using the staffs from the boat, the crew made a litter and carried Bodrin up the hill to Feldrik Fortress, Heggolstockin’s border castilyernov. In their infirmary, Tournak took charge. “Bite down on this stick, I have to get the arrow out,” Bodrin nodded his understanding. Tonelia held Bodrin’s hand, Saxthor restrained his arms and Hendrel lay across Bodrin’s lower legs. Tournak gripped the arrow and looked at Bodrin. Bodrin’s twitching wide eyes looked from Saxthor to Tournak - he nodded.
    Tournak held Bodrin’s knee down and jerked out the arrow. Bodrin’s bite snapped the shaft. He doubled up in pain, then fell back, unconscious. Tonelia wiped the blood from the wound with a clean wet cloth. Tournak sewed up the wound to stop the bleeding. Tonelia knew herbs, and Tournak knew medicinal magic, so the two of them dressed Bodrin’s wound and cared for him for the next week. Saxthor maintained a vigil beside his friend while he was recovering.
    “I feel responsible for Bodrin. It should have been me,” Saxthor said. “The journey has been longer and more dangerous than I wanted to face. Only luck has saved us from serious injury before now.”
    Tournak stopped Saxthor, faced him, and put both hands on his shoulders, making Saxthor look him in the eye. “It’s not your fault. We all knew this was a dangerous undertaking before we came along of our own free wills.”
    *
    “How’s your leg feeling?” Saxthor asked on the second morning at Feldrik. “Tonelia’s herbal poultices have prevented it from festering.”
    “It’s much better,” Bodrin watched Saxthor. “I’m going to be fine.”
    “I know. We’ll have to go fishing on the Nhy, when we get home,” Saxthor said, staring at the floor. He turned to Bodrin, hesitated then spoke. “I should have sent you home and not dragged you along on this dangerous journey.” He forced a smile.
    “Stop worrying. You’re looking at the danger as an adult, maybe for the first time. All of us accepted the risk when we came along.”
    Saxthor nodded and looked away. All his friends were here with him. I exposed you all to hazards that could, and most likely will, get you killed, he thought.
    “Stop blaming yourself. I can see you’re hurting as much as I am,” Bodrin said. “It upsets me to think you’re taking it all on yourself. We chose to come with you. I’m going to recover and kick your butt if you don’t let go of that guilt.”
    “I know you volunteered; but I don’t think you realized what you were getting yourselves into. I should make you all go home,” Saxthor said, his boot scratching at sunlight on the floor.
    Bodrin laughed, and Saxthor looked up at him. “And now you think you’re big enough to make me go home?” Bodrin asked, with a twinkle in his eye.
    “Look, you could’ve been killed! Prertsten is loyal to Dreaddrac, and if Prertsten’s Prince Pindradese captures us,