Page 104 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

It takes a couple of attempts for him to push away from the tree, even with my help, but once we have, we make our way slowly back through the trees until we reach the clearing.

“Water’s no good—you need to clean it with spirits,” he mumbles as we walk, and I let out a snort.

“I didn’t have the chance to steal a bottle of vodka before we escaped from the castle,” I reply dryly, hauling him back to our makeshift camp.

“I’ve got some in my pocket,” he replies, patting the back pocket of his trousers before reaching out to steady himself on a nearby tree, taking deep breaths and another unsteady step.

“You’ve…You could have told me this before I went hunting for the water flask!” I practically shout, frustration getting the better of me. I know we will still need the water, it will be vital in keeping us alive, but my worry is making me crabby.

“Oops.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all, and I narrow my eyes at him, but the sod doesn’t seem to notice. When we finally reach the tree, I help him into a sitting position, and I might be a little rougher than necessary.

“Oops,” I reply with a shrug, kneeling at his side and picking up the abandoned water flask. Opening the lid, I take a gulp before handing it to him, but he shakes his head and reaches into his back pocket, wincing as he pulls out a small metal flask. I have no idea where he managed to get it from, he probably stole it from one of the guards. I can’t imagine the king is kind enough to supply his prisoners with alcohol.

“I deserved that,” he mutters, giving me the flask. Unscrewing the cap, I take a tentative sniff, pulling a face at the stinging sensation the alcohol causes.

Phew, that’s strong stuff, I think, having never understood the appeal of hard liquor, not that I’ve had access to it until recently. I remember the burning sensation when Grayson had given me some whiskey, and I had practically spat the amber liquid out there and then. At least this should work for cleansing the wound.

Shaking the flask, I praise the Mother that it feels almost full. I reach out, lift his shirt, and wince when I see the wound again, but I quickly try to mask my concern when I feel his eyes on my face.

“That bad?” he asks, but I don’t answer his question.

“I need to clean and dress your wound. It’s going to hurt, but I’ll try to be gentle.” Grabbing the flask again, I feel my hands shake, and I wish I didn’t have to do this, but something in my gut tells me that if I don’t, he won’t survive the trip to the elven city.

“If you find some angel’s breath, you can pack the wound with it, it should help draw the toxins from the wound,” he tells me, and I look up from the lesion, meeting his eyes. He knowshow serious his wound is, the poison travelling through his body is moving quickly. Taking a deep breath, I pull my gaze away from his and the possibilities of what could happen if I don’t get this right.

“Angel’s breath. Is that a plant?” I query, glancing around the clearing expectantly. If there’s something that would help, then I should try to find it. “Can you see it here?”

“Yes, it’s a plant, but you won’t find it here, it grows near running water.”

My gut sinks as he speaks. I don’t know where we’re going to find running water, or when we’ll come across it, so for now, we’ll have to do without it. I say as much, and wait for his nod for me to continue.

“Tell me something, talk to me. What’s the elven city like?” I ask to distract him, as I remove the cap from the flask again, pushing the fabric from his shirt up so it won’t fall down onto the wound while I’m trying to clean it.

“Elves prefer to live in smaller groups, unlike you humans who live like mites in a hive, all so close together,” he mutters, watching my movements carefully. “There are three different... factions of elves—high elves, sea elves, and wood elves. The main city, Galandell, is a place where we can all come together, although the high elves rule us all,” he explains, and I whisper the city name to myself, feeling a chill settle over me as I do.

“What are you?” I inquire, as I pour the alcohol onto his wound, although I’m pretty sure I can guess. He gasps and grits his teeth as soon as the spirits hit, his hands gripping handfuls of grass and balling into fists as if they it’s going to help keep him down.

“I’m a high elf,” he grit outs and I nod. I was right. He has an attitude about him that exudes high elf. I don’t know how I know this, but it’s a feeling that emanates from him.

Focusing on my task, I inspect the wound and pour a little more of the spirit onto it, trying to block out his pained noises. I stare down at my strips of fabric and bite my lip as I try to decide what to do next. Do I douse the fabric and sterilise it? No, I don’t want to make the wound wetter than it is, but if I pack it with unsterilized cloth, I could be adding a source of infection.

“Tell me about the different elves,” I prompt, feeling fidgety under his gaze. The heavy weight of his eyes lingers on me for a second longer before he looks away, and I feel like I can breathe again.

“Sea elves live in the cliffs, they worship our sea goddess. We don’t see much of them since they don’t like to leave the water. They are peaceful and prefer to be distanced from the rest of us. They abhor the war with the humans.” I glance up at that. There are elves who don’t want to be fighting with us? That is completely at odds to what we are taught in Arhaven. “The wood elves live within the forests, they worship nature and all living things. They are a haughty lot.” He laughs and it brings a quirk to my lips. I findhimhaughty, and if the wood elves are more so, then I am in for a surprise.

Wishing I had more supplies, or even this plant he told me about, I take a strip of the fabric and try to form a pad to cover the wound. “And the high elves?”

“We look like this.” He gestures to himself and I raise an eyebrow. “We are in charge of our government and the general running of the city. Most of us live in Galandell, but some choose to live in the smaller towns and cities.”

“So not all elves look like you?”

Thank the Mother, I think with a shake of my head. I couldn’t cope if they all looked like him.

Vaeril snorts and shakes his head, some of his pride shining through. “No. Sea elves are darker, tougher skinned, and broader in the chest. Their lungs are much bigger than ourssince they spend so much time in the sea, and it allows them to stay under water for a longer time. They tend to have either shorter hair than us, or none at all.” He grimaces as I press the pad over the wound, gritting his teeth as he pushes back against the tree. “The wood elves are... some of them look similar to how I look, but they... become one with nature. You’ll see what I mean when we get to the city.”

What he’s saying completely fascinates me. It’s a whole different world that I can’t even begin to imagine, and although I’m fearful of what’s to come, I’m excited to see what he’s describing. I want to see the sea elves and how they live. I want to escape into nature with the wood elves, and I want to observe how the high elves live. I’ve never had any plans for my future, it always seemed pointless when I was living day to day, never sure if I would survive until the next sunrise. So to suddenly have plans, wants, is a little overwhelming and exhilarating as I realise that it could all be possible.

“If you have so many different... factions, how do you all live together in one city?” I ask, as I start to cover the makeshift pad with the strips of fabric, winding them around his abdomen to hold it in place.

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