Journey to Psitharis

Chapter 36

Thirty-six

Before I could even raise my hands to protect myself, the soldier took a swing with his blade, catching me just above the temple. I felt a trickle of blood run down my face. Roland must have moved at lightning speed, because one moment I'm standing there, backing away from my attacker and feeling the blood ooze from the cut on my head, and the next moment I'm falling backward onto the floor, pushed back by my fierce protector. Dumbfounded I watched as Roland and his opponent struggled against each other, each vying for control of the sharp-edged weapon. At one point Roland punched the man in the face with his free hand; stunned, the man dropped his dagger, and it nearly caught me in my outstretched leg. I quickly moved to avoid getting cut again, and as I looked again I saw Roland and the soldier in a deadlock, neither giving way. I reached out, grabbed the handle protruding from the floorboards, and, jumping to my feet, screamed out, "Stop right there!"

It felt kind of stupid, standing there all five feet and three inches of me, with this dagger in one hand and my bloody hand covering the left side of my head, trying to look badass. If anything I imagined I looked completely ridiculous. The soldier backed away from us, holding his hands level with his head in a gesture of surrender. I suddenly felt dizzy, and I could feel myself falling. Roland grabbed the knife from my hand and stopped me from falling. He held the guy at bay and held onto me as some of the others apprehended my attacker. Then he dropped the weapon and wrapped both arms around me.

"Medora, are you all right?" I could hear him say, but it sounded like a voice in a tunnel. My mind became a void of all knowledge as I slipped into unconsciousness. The next time I had any claim to cognizance I was in a solid white room, surrounded by some very concerned faces. No one had noticed my eyes opening, trying to focus on my surroundings. Ghias was holding my hand and bawling hysterically and Grandpa was holding a cold cloth to my head. Roland was the one who had his hand under my head, had his face only inches from my own. And his pleas he kept low, so only I could hear them. "Medora, please. Come back to me."

"Stop breathing on me. I'm trying to catch my breath here." I opened my eyes fully, staring up at him. His face was still a little blurry, but the ecstatic look he gave me was unmistakable.

Roland pulled me up into a tight embrace. It completely took my breath away. "Hey, I said I couldn't breathe! Relax the grip!" Everyone laughed, the tension lifting in the room. I sat up, and the room seemed to tilt back and forth for a few moments as I got my bearings. When it righted again I could see the entire room, including the hallway beyond, was filled with people who were worried about me. The only look of bland disinterest came from the old man who had once fitted me in a frilly ballet costume. He was standing beside me on the side opposite Roland, clutching a bloody needle and thread. "What are you doing here?" I asked.

"Hey, someone had to sew you up. I'm the best around at making stitches, ask anyone." I felt at the tender spot on my head. It was covered with a piece of fabric, but I could tell that underneath there were small threads holding the gash in my head together. He did do a good job. The stitches felt so small and neat. It was tender, but the bleeding had ceased. For a split second, I could feel an uncomfortable shift from the other side of my bed. I looked over to see Roland cautiously eyeing the old man with a look that was akin to a glare. I was going to ask him what was wrong, when suddenly remembering all the times I woke up with sand in my bed, with blood on my sheets from the gashes on my legs, I had to wonder what sort of mess I had left behind in the waking world. And would I wake up with this huge cut in my temple? If I was hurt there and still losing blood, would I wake up at all? After all, no one was there to find me bleeding to death. With Ghias' help I was able to stand on my own two feet, despite all the protestations from the people around me. I knew that time was short, that more than likely this lesion would probably follow me to the morning light, to my bed which hadn't really recovered from all the scratches from my legs from my first tangle with the graveyard. I could only imagine what ghastly scene would greet me when I awoke.