Ruin and Revival

Chapter 51: Treacherous Waters

AXEL 

I try to shield Arika's body from the oncoming explosion. I should have known that man had snuck in a bomb! But she wriggles away from me, squirming out of my iron-hard clasp. No,no where are you going?! Alarms blare in my mind, like sirens piercing through a dark night, cutting holes through the brain.

But it is too late.

Arika tumbles off the platform, and all I can do is scream her name as I see her shield a toddler in her arms. Guards close in on me, a wall of well-muscled bodies, protecting me from the worst of the explosion. I don't deserve this.

My mind is elsewhere as I struggle against my guards, my own people, in order to reach Arika. Every selfish fiber in my soul fought for that girl who put everyone else above herself.

"Sir, please remain still until most of-" The guards voice halts abruptly and I watch in horror as he a flying stone lodges into his head. I catch him in my arms as he collapses, perishing on the spot.

"You have died well, my warrior," I whisper the traditional phrase, choking on my voice. The voices of panicked people engulfs the world, but I focus on getting to Arika. Please stay alive.

I lose her in the stampede of scrambling people. They cut me off, completely blocking that view of her curled around a shaking boy, her own body shaking in terror.

"We've obtained the man sir, and await your command."

"Kill him." My voice comes out cold and alien, as if it isn't me uttering those cruel words. I clear my throat, trying to piece my composure back together long enough to reorganize the chaos.

"Everyone, stay calm. The terrorist has been taken care of. My men are setting up camps over there," desperate eyes follow my finger, "and my best physicians are heading here from the palace. Injured, children, and elderly get priority." My strides speed to a jog as I haste toward the flimsy tents. I rip open flap after flap, but Arika is nowhere to be found. I clench my teeth in frustration.

"She is in the tent on the far right. She saved my brothers life." A timid voice chirps from behind. It belonged to a young girl, no older than twelve. Her wide blue eyes pierce into me their sincerity and gratefulness. I give her my best grin.

"Thank you." She tucks her ebony black hair behind her ears, immediately perking up like children always do. I miss that resilience.

Inhaling a deep, much-needed breath, I gently pull the flap aside. And almost vomit at the sight. There Arika lay, her back bare, covered in minor burns, bruises, and bloody scratches. Her pale face remains still and slack. I crumple to the ground before I even realize what I am witnessing. My breath comes in short bursts, unsteady and unpredictable.

"We owe her so much. He owes her his life." All I can do is turn silently toward the mother and her son huddled in the room. For a moment, I don't say anything, unable to direct kind words when Arika lay there, so lifeless. But seeing the same scratches on the boy, the mother's tired body, the same bruises, my heart softens with sympathy.

"Of course. She is amazing like that." My breath hitches in shame.

"She's alive. Debris knocked her unconscious. Do you know when the physicians will come?" The mother states quietly, unable to meet my gaze.

"We can't wait that long. Can you get me some water and some clean rags." Slipping on the gloves that are an extension of my own body, my mind glazes over in the all too familiar calm, the sort that numbs you until pain no longer exists. I have learned to hone it into a deadly weapon on the battlefield. But now, it will save or cost a life. A life that has grown to be such an essential part of mine.