Light Of Loreandril (42 page)

“Can I see him?”

“I will make sure word is sent to him,” she answered, adding firmly, ”but you are not well enough to get up yet, so please don’t try.”  Reluctantly, Cradon nodded. He was becoming aware of tight bandages strapped around his shoulder and chest, although he still felt no pain.

“I am going to inform the healer you are conscious.” The nurse finished tucking him in. “Remember, stay in bed…….and just take small sips.” Cradon lifted his hand, motioning that he understood.

Once she had left, Cradon sighed and eased himself back into his pillows. He chuckled to himself, as he was suddenly reminded of when he was very young with chicken pox being tended to by his mother. She had behaved in just the same authoritative, yet caring manner.

As he looked around, Cradon began to take in his surroundings. The chamber was long and narrow, with beds lining each side, leaving a wide aisle in between. The walls were clean and whitewashed, without windows, and the white, arched ceiling seemed usually low. He realised his bed was also very low and too short for his body. Cradon chuckled to himself as he realised how short the nurse must have been.

Feeling his strength starting to return and his body slowly wake up from its long slumber, he leaned over, reaching for his glass. Cradon stopped moving as he felt the twinge of pain down his shoulder blade. Memories of his fight came flooding back. His head began swimming with dizziness, as everything seemed to hit him all at once. The boy slumped back into his pillows, dropping the glass on the tiled floor.

A nurse, who had been making beds, came running over.

“Are you all right?” She was flustered, almost out of breath from her sprint.

“I’m sorry about the glass. My pain……” he trailed off, feeling feeble and embarrassed. The dizziness was starting to pass now he was lying still again.

“Not to worry! It will sweep up easily!” The nurse glided off down the aisle, her feet hidden by her long white gown. She soon reappeared, accompanied by his original nurse, one carrying a broom, the other a small tray with a replacement glass and jug of water.

Tutting, the nurse took a seat on the edge of his bed. “I thought I told you to take it easy?”

“I, um, well….”

“Now, the healer is coming to see you now, and I have also sent a messenger to your friend, so, please just lie back and relax.”

Cradon nodded in agreement, as she gently slid the extra pillows out from behind him so he could lie flat again. The other nurse had finished sweeping up the broken glass and his first nursed began to leave with her.

“Wait, please……what’s your name?” Cradon held out his hand to the female gnome. She turned, suddenly shy, showing her youth, her cheeks turning a deeper rosy red.

“Jila. My name is Jila,”

“My name is Cradon,” he smiled.

“I already know. Your friend told us when you were first brought here. I don’t think there is anyone in this Kingdom who doesn’t now know your name.”

“Why?”

“Well,” Jila paused, turning to look for a moment at the other nurse. “You’re the first Clansman many of us have ever seen.”

Cradon smiled, unsure how to respond. It had become second nature to be with other kin, but he was suddenly thrown back to when he first met Gomel and the others. It seemed so long ago now. He lay his head back, careful not to twist his shoulders and back muscles, closing his eyes once more.

“Cradon! My Lad!”

The boy instantly recognised the deep, booming voice of his friend Gomel. He opened his eyes and turned his head to look down the aisle, pleased to see Gomel trundling towards him as fast as his short stocky legs would move.

Tears began to well up in Cradon’s eyes as Gomel almost skidded across the polished tiled floor and into the bed. They hugged, although Gomel was careful not to clutch him too tightly for fear of hurting him.

“My dear boy, you had me so worried. I feared you would not make it.”

“As did we,” said a gravelly voice from behind Gomel. It was the Healer of the House, dressed in a floor length, white robe that draped heavily over his shoulders. “I thought you were beyond even my skills of healing.” He bowed his head low to his patient.

“So, does that mean that I am free to go?” Cradon asked eagerly as he tried to sit up on his elbows. Gomel piled up the spare feather pillows behind the boy’s back.

The healer shook his head, tutting. “I’m afraid not. Your wound is deep. It will take much time to tend to it in the appropriate manner.”

Gomel saw the immediately disappointment spread across Cradon’s face. “Perhaps my wife could tend to him at our home?”

Again the healer shook his head. “Forgive me, but your friends situation is still grave. There is the continued risk of blood infection and the wound needs cleaning and dressing at least twice a day. I’m afraid this is beyond the talent of anyone outside these walls.” He then turned to the disappointed boy. “I’m sorry, but I do have your best intentions at heart. I will try to make your stay as brief as possible.” The healer nodded once more and then left, his soft-soled moccasins barely making a sound on the tiled floor.

Almost at once, as if summoned, the two nurses came gliding over carrying trays of various ointments and wraps.

“I’m sorry, lad.” Gomel sat down on the bed, making the mattress sag. He patted the boy’s hand. “But, come tomorrow, with any luck, you will be able to meet my family. They are very eager to meet you.”

“Lean forward please……that’s right…..as far as you can.” The nurse helped Cradon move, taking some of his weight to ease the strain on his body.

He felt the touch of slightly cold hands on his skin and the bandages begin to loosen. The used dressings were placed on the tray beside the bed.

“Please hold still, this may feel a little strange.”

Cradon winced, not out of pain but at the squishy noises and rancid smell as more dressings were removed. It was a strange sensation. It felt as if part of his back was being lifted out, but there was an even more weird feeling of wriggling under his skin.

Assuming it was blood or puss running down, he could not resist the urge to have a look at the bandages, but immediately wished he had not. There were live, yellow maggots writhing around in strange brown ooze. Cradon almost retched at the disgusting sight.

“Ah, perhaps your healers do not use such methods?” The nurse chuckled at Cradon’s reaction.  He only managed a shake of head in response as he fought back the wave of nausea.

“They are very useful. They clean out deep wounds by feeding on the dead or infected tissue.”

As he thought of these maggots slowly eating him alive, Cradon retched again. It might have been common practice to Gnomes but it definitely was not to Clansman. Finally the new dressing was applied, including some fresh, hungry maggots, and the bandages tightened around his shoulder. The nurse helped Cradon lean back against his pillows and handed him a glass of cool water before carrying away the tray of maggots and bandages.

“You get some sleep, and I will be back in the morning to see you.” Gomel watched the nurses disappear down the corridor. “Hopefully you will be released tomorrow!”

The gnome turned back to Cradon and saw his eyes had already glazed over with sleepiness. He gently squeezed Cradon’s hand and waited until he had drifted off to sleep. There was a glimmer of a smile on his face, which Gomel hoped was the thought of seeing Ghornathia.

Gomel was carried along wth  the surging crowds through the streets towards the King’s palace. Given such recent, unprecedented events, the commoners were anxious for any announcements by the King and his council. There was not a single soul who would not be affected by the decisions made that day.

Elbowing his way through, Gomel eventually reached the palace steps, thankfully on time, with other court advisors also on their way to take their seats. They greeted each other in a courteous manner, with plenty of swift, official handshakes and nods. Gomel was a different matter. He was only greeted by one or two advisors who were seated nearest, but most eyed him wearily.

The court trumpets played their fanfare and everyone present rose for the King’s entrance. As usual, Gorthel, accompanied by his entourage of pages, servants and guards, entered swiftly. The King took his tall, angular, bronze throne covered with plush, crimson velvet cushions from which he could oversee all discussions in the chamber. Once comfortable King Gorthel raised his hand for the court to be seated.

The Speaker of the Council began proceedings with the usual summary of the day’s planned discussion. The court sat in breathless silence as they listened in detail to the events described by Gomel to the King. As the Aeonorgal was unveiled before the court there was a single long gasp, followed by quiet murmurs.

“The Lord, Honourable King Gorthel would ask that the council begin to discuss the matter of our Kingdom’s next move,” announced the Speaker, rolling up his scroll. After bowing to the King, he took a seat on a small bronze stool a few feet away.

“My Lord, perhaps the court could ask Gomel to speak further on recent events. I am sure it is not only I who have further questions for him.” As usual, Gokin was the first to speak.

Gokin was a High Advisor, First Chair for the Upper District, one of the more opulent areas of the Kingdom. He was several generations older than some of the others present and it was common-place for him to belittle those about him, seeing himself as more important. Like all gnomes his age he was completely bald, his head so shiny it could have been polished, except for the spatter of liver spots. Gokin also had the traditional long beard, although his was perhaps longer than most, with two long white streaks. He had a very distinguished look, dressed in ornate, richly coloured robes, rarely wearing the common tunic and breeches.  

“Very well. If Gomel is happy to undergo further questioning, it may be wise for the court to proceed as you wish,” replied the King, seeking out Gomel amongst the congregation of thirty or so advisors.

Gomel stood and nodded his agreement, his hand over his breast, humbling himself before the King and court.

“Perhaps our esteemed colleague could explain his actions of bringing an unknown, unwanted Clansman into our Kingdom, without first asking an audience from yourself, my Lord, or the Court?” continued Gokin.

The King motioned for Gomel to answer.

“As I have already explained fully to the King, it was imperative that the young clansman receive immediate medical attention. There was not time enough for permission to be granted before he entered.”

“He speaks the truth, my Lord and fellow advisors. The clansman was indeed nearing death.” It was the Head of the Healers, Franonel, who had himself tended to Cradon’s wound.

“Then what of the stranger now, pray tell? Does he roam unsupervised through our streets? What are his true intentions?”

Gomel took a deep breath, composing himself before answering the tedious Gokin. “The young man still lies on his sick bed. Once well, I myself will closely supervise him around Ghornathia and he will dwell under my roof. You have my sworn oath, my Lord, that he is of good, humble intentions, with no ill will towards any kin, especially our own.”

The King nodded and a murmur of approval rambled around the hall amongst the advisors. Only Gokin remained unconvinced.

“If he wishes no ill will to
any kin,
then perhaps you would like to explain how he came to be injured so gravely? I was led to believe it was during the course of a fight. Such a young swordsman must be highly trained to survive against the dark enemies that roam the wilderness outside these walls!” There was a mocking tone in his voice as he sneered at Gomel. There had always been disdain between these two, although Gomel had never been the instigator.

“I taught the boy myself. He was injured fighting for his life and the Aeonorgal. I can swear hand on heart that with out his help I would not have returned carrying the Aeonorgal. We and the Elves owe him a debt of gratitude.”

“
Gratitude?
Well, perhaps……..”

“Enough of this line of questioning, Gokin. While I respect your wisdom in such matters,” Gorthel declared, “I have already given my blessing for the clansman to stay. Perhaps we should move on to discussing the problem of the Aeonorgal, I am sure that even
you
are aware that this is a potential disaster waiting to befall our Kingdom!”

Gokin nodded, taking his seat feeling discomforted. Wisely, he decided to hold his tongue, at least for a short time. He stared at Gomel with his small, wrinkly eyes.

“My Lord, I would advise word be sent to the Elves as soon as possible,” stated Gomvil, a Chair for one of the Lower states where many gnomes lived and worked on tunnel maintenance and Kingdom expansion. “We cannot afford to draw the wrath of the enemy upon us!”

There was a murmur of agreement amongst the rows of gnomes.

“It is true,” piped up another representative. “We
cannot
and
should not
risk the safety we have,”

The individual conversations between advisors and representatives grew louder and louder, until it began to turn into a boisterous clamour of a multitude of voices, all trying to talk over one another. The King motioned to the Speaker who rang the small, bronze gong behind him. Immediately the noise stopped and the gnomes began taking their seats once more.

Gorthel sighed. “It appears we speak as one mind. You all voice the very fears I have already agonised over.” He turned to Gokin. “What would you suggest, Advisor Gokin?”

Gokin took his feet. “I, in my humblest opinion, believe that we cannot keep this Elvish magic here, within our sacred walls. We must return it immediately.” He bowed respectfully to the King and took his seat once more.

The King pondered for a moment. “And what do my other High Advisors believe is the correct course of action? Franonel?”

Franonel stood, taking a moment of composure before speaking his mind. “Although I agree we cannot keep the Aeonorgal here, I strongly believe it would be great folly to send it back into the outside world. We do not have the strength to protect it in the wilderness and we no longer have the navigation skills to travel through the lands to find the Elves.” He sighed again, stroking his greying beard. “My advice, my Lord, would be to send messengers to seek the Elves and ask for their help in transporting it.” The Healer bowed low before sitting.