Dragonlance Elven Nations Trilogy 02 The Kinslayer Wars

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would they ever get out of here with his twin thus crippled? And winter had only begun!
If they didn't get out of the mountains quickly, they could be trapped here for months.
Another snowfall would make travel by foot all but impossible.
"You'll have to do something about it," Kith said, though it took several moments
before the remark registered in Sithas's mind.
"About what?"
"My leg!" The injured elf looked at his twin sharply, then toughened his voice.
Almost without thinking, he used the tones of command he had become accustomed to
when he led the Wildrunners.
"Tell me if the skin is broken, if there's any discoloration any infection."
"Where? Which leg?" Sithas struggled to focus his thoughts. He had never been so
disoriented before in his life.
"The right one, below the knee."
Gingerly, almost trembling, Sithas pulled the blankets and cloaks away from his
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brother's feet and legs. What he saw was terrifying.
The ugly red swelling had almost doubled the size of the limb from the knee to the
ankle, and Kith's leg was bent outward at an awkward angle. For a moment, he cursed
himself, as if the injury was his own fault. Why hadn't he thought to examine his brother
two days earlier, when Kith had first been injured? Had he twisted the wound more when
he moved the fallen elf into the shelter of the rocky niche?
"The the skin isn't broken," he explained, trying to keep his voice calm. "But it's red.
By the gods, Kith, it's blood red!"
Kith-Kanan grimaced at the news. "You'll have to straighten it. If you don't, I'll be
crippled for life."
The Speaker of the Stars looked at his twin brother, the sense of helplessness
growing inside him. But he saw the pain in Kith-Kanan's eyes, and he knew he had no
choice but to try.
"It's going to hurt," he warned, and Kith nodded silently, gritting his teeth.
Cautiously he touched the swollen limb, and then instantly recoiled at Kith's sharp
gasp of pain. "Don't stop," hissed the wounded elf. "Do it now!"
Gritting his teeth, Sithas grasped the swollen flesh. His fingers probed the wound,
and he felt the break in the bone. Kith-Kanan cried aloud, gasping and choking in his pain
as Sithas pulled on the limb.
Kith shrieked again and then, mercifully, collapsed into unconsciousness.
Desperately Sithas tugged, forcing his hands and arms to do these things that he knew
must be causing Kith-Kanan unspeakable pain.
Finally he felt the bones slip into place.
"By Quenesti Pah, I'm sorry, Kith," Sithas whispered, looking at his brother's terribly
pale face.
Quenesti Pah ... goddess of healing. The invocation of that benign goddess brought
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his mind around to the small vial his mother had given them before they departed. From
Miritelesina, she had said, high priestess of Quenesti Pah. Frantically Sithas dug through
the saddlebag, finally discovering the little ceramic jar, plugged with a stout cork.
He popped the cork from the bottle's mouth and immediately recoiled at the pungent
scent. Smearing some of the salve on his fingers, he drew off the cloak and spread the
stuff on Kith's leg, above and below the wound. That done, he covered his brother with
the blankets and leaned back against the stone wall to wait.
Kith-Kanan remained unconscious throughout the impossibly long afternoon as the
sun sank through the pale blue sky and finally disappeared behind the western ridge. Still,
no sign of movement came from the wounded elf. If anything, he seemed even weaker.
Gently Sithas fed his brother drops of water. He wrapped him in all of their blankets
and lay down beside him.
He fell asleep that way, and though he awoke many times throughout the brutally
cold night, he stayed at Kith-Kanan's side until dawn began to brighten their valley.
Kith-Kanan showed no sign of reviving consciousness. Sithas looked at his brother's
leg and was appalled to see a streak of red running upward, past his knee and into his
thigh. What should he do? He had never seen an injury like this before. Unlike
Kith-Kanan, he hadn't been confronted by the horrors of battle or by the necessity of selfsufficiency
in the wilds.
Quickly the elf took the rest of the cleric's salve and smeared it onto the wound. He
knew enough about blood poisoning to realize that if the venomous infection could not be
arrested, his brother was doomed. With no way left to treat Kith-Kanan, however, all
Sithas could do was pray.
Once again the water in their skins was frozen, and so he made the arduous trek
down the narrow pathway from the ledge to the valley floor. The trough in the snow
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