Page 5 of Adtovar
“Lafalia?”
Her cell was dark and silent, save a tiny sliver of dirty yellow light filtering through a hole in the ceiling. She lay on the cot, curled into a fetal position, so still and pale I feared she might be dead despite the ragged, desperate sound of her breathing echoing around the room.
“Lafalia?”
I dropped to my knees beside her cot, my hand outstretched but hesitant to touch her.
Of all the females, Lafalia was the most human looking… and the most frail. She was tiny, standing a few inches shorter than my five foot seven, with pale pink skin, large, almost doll-like green eyes, and wavy lavender hair. Now, deep blue and purple bruises mottled the beautiful color of her skin. A deep cut split the center of her lower lip, and drops of dried blue blood dotted her skin like freckles. Swelling shut one eye, while the other remained squeezed tightly closed as though she was afraid to see what surrounded her.
“Lafalia?” I whispered again, this time letting my hand land gently on her shoulder.
One green eye popped open, bloodshot and wary.
“What happened, sweetie?” It was a stupid question. I knew what happened, and the bastard that did it was sitting in the dining hall like he didn’t have a care in the universe. Fucker!
“I—I hurt.”
Her voice was nothing more than a rasp, and she winced as the sound traveled over her injured lip.
I didn’t doubt it. Her lip and eye looked painful, as did the myriad of bruises covering her pale skin, but what concerned memost was the way she held her arms crossed protectively over her ribs.
“Goddess,” Sureeta muttered, stumbling into the room, followed by the rest of the females. “Will she live?”
“Of course she will live,” I snapped at the red-skinned female, pissed that she’d even thrown that option out to the universe. The truth was, I didn’t know.
“Rumors say Melakor has killed females before,” Teenalia whispered, her voice laden with fear. The new gladiator was a champion, and with Lafalia injured, he would pick another… and another… and another.
I couldn’t worry about that now. I needed to check Lafalia’s injuries and find a way to treat her with a first aid kit that was little more than a needle, some string and a half-jar of mint smelling salve that was God knew how old. There was one thing though, and without taking my eyes from Lafalia’s face, my hand fished into the depths of my satchel.
The metal box felt cold to the touch and was no bigger in my hand than a box of pop-tarts. A medi-unit. I’d bartered with Bozzo for it by promising not to set fires anymore. The thing was old and had long since ran out of medication, but it could still diagnose injury and illness. Placing my fingers in the depressions on the side of the box, I gave a squeeze, and the unit chugged to life, giving off a faint blue light. Slowly, I ran it from the top of Lafalia’s head to the tips of her toes and back again. It beeped once, and then a slurred robotic voice listed the damage.
Periorbital hematoma of the left eye.
Laceration of the lower lip.
Fractures in ribs three, five, and seven in the left chest cavity.
Fractures in ribs four and six in the right chest cavity.
“Any diagnosis of head trauma?” I heard worried gasps from behind me as I prompted the unit.
Negative.
I took a deep breath, asking what I feared most. “Any diagnosis of internal bleeding?”
Negative.
Relief slammed through me so forcefully that I nearly wept. Instead, I got to work.
I set Meeka to gathering every clean piece of cloth she could get her hands on.
Sureeta was tasked with getting a cup of the coldest, cleanest water she could find.
Teenalia’s job was to beg, borrow or steal some gruel from the kitchen. Lafalia needed to eat to retain her strength and with her split lip, chewing the brick like protein bars would prove painful.
Emmiait went to scrounge up some new clothes. Lafalia’s dress was nothing more than ripped rags.
Kysia stayed with me, standing sentry at the door. Bozzo forbid the gladiators from visiting the female quarters except for prize night, but I didn’t want to take the chance of Melakor returning to finish the job. God, what had that bastard done to her?
