Subikahn appreciated having something to do other than study her every movement and worry. Hel could not come for Saviar as long as Chymmerlee moved him always a few moments farther from death. He saw no real purpose to her request. He was not strong enough to carry Saviar alone, and it seemed unlikely she could do much to help. They might manage to drag him short distances, with great effort, but it would take a month to reach even the nearest town.
When Subikahn returned with an armload of sturdy wood, Saviar did not appear much different. The flow of pus had stopped, though whether because Chymmerlee had staunched it or the amount trapped in the bandages had run its course, he did not know. The edges of the wound did seem more purple than black, and the red streaks looked, perhaps, a trifle less angry. Saviar continued to sleep. He no longer grunted, and his chest rose and fell in regular breaths. Though he had hoped for more, Subikahn would take whatever help he could get. Without Chymmerlee, Saviar would not have lasted the day.
Subikahn crouched at his brother's head, peeling away copper-colored hairs sweat-plastered to a forehead that still felt dangerously fevered. He stared at Chymmerlee, suddenly feeling desperately indebted and ashamed. He wanted to apologize but worried that talking might interrupt her concentration. He had so many things he wished to say, so many questions to ask. But, for now, he concentrated only on his project.
CHAPTER 29
The hardest task in war is to lie in support of those engulfed in the fight. -General Santagithi WHEN SUBIKAHN FINISHED CRAFTING a litter large enough to support his broad-boned, powerful brother, he found Chymmerlee pawing through their packs. A thief, too? Irritation flared, swiftly suppressed. She could have everything he owned in payment for bringing Saviar back from the brink of death. "Looking for something?" he asked, trying to hold judgment from his tone.
Chymmerlee dropped the pack, cheeks flushing in raw circles. "I'm sorry. When I expend that much energy, I get desperately hungry. Your packs are practically empty. Don't you men carry anything to eat?"
Subikahn dropped down beside her, feeling foolish. "I've got all our clothing piled on Saviar, and I'm afraid we're better warriors than hunters."
"Saviar," Chymmerlee repeated, looking toward the sleeping figure. "Is that your brother's name?"
"Yes." Subikahn suddenly realized his major breach in etiquette. "And I'm Subikahn. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."
"Well, you were too busy… um… threatening me." Chymmerlee's smile made it clear she meant no malice.
Nevertheless, Subikahn lowered his head. "I'm sorry about that, too. I was just-"
"-worried about your brother. Who wouldn't be?"
"Yes." Subikahn rose. "I'll get you something to eat. I've got a good idea, now, what's not going to make us sick."
Chymmerlee laughed, though Subikahn had not intended his words as a joke. "Why don't you let me do the gathering. My tastes run a bit grander than just not getting sick."
Subikahn smiled sheepishly. "All right. I'll restart the fire." He headed toward Saviar while Chymmerlee disappeared into the woods, his waterskin in her hand.
Subikahn stirred the ashes, finding an occasional enduring ember. He tossed on a handful of kindling, watching one tenacious cinder blacken a threadlike fork of a larger branch. Gradually, a thin line of smoke emerged, then a spark rose into a tremulous fire. Subikahn rearranged the kindling to take advantage of the flames before turning his attention to his brother.
Saviar's face looked more familiar than it had in days, his sturdy jaw and classically handsome features restored from the pall of pain and concern that had enwrapped them for the last several days. He placed his fingers against Saviar's neck, rewarded by a strong, steady beat. Chymmerlee had not disturbed the plastered layer of clothing, but had simply laid a single cloak over him. The leg was rebandaged. The red lines dragging out from the wound had not wholly disappeared, but they looked less swollen, less prominent, and extended only to his upper thigh and mid-calf.
"Saviar," Subikahn said in a loud whisper. When he got no response, he spoke louder and added a sturdy shake. "Saviar!"
Saviar responded only with a grunt.The tip of his tongue appeared briefly between his lips, then disappeared back into his mouth.
"Saviar, wake up!"
Saviar only snuggled deeper into the cloak. His lids did not even flutter.
"Wake up! Wake up!" Subikahn screamed into Saviar's face. He shook his brother so hard he worried to further injure him.
Again, Saviar grunted and moved a bit, but he did not open his eyes or attempt speech.
Subikahn threw himself to the ground beside his brother. What good did it do to drag Saviar from Hel's grip, only to leave him alive but senseless? The gratitude he had felt only moments earlier turned to resentment. He knew he should not judge until he had all the facts from Chymmerlee, but he suddenly worried that she would never return. The possibility that she did work for Hel, that she had saddled the brothers with the worst possible fate for all eternity crept into his mind and refused banishment. Terror merged with rage and hatred, a sense of utter failure, and it boiled into a mixture nearly beyond his control. It was all Subikahn could do to keep himself from chasing after Chymmerlee. Perhaps, that too, was what she wanted. While he ran after the messenger, Hel could safely swoop in and claim her prize.
By the time Chymmerlee returned, skirt loaded with strange roots, stems, and a single coney, Subikahn was pacing angrily. The waterskin slung over her arm left a wet patch on the side of her shift.
Subikahn had promised himself to prod gingerly but found himself rounding on the woman, helpless to stop himself from shouting. "What have you done to him! What have you done!"
Chymmerlee's features knotted in concern. She dumped her load unceremoniously and ran to Saviar. "What's happened?"
"He won't wake up!" A teary jerk in Subikahn's voice slaughtered the righteous anger. "I can't wake him." He choked, no longer able to hide behind rage. "What's wrong with him?"
Kneeling at Saviar's side, Chymmerlee rocked backward. "Subikahn, I told you I was only going to stabilize him. I can stop more poison from getting to his organs, but he needs to handle what's already there himself."
Subikahn did not understand. "Poison? I didn't-" He broke off, ashamed to tell Chymmerlee where Saviar's wound had come from.
"The kind of poison I'm talking about comes from festering wounds. If it gets bad enough, it travels through the body and damages organs: heart, brain, kidneys, everything."
Subikahn did not know what to say.
"That's why people with infected wounds die."
Subikahn had never thought of it that way. He understood how a festered limb might require amputation, but he never quite appreciated how it led otherwise strong warriors to fade away. "How can he 'handle' it if he's unconscious?"
Apparently satisfied with Saviar's condition, Chymmerlee returned to sort the foodstuffs. "That's the best way to handle it. If you take the strain of regular work off the body, you give it time to heal itself."
Subikahn shook his head. "But how can he heal without food and water?"
"He can't," Chymmerlee admitted, looking up from her sorting. "We'll have to get those things into him without him having to… ingest them."
Subikahn stared.The words made no sense to him. "How can you take food and water without… ingesting?"
"We'll manage." Chymmerlee offered three lumpy, brown tubers. "Bury those in the ashes."
Subikahn accepted the tubers, though they looked more like rocks than food. "Are these any good?"
"A delicacy," Chymmerlee assured. "Any chance you can skin the coney?" Though she had carried it over, she clearly did not wish to touch it again.
Subikahn felt certain he could figure it out. "Sure. Don't you want to?"