“Help him up, Daneh,” a male voice said. Strong hands lifted him from under his armpits and balanced him.
“Gotta get back on the horse,” he said again. He looked around painfully and saw Diablo standing only a few feet away. His vision was going gray, in and out, and the horse looked as if it was at the end of a tunnel but it still appeared to have a sheepish expression on its face. His knees buckled for a moment as he thought he might faint but then the wave passed and he was still standing. Painfully, but standing.
“I need to get you to the infirmary,” Daneh protested.
“He can get there on the horse,” the voice said. “You can ride with him and balance.”
“No, Rachel can go,” Daneh said. “I’m needed here.”
Herzer realized that the other voice was Sir Edmund but it didn’t really matter. With Talbot steadying him he got a hand on Diablo’s mane and a foot in the stirrup. With an effort that called forth another blinding flash of pain from his head he got up in the saddle and leaned forward, swaying.
“Got back up,” he muttered, his eyes half closed against the pain. He was back up but he didn’t know where to go or how to get there. He kneed the horse towards the corral and stopped when a hand clutched the horse’s bridle, nearly unseating him again.
“Not back to work, hero,” Edmund said humorously. “There’s others to take over. You’re for the infirmary.”
Rachel was hoisted up behind him and with her pleasant anatomy pressed against his back the horse was led off to the infirmary. Distantly he heard some cheering.
“Was ’at,” he muttered. He couldn’t be bothered to lift his aching head.
“You don’t know?” Rachel said with a note of humor in her voice. “I guess you don’t even realize what a spectacle you made of yourself.”
“Whah specac… spec?” he asked.
“Later. Right now we have to get you into a bed and get your face cleaned up. Be glad you didn’t impact your nose, it would be all over your face. As it is, I don’t know why you don’t have a damned skull fracture or subdural cerebral hematoma. And you just might.”
Herzer wasn’t sure what she was talking about. He wasn’t even sure how he had ended up on the ground. The last thing he could remember was shooting his bow at a puma.
Somehow he managed to stay on the horse until they reached an open-sided building where willing hands helped him down from the horse. Diablo was starting to show some tendency to shy but Kane turned up and took control immediately.
“Need to… curry…” Herzer said. He really felt as if he was going to faint again.
“Get in bed, Herzer,” Kane laughed. “You’ve done enough for one day.”
Rachel led him into the building, which was blessedly dim, and set him down on a cot. It was, for a wonder, well padded with something. She didn’t let him lie down, though, propping him up with pillows.
“Now, I’m going to get to work on this head wound,” she said. “Don’t pass out on me; that would be bad.”
Fortunately she had a gentle touch. She washed the wound with warm water, eliciting a flow of blood, then wiped it clean and put on a wash that stung. But the sting was nothing to the pain in his head. Suddenly, he realized he was about to vomit.
“I’m going to…” he started to say then paused as his stomach flipped over.
She quickly picked up a bucket and held it for him as he emptied the entire contents of his last week of meals. Or so it seemed. The vomiting also increased his headache.
“Okay, that’s normal,” she said, setting the bucket to the side. “You’ve got a concussion. Just sit there and rest. You might be doing that for a few days.”
He lay back on the pillows and closed his eyes against the limited light in the room as she brushed his clothes as clean as she could. He felt he really should be doing that himself but he was feeling really bad. All he wanted to do was sleep.
“Don’t go to sleep on me,” Rachel said, shaking his arm. “Damn, I’m going to either have to sit here or get someone else to.”
“Why?” he asked, tiredly.
“You’ve got a concussion,” she repeated. “If you go to sleep you might not wake up again.”
That was an unpleasant thought to say the least. And it managed to focus his mind on not sleeping. And other things.
“What were you talking about when we were riding over here?” he asked. “A spectacle.” Then he started to remember where he’d gotten the head wound. “Oh, Mithras. That must have been a funny sight,” he sighed.
“What?” she asked. She looked at his hand and tisked. “What did you do to your fingers?”
“I didn’t have a bow-glove,” he replied. He had been firing so fast he hadn’t even noticed the pain in them.
“They’re cut practically to the bone you idiot!” she said, starting to bandage those as well. “And I suppose you could say that it was funny, if everyone hadn’t been watching all your other antics.”
“Antics?” he asked.
“Herzer, you were all over the damned field on that great big war-horse of yours,” she said acerbically, “killing things left and right. It was a bit more than spectacular. You save Kane’s life at least twice, if not getting gored by an enraged bull counts as saving a life. Then to top it off was that insane gallop to save Shilan. I mean, you should have heard the gasp when you took off. You were halfway across the field before anyone else had even started to react, galloping so fast it looked like you were riding a jet-car, not a horse. It was pretty clear everybody who had a moment was watching to see what you’d do next. I heard people betting on you.”
“Oh,” he said, trying to cudgel his brain. Had he really been that noticeable?
“Everybody thought Shilan was dead with that boar coming down on her and then you go and not only stick the damned thing, you turn it over on its side. And then, as far as everyone could tell, get yourself killed. Nobody thought you were going to stand up after hitting that branch and you were out of most people’s sight. The applause was because you came riding out.”
“Oh.”
“Do me a favor, okay? I’ve got enough problems as it is. Stop trying to be a hero.”
“Okay,” he said, puzzled.
“I’ll go find somebody to keep you awake,” she said, standing up and brushing off her skirt. “In fact, I think I know just the person.”
Herzer closed his eyes and leaned back again but started when he realized he was half asleep. He wasn’t sure if Rachel was serious about not waking up again, but he didn’t want to find out. He also wondered how long the prohibition would last.
He opened up his eyes and looked around the dim room. There were a couple of other beds occupied but nobody close enough to talk to.
With the immediate problems settled and being at liberty for the moment, he started to catalogue his other hurts. His neck was killing him and from the description of what had happened he was surprised it wasn’t broken. Really, really, glad. Being a quadriplegic in this society would suck. He might as well get some friend to cut his throat. For that matter, he wasn’t sure if he could survive. Would he have been able to breathe?
After a few moments of such gloomy thoughts, he looked up to see Rachel and Shilan coming into the building. He started to smile and then noted that Shilan’s arm was in a sling.
“Are you okay?” he asked with a wince from a sudden stab of pain in his head.
“Just a twisted elbow,” she said with a smile, sitting down on the stool that Rachel had vacated. Rachel handed her a pottery jug and walked out with a backward wave.