Page 23 of Adtovar
Taking a deep, steadying breath, I nodded to Sureeta, who stepped back, her hands full of blood-drenched cloth. The wound spurted with alarming intensity, sending out a vivid spray of dark purple that, while terrifying, pinpointed the precise location of the arterial tear. My hand trembled, yet I managed to sprinkle a line of charcoal dust along the jagged seam of the wound. The fine, dark particles contrasted starkly against his pale skin and the deep red flesh of the gash. I used my fingers, now smeared with both dust and blood, to push small granules deeper into the wound, packing it closer to the artery, praying with every move I made.
Exsanguination expected in two minutes.
“Emmiait, I need your fire.”
It was her most prized possession, the one thing she retained from her previous life as a blacksmith’s daughter. It was the alien version of a match, a small silver tube with a red tip that, when squeezed, emitted a spark of fire. She handed it over without hesitation.
“Please let this work,” I whispered to any god, goddess, ancestor, or spirit that might be listening.
Adtovar had not regained consciousness, but at the sound of my voice, he moaned softly. On impulse, I cupped his cheek and lowered my lips to his ear. “I’m so sorry, Adtovar. I don’t know any other way to save you.” I let my lips brush across his cheek. “This is going to hurt.”
I squeezed the firestick, causing a spark to erupt from the tip and touched it to the gunpowder.
There wasn’t a moment to worry that it didn’t work. Instantly, a bright flash erupted, accompanied by a sharp hiss, as the powder ignited in a brief but intense burst of light and heat.Adtovar jerked involuntarily, his eyelashes fluttering rapidly as a low groan escaped his lips. He slipped back into the depths of unconsciousness, his breathing steady.
Exsanguination avoided.
I picked the medi-unit up and threw it against the wall. It made a dullthwackagainst the stones and fell to the floor in a dented heap.
“Is he going to be okay?” Lafalia asked.
I turned my head to glance at her, noticing her face was wet with tears, just like mine.
“I think so.”
A collective sigh of relief echoed through the small, dimly lit cell, bouncing off the cold stone walls and mingling with the faint drip of water from a leaky, rusty pipe.
“What else can we do?” Sureeta made herself busy picking up the blood-soaked cloths and piling them in the corner. The visual reminder of how much blood Adtovar lost made me shudder. A human would have died twice over.
“He needs rest... and liquids. Water, but it would be better if he had some kind of broth, something with protein.” Sometimes, the gladiators got meat to eat, but not often. Never the females.
“Ockus is working in the kitchen tonight. I’ll see what I can do,” Emmiait told me with a bawdy wink. As a gladiator, Ockus was a much better chef. He’d never won Emmiait as a prize, but that hadn’t stopped the two of them.
“I’ll get rid of the bloody cloth and bedding,” Sureeta said, pulling the drenched blanket from under Adtovar’s form with no more than a soft grunt of effort. “We don’t need to let the others know how badly he’s hurt.”
“I agree,” I said, grateful her brain was working. The waning adrenaline had turned mine to mush.
“We saw some extra bedding when we grabbed the black rocks. I think we can sneak some out without anyone knowing,” Meeka suggested.
“Everybody, be careful, please. I don’t think I have it in me to patch anyone else up tonight.” I begged with a sound meant to be a laugh, but sounding more like a sob.
“You don’t need to do anything,” Kysia told me, with a pat of her long fingers against my cheek. “We’ll take care of everything.”
And they did.
The females scrubbed the cell thoroughly, erasing every trace of blood and dirt. The air filled with the minty scent of cleaning agents, dispelling the odors of blood and near death. They tended to Adtovar, carefully removing the stained bedclothes, replacing them with clean linens, and washing the blood and grime from his body. By the time they finished, the room stood transformed, and Adtovar appeared as if he were merely resting and hadn’t just fought off the grim reaper.
Lafalia helped me, her hands gently washing away streaks of dark purple blood from my hands and arms, scrubbing my skin until it was fresh and clean. She stood ready to assist as I slipped into a new garment, the fabric cool and soothing against my skin. The shift was pale green, the color reminiscent of spring leaves just unfurling, though worn thin from years of use. It belonged to Teenalia’s collection, and since she was taller than me, the hem draped well below my knees, swaying slightly with each movement.
Emmiait returned, carefully balancing a bowl of steaming meat broth and a jug filled with clear, pristine water in her hands. With Sureeta and Meeka gently supporting Adtovar’s head, I coaxed a few sips of the nourishing liquid down his throat. His breathing had become more steady and less labored,and a faint hint of color bloomed back into his cheeks, although he remained worryingly pale. Despite that, my worry eased.
Then Bozzo showed up.
“Is he dead?”
The pit owner stood in the doorway, short, stubby hands rubbing together almost gleefully. His two guards, Fric and Frac, flanked him. They were huge, and while they walked on two legs with two arms, each sported a thick, alligator-like tail, elongated snout, and yellowed fangs. They could be vicious but, thankfully, now seemed rather bored.
I jumped up, and as if obeying my psychic command, the females moved to stand between the cell door and cot, shielding Adtovar from Bozzo’s view. I had no idea what Bozzo would do if he realized how near death Adtovar had been… how near he still was. I just knew I couldn’t let him find out.
