The Children of Urdis (Grimwold and Lethos Book 2) by Jerry Autieri Page B
Authors: Jerry Autieri
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enchanted arrows. Wouldn't it have been nice to tell me that first?" Magnor shook his head and tugged the arrow even as the cuts folded shut around the shaft. "This isn't coming out the normal way. I'm no sorcerer. I'm just an old warrior who has spared a man or two from a fatal wound. This is beyond me."
"But you are the only one I know who can help."
"What about your other friends, the woman and the man?" Magnor was already cleaning his blade again, washing away Grimwold's blood.
"They had to leave us for a while, and I don't know how to find them. I'm not sure they would know what to do. He needs a surgeon to remove this arrow."
Magnor stared at him and the onlookers bowed their heads. "I don't know what to tell you. The war chief is not dead, nor is he alive. We can wait a few days to see what happens, but a new leader must be chosen if he does not improve. In times like these, the people need a strong leader."
"Just try to pull the arrow out." Lethos stepped closer, and half the men and all the women stepped back. He paused, surprised at their fear, but then remembering what they must have witnessed him doing. He raised his hands in peace. "Please, I do not trust my own hands to guide the arrow correctly. You have the most experience."
The crowd waited on Magnor, who tucked his chin down in thought. At last he wiped his hands and gripped the arrow with one and braced the other beside it on Grimwold's chest. "If this snaps, I'm not going to be responsible for it."
"Just do your best. I know of no other to help, and I fear the longer that arrowhead stays in him the worse he will become."
Magnor started to pull slowly. Grimwold's flesh sucked at the arrow as it withdrew. Heads leaned in to watch. More of the arrow slid from the wound, sticky with blood. Lethos felt the pain in his chest grow sharper. Sweat beaded on Magnor's forehead and his arm trembled from the slow but forceful pace.
Lethos saw the stone arrowhead begin to emerge.
Then Magnor leapt back with a yelp. Yellow fire and heat flared where the arrow had been, and with a dull pop the stone arrowhead sucked back into Grimwold's flesh. Lethos felt again as if he had been struck with a spike in his chest, and he too fell aside clutching the spot. Everyone else shouted and scattered. Grimwold lay motionless, unchanged.
"It burned my palm!" Magnor held up his hand, revealing a red line that had already begun to blister. Lethos recovered and rushed to Grimwold. The wound had healed over, but the arrowhead was still sealed inside his flesh. He could feel the shadow of it in his own chest.
"It jumped back into his body," said the man with the bandaged head. "It was like a fish desperate to jump back into the sea. It just popped back into the wound."
"This is sorcery," Magnor said. "The war chief is cursed. And you ..."
Lethos felt every eye turn to him. He had let the bull rule him, and without even asking he knew he had turned on his own. The story was written in the eyes of the men accusing him. He nodded.
"Take War Chief Grimwold with you wherever you go," Magnor said. "But you can't stay with us. Leave. Find help elsewhere. We will find a new leader among our own kind."
Lethos knew to argue was futile. He looked down at Grimwold's stillness and envied him for it. He had to find help in this land of strangers or Grimwold and he both were as good as dead.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lethos had hoped for at least a night's rest before being packed off, but he had underestimated both his status and the fear he generated. Magnor, acting like the new war chief, ordered men to ensure he left with Grimwold. The men assigned to him blanched at their assignment but did not protest. Lethos had never seen warriors act so sheepishly around him. They stayed out of arm's reach as if ready to flee in an instant, but followed him everywhere as he packed his meager belongings.
He stood now at the center of Greenvik,
"But you are the only one I know who can help."
"What about your other friends, the woman and the man?" Magnor was already cleaning his blade again, washing away Grimwold's blood.
"They had to leave us for a while, and I don't know how to find them. I'm not sure they would know what to do. He needs a surgeon to remove this arrow."
Magnor stared at him and the onlookers bowed their heads. "I don't know what to tell you. The war chief is not dead, nor is he alive. We can wait a few days to see what happens, but a new leader must be chosen if he does not improve. In times like these, the people need a strong leader."
"Just try to pull the arrow out." Lethos stepped closer, and half the men and all the women stepped back. He paused, surprised at their fear, but then remembering what they must have witnessed him doing. He raised his hands in peace. "Please, I do not trust my own hands to guide the arrow correctly. You have the most experience."
The crowd waited on Magnor, who tucked his chin down in thought. At last he wiped his hands and gripped the arrow with one and braced the other beside it on Grimwold's chest. "If this snaps, I'm not going to be responsible for it."
"Just do your best. I know of no other to help, and I fear the longer that arrowhead stays in him the worse he will become."
Magnor started to pull slowly. Grimwold's flesh sucked at the arrow as it withdrew. Heads leaned in to watch. More of the arrow slid from the wound, sticky with blood. Lethos felt the pain in his chest grow sharper. Sweat beaded on Magnor's forehead and his arm trembled from the slow but forceful pace.
Lethos saw the stone arrowhead begin to emerge.
Then Magnor leapt back with a yelp. Yellow fire and heat flared where the arrow had been, and with a dull pop the stone arrowhead sucked back into Grimwold's flesh. Lethos felt again as if he had been struck with a spike in his chest, and he too fell aside clutching the spot. Everyone else shouted and scattered. Grimwold lay motionless, unchanged.
"It burned my palm!" Magnor held up his hand, revealing a red line that had already begun to blister. Lethos recovered and rushed to Grimwold. The wound had healed over, but the arrowhead was still sealed inside his flesh. He could feel the shadow of it in his own chest.
"It jumped back into his body," said the man with the bandaged head. "It was like a fish desperate to jump back into the sea. It just popped back into the wound."
"This is sorcery," Magnor said. "The war chief is cursed. And you ..."
Lethos felt every eye turn to him. He had let the bull rule him, and without even asking he knew he had turned on his own. The story was written in the eyes of the men accusing him. He nodded.
"Take War Chief Grimwold with you wherever you go," Magnor said. "But you can't stay with us. Leave. Find help elsewhere. We will find a new leader among our own kind."
Lethos knew to argue was futile. He looked down at Grimwold's stillness and envied him for it. He had to find help in this land of strangers or Grimwold and he both were as good as dead.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lethos had hoped for at least a night's rest before being packed off, but he had underestimated both his status and the fear he generated. Magnor, acting like the new war chief, ordered men to ensure he left with Grimwold. The men assigned to him blanched at their assignment but did not protest. Lethos had never seen warriors act so sheepishly around him. They stayed out of arm's reach as if ready to flee in an instant, but followed him everywhere as he packed his meager belongings.
He stood now at the center of Greenvik,
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