Read Online Warsworn by Elizabeth Vaughan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elizabeth Vaughan
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The thick, stiff garment hung on me like a sack. She considered me, frowning. "Maybe if we belt it around the waist."
"No need." Epor spoke from his horse. "It's not as if she has to fight in it, just ride."
"What tales?" I demanded, impatient with them. What hadn't I been told?
Rafe answered slowly. "We would not offend, Warprize."
"Oh for Earth's sake." Isdra snorted. "We have a saying. 'Raid them for their treasures, leave them in their filth.' There are songs of cities found with their gates closed, the people lying dead in the streets from their filth and corruption. Punishment for their sullying of the elements." She reached over to help me wind my braid on the top of my head, and put the helmet on. "I've walked the streets of your city, Warprize. While it was not perfect, it was not knee-deep in filth by any means."
The rags that Gils had padded the helm with slipped down to dangle in my eyes. I felt incredibly stupid, but my fear was stronger than my dignity. I focused on Rafe as Isdra stuffed the cloth up under my helmet. "Rafe, when you go up to the gates, touch nothing and no one."
"Yes, Warprize."
"Gils, tear some cloth into small pieces and douse them with the oil in the green bottle."
"Aye, Warprize." Gils started to work. Isdra accepted the bracers from Marcus, placed one on my forearm and started to tighten the lacings. I tried to stand still, but it was frustrating not to be able to move.
"Gils, now add four drops from the slender blue bottle." I watched him dribble the scented oil out slowly. "Let me smell it."
Gils lifted the bowl to my face with two hands, wrinkling his nose. Isdra turned her head, and sneezed.
"Good," It was strong enough. "Let them sit for a bit. Rafe, if someone comes out of the gates to talk, stay well away from them."
"Yes, Warprize."
"We'll give you some vinegar. Wash your hands and face with it after you return, before you come back to us."
"Yes, Warprize."
"Now, take two of those cloths from the bowl, roll them up, and put them in your mouth, between the gum and cheek."
Isdra had finished with the bracers, and she knelt to tie some kind of leather over my thigh and shin. Marcus, moving slowly, knelt at my other side and did the same.
"Er," Rafe looked at the oil soaked cloths that Gils held out to him. I could smell the sharp scent of ginger from here. "Warprize, is this necessary?"
I pointed at my helmet. "Is this necessary?"
"Yes," Rafe's answer was prompt. "Death comes in an instant. All it takes is a stray arrow."
"Then so is that." I pointed at the cloth. "Oil of ginger acts to prevent the spread of the contagion. Healers keep slices of ginger in their mouths when they treat people with the plague. This is the best I can offer."
Rafe nodded glumly, and stuffed the cloth in his mouth, screwing up his face at the taste.
"Now roll up two more pieces and put them up your nose."
They all stopped and stared at me in consternation.
I glared at them and tapped my helmet.
Rafe tilted his head back, and roared with laughter, startling the horses. The others laughed as well.
"So be it, Warprize." Rafe wiped his eyes and accepted two more pieces of cloth. "I will armor against your invisible foe. But I will wait until the enemy is a bit closer, eh?" Marcus and Isdra stood and without thinking, I flinched back from Marcus. But this time I caught myself. "I'm sorry, Marcus. I don't understand why—"
"I do." He answered gruffly. "Think not on it, Lara." His eyes regarded me steadily. "The fear will fade. But not the lesson, eh?"
"I will remember."
Isdra had taken a step back, and put her hands on her hips to regard me. "It will serve." I felt the fool. "The enemy will die laughing."
"So long as only the enemy dies." Marcus growled. "Up now. We need to be ready when the Warlord calls us forward."
We mounted up, with Gils scrambling to secure the pack horse with the healing supplies. The leather jerkin was chafing at the back of my neck, and I shrugged, trying to
"No need." Epor spoke from his horse. "It's not as if she has to fight in it, just ride."
"What tales?" I demanded, impatient with them. What hadn't I been told?
Rafe answered slowly. "We would not offend, Warprize."
"Oh for Earth's sake." Isdra snorted. "We have a saying. 'Raid them for their treasures, leave them in their filth.' There are songs of cities found with their gates closed, the people lying dead in the streets from their filth and corruption. Punishment for their sullying of the elements." She reached over to help me wind my braid on the top of my head, and put the helmet on. "I've walked the streets of your city, Warprize. While it was not perfect, it was not knee-deep in filth by any means."
The rags that Gils had padded the helm with slipped down to dangle in my eyes. I felt incredibly stupid, but my fear was stronger than my dignity. I focused on Rafe as Isdra stuffed the cloth up under my helmet. "Rafe, when you go up to the gates, touch nothing and no one."
"Yes, Warprize."
"Gils, tear some cloth into small pieces and douse them with the oil in the green bottle."
"Aye, Warprize." Gils started to work. Isdra accepted the bracers from Marcus, placed one on my forearm and started to tighten the lacings. I tried to stand still, but it was frustrating not to be able to move.
"Gils, now add four drops from the slender blue bottle." I watched him dribble the scented oil out slowly. "Let me smell it."
Gils lifted the bowl to my face with two hands, wrinkling his nose. Isdra turned her head, and sneezed.
"Good," It was strong enough. "Let them sit for a bit. Rafe, if someone comes out of the gates to talk, stay well away from them."
"Yes, Warprize."
"We'll give you some vinegar. Wash your hands and face with it after you return, before you come back to us."
"Yes, Warprize."
"Now, take two of those cloths from the bowl, roll them up, and put them in your mouth, between the gum and cheek."
Isdra had finished with the bracers, and she knelt to tie some kind of leather over my thigh and shin. Marcus, moving slowly, knelt at my other side and did the same.
"Er," Rafe looked at the oil soaked cloths that Gils held out to him. I could smell the sharp scent of ginger from here. "Warprize, is this necessary?"
I pointed at my helmet. "Is this necessary?"
"Yes," Rafe's answer was prompt. "Death comes in an instant. All it takes is a stray arrow."
"Then so is that." I pointed at the cloth. "Oil of ginger acts to prevent the spread of the contagion. Healers keep slices of ginger in their mouths when they treat people with the plague. This is the best I can offer."
Rafe nodded glumly, and stuffed the cloth in his mouth, screwing up his face at the taste.
"Now roll up two more pieces and put them up your nose."
They all stopped and stared at me in consternation.
I glared at them and tapped my helmet.
Rafe tilted his head back, and roared with laughter, startling the horses. The others laughed as well.
"So be it, Warprize." Rafe wiped his eyes and accepted two more pieces of cloth. "I will armor against your invisible foe. But I will wait until the enemy is a bit closer, eh?" Marcus and Isdra stood and without thinking, I flinched back from Marcus. But this time I caught myself. "I'm sorry, Marcus. I don't understand why—"
"I do." He answered gruffly. "Think not on it, Lara." His eyes regarded me steadily. "The fear will fade. But not the lesson, eh?"
"I will remember."
Isdra had taken a step back, and put her hands on her hips to regard me. "It will serve." I felt the fool. "The enemy will die laughing."
"So long as only the enemy dies." Marcus growled. "Up now. We need to be ready when the Warlord calls us forward."
We mounted up, with Gils scrambling to secure the pack horse with the healing supplies. The leather jerkin was chafing at the back of my neck, and I shrugged, trying to
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