The Aebeling Read Free

his arm, leaving a gash that would require stitches. He also had a gash in his head from when he had been unfortunate enough to land on a rock as he fell. The rock probably saved his life as the attackers had thought him dead. He was sure to have a very bad headache in the morning. As Conn assessed the wound, he regained consciousness.
    Caewyn introduced her companions.
    ‘Conn il MacLeod – this is Derryth, and that is Elva. Please do what you can for Derryth; he will surely die before we can get him back to our village.’
    Conn requested boiling water, and Caewyn sent Elva to light a fire. He told Derryth to stay still, as he cut and stripped the clothing from around the arrow head, which luckily had a straight edge. Meanwhile, using bamboo acupuncture needles as pain relief, Conn carefully pulled the arrow from Derryth’s shoulder. A deep flesh wound, there was a tear in the subclavian artery that was causing significant bleeding, and needed to be stitched. A trained paramedic, it took an hour for Conn to clean, stitch, dress and bandage all the wounds. Derryth should make a full recovery, albeit he would not be using that shoulder for some time.
    Caewyn had spent the entire time looking over Conn’s shoulder.
    ‘For a great wiga, you are an excellent medic, Conn il MacLeod. If I can judge your work, I would think that Derryth might live.’
    ‘I believe so too, but he will need to rest for a day at least, so that the stitches do not tear. We do not want him to start bleeding again. How many days ride is it to your home?’
    ‘In his condition over three days; we have been travelling up the valley to find another Priecuman, who is a trader, and a friend to the Twacuman. His name is Abrekan. He was running late this year so I came to find him. Instead of us finding him, you found us, so it is a strange circle. But I did not expect to encounter the Rakians. I do not understand how they made it into the valley.’
    ‘Rakians?’
    ‘The Priecuman men that attacked us; they are from the south – from a land called Rakia.’
    Conn feigned understanding. ‘Anyway, a day is too far with his wounds. My camp is an hour away. We should rest there, at least for tonight.’
    With his work complete and Derryth resting, Conn stood; and had his first chance to look at the two females in detail. The Twacuman were clearly human – Priecuman – but they didn’t call themselves that. They were shorter than him, with slim physiques, light brown skin, dark brown or black hair and black eyes. They had very elegant and sensual faces. Elva was particularly beautiful, tall and sleek, and although dressed as a warrior, there was a lot of woman under the armor.
    They were both wearing a heavy weave but loose fitted linen trousers, and a simple blouse that finished at their hips and was covered by a leather bodice laced to the front; cut low, it either compressed or promoted their breasts. A thick belt was tied around their waists, and carried a dagger and a pouch. Elva was also wearing light shoulder pads and leather vambraces.
    As for their ages, he couldn’t really tell – but Elva had to be at least thirty.
    They were all a huge contrast to Conn, and he found Caewyn studying his face.
    ‘You have the strangest eyes – they are bright blue – just like the sky or the lake’, she said, and giggled. ‘Are you sure you can see through them?’
    Conn assured her that he could. He was about to return to his horse when Caewyn grabbed his hand. ‘There is something we need to do,’ and she turned him to face Elva. ‘Elva is a cempestre.’
    Elva sank to one knee and bowed her head. ‘I wish to make a life pledge. I am indebted for all our lives, and I will gladly repay my debt with my life.’
    Conn had no real idea what a cempestre was, but he assumed it was some kind of warrior – later he would learn that it was a term for female warriors. The males were called wiga. As Conn watched, Elva withdrew a dagger from her waist and