140

A crossbow bolt slices through the air. You gasp with pain as it penetrates your shoulder (lose 3 ENDURANCE points). Urik looks up in alarm. ‘Grey Star!’ he shouts. ‘You all right?’ You grit your teeth against the pain and nod. A dark stain of blood spreads across your robe. The Ooslo bird is losing height rapidly and, before the Shadakine are able to release another bolt, you are flying low enough to jump to the ground. At Urik’s instruction you untie the vine, wincing with the pain of your wound, and fall to the ground without further injury.

You tumble through a vast swathe of marsh grass that grows chest-high, and stretches in all directions. Urik gets to his feet and comes to inspect your wound. Bravely, you make to withdraw the shaft that protrudes from your shoulder but Urik stays your hand. ‘No, not yet. Much bleeding if you pull the spike. We need herbs … stop bleeding … stop infection, yes?’ You nod in agreement. ‘Come follow old Kundi. Find good herbs very near.’ He moves away, his eyes searching the ground, and you follow. Soon you reach a shallow waterway that cuts through the tall marsh grass like a trail. There, Urik finds what he is looking for and sits you down beside the little stream. ‘Urik cannot find anything to stop pain but make sure wound heal. I must hurt you now—I am sorry.’

With a hand both swift and sure, he pulls the bolt from your shoulder; you hiss with pain. He tears away the material of your sleeve and presses his steady hand to the wound. Then, cupping his hand, he takes some water from the stream and cleans the wound. Next, to your surprise, he grabs a handful of mud from the bottom of the stream and smears it over the injury. The cool mud eases the fire in your shoulder and, as it dries, quickly staunches the bleeding. He cleans the torn shreds of your sleeve and knots them like a bandage around your shoulder. ‘Is good?’ he asks.

‘I thank you, Urik,’ you reply. He pats your hand, affectionately.

‘No need for thanks,’ he says. ‘Wise old Kundi know healing ways. Pain stop soon.’

Suddenly, a terrible sound reaches your ears: a moaning howl like that of an animal in pain. Urik’s face darkens and he helps you to your feet. Crouching, so that you remain hidden, you both peep across the top of the marsh grass in the direction of the sound. In a small clearing, some two hundred yards away, you see a frightened peasant—a Shadakine slave. He is struggling to control two snarling hounds who tug at the lengths of thick chain fixed to their harnesses. They are huge and fierce: each has two heads with a single horn growing at the centre of each, and outsized fangs show through their slavering jowls. ‘Master! Master!’ the slave calls to a tall Shadakine, undoubtedly the officer in charge. ‘The Magdi—they smell something.’ The tall Shadakine officer screws up his eyes; a wicked smile plays across his face.

If you wish to attempt to evade by following the waterway, turn to 25.

If you wish to attempt a long-range attack with your Wizard’s Staff, turn to 105.