Read Online Vengeance Born (The Light Blade #1) by Kylie Griffin - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kylie Griffin
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along her arm, he pressed and tied the makeshift pads against the puncture wounds. Not exactly pretty but it would have to do for now.
“Rest. I’ll get rid of the carcasses.” She didn’t argue. Kalan worked as quickly as he could.
The sky was beginning to glow yellow by the time he’d dragged the Vorc to the riverbank. The swift-moving water would carry them well downriver before they snagged or were seen by anyone. Scattering leaf litter to cover the drag marks ate away more precious time.
Annika was slumped against the cliff face, cradling her hurt arm against her body when he returned. Her eyes were closed but they opened as he approached. The irises glowed a dull red.
“Your scent…” Her voice was thin, reedy.
“Too late to worry about that now. How are we going to get you up to the cave?”
Inhaling deeply, she slid off the ledge and peered upward. “I’ll manage.”
The climb was going to require both of her arms. Kalan eyed the distance she was going to have to cover. “Are you sure you can do this?”
Her mouth flattened and an inky blackness flashed through the red in her eyes. “I’ll make it.”
He matched his pace to hers as they climbed; saying nothing more but watching to make sure she secured each grip and hold before pushing up. The light from the impending dawn was bright enough for him to see the taut, pain-filled expression on her face but beneath it he recognized the stubborn flex of her jaw. Her determination sparked his grudging admiration. Her attitude was one he expected in a seasoned warrior, not a healer.
Annika’s breathing was harsh and ragged as they neared the top. The visible tremors in her limbs warned him she’d reached the limits of her strength. Covering the remaining distance quickly, Kalan scrambled over the final ledge and leant back over. “Take my hands.”
Grasping her wrists he hauled her over the lip. She issued a muffled cry and slumped against him. Half sprawled on top of him, and even through two layers of clothes he felt just how cold she was. She started to shiver. All the symptoms warned him she’d lost too much blood. He shifted into a sitting position and reached for her healer’s pouch.
“There’s fer-moss in the inner pocket. Pack it into the wound. It’ll stop the bleeding.” Her words were slurred, thick, as if she was struggling to focus on forming every word. “The jar tied with red string. I need to sip the liquid…” She slumped against him.
Cursing under his breath, Kalan eased her to the ground. With the dawn light he could see fresh blood seeping from the puncture wounds in her forearm and shoulder. Little remained of her sleeve, and four long tears shredded her dress just below her left breast.
“Annika?” He tapped her cheek and frowned when she didn’t respond.
One-handed he riffled through her pouch, looking for the fer-moss and jar she’d mentioned. Placing both beside him, he packed the soft, springy moss into each wound, making sure the delicate fibers began to swell with the congealing blood before retying the bandages. Then he picked up the jar and pulled the cork with his teeth.
A heavy, minty odor filled the air, one he’d smelled many times in the healing halls and on the field after battle. Vaa’jahn . Every warrior knew the benefits of this broad-leafed plant. The roots were dried and ground up into a powder then brewed into a thick liquid that could be applied directly to a wound or swallowed to aid in the fight against infection. He placed the edge of the jar against Annika’s lips. She swallowed reflexively as he dribbled a small amount into her mouth.
That done, he moved her into the cave, surprised to find it well provisioned, lending credence to her earlier claim she’d used it before. Blankets lay folded on a flat-topped rock and wood had been neatly stacked near a shallow depression dug into the floor of the cave. As much as he knew they both needed the warmth of a fire, he decided against
“Rest. I’ll get rid of the carcasses.” She didn’t argue. Kalan worked as quickly as he could.
The sky was beginning to glow yellow by the time he’d dragged the Vorc to the riverbank. The swift-moving water would carry them well downriver before they snagged or were seen by anyone. Scattering leaf litter to cover the drag marks ate away more precious time.
Annika was slumped against the cliff face, cradling her hurt arm against her body when he returned. Her eyes were closed but they opened as he approached. The irises glowed a dull red.
“Your scent…” Her voice was thin, reedy.
“Too late to worry about that now. How are we going to get you up to the cave?”
Inhaling deeply, she slid off the ledge and peered upward. “I’ll manage.”
The climb was going to require both of her arms. Kalan eyed the distance she was going to have to cover. “Are you sure you can do this?”
Her mouth flattened and an inky blackness flashed through the red in her eyes. “I’ll make it.”
He matched his pace to hers as they climbed; saying nothing more but watching to make sure she secured each grip and hold before pushing up. The light from the impending dawn was bright enough for him to see the taut, pain-filled expression on her face but beneath it he recognized the stubborn flex of her jaw. Her determination sparked his grudging admiration. Her attitude was one he expected in a seasoned warrior, not a healer.
Annika’s breathing was harsh and ragged as they neared the top. The visible tremors in her limbs warned him she’d reached the limits of her strength. Covering the remaining distance quickly, Kalan scrambled over the final ledge and leant back over. “Take my hands.”
Grasping her wrists he hauled her over the lip. She issued a muffled cry and slumped against him. Half sprawled on top of him, and even through two layers of clothes he felt just how cold she was. She started to shiver. All the symptoms warned him she’d lost too much blood. He shifted into a sitting position and reached for her healer’s pouch.
“There’s fer-moss in the inner pocket. Pack it into the wound. It’ll stop the bleeding.” Her words were slurred, thick, as if she was struggling to focus on forming every word. “The jar tied with red string. I need to sip the liquid…” She slumped against him.
Cursing under his breath, Kalan eased her to the ground. With the dawn light he could see fresh blood seeping from the puncture wounds in her forearm and shoulder. Little remained of her sleeve, and four long tears shredded her dress just below her left breast.
“Annika?” He tapped her cheek and frowned when she didn’t respond.
One-handed he riffled through her pouch, looking for the fer-moss and jar she’d mentioned. Placing both beside him, he packed the soft, springy moss into each wound, making sure the delicate fibers began to swell with the congealing blood before retying the bandages. Then he picked up the jar and pulled the cork with his teeth.
A heavy, minty odor filled the air, one he’d smelled many times in the healing halls and on the field after battle. Vaa’jahn . Every warrior knew the benefits of this broad-leafed plant. The roots were dried and ground up into a powder then brewed into a thick liquid that could be applied directly to a wound or swallowed to aid in the fight against infection. He placed the edge of the jar against Annika’s lips. She swallowed reflexively as he dribbled a small amount into her mouth.
That done, he moved her into the cave, surprised to find it well provisioned, lending credence to her earlier claim she’d used it before. Blankets lay folded on a flat-topped rock and wood had been neatly stacked near a shallow depression dug into the floor of the cave. As much as he knew they both needed the warmth of a fire, he decided against
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