Blade of Champions

Chapter Nine: Water

        CHAPTER NINE

        WATER

Hughell woke to a ghastly, rasping sound in his ear.

He rolled away from it, repulsed, but as he woke he twisted to see where the sound was coming from. In the faint light of dawn, he saw that the boy was coughing; dry, wracking coughs that exploded from deep inside his thin body.

Hughell rolled over. The hemp ropes had shrunk in the moisture and felt like they were slowly cutting off his wrists. With some effort, he positioned his hands across the lad's glistening forehead. Just as he suspected, it was burning hot. The droplets were not dew, but fever-sweat.

Hughell squeezed from the shelter and went walking along the gully, peering under ferns and behind boulders in search of help. He didn't know much about diseases, but this one looked serious enough.

After a short hunt he found Lady Nadoli with one of her knights, receiving a report by the look of things. She had one elbow propped against a tree-fern, and was frowning darkly as she gnawed on her thumbnail. Every so often, her head would give a slight nod, to show that she was indeed listening. The longer he talked, the deeper the frown grew.

'We don't know what to do with it,' the knight was saying. 'Nothing was reported last night, beyond the normal complaints. Now those of us that aren’t come down with it will be hard pressed to care for them all.'

Here Nadoli's chin lifted. 

'We will care for them,' she said. 'Care for them – and carry them. We have to keep moving. If any more come down with it and we're stuck here, we’ll be too far from Cytra to send for help.'

For a moment, the knight looked like he was going to protest, but then he nodded. 'Ok then. If you think so, I'll spread the order the order to pack up.'

Nadoli caught his shoulder as he went to leave. This time when she spoke her voice was not so harsh. 'Tell them that we will only go so fast - and so far - as they are able. Have litters made up for those who cannot walk.'

In minutes, the peaceful gully had transformed into a scene of quiet, dogged activity. 

Hughell made his way back towards the rocky overhang as fast as he could. The moss and slime were wet and trecherous, and he took care not to go headlong over one of the countless rocks that were scattered around. He found the lad laying just as Hughell had left him.

After observing how some others went about it, Hughell managed to put together a rough stretcher, by breaking the woody fronds off the tree ferns and stuffing the ends into the hood of his cloak, before dragging it along by the bottom hem.

He dragged the makeshift litter beside the alcove where they had camped and rolled the boy unceremoniously onto it. The lad groaned pitifully, and Hughell winced, hoped it was from the discomfort of being disturbed, not from the pain of the illness, whatever it was. He'd seen people sick  before, but not like this.

Next came the tricky part. Hughell had spent days working out how to switch his tied hands from in front of his chest, to behind his back. He bent over and squeezed his feet, one before the other, through the loop of his arms. It was a tight squeeze. His shoulder muscles screamed a protest as they stretched, but he managed to force them back and straighten. Gritting his teeth, he knelt down to pick up the edge of the cloak. 

When all were ready, the company gathered at the far end of the gully, where a steep ascent marked the path out. They were a sorry sight; many who were not dragging litters had at least one person leaning on them for support. A few who were not so ill struggled on alone with the help of quickly cut staffs. If group morale had been low last night, it was down to the bedrock this morning.