Mitch peered down into the shaft. “Looks promising,” he said, already strapping on a harness. “We’ll need Rick out first. He’s got a head wound and he’s been hallucinating. It’s stopped now that he’s had some water, but he’s not in a good way.”
“Markon second,” Best said. “Lynette, you ready for some serious mess coming your way?”
“Ready and waiting,” she confirmed.
“Then let’s get this show on the road. Sigmore? Drop me down,” Mitch instructed the salas, who had taken over from Rodgard an hour or so ago.
Though Lynette had prepared herself in every way she could think of, once they actually started getting the men out of the mine, she was flooded with things to do. Paul came and helped, making teas and poultices from various herbs that Lynette handed to him. Koradan came and carried one of the men who couldn’t walk – not due to any injury, but simply the mental strain of it all. At the same time as treating the men, Lynette was also trying to allow them to spend a little time hugging their families, with a flood of relief and reassurance from both sides as days of desperate fears and doubts finally ended. Once each man had been seen to, Mitch and Best coordinated their return to the village, each of them sent with at least two guardians to see them safely down the mountain.
But as the collection of villagers slowly thinned out, Lynette was well aware that not all of these stories were likely to have a happy ending. Markon, in particular, was a serious concern. He lay on a stretcher that some of the men had prepared earlier, a couple of blankets beneath him to make him a little more comfortable, while Hetti, his wife, hovered at his side, holding his hand and patting his face with a damp cloth. His leg was supported with a splint, Lynette having replaced the crude one the miners had put together with a far neater and sturdier one, but even so, the leg was a mess. There was a distinct bend midway between the knee and the ankle, and Lynette didn’t dare try to straighten it any more while Markon was awake. Getting him out of the shaft had been difficult enough, every jolt and turn making him cry out in pain. She’d given him some tea full of painkilling herbs, but she had nothing in her supplies that was going to be strong enough to really have an impact. And eventually, she’d been forced to leave him for the time being, with plenty of other patients to be seen to.
She wiped her hands on a cloth as the last of the men were led away. Ben had been the last one out of the mine, uninjured, but shaken and exhausted. His wife and son were talking him back down the mountain now.
The salases and their vreki were all still here, packing up the last of the equipment and preparing to return to the village. A few of the miners were still loitering about, aware of the need to carry Markon down the road, along with a few young men and women who were waiting to see if there were any last minute tasks that needed attending to. After they left, it would probably be several weeks before anyone came back up to the mine.
Seeing that Lynette was unoccupied for a few moments, Mitch came wandering over. He looked like he’d aged five years in the last three days. Best was close behind him, both of them apparently having had the same idea.
As he arrived, Mitch glanced over at Markon, a bleak look on his face. “How’s he doing?” he asked. “Tell me truthfully. We need to know what we’re dealing with.”
Lynette chewed her lip for a moment, trying to find the words to say what needed to be said. “It’s not looking good,” she said eventually. “Both bones in his lower leg are broken. I don’t have the right herbs to control the pain enough to be able to set them, and I don’t think I have the skills for it anyway. He needs opium, and he needs a hospital. The one in Minia has some of the finest doctors I’ve ever met. Or, it did ten years ago, at least.” She looked up as she saw Koradan approaching, who’d apparently heard the conversation.
“Can you stabilise him enough to make a journey to Minia, then?” Koradan asked. Coming from anyone else, it would have been a ridiculous question. But Koradan didn’t know enough of the layout of the country to know just what he was suggesting.
“Minia is two days of solid riding away. Markon would have to be put on a cart, and we’d have to change horses along the way, which depends on some of the towns along the road being willing to lend us some. Otherwise, the horses would have to rest, which would make it more like four or five days. There’s no way in the world Markon would be able to make that length of journey in the condition he’s in. He’d likely die of shock before we arrived.”
“So what are the alternatives?” Mitch asked.
“Remove his leg from the knee down,” Best said, his face grim.
“What about if we just allowed it to heal crooked?” Mitch suggested. “Maybe that’s a stupid idea, but I’m not a doctor. I’m just playing with options.”
Lynette shook her head. “If we do, then he’s facing a lifetime of pain, along with an inability to use the leg. Honestly, removing it would be kinder, but can you imagine explaining that to Markon? Or to his wife? He’s been the foundation stone of this village for years. Every time we have a problem, we go to Markon for a solution. He was one of the most experienced miners. To relegate him to a pair of crutches and a chair on the sidelines is… I don’t even have words for it. It’s unbearably cruel.”
“Life can be a cruel mistress,” Best said. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that.”
It was true enough. But at the same time, something in Lynette rebelled at the idea of just giving up. “It’s two broken bones. With the right drugs and the right skills, it would be perfectly possible to set them. We just have to figure outhow.”
“All right, one thing at a time,” Best said. “Let’s get him down the mountain and back home first. Then we can thrash out what happens next.”
“He’ll have to be carried,” Lynette said. “But he’s in severe pain, and everyone is tired, and the road is still an uneven, rocky mess. It’s going to take us over an hour to get him there, and it’s going to be a hell of a journey.”
“We can carry him,” Koradan volunteered immediately. “We’re stronger than any of your men.”
“Your strength is only half the issue,” Lynette said. “I’m grateful for the offer, truly. But Markon’s still going to be in a lot of pain every time the stretcher shifts.”
“Do we have anything else that could numb the pain a bit more for him?” Mitch asked.
“Like I said, he needs opium. I don’t have any.”
“What about a quart of strong liquor?” Best suggested. “It probably wouldn’t meet doctor’s recommendations, but it would get the job done.”
“Not a bad idea,” Lynette said. “If we’d thought to bring any with us.”
“I could go get some,” Koradan said, once more all too willing to jump to the rescue.
“I thought your job was done by now,” Best said, not harshly, but making a point nonetheless. “We asked you to clear the road and get the men out. That’s done.”
“Oi, he’s one of us now,” Mitch said, his tone sharpening a fraction. “He’s spent the last three days spending every waking moment digging our lot out of this glorified hole in the ground. He’s allowed to be a little invested in the result.”
