Read Online 02 - Taint of Evil by Neil McIntosh - (ebook by Undead) - Free Book Online Page A

broken bodies of the
mutants. Only when Stefan was satisfied that the creatures were truly all dead
did he seek out the leader of the scarlet-clad soldiers. As yet, he had not the
slightest idea who their allies might be, or, more importantly, where they had
come from.
    Half the soldiers lay dead or dying where they had fallen in battle. The
survivors stood clustered around one of their injured comrades, trying to tend
to his wounds. Stefan watched them, unsure now of how far he should intrude. He
knew little of the surgeon’s art, but it seemed clear that what remained of the
soldier’s life would be measured in minutes rather than years if nothing could
be done.
    He sheathed his sword and stepped forward. The soldier who seemed to be in
command looked up.
    “He’s dying,” the man announced, briskly. “Can you help him?”
    “No. He can’t.” Bea pushed past Stefan and approached the wounded soldier.
“He can’t,” she reaffirmed. “But maybe I can.”
    The soldiers regarded Bea with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion, but they
let her through, standing back as she stooped low over the wounded man. She
worked quickly and silently, cutting away the remains of the blood-soaked tunic
to expose the ruptured flesh. She laid her hands firmly upon the open wound, and
closed her eyes. Her lips moved around the words of a prayer.
    “I hope she knows what she’s doing,” the man who’d first spoken to Stefan
commented.
    “Can you do any better?” Stefan asked him. The soldier said nothing, but
shook his head slowly, then stood back to watch. The wounded man’s cries
subsided a little. Bea stayed at his side, pressing her hands to his chest. When
at last she moved it was to look up, and seek out Bruno.
    “Over in those bushes,” she said to him, indicating with her head. “You should
find a plant growing in amongst them. Thick fleshy leaves. Small yellow
flowers.”
    Bruno looked around. “How much do you need?”
    “As much as you can find. And quickly,” Bea urged him. “You others,” she said
to the soldiers standing by. “Set me a fire and boil as much water as you can
find or spare.”
    Bruno set off in search of the herb, accompanied by one of the soldiers.
Stefan stayed with the others as they gathered wood together and set a pan to
boil over the fire. He turned to pick a conversation with the man on his left.
From his bearing, Stefan guessed that he was their captain.
    “One of your good men?” he asked, indicating the wounded man.
    “They’re all good men,” the soldier replied. “Each life is precious to us.”
    “What were you doing out here?”
    The soldier looked him up and down, as if weighing up his new companion to
satisfy himself that Stefan could be trusted with the information. “Out here?
Hunting. Hunting the mutants.”
    Bruno and his companion arrived back, bearing handfuls of a dark herb
speckled with tiny bright gold flowers. Bea directed them to put the gathered
herbs upon the ground, then divided them into two piles, one about a quarter of
the size of the other. She scooped the larger pile carefully into the bubbling
water, collected the smaller pile into her fist and pressed it into the wound.
The soldier moaned. His breathing deepened, then became easier and more
regular.
     
    One of the soldiers passed Bea a battered metal cup filled from the boiling
pan. The steam rising from its brim gave off a pungent, bitter scent. Bea took
the cup and handed it to Stefan.
    “See if you can get him to drink,” she instructed him. “The more the better.”
    The man coughed and spluttered as Stefan forced the hot liquid between his
lips. His eyes flickered open, but he still seemed to be barely aware of where
he was or who he was with.
    Stefan paused and looked around. The watching soldiers were keeping a
respectful distance, as if fearful of upsetting the delicate balance of the
healing worked by Bea.
    “These men,” Stefan said to her. “They appeared