Crace Coram lowered Railing to the ground, knelt next to him, and began to examine his leg. The boy was grimacing in pain, doing his best not to cry out as the Dwarf’s fingers moved carefully over his injury.

“Leg’s fractured,” the Dwarf declared after a moment. “Bone has to be reset.” He looked over at Redden, who was kneeling across from him. “Hold his shoulders. Skint, grab his other leg.”

Both did as they were asked. Redden, knowing what was coming, closed his eyes and gritted his teeth in anticipation. Coram placed his hands carefully on the boy’s damaged leg and gave a quick, hard pull. Railing screamed once and fainted.

The Dwarf nodded to Redden and Skint to let go, and then he climbed to his feet. “He needs to have splints strapped to keep the bones in place. Find some lengths of wood.”

Skint went off across the escarpment toward the cliffs and a scattering of trees backed up against the foothills. Redden felt his brother’s forehead, and glanced up at Crace Coram. “Thanks.”

The Dwarf nodded. “Keep him still until that leg is splinted and bound good and tight. Shouldn’t be hard. He won’t wake for a while.”

Khyber Elessedil came over to make certain the Ohmsford twins were being attended to, giving Redden a wan smile and a touch of her hand on his shoulder. Redden glanced around at the company, all of whom were either on watch at the edge of the escarpment or binding one another’s wounds. He counted heads and found two of the Druid Guard missing. Everyone else seemed to have made it clear.

Then he caught sight of the Speakman, who was hunched over, rocking back and forth and moaning softly. Farshaun knelt close, trying to soothe him and at the same time shield him from the others. He wasn’t having much luck with either.

“There’s no backbone in that one,” the boy heard Pleysia mutter as she walked past him, stone-faced. Oriantha followed in her wake, head lowered. The girl had returned to normal, the lethal fury and bestial savagery gone. She caught Redden looking at her, and he turned away quickly.

The boy was still sitting beside his brother when Farshaun came over and knelt next to them. “How is he?”

“His leg’s broken. Crace Coram rescued us both.”

“The Dwarf’s a warrior. We could use a few more like him.” Farshaun glanced over at the Speakman, who was still whimpering, balled up in a knot to hide his face. “I think we’ve lost our guide. He’s become completely unhinged by this.”

“Can you help him?”

“Not if I keep him here, I can’t. I have to take him back.” He glanced down at Railing. “Your brother, too, I expect. He can’t go any farther.”