Raising a Hero

Chapter 22

"Whoa there, blacksmith."

"Shit, you got yourself good this time."

Most settled with low cusses at the state of him.

Derrick's entire right arm had become a mess of blood and charred, black flesh that crawled up onto his shoulder, where what little of his burnt sleeve remained. His hair on the same side had burnt away as well, showing splotches of burnt face and a blistering ear.

Exhausted as he was, Hal still ran out the moment he heard his name. His eyebrows fell into a low, heavy bunch at Derrick.

"You lot, help me bring him to the back. Lilly," he looked at me, saying nothing.

The question was obvious.

"Of course."

I trotted ahead of the two patrons who were helping Derrick stumble in, dripping blood and smelling of burnt meat as he went. I hesitated only a moment before opening the door to mine and Gus's room and running in to make sure the thin blanket he used was flat on the ground. It would have been preferable to put him on a table, but the only table in the building big enough to hold up all of his bulk was used in the kitchen, and I couldn't put a bleeding, injured man on a wooden table. Germs. Lots of germs, for everyone.

"Lay him here," I said. I caught sight of Milly nodding to Hal in the hallway and running off, probably to get water and bandages.

There were a lot of groans and grunts as the men lay Derrick onto the blanket. The great man gasped as the back of his burnt shoulder touched ground, holding back a scream when he gently lowered his arm to the floor. At least he could still move it, if only just.

"What do we need, miss?" asked one man.

"Milly's bringing what we need," I said. "Do any of you have a knife? Can you cut off his shirt so we can get to all the burn?"

He nodded and popped out his knife from his jerkin. The second got to work moving Derrick's beard out of the way and finding the seams for the first so they could get the clothing off as quickly as possible.

If I hadn't been so distracted by the roasted arm, I might have been flummoxed by the thick bands of muscle across the finely sculpted chest revealed to me. It was as though a viking who really did wrestle bears had been flashed before me.

I did take a moment to allow myself to be intimidated, however. I'd never been near muscles this large before, and on such a wide chest. I felt absolutely fairy-like in comparison.

Milly came in next with a large bowl of water with a rag on it, followed by Hal with an armful of bandages and a small wooden case.

"Get out, the lot of you," she said. "There's hardly any room in here to work in as it is."

"You let us know if you need some heavy lifting, yes?"

"What am I, chopped liver?" asked Hal with a raised eyebrow.

There were some attempts at a smile then, but a grim air had settled over the inn that smothered even the boisterous laborers. Or, perhaps, it was the ever smothering heat.

Milly set the bowl next to flustered me.

"Can you do it?" she asked softly, just high enough for me to hear through breaths Derrick hissed through his teeth.

But that wasn't the question for me. Biting my lip, I reached out and pushed sweat-drenched hair out of Derrick's soot covered face. He flinched horribly, even at that barest of touches.

But I didn't need to ask that question. Of course Derrick could keep my secret. And even if he couldn't, I couldn't just leave him like this, crippled for life at best if he lived through this. His fingers were little more than bloody, burnt sausages.