Crace Coram lowered Railing to the ground, knelt next to him, and began to examine his leg. The boy was grimacing in pain, doing his best not to cry out as the Dwarf’s fingers moved carefully over his injury.
“Leg’s fractured,” the Dwarf declared after a moment. “Bone has to be reset.” He looked over at Redden, who was kneeling across from him. “Hold his shoulders. Skint, grab his other leg.”
Both did as they were asked. Redden, knowing what was coming, closed his eyes and gritted his teeth in anticipation. Coram placed his hands carefully on the boy’s damaged leg and gave a quick, hard pull. Railing screamed once and fainted.
The Dwarf nodded to Redden and Skint to let go, and then he climbed to his feet. “He needs to have splints strapped to keep the bones in place. Find some lengths of wood.”
Skint went off across the escarpment toward the cliffs and a scattering of trees backed up against the foothills. Redden felt his brother’s forehead, and glanced up at Crace Coram. “Thanks.”
The Dwarf nodded. “Keep him still until that leg is splinted and bound good and tight. Shouldn’t be hard. He won’t wake for a while.”
Khyber Elessedil came over to make certain the Ohmsford twins were being attended to, giving Redden a wan smile and a touch of her hand on his shoulder. Redden glanced around at the company, all of whom were either on watch at the edge of the escarpment or binding one another’s wounds. He counted heads and found two of the Druid Guard missing. Everyone else seemed to have made it clear.
Then he caught sight of the Speakman, who was hunched over, rocking back and forth and moaning softly. Farshaun knelt close, trying to soothe him and at the same time shield him from the others. He wasn’t having much luck with either.
“There’s no backbone in that one,” the boy heard Pleysia mutter as she walked past him, stone-faced. Oriantha followed in her wake, head lowered. The girl had returned to normal, the lethal fury and bestial savagery gone. She caught Redden looking at her, and he turned away quickly.
The boy was still sitting beside his brother when Farshaun came over and knelt next to them. “How is he?”
“His leg’s broken. Crace Coram rescued us both.”
“The Dwarf’s a warrior. We could use a few more like him.” Farshaun glanced over at the Speakman, who was still whimpering, balled up in a knot to hide his face. “I think we’ve lost our guide. He’s become completely unhinged by this.”
“Can you help him?”
“Not if I keep him here, I can’t. I have to take him back.” He glanced down at Railing. “Your brother, too, I expect. He can’t go any farther.”
He got up and returned to the Speakman before Redden could ask him how they could possibly expect anyone to transport Railing back through such dangerous country. He would have to be carried out, and given what they had already experienced, that seemed impossible.
Skint had been gone a long time, long enough that Khyber Elessedil began to inquire after him, having not seen him since he departed in search of splints for Railing’s leg. Gathering those should have taken no more than ten or fifteen minutes, and it was well past that when he reappeared, approaching at a fast trot. Coming over to Redden, he handed him the splints, breathing hard.
“Can you do this without me? The splints go here, here, and here.” He pointed out each place and handed the boy some strips of cloth that he had stuffed in his carry bag. “Use these to bind him up.”
Then he turned to Khyber, who had walked over to join them. “I’ve found something,” he announced, eyes bright and eager. “Right back there, between those cliffs. I don’t know what it is exactly, but I think you should see it for yourself.”
The Ard Rhys frowned. “You don’t know what it is? What does it look like?”
“A waterfall.”
27
Leaving several of the trolls from the Druid Guard to keep watch at the edge of the escarpment, Khyber Elessedil gathered together the remaining members of the expedition. When she noticed Redden Ohmsford still sitting by his brother, she called him over, as well. She could detect the reluctance mirrored on his face, but she had already made up her mind he was needed.
She was energized by Skint’s discovery while at the same time reluctant to act on it immediately. She had hoped she might be able to give her followers a little more time to recover from the attack they had just fought off before setting out again. Everyone was worn down, and many were injured. They hadn’t eaten or drunk anything since that morning save what they had managed during their abbreviated stops. Sunset was only a few hours away, and a night’s sleep would help everyone.
On the other hand, they were at constant risk in this country, and that wasn’t going to change. Several of the party were already dead, and unless they moved quickly more might soon join them. They needed to get this business over and done with. These attacks troubled her. The creatures they were encountering were unfamiliar. She should have been able to identify them, but couldn’t. Even the Speakman, who had been living in this country for many years, claimed not to have seen them before. If that was so, why were they seeing them now?
Something felt very wrong.
She made her decision. The enigmatic waterfall was just a short distance off. Delay in their advance meant risking another attack, and the best way to avoid that was to keep moving. If they could solve the mystery of the waterfall today, they would be able to start out fresh in the morning toward the completion of their search for the missing Elfstones.
They were close, she sensed. They needed to go on.
How much of this was sound reasoning and how much wishful thinking was difficult for her to determine. She understood that many of her decisions so far had been driven by her belief that finding the Stones was of overriding importance. It was a conviction that persisted even in the absence of concrete evidence—a certainty born of faith and instinct and a lifetime of experience dealing with magic.
“The waterfall is close,” she told those assembled. “I want us to investigate it now, not tomorrow. I think we need to move as quickly as we can, given what’s happened so far. We are at constant risk, and the more time we take to complete this search, the greater that risk becomes.”
She looked from face to face. “So this is what we will do. Seersha will remain here with Railing Ohmsford, Farshaun Req, and the Speakman. Two of my Druid Guard will stay with them. The rest of us will continue to the waterfall. We will explore it before it gets dark and then either bring the others to join us or come back here. Tomorrow, we will decide who continues on this journey and who goes back.”
No one voiced any objection, and no one offered a comment on her decision. She would have felt better about it if someone had. But not even Pleysia, usually so contentious, had anything to say.
She dismissed them for a short rest before setting out and went immediately after Redden Ohmsford, catching up to him before he could reach his brother.
“Walk with me,” she asked him.
She moved him away from the others so they were alone. She noted the strain on his young face as she considered how much she should tell him now and how much she should keep for later.
“Your brother will have to be sent back,” she said, deciding that it was best to be direct. “He can’t keep up with the rest of us, and I can’t risk injury to others by asking them to carry him. You understand this, don’t you?”
He shook his head. “I don’t want to leave him.”
“I know. But I need you more than he does.”
She saw the confusion mirrored in his eyes. “I have to stay with my brother. I have to look out for him.”
“I can’t let you do that. I need you to come with me. Remember what I told you when I came to Bakrabru? Allanon’s shade insisted a member of the Ohmsford family must come on this expedition. That was what brought me looking for you in the first place. That requirement hasn’t changed. I need one of you with me, Redden. Railing can’t come any farther. It has to be you.”