"Elizabeth Vaughan - Chronicles Of The Warlands 01 - Warprize" - читать интересную книгу автора (Vaughan Elizabeth)

To my parents, Park and Patricia Vaughan


Acknowledgments

There are so many people I need to thank, who have extended their friendship, love and support to me
during the creation of the book. Of all the gifts that writing has given me, your presence in my life is the
greatest gift of all.

Spencer Luster, who told me to тАШput up or shut upтАЩ. My writerтАЩs group, which includes Spencer, Helen
Kourous, Robert Wen-zlaff, Marc Tassin, and Keith Flick. Kathleen Crow, who refused to let my dream
die. Kandace Klumper, for quiet words of encouragement and a good swift kick when necessary. Lisa
Black, who always wanted more. Patricia Merritt, who is my partner in evil. JoAnn Thompson, who
believes in me when I donтАЩt. Mary Fry, Roberto Ledesma and David Browder, who cheerfully read and
commented on my early drafts. Phil Fry, Cathie Hansen and Deb Spychalski, for putting up with me for
the last two years. Jane Lackey, for her long suffering patience. Linda Baker, Don Bingle, and Janet
Deaver Pack who showed me that it could happen. Annette Leggett, always running through the forest
with sharp objects. The Maumee Valley Chapter of the RWA, who welcomed me with open arms. Tom
Redding, who suffered through the galleys. Merrilee Heifetz, Anna Genoese and Fiorella DeLima, whose
hard work and contributions to this book made me look damn good.

But most of all, credit must go to Jean Rabe, who pushed me into the pool, and to Meg Davis, who
found me there.




Chapter 1


T o p N e x t




I pulled the shard out just as his wound began spurting blood.

тАЬGoddess, no.тАЭ I dropped the knife, pressed my hands against his stomach, into the blood, and threw my
full weight onto the wound. Biting my lip, I pressed harder still, desperate to stop the bleeding. тАЬHold
him, boys.тАЭ

The apprentices gathered around the table grabbed tight to his arms and legs, all of them wide-eyed and
pale as they tried to keep him from moving. The wooden table beneath my aged patient creaked and
complained at the added weight as the room echoed with the sound of our leather shoes slapping against
the stone floor and my patientтАЩs frantic panting.
A quick glance around the large kitchen told me that there were no other healers in sight. They were all in
the main hall, tending the others. Just the apprentices, clustered around the table. Blood bubbled up
between my fingers, warm and thick. The metallic smell was strong and settled in my mouth. There was
something wrong with the smell, but I was too busy to think on it. One of the lads frantically waved a
fresh bandage before my eyes, and I snatched it, crammed it into the wound, and pressed down. I had to