‘Oh my God! Deborah!’
Checking Theuli first, Doc found that she had taken an arrow. From the way she was coughing up blood he knew at once that a lung had been pierced. ‘Pran!’ he shouted to get the Elf’s attention, ‘Pran! I need fire for sterilization, as much light as possible, and hot water. I have to get the arrow out and suture the wound.’
Deborah was not in any better shape. Though wounded only in the leg, and bleeding little, she lay deathly still and pale. As Doc began ministering to her, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
‘The arrow the young woman has taken is poisoned,’ an Elf soldier told him, in a tone of resigned compassion.
‘What sort of poison?’ Doc asked him brusquely.
The Elf looked at Deborah grimly. ‘I am no Healer. I know only that such inflictions of the enemy are always fatal. The woman will be dead soon.’