Author's Note: This is my "on-the-side" story. It deals with a character we met in Squire about a year after that story. The Scanran war is in full rage, and though the Killing Machines are gone, the barbarians aren't giving up. Her dream has changed from knight to Queens Rider in that year but that doesn't mean she's less fiery than she was before.
Disclaimer: Duh...
Warning: This chapter has a light message of suicide within but it's necessary for my story.
Fractus Fides
Chapter 1
The light shimmered across her bedroom wall, highlighting the designs with bright silver. Down her face raced a small river of tears, falling from brown eyes that spoke of utter devastation. The pain was too much—no matter that tomorrow was her small family party—and she needed to find a way to release the pain that surged within her.
Through the water and pain, she focused on what was clenched tightly in her left hand. The long, black-handled knife that glittered so coolly against her wrist seemed to ripple before her eyes, swimming with light. The blade seemed to sing to her and whisper small comforts to the girl who was utterly lost. Her friends? Gone or so far away she could not seem to reach them. Her childhood crush? Well, he liked someone else and had told her so…not mentioning the fact that he had been betrothed for about a year. Her family? What can be said about them that hasn't been uttered by her before?
Masses of brown curls fell before the quiet eyes and Fianola of Disart pushed them back from her face with a soft growl. Girls her age weren't supposed to know about such things as suicide but when your father and brothers spoke of the terrors of being a Scanran prisoner and the suicides they had seen, what else was she supposed to know?
The distant thunder of hoof beats interrupted the still summer night, making her spin. As she did, the knife slashed a small line down the inside of her wrist. She hissed with pain, then growled and gently placed the weapon into the quilted pocket of the dressing gown sitting on the end of her bed. Placing her lips to the small amount of blood, she leaned out of the third story window.
The courier was dressed in the red and gold of the Queens Riders. The horse, obviously pale gold in color, was now dark with sweat. Lines of sweaty foam marked its shoulders and neck, green spit bubbling between its lips. The rider slid to a halt in the courtyard, dismounting the horse and handing her to the sleepy stable hand before rushing into the castle.
Fia sighed then shrugged into her threadbare dressing gown, tying the faded silver ribbons tightly. The royal blue fabric was well wrinkled but it was the best and it had once been her mother's. Pulling breeches on underneath it, she quickly braided the mass of curls before running down to her brother's study.
The courier stood gasping and sipping from a pitcher of water, his green eyes scanning every face in the room. Fianola was the last to arrive—her brother also "the" Lord Raidon of Disart, his wife Kiala previously of Fennoth clutching their son, Ferron, her "newly-admitted-to-the-covenant" sister Lavinia, and her younger brother, Brom. They all stood there, their bronzed skin ashen with shock.
"Did I miss something," she finally asked, looking from the courier to her family. Nia shook her proudly held head, looking graceful even at one hour past midnight. Fia pushed away the slight jealousy of her sister and looked at the courier again. The pitcher slipped from his slick fingers and she lunged for it, clasping it to her body with fingers that trembled. His green eyes held his gratitude for her before he turned to Lord Raidon, bowing gracefully.
"Lord Raidon, the Scanrans have breached Fort Mastiff's defense. They are on their way here. General ha Minch has ordered all northern fiefs to prepare their defenses and call in their villages." The courier spoke with the monotone of a well-memorized and often recited message. Silently, Fia handed the pitcher back to him, looking at him behind a few escaped curls.
His greens held more than a spark of mischievousness that made his face look young. Auburn hair, dark with sweat, was cropped short and was dead straight. His complexion was pale, though not the usual milky white of those who are born with the same hair and eye combination as him. He was bordering on the tall side, standing—Fia guessed—at around six feet thus beating her by three inches. He was broad-shouldered but held himself with the relaxed watchfulness of a trained warrior.
He continued on, his gaze reserved only for the Lord of Disart. "The king has ordered that girls return to the covenant immediately and the training of the peasants and any children willing to fight must begin. Gods bless us."
They all stood in silent shock for a minute before they realized that the courier was done. "Very well," Raidon murmured, looking at his wife and son. "Thank you for the warning. The grooms will have prepared a new mount for you by now and you may retrieve your mare the next time you pass this way. The Lady Fianola shall care for her."
Her brother indicated to her as he spoke and Fia glanced up, almost dropping the pitcher, as he did so. How could he remain so calm when the entire realm was in danger? The courier bowed first to Raidon and then to Fianola. She gave a wavering smile and silently handed the pitcher back to him. A small grin lit the boy's face, revealing him to be at least 15.
"Her name's Oria," He murmured after he drank his fill then rushed back towards the stable. Fia followed him, picking two apples up from a bowl. Silently, she handed them to him, staring over the horse they had provided.
She was a lanky mare, pale silver in color who seemed to be full of energy. Dark gray stockings marked all four legs and a blaze ran down her face. She grabbed the mare's mane. "Her name's Willow. Don't use the spurs too much or a hard hand and she'll do anything for you."
The courier looked at her for a moment then nodded. Briefly, he ran his thumb down the inside of her wrist, smearing the blood that rand down it. His green eyes looked worried but he finally smiled and clicked his tongue, turning the mare.
Do what he wishes, Fia said softly, comforting the mare through her mind. He's kind, I can tell…not every day you meet a human like this. Fia grinned at Willow's response and then helped the grooms pull the stable doors shut.
Turning, she walked past Oria and out of the stables. She stood and stared at the warmly lit castle, feeling more than a little forlorn. The castle was everything that she wanted…warmth, security, strength. Reaching into the inner pocket of her gown, she pulled out the black handled knife.
Her people needed her now. No matter how miserable she turned out to be, taking her life was not the answer. Her dream of becoming a Rider would live on, and she would live it within a year. Sighing, she put the blade down on the anvil near by then ran her finger down her wrist. She could still feel the brush of the courier's calloused thumb and see the worried look in his green eyes.
"No," She whispered to herself, forcing herself to turn away from the shining blade. "I'll be here when he gets back and his mare will be well cared for." With that firm thought, she drew the gown closer and rushed inside.