The Warded Man (Demon Cycle, #1)(161)

“Nonsense,” Leesha said, entering the room and immediately going to her father’s side. He was pale and damp with sweat, but she did not recoil. She placed a hand to his forehead, and then ran her sensitive fingers over his throat, wrists, and chest. While she worked, she asked her mother questions about his symptoms, how long they had been manifest, and what she and Midwife Darsy had tried so far.

Elona wrung her hands, but answered as best she could.

“Many of the others are worse,” Leesha said. “Da is stronger than you give him credit for.”

For once, Elona had no belittling retort.

“I’ll brew a potion for him,” Leesha said. “He’ll need to be dosed regularly, at least every three hours.” She took a parchment and began writing instructions in a swift hand.

“You’re not staying with him?” Elona asked.

Leesha shook her head. “There’s near to two hundred people in the Holy House that need me, Mum,” she said, “many of them worse off than Da.”

“They have Darsy to look after them,” Elona argued.

“Darsy looks as if she hasn’t slept since the flux started,” Leesha said. “She’s dead on her feet, and even at her best, I wouldn’t trust her cures against this sickness. If you stay with Da and follow my instructions, he’ll be more likely to see the dawn than most in Cutter’s Hollow.”

“Leesha?” her father moaned. “S’that you?”

Leesha rushed to his side, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking his hand. “Yes, Da,” she said, her eyes watering, “it’s me.”

“You came,” Erny whispered, his lips curling into a slow smile. His fingers squeezed Leesha’s hand weakly. “I knew you would.”

“Of course I came,” Leesha said.

“But you have to go,” Erny sighed. When Leesha gave no reply, he patted her hand. “Heard what you said. Go do what needs be done. Just seeing you has given me new strength.”

Leesha half sobbed, but tried to mask it as a laugh. She kissed his forehead.

“Is it bad as all that?” Erny whispered.

“A lot of folk are going to die tonight,” Leesha said.

Erny’s hand tightened on hers, and he sat up a bit. “Then you see to it that it’s no more than need be,” he said. “I’m proud of you and I love you.”

“I love you, Da,” Leesha said, hugging him tightly. She wiped her eyes and left the room.

Rojer tumbled about the tiny aisle of the makeshift hospit as he pantomimed the daring rescue the Warded Man had performed a few nights earlier.

“But then,” he went on, “standing between us and the camp, was the biggest rock demon I’ve ever seen.” He leapt atop a table and reached his arms into the air, waving them to show they were still not high enough to do the creature justice.

“Fifteen feet tall, it was,” Rojer said, “with teeth like spears and a horned tail that could smash a horse. Leesha and I stopped up short, but did the Warded Man hesitate? No! He walked on, calm as Seventhday morning, and looked the monster right in the eyes.”

Rojer enjoyed the wide eyes surrounding him, and hesitated, letting the tense silence build before shouting “Bam!” and clapping his hands together. Everyone jumped. “Just like that,” Rojer said, “the Warded Man’s horse, black as night and seeming like a demon itself, slammed its horns through the demon’s back.”

“The horse had horns?” an old man asked, raising a gray eyebrow as thick and bushy as a squirrel tail. Propped up in his pallet, the stump of his right leg soaked his bandages in blood.

“Oh, yes,” Rojer confirmed, sticking fingers up behind his ears and getting coughing laughs. “Great ones of shining bright metal, strapped on by its bridle and sharply pointed, etched with wards of power! The most magnificent beast you have ever seen, it is! Its hooves struck the beast like thunderbolts, and as it smote the demon to the ground, we ran for the circle, and were safe.”

“What about the horse?” one child asked.

“The Warded Man gave a whistle”—Rojer put his fingers to his lips and emitted a shrill sound—“and his horse came galloping through the corelings, leaping over the wards and into the circle.” He clapped his hands against his thighs in a galloping sound and leapt to illustrate the point.

The patients were riveted by his tale, taking their minds off their sickness and the impending night. More, Rojer knew he was giving them hope. Hope that Leesha could cure them. Hope that the Warded Man could protect them.

He wished he could give himself hope, as well.

Leesha had the children scrub out the big vats her father used to make paper slurry, using them to brew potions on a larger scale than she had ever attempted. Even Bruna’s stores quickly ran out, and she passed word to Brianne, who had the children ranging far and wide for hogroot and other herbs.

Frequently, her eyes flicked to the sunlight filtering through the window, watching it crawl across the shop’s floor. The day was waning.

Not far off, the Warded Man worked with similar speed, his hand moving with delicate precision as he painted wards onto axes, picks, hammers, spears, arrows, and slingstones. The children brought him anything that might possibly be used as a weapon, and collected the results as soon as the paint dried, piling them in carts outside.