Chapter 219: Fight for Life
RETH
"She's bleeding," he gasped as soon as he was up the little cliffside and grasping Aymora's offered hand. Aymora braced against him, pulling them both the final few feet over the edge.
"How bad is it?" she said, her eyes already scanning Elia who was still strapped to Reth's chest.
"I don't know, I didn't stop to look. I… I couldn't."
Aymora looked at him, her lips tight, but didn't speak as he hurriedly untied the lines that had kept Elia tied to his chest, and lay her on the ground, on the large scarf Aymora had laid down.
His breath caught when he saw the horrible gash across her lower stomach, and a new rush of blood pooled into it as her body shifted.
Aymora swore, pulling moss, clean bandages, and two bottles from the bag at her hip. "We have to get the bleeding stopped or at least slowed before we move her again," she said, rinsing her hands in the clear liquid, then pouring over Elia's gash.
Elia winced and moved one of her hands.
Aymora blew out a breath. "That's a good sign. Quickly, rinse your hands in this, then hold these for me."
Reth poured the clear, biting liquid over his hands praying there were no Anima close enough to smell it, then took the chunks of moss and fine linen that Aymora pressed on him. She worked quickly and with a minimum of fuss, threading a bone needle, and speaking to him with the thread between her teeth. "This will just be to keep it from opening further. We'll redo it all when we're back to safety. Where are the others?"
"Coming. Behryn whistled a few minutes ago," Reth whispered, staring at Elia's pale face. "Aymora…"
"Don't think about it, Reth. We can only do what we can do. We cannot change what we cannot control." Coming from Aymora, who had walked through the worst the Creator might allow in the life of a believer, Reth couldn't argue. He just nodded and swallowed his protests.
Aymora cleaned the wound, tsking, cursing the wolves, then sewed it up brutally quickly, with ugly crosses of thread over Elia's beautiful stomach. Then she packed it with chunks of the moss, pressing far harder than Reth would have as she had him lever Elia's hips up so she could wrap the bandage fully around her.
Elia moaned once, but didn't open her eyes. Reth looked at Aymora, but the wise-woman didn't respond.
"How far away are—"
A whistle sounded just feet away and they both froze. Reth answered it, and a few seconds later, Behryn, followed by several of his guards, all bloodied and dirty, pushed through the ferns and undergrowth. They stared at each other and Reth's stomach plunged when he saw the grief in Behryn's eyes.
"How many?"
Behryn swallowed. "Three. They got an archer there before we got to the top."
Reth let his head drop, one of his hands on Elia's thigh, the other at her shoulder. "We will remember them," he said, staring at his mate.
"We will remember them," the men all echoed in the tradition of warriors taken in battle. Behryn put a hand to Reth's shoulder and Reth ignored the pinch of guilt, pushed it away.
He regretted the deaths. He regretted the need for them. He wished it could have ended another way—never begun in the first place. But he could not regret going for her.
He couldn't.
Then Aymora grunted. "We have to move. Reth, our camp is only a mile upriver, and the path is relatively clear. It would be better if that wound wasn't stretched. Do you have enough strength left to carry her in your arms? To keep her curled up?"
"Of course," he said, though in truth, if it had been anyone else he might have tried to find another way. But she was so small, so light. He would carry her anywhere. And he didn't trust her in anyone else's arms anyway.
"Then let's go."
*****
ELIA
She dreamed the world was pain. Pain that was always present, but at times would stab and claw at her insides. She wanted to tell it to stop, to tell whoever had made it happen, to stop. Plead with them. But she couldn't make her mouth work. She couldn't open her eyes.
Then, suddenly, she could.
There was a thud and a whispered curse. Her body jolted and a wave of pain washed over her. She whimpered, but that hurt so badly, she stopped.
"Hold on, love. Hold on."
Warm, strong arms held her, and that flat chest that smelled like him was under her cheek. But it was wet.
Then she blinked away and almost cried out, but only the pain stopped her—moving even to cry out, felt like she was being gutted.
"Wha…?" She tried to lift her hand to grab his shirt, but that made the pain so bad she thought she might throw up. And she couldn't imagine the pain that would cause.
"Elia, love," Reth's voice was soft and warm, gruff… and terrified. She turned her eyes up to meet his, his dear, brown eyes, staring at her, his brow lined, crinkled with grief and fear. "Stay with us," he whispered, putting a kiss to her forehead. "Just stay here. With me. Please, love."
She wanted to say it all—how much she loved him, that she wouldn't ever do this to him again. That she'd been wrong—he needed to know that she knew that. But the pain wouldn't let her breathe, let alone speak.
Then his caught on something and they jolted again. She closed her eyes and pleaded with the dark to crawl back over her. And it did. She didn't come back up.
But there, in her mind, she knew where she was. She knew what had happened. And what was happening.
Deep within her a candle flame burned. It flickered and wavered, and threatened to go out. And she was the only one who knew.
She cupped her hands around it, pleading with it not to give up. Not to go out.
She promised to stay. To be strong.
Just don't let go, little one.
Stay here with me.
*****
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