Lost Identity: Eloria Series Book 1 | ✓

16: Martin's Injury

7/6/3028

They managed to kill enough of the night-crawlers for the rest of the hoard to retreat, and us to make our escape.

Unfortunately, it wasn't entirely a victory. We lost two more horses, leaving us with just one. We fled the mouth of the valley carrying only water and weapons so that we could travel light. Martin and I were on the last surviving horse while Keiran, Ilta, and Jarek were on foot. I hoped that Elossai was long out of harm's way with Stanjah when she rode off before sunset.

"Martin, how are you feeling?" I looked over my shoulder.

"I need a bed," Martin mumbled from behind me.

"Have you had prior training in combat, Martin?" Ilta asked, walking beside our horse.

"Sam dan in Taekwondo... well, almost." He managed a chuckle, but it turned into a strained cough instead. "I didn't take the promotion test." Both Ilta and I looked at him with a confused expression. "Almost made it to a third-degree black belt."

Ilta gave a stiff nod. "I don't know of the art you studied, but your training is satisfactory."

"Yeah, you did well out there today," I said.

"Thanks, Ell." Martin let out a groan and shifted behind me. "My stomach is killing me. I'll need more than a couple days to recuperate."

We marched on for a few more hours before we saw a dirt path and followed it. Ilta took another glance at her map and compass again.

"I believe we've entered the territory of Ien," Ilta announced proudly.

"Good. It should be safe for us to rest here for the night," said Keiran.

***

We found a spot just off the path to rest. Fortunately, the summer temperature would be gentle through the night and our cloaks would do for shelter.

Martin slumped against a tree and slowly lowered himself to the ground.

I settled next to him. "You don't look so good—are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just need to check something here..." Martin lifted his shirt revealing the fresh blood around his wound.

"Martin!"

"It's not that bad, Ell. It'll clot pretty soon."

"What's wrong?" Keiran asked. I pointed to Martin's stomach, not really wanting to look at it. Keiran ripped part of his cloak and handed the cloth to Martin.

Why hadn't I thought of that?

"Tie it around your stomach and apply pressure to the wound," Keiran instructed.

"Thanks, man." Martin winced as he wrapped the cloth around him like a bandage.

"Ideally, that wound needs a thorough cleansing before dressing, but I'm sorry to say that we can't do anything about it at present," said Keiran.

"I think I'm good for another day." Martin forced a brave smile.

Keiran made his way back to Ilta who was carefully cleaning her bow with long strokes.

I spared a thought for Elossai again. "I hope Elossai's alright."

"Me too," Martin echoed my thoughts. His voice was low and gravely, and I could hear the badly-disguised guilt in his tone.

"No one forced her to heal you," I said.

"I don't get it—why would she do that? Why should Elossai have to suffer 'cause of my own stupidity?"

"Martin, you'll drive yourself crazy thinking like that. Look," I hung my head and sighed, "I knew something bad was going to happen. I felt it minutes before, like a premonition."

"You did? Why didn't you say something, Ell?"

"I wanted to, but I didn't trust what I was feeling. If I had said something, maybe things would have turned out differently." I huddled closer to him and linked my arm around his, giving it an encouraging squeeze. "Things happen, Martin. All we can do is hope that everything turns out alright and do better in the future."

Martin forced a brief smile, but the corners of his lips fell again and he stared into the distance. He needed to hear, personally, from Elossai that everything was okay, and then he'd be able to forgive himself.

***

"What are you doing, Ell? Wake up!" Martin shook me.

"Huh? What?" I sat up.

"You punched me in your sleep."

"Oh," I mumbled. "I was dreaming about the night-crawlers."

"Good thing you didn't punch me in the stomach." He put a protective hand over his abdomen.

Everyone else was already awake. Jarek was feeding the horse long blades of grass as he gently stroked its nose. Ilta and Keiran were looking over the map together, lost in deep conversation.

"What are you staring at?" Martin asked.

"What do you think they could be talking about?"

"They're obviously talking about directions. See, they've got the map out and everything." He smiled tightly, wiping the sheen of sweat from his brow.

Why is he sweating so much? It's relatively cool this morning.

"Yeah, I guess so," I said flatly.

Ilta and Keiran walked over, greeting us with a short wave.

"Good morning. Did you two sleep well?" asked Keiran.

"Yeah, it was great 'till Ell punched me." Martin let out a groan as he stood. I got up as well, laughing softly in an awkward attempt to alleviate my embarrassment. Martin continued. "So, what's up?"

"We follow the path which will take us to Ien," said Ilta. "We should arrive before nightfall."

"Martin, how are you feeling today?" Keiran looked concerned.

"Well, I've felt better."

"You don't look very well."

I glanced at Martin. The sweat beading across his brow was a bad sign.

"Ilta, you should ride on to Ien with Martin," said Keiran.

"I'm fine," Martin insisted. But he was looking paler by the second, all traces of color leaving his face. "I'm—" then he staggered to the side suddenly and leaned solidly on a tree. He vomited until all that came out was clear bile. When he finally looked back up at us, his eyes were bloodshot with tears leaking out the corners.

"'Kay," he croaked. "When do we leave?"

"Right away," Ilta answered.