The Lost War by Karl Gallagher (novel24 .txt) 📗

stool came in to act as the cutting surface.

Barrel and Dandelion exchanged a few kisses. Then Burnout sent her back to their own tent to await the outcome.

In the corner Elderberry sharpened knives and scalpels. She’d changed into her worst dress, already stained from helping with less drastic procedures. She reminded Burnout to go change.

When everything was ready Barrel lay down on his back, right foot resting on the log.

“Want a shot of whiskey?” asked Elderberry.

Barrel laughed. “Don’t bother. One shot won’t do a thing to me. If you have a bottle that’d keep me from feeling pain.”

“Sorry. Only have a couple of shots left.”

“That does it. If I live through this, to hell with the Autocrat, I’m going to find out what kind of beer you can make from vineroot.”

“I’ll drink it,” said Master Chisel.

Elderberry drew tight the tourniquet just below the knee. She twisted the metal bar until Barrel let out a grunt of pain, then locked it down.

Noses wrinkled as Burnout popped open a Tupperware container.

“What is that, concentrated piss?” snarled Master Chisel.

Burnout didn’t answer him as she swabbed the leg. Boiled urine was the best disinfectant she had left.

“Right. Hold him down,” ordered Lady Burnout.

The carpenters, along with a couple of royal guards who’d been standing around idle when Burnout looked for help, grabbed Barrel’s limbs and shoulders.

“Forgot one thing,” said Chisel. His knife cut a fist-wide chunk from the end of his belt. He held it before Barrel’s face.

“God, we are being old-fashioned,” said the patient. He bit down on the leather scrap.

Lady Burnout looked at the lines she’d drawn on the shin and calf. Still looked right. She picked up the biggest knife.

The blade went in smoothly. She followed the leg as it bucked, snapping, “Hold it still!” at the guard bracing the ankle.

The sounds she ignored.

Elderberry continued the cut on the other side. Blood covered the log.

As Elderberry finished her cut of the calf Burnout switched to a scalpel for finer work, going by feel to reach the bone.

Then she switched to the top, carving loose a flap of skin to meet the angled lower cut.

Elderberry took hold of the edge and held it up as Burnout worked along the bone.

“That’s it, shift.” Burnout sat back. Elderberry moved to straddle Barrel’s legs, both hands holding up the flap of flesh.

Plane took her spot, saw at the ready. “Where do I cut? It’s all covered in blood.”

Lady Burnout’s left hand wiped blood off the bone. Her right guided the saw to just below the swelling of the tuberosity.

Jaw set, Plane started cutting.

Burnout wondered if the screams were louder now, or if she was just noticing them with no work to distract her.

The leg jerked free of the guard’s sweaty grip, knocking the saw away. Burnout lunged to get hold of it. She and the guard held it still again.

Plane cursed as he realized he’d started cutting a new notch in the bone. A little fumbling put the saw back in the original cut. Plane pumped the saw faster.

A cracking sound was followed by Plane declaring, “Done!”

“Still need the fibula,” said Burnout. She picked up her scalpel and cut between the bones.

“Right. Sorry. Forgot.”

“Now. Right there.” Burnout held the broken ends of the tibia apart as Plane slipped the saw between them to reach the other bone. The side of the saw blade felt cold on her thumb. Now I understand how those old time surgeons took an assistant’s hand off.

The second bone didn’t take nearly as long. A few strokes with the scalpel severed the last tendons connecting the lower leg to the knee.

“Get that out of my way,” snapped Burnout at the guard holding the severed foot.

More disinfectant went on the open surfaces. Then Elderberry pressed the upper and lower cuts together. Burnout started stitching the edges together.

The screams stopped.

“Is he okay?” asked an apprentice.

“Crap, he’s seizing.” Elderberry yanked the leather out of Barrel’s mouth. Her hand went to his neck. “No pulse.”

She began chest compressions. Ribs cracked under the strain.

Lady Burnout added three more quick stitches then started mouth to mouth.

After a few minutes, Elderberry gasped, “Switch.” Burnout took over compressions.

An apprentice said, “Milady, I’m CPR qualified.”

“Take it.”

A second came forward to relieve Elderberry.

A third one stood ready to relieve the man on the chest. When they prepared to switch Lady Burnout said, “Wait. Check him.”

Elderberry reported, “No respiration. No pulse.”

“Then I’m calling it.”

Shoulders slumped all around the circle.

Burnout used the log to push herself upright. “My lords. Thank you for your extraordinary efforts. You will be thanked at Court. That we couldn’t save him is no reflection on you. I’ll have someone else come take him to the graveyard.”

“You’re welcome, my lady,” said Master Chisel solemnly. He looked at his blood-splattered crew. “Let’s go get cleaned up.”

Elderberry said, “I’ll get a stretcher crew. And . . . I’ll tell Dandelion.”

“Thank you.”

Lady Burnout sat on the tarp to hold vigil over the man she’d failed.

***

Screams woke Newman up. Everyone else in House Applesmile was waking up. The screams were coming from outside the tent. Lots of them.

He pulled his boots on, grabbed bow and quiver, and pushed through the tent flap. People were running about in a panic. The screams were growing louder. Newman picked out shouted battle cries amid them.

The heart of the commotion was toward the gate. Some people were heading that way. All armed.

The other members of House Applesmile had come out and were demanding explanations. Newman stepped up on a haybale. A couple of the pavilions near the gate had collapsed. That shouldn’t be causing this much panic.

Someone ran down the lane shouting, “To arms! To arms!”