Adurna

Waíse Heill

Chapter Thirty-two 

Horror flooded through me immediately. It felt as though I was trudging through water, struggling to get to Thomas as he collapsed backwards, his hand wrapped around the arrow in surprise. Even Thomas seemed to be moving slower than normal, his body hitting the muddied ground without so much as a sound. My throat suddenly hurt and I was dimly aware of myself screaming. A second arrow zipped by and grazed my arm, but I felt nothing. I was numb.

Damen was there suddenly, his large arms wrapping around Thomas and pulling the blond up against his chest. The larger man's eyes were wide as his head spun around every which way, the man already seeming to be plotting their escape route. He looked to be saying something to Thomas, though the ringing in my ears drowned it out. 

The swordsman's gaze finally met my own and he parted his jaws in a shout, waving me over erratically. Damen had placed himself in front of Thomas in an effort to shield him from another onslaught of arrows that seemed to be coming from nowhere. My feet moved slowly, sinking into the mud and inching me towards Thomas's collapsed body. His eyes were still open, blinking dimly against the ashes falling from above. Blood pooled around the arrow lodged in his chest despite the heavy layer of armor. I fell to my knees beside him, my hands immediately cupping his face. Thomas's face was streaked with tears and mud though he didn't make a sound as he was jostled slightly in Damen's grip.

I was aware of someone shaking my shoulder violently after a moment and my gaze flicked up to meet Damen's. He seemed to have been shouting my name, yet all I could hear was the blood pumping in my ears. My hands dropped to Thomas's shoulder and my grip intensified briefly as I tried to focus on Damen's words.

The sounds of the battle all came rushing back in an instant, overwhelming me for longer than it should have. Shouts of agony could be heard to the side while distant shuttering of flaming buildings toppled to the ground. The constant clash of swords made hearing much of anything a struggle, though the grunts of laborious breaths from the men in front of us was clear. Damen's words finally came into focus, his voice harsh and demanding as he cradled the wounded boy in his arms.

"We must go." The man was saying, his face splattered with blood that wasn't his own. His hands were soaked in red as they pressed against Thomas's chest. The boy had gone relatively limp, though his eyes still fluttered open every now and again.

I found myself nodding dimly, still clutching at Thomas's hand. I willed him to stay awake, for just a little longer. Fear swarmed through my mind, making it difficult to understand what was going on. The emotions and thoughts in my mind blurred together so much so I could feel myself retreating further and further into myself.

"Lady Argetlam." Damen interrupting abruptly with his arms still wrapped possessively around Thomas's chest. Thomas let out a short groan of pain and worked to keep his breathing constant. Another stray arrow whipped past and burrowed itself in the building behind us. "He'll die."

"Not today." My voice was coarse and wobbled just slightly as I shoved my bow on to my shoulders and grabbed a small knife from my waist. I kept my gaze on the entrance to the city, all too aware of the throngs of fighting men blocking our escape. We'd have to fight our way out. "Get him back to camp. Come on."

Immediately, I grabbed ahold of Thomas's other arm and, with the help of Damen on the other side of the boy, lifted Thomas to his feet. He let out a whimper of pain, his teeth grinding together as he struggled to keep the pain bearable. The last thing we needed was to draw attention to our retreat. The three of us hobbled around the outskirts of much of the fighting, keeping to the shadows as Thomas's long legs continued to give out in exhaustion. The weight of him became more and more heavy with each step as he grew weaker from blood loss. Much of Thomas's shirt was dark with blood and showed no sign of slowing. The arrow was still lodged in his chest, yet there was no time to extricate it. We needed to focus on getting out of the city unharmed before we could deal with Thomas's wound.