Step by step. And watch it. Slip, and you end up under those claws. Thank Urtho for giving us four legs. They retreated all the way to the shelf of rock in front of the cave, and that was where their own reinforcements stepped in.
“Duck!” came the familiar order, and this time when he and his father dropped to the ground, not only did rocks hurl over their heads, but a pair of daggers hummed past Tad’s ear like angry wasps. They both connected, too, and one was fatal. The wyrsa nearest the water got it in the throat, made a gurgle, and fell over, to be swept away by the rushing torrent. The second was lucky; he was only hit in the shoulder, but gave that familiar hiss-yelp, and vanished into the fog. Skan and Tad took advantage of the respite to turn their backs in turn and scramble into the cave itself.
There they turned again, prepared for another onslaught, but the wyrsa had evidently had enough for one day.
Tad sat down right where he was, breathing heavily, heart pounding; his father was less graceful and more tired than that, and dropped down into the sand as if he’d been shot himself, panting with his beak wide open.
“I always knew those throwing-knives were going to come in handy some day,” Amberdrake observed.
He looked nothing like the Amberdrake that Tad had known all his life. His long hair was a draggling, tangled, water-soaked mess; his clothing stained, torn, muddy, and also sodden. He wore a pack that was just as much of a mess, at least externally. At his waist was a belt holding one long knife, a pouch, and an odd sheath that held many smaller, flat knives, exactly of the kind that had just whizzed over Tad’s head.
“Yes, but—you had to—learn how—to throw them—first,” Skan replied, panting. “You and your— bargains!”
“They were a bargain!” Amberdrake said indignantly. “A dozen of them for the price of that one single fighting-knife that you wanted me to get!”
“But you—knew how to—use the—fighting-knife!”
Blade brought her father and Skan a skin of water each, and they drank thirstily. She looked from one to the other of them, and carefully assessed their condition. “I don’t think I’m going to ask where the rest of your group is,” she said quietly. “I’m pretty certain I already know.”
A tiny oil lamp cast warm light down on Amberdrake and his patient. Blade sat at her father’s feet while he examined her shoulder, as Skan and Tad kept watch at the mouth of the cave. “You did a fine job on Tadrith’s wing,” Amberdrake murmured. “I only wish he had done as good a job on your shoulderblade.”
Well, that certainly explained why it wouldn’t stop hurting. “You’re not going to have to rebreak it, are you?” she asked, trying not to wince. He patted her unhurt shoulder comfortingly, and it was amazing just how good that simple gesture felt.
“Not hardly, since it was never set in the first place. Immobilized, yes, but not set. I’m astonished that you’ve managed as much as you have.” He placed the tips of his fingers delicately over the offending bone. “It’s possible that it was only cracked at first, and not broken, and that somewhere along the line you simply completed the break. Hold very still for a moment, and this will hurt.”
She tried not to brace herself, since that would only make things worse. She felt his fingers tighten, sensed a snap, and literally saw stars for a moment, it hurt so much.
When she could see again, she was still sitting upright, and he still had his hands on her shoulders, so she must have managed not to move. She sagged gratefully against the rock he was sitting on, and wiped tears from her eyes, weakly.
“Now, stay still a moment more,” he urged. “I haven’t done this for a long time, and I’m rather out of practice.”
She obeyed, and a moment later, felt the area above the break warming. The pain there vanished, all but a faint throbbing in time with her pulse.
I’d forgotten he still has some Healing ability . . . not enough that he ever acts as a Healer anymore, but enough that he could in the war. In fact, he was first sent by his family off to train as a Healer, but his Empathic senses got in the way. In the war he was supposed to have been very good, even on gryphons.
Amberdrake finally lifted his hands from her shoulder and sighed. “I’m sorry, dearheart, I can’t do as much as I’d like.”
It was far more than she’d had any hope of before they arrived!
“You did a great deal, Father, believe me. I hope you saved plenty of yourself for Tad,” she said. “Especially since you did specialize in gryphon-trauma during the war!”
“I did,” he replied as she twisted around to look up at him. He combed his hair out of his eyes with one hand, and grimaced. “I’ll keep working on you two as I recuperate, too. But I never was as competent at Healing as I’d like, and accelerating bone growth—well, it’s hard, and I never did learn to do it well. Maybe if I’d gotten the right training when I was younger. . . .”
“Then you’d have been a Healer, Lady Cinnabar would have been your lady and apprentice instead of Tamsin’s, and I wouldn’t be here,” she interrupted. “I love you just the way you are, Father. I wouldn’t change a thing.”
And suddenly she realized that she meant exactly that, probably for the first time since she had been a small child.
She knew that he had needed to extend his empathic sense in order to Heal, and he still hadn’t barricaded himself; he felt that, and his eyes filled with tears.
He wanted to hear that from me as much as I wanted his approval! she thought with astonishment.
How could I have been so blind all this time? Thinking only the child could want approval from the parent—how stupid of me—the parent wants approval from the child just as much.
“Blade—” he said. She didn’t let him finish. She reached up for him as he reached down for her, and they held each other while his tears fell on her cheeks and mingled with hers.
It was he who pulled away first, not she; rubbing his nose inelegantly on the back of his hand as he sniffed, and managing a weak smile for her. “Well, aren’t we a pair of sentimental idiots,” he began.
“No, you’re a pair of sensible idiots, if that isn’t contradictory,” Skandranon interrupted. “You two were overdue for that, if you ask me. And, if you don’t ask me, I’ll tell you anyway, and I am right, as usual. Drake, what can she do now, if anything?”
“I’ve strengthened and knitted the bone a bit,” Amberdrake replied, looking at her although he answered Skan. “And I’ve done something about the pain. I wouldn’t engage in hand-to-hand, but you can certainly throw a spear, use a sling, or do some very limited swordplay. No shields, sorry; it won’t take that kind of strain.”
“We don’t have any shields with us, so that hardly matters,” she replied dryly. “Nor bows, either; we had to concentrate on bringing things we could use.”
“Well . . . I know how to make a throwing-stick and the spears to go with it, if you know how to use one,” Amberdrake admitted. “That should increase your range. There ought to be some wood in here straight enough for spears.”