CHAPTER 88

Aedion’s arm and ribs were on fire.
Worse than the searing heat of the
firelances, worse than any level of Hellas’s
burning realm.
He’d regained consciousness as the healer
began her first stitches. Had clamped down on
the leather bit she’d offered and roared around
the pain while she sewed him up.
By the time she’d finished, he’d fainted
again. He woke minutes later, according to the
soldiers assigned to make sure he didn’t die,
and found the pain somewhat eased, but still
sharp enough that using his sword arm would