Elfhunter Read Online Free PDF Page B

she lowered her bow and followed him
without another word.
    It was truly dark, and the weather was positively
wretched by the time they reached Galador’s promised shelter. It
was a rare find—an unoccupied cave in the hillside with a smooth,
dry floor. It only went back about twenty feet to a solid wall, but
there was a small hole in the ceiling through which smoke from a
dying fire was curling. There was another person in the cave, near
the fire, wrapped up in a bundle of blankets. Three horses stood by
outside, their tails turned to the wind, heads down. As soon as the
three Elves entered, Galador spoke to Gaelen.
     
    "Try to get the fire going again, will you?"
    He lowered Nelwyn, who was by now reviving nicely, on
the opposite side of the fire. He pulled two spare cloaks from a
pack in the corner and tossed one to Gaelen, who busied herself
with building the fire back up, glancing curiously at the prone
figure on the floor nearby. It appeared to be a man, tall and
strong, but presently either wounded or ill. She approached him, as
Galador moved to join her.
    "Who is he? A friend of yours?"
    Galador observed the man with grave concern. "Yes, he
is a very good friend, and he is very ill. I would help him, but I
really don’t know what to do for him. I was hoping one of you would
be able to heal him."
    Gaelen sniffed. "You’d have better luck with the
fishermen than with us, I’m afraid. But let Nelwyn take a look when
she is recovered. She has some knowledge of healing arts."
    The man stirred again, moaning and opening his eyes.
He looked right through Gaelen as she placed a hand on his
forehead. "He is burning with fever. I have heard my folk speak of
this when they have dealings with men. They say that men die of
this. How is it that he is ill?"
    Galador shrugged. "I don’t know. He started getting
weak about three days ago. He really isn’t himself now. I fear for
him, but don’t know how to aid him." He looked helplessly at
Gaelen. "Any suggestion would be welcomed..." She now understood
why he had been in such a hurry to get back, and she would forgive
his discourteous treatment of her. Besides, he had pulled them from
the river. Her attention now focused on the man lying beside
her.
    "What is he called?"
    "His name is Rogond. Neither he nor I know his
heritage, other than as a man of the Tuathar, those of the lost
northern realm."
    "Tuathar?" Gaelen was intrigued. She had heard of
these tall Northmen in stories, and she had even met a few of them
when they found their way into the Greatwood. She knew them to be
generally good and noble, but mysterious. She was now looking
forward to learning more.
    Both she and Galador turned at the sound of Nelwyn
getting to her feet and moving to join them. She was still cold and
weary, but her color had improved. If she rested she would be fine
by morning. Gaelen told Nelwyn of all that had happened since the
river, and of Galador’s wish that they could heal Rogond.
    Nelwyn was not hopeful. "Alas! I have no power or
knowledge to heal such a sickness. It is beyond my experience," she
said.
    Gaelen agreed. In the case of a simple wound, they
could have been of aid. Even a festering wound, which the Elves
thankfully did not suffer, they could have dealt with. But this was
a real sickness, of the kind that sometimes devastated whole
populations of men.
    Nelwyn needed to rest; she was looking a bit wobbly
as she tried to rise to her feet. Galador laid hold of her
shoulders to steady her, assisting her back to her place by the
fire. He sat with her while she rested and ate the food that he
offered her.
    Gaelen drew the blankets back from the shivering man,
recoiling from the stench of sickness that surrounded him.
" Ehyah !" she exclaimed, and shook her head. Sometimes it
seemed that mortal men began dying the minute they were born. She
gently probed the man’s neck, feeling large, hard lumps beneath his
skin at the angle of his jaw. He was sweat-soaked and unshaven, and
his