The War of Six Crowns: The Vanished Knight

The Voice Returns

A hard torso pressed against Callan's back and hands grabbed hold of Quinlan's wrist. Her rescuer dug his thumb into Quinlan's arm, forcing him to release her. He dropped back onto the bed with a groan and closed his eyes.

Air scalded Callan's throat and she bent double, coughing. Her eyes stung.

"Shh, you'll be all right. Take deep breaths," Gawain coaxed, his voice just above a whisper. He gently rubbed her back.

Callan straightened and turned to him. "Thank you." She coughed some more.

"I'm going to kill that medic," Gawain snarled and ran his hands up and down her arms, keeping the worst of her chills at bay.

"Why?" she asked before bursting into another round of coughs.

"Leaving someone like you alone with..." He pointed at Quinlan's still form.

"I could have said no."

His expression darkened. "Why didn't you?"

"I wanted to help."

"Damn it, Callan! If I hadn't come in..."

His words hit home; she could have died just now.

Gawain's expression immediately softened. "I'm sorry."

He pulled her against his chest and held her there. She rested her head against him, seeking out his heart's comforting rhythm. It beat a bit faster now, but she didn't care. She only needed his warmth and strength right now.

Her view focused on Quinlan's pale form, his blood-soaked bandage.

"Quinlan," she croaked and rushed to his side. His skin glistened with sweat and water. She touched his face. If anything, his temperature had increased.

"He ripped his stitches." Gawain charged to the medicine table and grabbed some bottles and herbs. Then he went through a chest of drawers in one corner. "Keep him cool and calm for as long as you can." He pulled out string and needles.

Callan nodded and went back to bathing his face and chest. Quinlan strained under her hand again, flexing his hands. She fought the urge to recoil, watching blood spread over the bandage. He strained again, groaning in pain. She had to do something to calm him if she wanted to keep him alive. But what?

Her mind flew back to all the times she'd awoken from nightmares as a child.

"Sh-shh... Mo chrie. Ko nehar forien na," she murmured, trying to remember the words her mother would have said. There's nothing.

His muscles relaxed beneath her hands.

She caressed his brow. "Ri neor gael." I am here.

What else could she say?

Gawain sat down on the bed next to Quinlan and gently lifted his torso. "Untie his bandage, please. And keep going," he requested softly.

Callan fumbled the knot loose and rolled off the bandage. More blood gushed from the gaping wound in Quinlan's side. Gawain frowned and laid him back down.

"Anaeras, ri naera gael." Always, I will be here. The words stabbed at her throat, making her voice hoarse.

"Eat some of this." Gawain handed her the bowl of salve he'd just prepared; the same goo he'd used on her face before. "It tastes worse than shit, but will anesthetize your throat."

Callan dipped her finger into the goo and put a lump of it into her mouth. Its bitterness burned her tongue. She swallowed more than once to force it down, but her throat felt better within seconds.