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I cleared my throat, my face heating and focused on the task at hand once more.
Without the dark curtain of his hair blocking my view, I could see more of the damage. I grimaced at the brutal, bloody tip of the arrow jutting out of his back. The river of his hair had been moved, only to be replaced with a slender river of black blood that pulsed from the wound and trickled down the natural valleys created between his muscles.
And holy shit, speaking of muscles...
Muscles upon muscles upon muscles.
No wonder he was able to keep that boulder up there for so long.
But that wasn’t important right now. I got to work undoing all the straps that lined his back, taking care to remove the heavy blades without cutting either of us in the process.
I laid all the weapons down on the stone floor beside his bow and quiver of arrows.
“Hold on. Just one more thing,” I said, quickly rising and jogging over to my pack. There was some first-aid stuff in there. I was hoping the Vrika’s blood would be sufficient to stop the bleeding quickly, but there was both an exit wound and an entry wound. I’d need to quickly slosh the Vrika’s blood on his back wound, then scramble around to the front without him losing too much blood. While I was getting around to his front, I could reach around and apply pressure to his chest with some gauze.
Oh, even better, I thought,is I could soak the gauze with Vrika’s blood first...
Gahn Errok watched me with the wild wariness of a trapped animal as I returned with the first aid kit. Like he didn’t know if I were going to set him free...
Or tighten the bonds that had snared him.
“Don’t give me that suspicious look. You know I’m here to help you,” I said, uncorking the jar of Vrika’s blood. Inside, the fantastical liquid swirled and glowed, thick and milky.
He snorted mirthlessly.
“I am beyond help,” he muttered sullenly.
I smiled despite myself.
“You’re telling me,” I joked. “But not where this injury is concerned, at least. Come on. Let’s get this done.”
I got on my knees once more, shimmying behind him on the bed. I got the gauze ready, soaking its centre with Vrika’s blood. Clutching the soaked gauze in my left hand, I reached around, my hand hovering over the butt of the arrow, ready to slam against his chest wound. My other hand clutched the jar, ready to pour it directly onto his back.
“OK. Ready,” I said. My stomach clenched, my heart hammering against my chest as Gahn Errok started to push the arrow out from the front once more.
It was a horrible, sickening sight. The arrow slowly working its way out of his back. But I didn’t let myself look away. As much trouble as this guy had caused me, I wouldn’t let him face this alone.
“Jesus! Why do you have to make your arrows so big and long,” I lamented. The stupid arrow staff never seemed to end! It was easily as long as my entire arm. I even had to move to the side at one point to keep the tip of the arrow from hitting me as it slowly, painstakingly ejected.
“I am sure they seem large to you,” Gahn Errok panted, his voice gravelly with pain and effort. I sensed a slight smirk in his voice, then, when he said, “But as this is Gahn Thaleo’s arrow, it is nowhere near as large as one of mine.”
“Whatever you say,” I replied. I didn’t bother telling him I could see his quiver of arrows right beside us, and I could tell that they were generally the same size and design as the one nudging slowly out of his body now.
“This is as far as I can push,” Gahn Errok said suddenly, the arrow’s movement halting. “You will have to pull from the back.”
“Oh, hell no!” I cried in English. “I agreed to help heal you. I didn’t know I was on arrow-pulling duty, too!”
But there was no way around it. Unless he was going to shove his fist into his own chest to keep pushing. And we’d already established that the wound made it nearly impossible for him to reach around from behind to pull it from the back himself.
“Alright,” I said in the Sea Sand language this time. I put down my gauze and jar of Vrika’s blood on the bed beside me. I didn’t like that I had to let go of them. It meant that I’d have to move even faster once the arrow was out to stop the bleeding.
Swallowing against nausea rising in my throat, I tentatively reached forward and grasped the arrow shaft with both hands. I wasn’t a particularly squeamish person, but I’d also never had to pull a weapon out of somebody’s chest with meticulous precision. The shaft of the arrow was smoothly polished bone, perfectly straight and slick with Gahn Errok’s hot black blood. Swearing, I let go of the shaft to wipe some of the blood off with spare gauze before returning my grip. I had much better purchase, now. Now that the blood wasn’t slick and wet on the shaft, it turned sticky between my palms and the bone, practically gluing my hands there.
“I’m going to start,” I breathed. I gave an experimental, gentle tug.
It didn’t budge.
OK. I’m going to have to pull harder than I’d thought...
