Eliona's War 2: Veiled Healer

Chapter 60

Time Elapsed: 01:12:13

"Get up."

Severance barely understood the words. The tone, however, was clear enough to send a whisper of fear through him. Utterly cold and dispassionate, as if all this meant nothing.

He rested his head on the sand, his body curled up beneath him. He could feel the heat of the sun beating down on his bare back, but it was a distant thing compared to the warm, wet slide of his own blood across his skin. It seeped into the valley between his neck and shoulder and dripped onto the sand beside his face. More crept down the side of his ribs, which were already turning a dark shade of purple.

Boots appeared by his head without a single sound. Only the slightest displacement of a few gains of sand marked their arrival.

"Get up, Severance."

Batin's voice had lowered in pitch, and it was soft like a blade being drawn from its sheath. It was a warning.

Severance closed his eyes, teeth grinding as he fought to keep the strangled sob at bay. Every breath felt like swallowing shards of glass. His back radiated agony from multiple points, though it was getting hard to separate them.

How many knives were in his back now?

He'd lost count after three, because his mind had shut down for a little while. He'd awakened to the sound of his ribs snapping beneath a very deliberate boot.

Batin didn't tolerate dawdling. It didn't matter whether Severance was conscious or not. The consequence of tardiness was delivered all the same.

Severance lifted his head. The sand beneath him was wet with blood, snot, and tears. The taste of iron coated his tongue.

He took a shallow breath, getting his arms beneath him. The effort made him wheeze, then cough as his airways bubbled up with blood. He moaned as renewed agony spiked through him. The sound became garbled as his mouth filled with phlegm and blood, which he half retched, half spat onto the sand.

Still, he pushed himself up onto his knees, eyes squeezed shut as he rode each wave of pain. Little stars danced inside his eyelids as he grew lightheaded. For a second, he thought he'd black out again.

"That's it," Batin's voice came from far away. "Don't focus on the pain. Let it wash over you. It's just another piece of your environment that's present around you. Turn your focus towards the task you must complete."

Severance gritted his teeth, his breath squeezing out in a hiss. Doing what Batin asked seemed about as possible as turning back time. It was beyond his ability. When each breath brought renewed hurt, simply existing felt difficult.

It was at moments like these that he thought of Rasin. The magnitude of what the man had done for him struck him all the harder, because suddenly he understood, even just a little, of how Rasin had willingly suffered on his behalf.

Shame welled up, as well as guilt. Who was he to complain about such a small thing? His pain was temporary. A small price to pay for getting strong enough to finally be able help the others in return.

That gave him strength to push to his feet, even though it nearly cost him his consciousness. He wheezed and gasped for air, his lungs struggling to get enough oxygen. One lung had to be damaged, because he kept bringing up blood with every choked breath.

His health bar confirmed that he was bleeding, because it crept down at a slow, but steady rate. If the bleeding didn't stop, he'd eventually die.

"Move," Batin commanded. "You have yet to reach your target."