The Lost Knight (Volume III) The Lost World

Chapter 47: Terrible Hope

I want to cling to Jonah until I feel as nieve and safe as I did a few days ago in Detti's stable. Days? That couldn't have been days? His robe brushes the bandage on my ear, and lights strobe across my vision. I jump back and regret that too. I've chopped weeds and branches like a maniac for hours and barely felt the crushing ache of my injuries, but a simple hug reminds me I'm dying.

I turn from Jonah to greet everyone else, but all I see is the cow in armor, Goutadge. Where is everyone?

I look down to find a hulking body lying on a makeshift stretcher. "Trelix!" I shout, dropping to my knees.

Jonah grabs my good arm to stop me from launching myself at him. He's unconscious, with a bloody saddle blanket oddly placed over his legs. There's another blanket over his chest, and he's making an awful noise that sounds like coffee percolating. I've heard of a death rattle before, and now I know its sound.

"His leg?" I ask. I should cry or emote something, but I have nothing left.

Jonah sighs. His eyes still shine, but they're dimmer, smaller, and much less expressive. "A Spaturn took it from mid-thigh."

"Kyrbast can regrow legs, right? I mean, you said he can regrow an ear, so he can regrow a leg," I say spastically. Trelix will be fine. It merely sounds worse than it is. He has to be okay.

I don't like Jonah's expression, but Dathid's is worse.

"He's going to be alright, right?" I ask.

"It's not the leg," Jonah explains. "It's the fall."

Something is very wrong with him, but he's Trelix. He's the strongest person I've ever known. He'll be fine once he gets some rest and sees a doctor.

Everyone in our small group is looking at Trelix the same way they were looking at Carfron. I shake my head. "No!" I shout. "No, don't! You're not doing it again." I place myself between them and Trelix. "We're not killing another one of our own. Not Trelix!"

"Agatha," Jonah says softly. "We've been carrying Trelix through the jungle for at least four days. We're not going to abandon him now."

He makes a lot of sense, and the fight drains out of me before I'm ready to let it go. I'm so tired. I can't take anymore. I want to go back home to my comfy bed and drink one of Albína's sleeping teas.

"Sit. I'll clear a better path back to camp," Dathid orders as he picks up his sword.

I'm exhausted from slashing my way here. My shoulder was the worst of the pain, but now it's excruciatingly numb. I should chop before the agony returns. I only have one hand because the broken one is tied to my chest, but I grab my sword and help anyway.

It takes a long time to get Trelix through the jungle and back to the camp. Once we arrive, Jonah attends to Baliss.

"He's okay. He's hibernating," I say in an attempt to make Jonah feel better.

"Yeah," he whispers. "He's okay."

I jump and draw my sword when a loud crash reverberates through the camp. It's Goutadge, flat on his back, out cold, and snoring loudly. Dathid checks on him anyway and announces that he's sleeping.

"I need to rest, too. How much time do I have?" Jonah asks Dathid.

"Take as long as you need. We only have to find some water," he answers.

Jonah nods weakly, revealing just how worn out he is.

I keep sinking to new levels of fear. How low does this pit go? How much can I take? Jonah's my foundation. He's constant, never changing. I've seen his various moods, but I've never seen him tired, hurt, or hungry. Now I see all three, and it makes my heart stop. It's like I'm falling.