Left on the floor, ...

A slick of water glistened in the dim light that filtered in from the vent hole at the top of the chamber. It made some areas slippery. Ainea's boot heel came down in one of those puddles when she was about four strides from the nitch where Paul stood, his arm outstretched to draw her inward. She slid, waving her own outstretched hand wildly in an effort to regain her balance, but she was too far out of control. In an instant her feet went out from under her and she fell, sliding toward him head first. Scrabbling at the floor did nothing to aid her, and she slid into the step at the base of the portal, cracking her head against it. Lying there dazed, she was unable to rise.

The log was nearly upon her as Paul leaned outward, his left hand gripping the edge of the sliding door. With his right he snagged her hand as it fell toward the floor, and he heaved with a mighty yank. Ainea was tall for a woman, and Paul was no mighty Irishman. However, she still was trim and petite compared to his muscled frame. Her body flew upward almost like it had been levitated.

So high did it go upward that the log passed completely under her, the huge cylinder's upper edge grazing Paul's arm where it stuck out of the top of the portal, his hand still grasping Ainea's with terrible urgency. As she started to fall and the fifth log bore down upon her, he pulled as he stepped back, hauling her unceremoniously inward. His heel caught on an uneven place in the surface of the floor and he went over backward.

That might have been the single thing that saved Ainea's life, or at least kept her from suffering the terrible wounding of having both legs amputated. As it was the end of the log struck the heel of her boot and clipped it against the frame of the door, shearing off almost an inch of it.

As Paul felt himself go over, he used his now-free left hand to snag her hair and haul her head backward, keeping her from smashing her face into the stone floor as she fell on top of him. He himself got a nasty crack of the back of his head against the that surface as he landed. For several minutes he saw stars in the darkened passage, for the portal had closed once again.

When it opened and he regained consciousness it was to see her worried face scarce inches from his as she studied him intently to see if he had been badly injured. Even as she looked at him, her hand was rubbing the bump on her own head, and she winced as she felt a scrape from hitting the step. But what concerned Paul was the trickle of blood that had started to course down her temple from a small raw patch on her scalp. How badly was she wounded?