She let out a gurgled cough. She was drowning, drowning in blood and her own suffering. She felt so helpless, so stupid. This wasn't how it was supposed to be! She was to die in a great battle, and although she rarely had aspirations to fame and legendry, she wanted her last battle to be remembered, to be sung about. She laughed, which quickly turned into a wracking cough, blood splaying over her fingers.
Bandits. Stupid, imbecilic, blunt-force bandits. The mayor of the town had said there were but ten men that they would have to deal with, they came frequently to rob the village. Third company had felt safe in this knowledge, and had sent a token force.
When they'd topped a hill, they were met with a sight that sent anger down her spine. Fifty or so bandits were grouped around several fires, and upon seeing the twenty men and lone Lady Knight, had leapt to their weapons, a surprising number picking up bows and arrows.
It was a bloody fight, but Third Company didn't suffer any casualties. As the battle died down, they looked about for their leader on the raid, the Lady Knight, and saw she was nowhere in sight.
They had charged down the hill, Kel among the first, and at about half-way down the rise an arrow punched into her thigh. She didn't feel the pain, she had too much adrenaline pumping through her, the blood lust of battle, and she barely noticed when another punched into her shoulder, close to her collar bone.
A group of seventeen men saw the fierce look upon her face, their arrows sticking out from her, and they turned tail and fled, Kel giving chase. The thundered around the corner of a cliff face, and as Kel rounded the bend, she was hit with another arrow, and this time she felt the white hot pain it inflicted. She looked down to see blood blooming from the wound in her left side.
Growling, she leapt off her horse, glaive in hand, and began to dispatch the bandits. Many were surprised at her strength; they didn't know how to react to the sweeping blade of the glaive. She settled into the Swaying Leaves pattern dance, one that would look erratic and terrifying, but one that would nip and maim, before killing its opponent.
Kel stumbled, and was momentarily caught at a loss as to why, before she felt the same pain again, this time centred on her lower back, almost the same place another arrow was currently punched through.
After killing the last man, she paused, letting in shuddering breaths of air. The pain was almost unbearable now, she faintly realised she'd need to see a healer, before another arrow punched through her breastplate, below her right breast, closer to her side.
She whipped around wildly and saw a youth, who looked about seventeen, perched in a tree not to far from her. Her pain-addled mind almost chuckled, thinking of the story this could make when she told it to Dom. If she told it to Dom.
She staggered toward the boy, whose eyes widened in fear. She didn't want to kill him, but she may be forced to. He, after all, was trying to kill her.
He loosed another arrow, hitting the same leg which had been hit before, and she stumbled to one knee, before heaving herself up, a rock in hand. He was about to loose another arrow when she took aim and slugged the rock at his head. Surprised, her didn't move in time and was knocked from the tree, unmoving.
And so that was how she came to be, kneeling on the dusty ground. She heard yells and she faintly called out to her soldiers, before another cough took hold of her. She was aware of several of her men running toward her kneeling form, and a few snapped off the arrows gently, although still causing pain.
Her vision darkened, her breathing slowed. She looked about wildly, wishing her friends were there to see her off. She never left them without saying goodbye. She was supposed to be coming home, back to Tobe, who'd just started in the Riders. Back to all her friends and colleagues. Her friends, the ones who had been with her since the Joren days. She was dieing before she said goodbye. It just couldn't happen, it wasn't right, it wasn't fair. She had never sunk so low into self pity as she had at this moment. She knew this outcome came with her line of work, she chose this, she'd lived the life she'd wanted, and now it was over.
She gestured to Wolset and he came closer, wiping away an errant tear. She gestured for him to come close enough for her to whisper her last words in his ear, and then she passed, and Wolset stood and bowed his head.
Wolset's face was grim as they entered the town where the rest of Third Company, Lord Raoul, Sir Nealan and Lady Alanna were currently joking around the fire. As they turned to greet them, immediately faces fell, but they couldn't tell what, or rather who, was missing, they saw saddened looks and a shroud covered body on a makeshift wagon.
Suddenly, Dom of Masbolle let out a yell of pain and disbelief. He ran toward the group, toward the wagon, and the other soldiers and Knights finally realised who was not with them. Dom's shout was echoed by all.
Dom reached the cart and gently removed the shroud that covered his love's face. One night. They had gotten one, perfect night, just before she left for this trip. They'd been on sentry duty and finally he had confessed, and she had felt the same way, and they had had a night of love that neither had ever experienced, and nobody but them knew about.
Her usually tanned face was deathly white, her freckles a stark contrast. Her eyes were closed, so that he'd never see her dreamer's eyes again. He'd pulled the shroud all the way off now, he had to see how she had died, and what he found shocked him to the core. Seven arrows had felled her. There was blood all over her body. He covered her body once more, leaving her face, her peaceful face, uncovered. He leant down and kissed her, full on the mouth, much to the shock of everyone watching.
Tears ran down his face and he almost choked, and he stumbled away from her body. Wolset followed in a daze, finally understanding the message he was to give was for Dom. She hadn't told him who the last message was for.
"Dom, Kel had a message for you." Dom whipped around, dishevelled, and glared at him.
"She said "What do you think of me now? Dying against bandits. I just know you'll be disgusted with me. I wish I'd had longer with you. I wish I'd had one more chance to say it. To say that I love you. Goodbye. I couldn't leave without saying it.""
Dom shuddered, head bowed. She was gone. Wolset left him to his grief, her had more messages to deliver, though much shorter than the one to Dom. The Lady Knight had died fighting, surrounded by seventeen men. But the one man she had wanted hadn't been there. Dom felt he could never make it up to her.