Summary: Wyldon of Cavall reflects on his former student, as she takes place in one last battle- the battle between life and death. One Shot.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
And I don't want the world to see me
Because I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's meant to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
-The Goo Goo Dolls, Iris-
Lord Wyldon of Cavall felt his breath leave his chest sharply. A team of healers surrounded her, shouting orders, their Gifts blazed in his vision.
"Get out of the way!" a healing woman barked, shoving him abruptly.
Wyldon did not care, for he was lost for words. There was the strongest woman he had ever met in the bed before him, made weak by the enemy's sword and arrows. Blood was everywhere, trickling down her face, forming puddles on the floor, leaving stains on the healer's clothing.
"Mithros curse it!" Wyldon heard his former charge, Neal of Queenscove, bellow over the ruckus. "Someone try to stop the bleeding! She's losing too much blood!"
"My lord, you shouldn't be here," a young woman said anxiously, the tension in the room clearly rubbing off on her. She grabbed him lightly by the sleeve in an attempt to direct him into the waiting area. "This is no place for a knight commander."
"Let go of me," he snapped, not even making an effort to be polite. He then added more firmly, "It's my fault that she is here in the first place. I have to be here."
The woman released him immediately and stared up at him with frightened brown eyes, realizing the higher status that he held over her. She muttered a quick apology, before scurrying away, her tail metaphorically in between her legs.
The knight then turned back to the bed, where a swarm of healers continued to crowd around it. They had seemed to get the bleeding under control, but they still had the task of repairing her wounds. An arrow had managed to pierce her lower back and she had a sword wound across her chest. She looked absolutely dismal.
Wyldon held back a growl of frustration. It was supposed to be a simple mission, a trip to Fort Mastiff to personally report on the current situation at New Hope. Queenscove wasn't with her. He had been at Fort Mastiff for the past two months under the command of his former training master because of their healer shortage. In the younger knight's place, Wyldon had instead sent a small squad of the King's Own to bring her to the fort safely.
However, what the former training master wasn't aware of was that one of the soldiers was a Scanran, a special agent of Maggur himself. The agent had purposely led the squad and Mindelan into a trap.
A Scanran force that had outnumbered them two to one was waiting for them in the forest. They had slaughtered the squad, but Mindelan had somehow managed to get away. Her monster of a horse, Peachblossom, or whatever she called him, carried her all the way to Mastiff.
And now she is here, Wyldon thought bitterly, staring at her bloody, sweat soaked body. She took quick and ragged breaths. He watched her chest move up and down and could see the pain on her face every time she inhaled.
She wanted to wait one more week. Until the harvest came in, he remembered Mindelan begging him in her letter. But, he had insisted she had come now. He wanted the reports right away.
If I had given her that week, would she be here right now, just barely hanging onto life? Wyldon wondered with a sigh. Would I have sent a different squad with her?
A scream of agony echoed through the room. They were sewing up the large gash in her chest.
"Make it stop Neal!" she cried, tears were streaming down her face now.
Wyldon felt a sharp ache in his chest. In the nine years that he had known her, the older knight had never seen Mindelan shed a tear before. She was truly at the mercy of her own pain.
Wyldon watched her year-mate squeeze her hand. Like he was handling an infant, he gently smoothed back her sweat soaked hair off her face in an act of comfort. However, it didn't seem to offer too much relief. Mindelan was still writhing around on the cot in pure agony.
"You can do it Kel," Queenscove urged his best friend. "Think of Tobe. Think of me. We all need you to pull through this."
"I can't," Kel muttered to the former training master's shock. When had he ever heard those words come out the girl's mouth? He couldn't recall.
Wyldon knew what he had to and approached the bed, knocking Queenscove out of the way.
"Mindelan, don't ever say you can't," he instructed her, amazed how easy it was to fall back into his old role of teacher. "I know when you became a Page, there were a lot of people that thought you can't do it. I even said you couldn't do it. But, you proved us all wrong, now didn't you? So, pull yourself together and try to make it through for me," Tears prickled at the corners of Wyldon's eyes, but he stubbornly pushed them away. This was no time for him to lose control of his emotions. Mindelan needed him to be strong for her and by the gods he would be. "This can't be as bad as my punishments I used to give you when you were a Page. You aren't climbing the castle walls and trees anymore Mindelan."
His attempt to make her smile worked. Amidst her pain and suffering, her lips managed to curve upwards. "Thank you my lord," she said softly.
But, the moment was ruined, when Kel screamed again. To Wyldon's horror, the stitches broke apart and blood spurted out of her chest in an alarming amount.
"Oh gods," she cried out in pure agony.
Blood splattered his face.
"My lord, you must leave," a voice cried.
This time he couldn't even argue. Wyldon seemed to be in a trance, as he was dragged out of the room and into the waiting area. He sat down on the bench and put his head in his hands. He did not even bother to wipe the blood off his face.
He could still picture her face, the terror in her eyes. He had never seen her so vulnerable before. Even though he had never admitted it out loud before and only did in a few rare moments to himself, Mindelan was truly like a daughter to him. He cared for her terribly and absolutely hated to see her in so much pain.
After all she had been through- saving the refugees, destroying the mage that had created the deadly killing devices, and even proving to Wyldon himself that she belonged as a knight- did she really deserve such a fate like this?
In his anger, Wyldon hurled his left fist at the wooden, infirmary wall. The impact made his bones crunch loudly and a searing pain shot up his arm. The knight knew he was acting foolishly, but he did not care. Kel was dying in the next room.
Wyldon sat in silence for the next few minutes. He was waiting, watching, listening, for any sign that would tell Wyldon if she had made it or not.
An ear shattering scream was his answer.
A few seconds later, Queenscove, his face tear stained and weary, appeared in the doorway. The older knight felt his heart fall into his stomach and a cold sweat broke out onto his forehead. This was it…
"She didn't make it," the healer told Wyldon quietly, choking back a sob. "She lost too much blood."
Wyldon got up stiffly, ignoring the pain in his hand, and in an uncharacteristic moment, he pulled Queenscove into a hug.
"I'm so sorry Neal," Wyldon apologized. He felt the hot tears drip down his face, but made no efforts to wipe them away. "This is all my fault. Keladry did not deserve to die."
Neal inhaled deeply and he was now wearing an expression was of true shock. Wyldon did not know if it was because of his best friend's death or the fact that they had just exchanged a hug.
"No, my lord," Neal said, his voice shaky and added in a rare moment of respect for the older man, "it's not your fault. No one saw that coming. It was completely out of your hands."
Wyldon rubbed his face with his hands and sighed, "I wish I could be so quick to forgive myself Neal, but unfortunately, I'm don't think I ever will."
With those last words, Lord Wyldon of Cavall, turned away from his former charge and walked out of the infirmary and into the chilly, autumn night.
The knight knew he would always be wounded by Keladry of Mindelan's death. The girl that he once thought of as nothing but a nuisance to him, was now the girl that had changed his life forever. She would always be in his heart, as the true spirit of a warrior, until the day he died and rejoined her in the Black god's realm once again.
Edited on Aug. 16th, 2010.