The Exemption Trials (The Dinas Chronicles Book 1)

Chapter Five

   Deveraux yelled at Xyra, panic filling his body like a river flooding during a rainstorm. Xyra turned and hurried over when her eyes landed on Jericho's limp form, her eyes widening in shock. To him, she seemed as if she were coming towards them through quicksand, moving at an impossibly slow speed, though, in reality, it barely took a second or two for her to reach Jericho's side.

   He watched helplessly as she started to fix his wound. Watched as his best friend, his only friend, his brother, bled out on the floor of a room in a prison who's location was unknown to everyone except for the general and his marshals. Watched as Xyra tried to stop the bleeding, desperately packing bandages on to Jericho's wound to stop the seemingly endless flow of blood.

   Where did all this blood come from? Deveraux thought, staring numbly at Jericho. Sure, he was bleeding before, but there wasn't this much blood. It's like all the blood in his body is trying to come out of his wound. How is it even possible for a bullet to cause so much damage? And why now? Why wasn't he bleeding like this from the start? Why is blood pouring out of his body now?

   "Deveraux!!" Xyra's shout cut through his thoughts, her voice sounded shrill, panicked, and just the slightest bit annoyed, hinting that she'd called his name at least twice before he heard her. "Go get the doctor! Now!"

   Deveraux shook himself out of his daze and jumped up, stumbling over to the door as fast as he could. The guard tried to move in front of him and stop his progress, but he merely pushed him out of the way,  throwing the door open and racing off down the halls of the prison.

   He turned left, right, went straight for a bit, turned left again....with every turn he took he felt like he was getting more and more lost, like the prison he'd spent the last five years in was suddenly a maze of unfamiliar rooms and hallways.

   Just as he turned yet another corner and was beginning to think he would never reach his destination, a door with the word doctor scrawled across it in big, blocky letters revealed itself at the end of the hallway. Practically leaping into the air with relief and joy, he sped up his pace, his feet pounding hard against the cement floor and his arms pumping at his sides like the gears of a machine hard at work. He reached the door within the next minute and barely restrained himself from slamming his fist against it as he knocked, the sound of the rapid thumps against the door's metal surface echoing throughout the hall.

   A series of clicks came from the other side of the door as Deveraux raised his balled fist to knock again, the sound leading him to believe that numerous locks were being undone so that the door could be opened. Sure enough, there was a faint screech of protest from the hinges of the door as it slid open, revealing a tall man who looked to be about twenty years of age and wore a white lab coat over a simple sky blue t-shirt with the name Dr. Streger sewn above a pocket on the right side of the shirt.

   "Oh, thank God!" Deveraux said, drawing in long, deep breaths and letting them out in short, fast puffs of air. "My friend's been shot by one of the guards and he needs immediate medical attention. If you'll come with me I'll show you where he is." He said the words so fast he could barely understand them himself, rushing to get them out so they could get back to Jericho and he could get the help that he needed.

   The doctor looked taken aback for a second by sudden spew of information coming from the kid's mouth but he quickly shook it off and nodded, disappearing into the room from which he'd come. He returned almost as quickly as he'd vanished, his arms loaded with an assortment of medical gear.

   "Lead the way," the doctor grunted, hefting the supplies he held so that he had a better grip on them.

   Deveraux nodded and raced away, slowing at each corner and waiting impatiently for Dr. Streger to catch up. Occasionally he'd  hurl a few "come on"s and "hurry up"s over his shoulder but, other than that, he just bounced up and down on the balls of feet as the young doctor followed as fast as he could.

   "We're here!" He shouted as he rounded a bend and saw the door to where the others were being held. He pushed it open when he reached it and darted hurriedly inside, falling to his knees beside Jericho.

   Tears welled in his eyes at the sight of his friend. A large pool of blood had formed around him and his slim was so pale that for a horrible second Deveraux thought he was too late and he was already dead. A chocked sob escaped him and his hands came up to cover his face as hot tears traced lines down his cheeks and dropped to the cold floor below.

   "Deveraux," a voice said gently, hands coming down on his shoulders and coaxing him away from Jericho's still form. All he could do was stare numbly at his friend, his fingers trembling as he peeled his hands from his face and held them shaking in front of him.

   After a few moments he managed to get himself under control and relaxed his tensed muscles a bit, glancing back at the person who'd pulled him from Jericho. His blurry gaze found Xyra's somber hazel one. She looked just as heartbroken and devastated as he no doubt did, though he felt as though he had more of a right to them she did. 

   After all, he'd known Jericho since they were seven years old and he'd found him half starved in an alley and in dire need of assistance. Xyra had just barely met him. She didn't deserve to feel as though her whole world was crumbling to pieces as she looked at the pale boy with splotchy freckles scattered over his features and scarlet hair to match the scarlet puddle spreading around him, his life slowly ebbing away as the doctor set to work.
Deveraux shook his head, burying his jealousy deep within him to uncover and broke over later. For now, he told himself it was just his anxiety and muddled thoughts conjuring emotions that had no reason for existing, but he knew it wasn't. Xyra acted as if she had known Jericho longer than the brief time they'd spent sitting in silence, locked in a room with ten others and about to die.

   A sob shook its way free of his body as he thought about death. It brought him back do what was happening in front of him. Back to Jericho; to a boy who'd been with him through it all, bleeding out on the floor and paler than its stark white surface.

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