--------------------MOONBEAMS AND SUNSETS--------------------
Chapter 1
It is the last massacre of a waning summer, the final clash of weary yet determined warriors. Tortallans and Scanrans are scattered across the battlefield, weapons and wills clashing with an outburst of sparks and metallic echoes. The empty land in which they fight is boggy from too many footfalls and bloody from too many deaths, but the battle continues. Those fighting know that this is the last stand. They put their all into it; wild battle cries torn out of throats, weapons swung with enough ferocity to knock a head clean off, and horses lashing out with vicious hooves. Even if this battle was not the end, the two countries would be too exhausted to fight again. Many Scanrans are already broken and ready to fall back. Tortall's warriors are lunging forward, forcing the enemy to pull back towards the border, and despite the conditions of war, they are high-spirited.
Keladry of Mindelan cuts down by her legs, knocking one Scanran to unconsciousness and slashing another across the shoulder. Her warhorse, Peachblossom, forces her way through the mass of bloodied warriors. Destruction is left in their wake, injured Scanrans trampled and those attacking chopped down as though they were mere saplings in a forest of ancient trees. The Lady Knight does not revel in slaughter; but it is what knights do. Defend their country, protect their kin, drive away enemies - this is Kel's dream, to fight for what she believes in.
One of her fellow knights, Nealan of Queenscove, watches her intently. As one of the chief healers, he'd been ordered to stay on the walls and save his energy for magic in the infirmary. His gaze drifts out over the battlefield, the bow in his hand ignored. Not that it mattered; at the start of the battle, one of the archers had specifically asked Neal not to shoot because his accuracy was so bad it would just be a waste of arrows. Neal didn't mind. After all, he was naturally lazy at heart, and it seemed their side was winning anyway. Raoul and Wyldon fought nearby - most of the country's most experienced fighters were here at Fort Steadfast.
New Hope had been disbanded a month ago as the war died down and the major forces returned to Fort Steadfast under intelligence that a Scanran force was preparing a last desperate attack there. However, most of the King's Own (including Third Company, quite notably without Raoul) were drifting nearer the border, taking out the last few Scanran raiding parties.
Neal was sombre as he watched death swallow many and threaten his friends. It was hard to keep a cheery outlook as peoples' tortured moans reached his ears. Sometimes it didn't seem fair that people had to die over stupid disagreements and greed. Both countries were suffering huge losses and yet Scanra continued to attack. Neal's eyes drifted over the mass of people and snapped back to Kel, who had dropped off of Peachblossom and was defending another Tortallan's back.
Occasionally, whenever Neal saw Kel in war, he wondered how she kept so strong and innocent through all the battles and death. Even he had dark moments sometimes; to be a knight was to be expected to kill without pausing and be pressurised with the burden of protecting everyone under their responsibility. Dedication and persistence just went with the job.
Undoubtedly Kel's eyes had seen horrors and evil that scarred her beneath her skin, but she kept going. She didn't smile much; but when she did, it was innocent and pure - untainted. To some, it seemed like she never smiled at all. But over time - if you knew her well enough - not even her Yamani mask could hide the slivers of emotion that managed to evade her vizard.
"Hey, Meathead." Neal spun around, a scowl beginning to form on his face as he recognised that ridiculously insufferable nickname. Kel was striding along the wall towards him, dragging a helmet from her matted hair. A smudge of mud ran down her cheek. "It's over."
"Really?"
"If you were paying attention, you'd know that already," she replied without missing a beat, and swooped down on him to cuff him over the head. "Burial detail, anyone?"
Neal scrunched his face up. "The way you talk about it, people'd think it's as mild as washing the dishes. It's horrible."
"It has to be done," she said, shrugging. "By the way, there's a load of groaning men waiting for you in the infirmary."
"Oh yeah..." he said, eyes drawn to the wooden building on the ground. "Well, duty calls! Have fun digging graves, Kel." He clapped her on the shoulder as he strode away down the wall.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Swathes of emerald green magic surrounded him, cloaking his senses and demanding all his concentration. He could barely feel his fingers as they grasped someone's skin, slippery with blood. Honing his magic, he searched out for the edge of the wound with a tendril of green sparkles and began to heal. It felt like his heart began to strain as he used the magical energy to close up the wound.
Something jolted him out of his magical trance - a figure stood beside him with a firm hand on his shoulder.
"You really are a Meathead."
"Evening... Protector..." Neal's voice cracked and died away. He squinted up at her, a little cowed by the look on her face.
"I'm amazed you're still conscious," she chastised, grabbing his arm. "Get up." Neal just chuckled weakly under his breath and allowed her to drag him across the infirmary. After satisfying herself that he would not fall off the chair she dropped him onto, she disappeared out the building. He barely noticed, drifting between exhausted sleep and empty consciousness, jerking awake each time someone walked past. Even time seemed to sleep, until he wasn't sure how much time had passed since Kel left.
Some when later (Neal wasn't really sure when), Kel returned, hauling a small table in front of him and setting down a steaming plate on its surface. "Eat, or you'll shrivel up." Neal recognized the motherly expression on her face, and reached out for the fork. It didn't take long for her to find a chair of her own and sit opposite him. She watched him attempt to spear a slice of carrot several times with amusement and concern in her eyes before he finally managed to get it onto the eating utensil. As he brought the fork to his mouth, he missed and jammed it into his cheek, grimacing as he did so. Kel shook her head disapprovingly.
"As much as I admire your service to the wounded, Queenscove, I doubt your fiancée will be happy to find you can hardly feed yourself. I've heard about your accuracy from the archers, but I never realised your already poor aim had deteriorated quite so far - perhaps you should repeat the eight years towards knighthood. Maybe we will see some small improvement." Wyldon, face hard and weather-worn, turned to Kel. "Keladry," he began stiffly, as though calling her by her first name burned his throat, "there is a message from the King to be announced after dinner in the mess hall. If Queenscove isn't completely inane by that time, I will require both of you to be present." He didn't even wait for a reply before departing; Kel stared after him with her mouth slightly open.
"He insulted me!" remarked Neal indignantly, dropping his fork with fumbling fingers. "He insulted me several times!"
"Yes, Neal. He did. Bring some wake flower to dinner, will you? I think I'm going to need it."
"You think you're going to fall asleep...?"
"No, Nealan. I think you are going to fall asleep" Neal mock-glared at her and poked a lukewarm vegetable with fork. "And eat your vegetables."
"But mooooother!" he whined, table jostling precariously as he shifted in his seat, "They smell funny!"
One of the other healers walking past shot them a disapproving look. Neal's whining could be heard from the other end of the infirmary (but on the plus side, it was much more pleasant than the pained groans of wounded men). Kel briefly reprimanded him on disturbing patients and watched him eat the remainders of his vegetables with a stern gaze before leaving him to nap on an empty bed nearby.
She returned a few hours later and shook him awake. To keep him quiet she had to hold a hand to his mouth, which only made him panic and thrash about. One of the sleeping patients beside them retreated further under their sheets, and several others had woken and were busy glaring daggers. Kel shot them apologetic looks and pulled Neal onto his feet. A vial of wake flower lay on the bedside table; she snatched it up and stowed it away in her pocket.
The mess hall was not far from the infirmary (so meals could be brought to bed bound patients) and the wafting smell of stew drifted through the air. A few men from the Second Company of the Own waved to them as they passed. Neal was stumbling a little, trying to keep up with Kel's long, fast paces.
"Slow down, Kel!"
"Speed up, Neal," she replied sardonically, grabbing his arm and propelling him forwards. "We're late enough as it is."
Neal scowled, but obeyed. They entered the mess hall and picked up a bowl of stew each (which, in Neal's opinion, was too gloopy) before sliding into a seat with some of their other year mates - Merric, Seaver, and Cleon. Noise and chatter erupted everywhere you cared to look until Kel was forced to shout to greet her friends.
"Hey, Kel. Got Neal, I see."
"Yes." She looked across at him, and added, "Eventually."
Neal stared down at his stew moodily. "I resent that..."
"Ah, cheer up, Neal. I hear we're going back to Corus!" Merric said, clapping Neal on the back. "Reassignment, or something. Think we're going to have a party before we leave?"
Kel blinked. "Going... home?"
"Yes, Kel. That's right. Corus. Going home."
"Shut up, Meathead," she said, punching his shoulder. "Surely we should be staying for longer. The war only ended today."
"Who cares?" chorused her four knight friends, grinning at each other.
Everyone was extremely rowdy, increasingly so as the rumour of returning to Corus spread through the crowd. A small food fight broke out in the corner of the mess hall, fuelled by someone's hip flask of whisky, but was ended a few minutes later by Raoul who had just been hit with a soggy, stew-soaked roll in the back of the head. Needless to say, the men responsible were completely silent as they continued their meal.
Kel began to develop a headache from the noise, and didn't join her friends' conversation about what they were going to do when they got back to Corus. Ten minutes later, conversation began to die down. Wyldon stood at the back of the hall, heads turning to watch him.
"A message has arrived from the King. As the war with Scanra has finally ended, most of the King's Own and almost all the knights will be returning to Corus for a brief rest -" (you could tell by the look on his face he clearly didn't think a rest was necessary) "- and to be reassigned to other matters." Kel was amazed the walls didn't collapse as cheers and shouting exploded in the room. One look at Wyldon's thunderous face soon ended the noise. "The knights will be leaving in small groups at different intervals tomorrow. Everyone should pack. You will be informed of who is leaving and when you are leaving tomorrow morning. I'd also like a word with Keladry of Mindelan. The rest of you are free to -" he shifted uncomfortably and looked around the room, clearly disapproving, and ended, "celebrate." Bedlam once again engulfed the room. Kel spotted Wyldon slipping out the door, and followed. He was waiting a few metres from the doorway.
"You wanted a word, sir?"
"You're going to be leaving first, with Hollyrose and Queenscove. At dawn tomorrow."
She blinked and repeated, "Dawn?" Despite herself, Kel felt dismay and horror washing over her. She rose at dawn every day and she could probably handle getting up earlier, but if Neal and Merric stayed up until the early hours partying with the rest of the men then it would be near impossible to have them ready in time. She looked at the mess hall from the corner of her eye. "I should go get them..."
"Yes, I was a little concerned that they'd hold you up. It might be an idea to pack now rather than in the morning."
"Yes, sir," Kel replied automatically.
Wyldon nodded approvingly. "Your horses will be prepared for the morning. Safe journey, Keladry." He watched her blank face for a moment, then strolled off in the direction of his rooms. Kel watched him disappear through the doorway of another building before she snapped out of her reverie and entered the mess hall again.
The room was a mass of sweaty, half-drunk men. Vaguely wondering where they got the alcohol, she began to edge around the walls, searching for her two comrades while trying to avoid getting pulled into the crowd. It took a while before she glimpsed Merric's vivid red hair.
Grimacing, she pushed through the throng and latched onto the redhead's arm, pulling him to a stop. That was when she looked up at the table. Neal was merrily performing some sort of jig on its wooden surface while sloshing cider over the heads of the men watching, all the while crying, "Come and get your Steadfast Cider!" Quenching a tyrannical roar, she stepped up, knocked the flask of cider from his hands and wrenched him down onto the floor. He couldn't even walk in a straight line, and Merric was only slightly better; she hauled them out and voiced aloud her perplexity at how they'd gotten so drunk in the short time she'd been talking to Wyldon.
"You idiots!" she whispered hotly to the two drunks, feeling that it didn't matter if she betrayed a large chunk of emotion to them as she doubted they'd remember anything anyway. "We have to leave at dawn tomorrow, and you're completely intoxicated!"
"You know you love me for it," Neal slurred, falling into her. She thrust him off, red as a beet, hoping he wouldn't remember or mention his face had just been crushed into her breasts. He wobbled on one leg for a frozen moment before toppling onto the grass. Merric started giggling (giggling? just how much alcohol have they had? Kel asked herself) and began to skip around Neal, who remained sprawled on the grass. Kel kneeled down beside him. She had to smother a hysterical scream when she realised he was out cold.
"Just how strong is that cider?" she said, more to herself than to Merric, who was clearly oblivious to her woe. It was then that she remembered the wake flower, and shoved it under Neal's nose. It didn't take him long to wake up, and, after persuading Merric that squashing the few flowers growing within the walls of Fort Steadfast wasn't very nice, she set off once again for their rooms. Neal and Merric fell asleep on Neal's bed, and Kel ended up doing their packing for them. It was an extremely moody, pale Kel who flopped onto her bed almost two hours later and fell asleep the moment her body made contact with the mattress.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
AUTHOR'S NOTE: My amazing return to Tamora Pierce fanfiction! XD
I should apologise because the title is so far completely irrelevant to everything I have planned for this story. Until about five minutes ago I just referred to it as, "MY FANTASTICAL MASTERPIECE!" But that's fine... I can change it... -.-
This is going to be a massively KelNeal story, with a plot! For the most part, anyway. There is, unfortunately, a little KelDom, but that's just to make Neal jealous. So don't worry. I've got eleven chapters planned so far. Gooood, yes? And I'm already up to chapter 5 in writing. I'll update about once a week - that's about how long it takes to write each chapter, and I want to stay a few chapters ahead (although the summer holidays start in less than two weeks, so rejoice! I'll probably update quicker then!) Chapters will almost always be 3000 words or more, so an entire week of waiting desperately for an update will be worth it! -cough- Well, I'm not expecting many fans of this story, but a few would be nice. And it would be fun if everyone abbreviated the title to MB&SS like real fangirls (do many guys come on this site? I can't say I ever remember meeting anyone here who's male...). I would say abbreviate it to M&S, but I'd probably be sued by Marks and Spencers.
If you love me, you'll review. And please point out any errors in spelling/grammar/formatting, because I want this to be as close to perfection as I can get it. (hmmph. Like that's ever gonna happen...)