Disclaimer: I do not, nor will I ever own anyone or anything in this fanfic except for the plot line. That I fear, I must be accountable for.
Dedication: To Sirynta, for writing one of the only other Kel/Wyldon fics! I bow down to you, for your courage in writing an unusual pairing. +Tips hat to you+
Kel slowly stretched. She was uneasy about the thought of moving through enemy territory. It was a slender strip of land that thrust its way forward, but going through it was short and the quickest way to the refugee fort. With a company of soldiers or even a few knights the journey would have been acceptable but not with Lord Wyldon and a few scribes. Not that scribes were unimportant but they were not usually proficient warriors. The Scanrans were especially disposed to raiding in that particular area and Kel and Lord Wyldon would not be able to protect the party if they were raided.
Nevertheless, Kel was eventually able to sleep, albeit clinging to her sword. Kel woke at dawn, as was her usual want, and began to do the most complex dance with a glaive that she had ever learned, to ease the tension of wrongness in her shoulders. When she finally thrust the butt of her glaive down into the damp grass and leaned against it, she turned around slowly, as she was unable to see Jump. When she spotted him leaning against Lord Wyldon's legs, she made her face Yamani smooth to hide the light chuckle that came bubbling up, unbidden from the back of her throat. She was surprised to see Lord Wyldon up at dawn, he had never done that previously, nor had he ever watched her glaive dance before. He was leaned against a fence post, arms crossed against his chest. When he spoke, his voice was low and thoughtful;
"I see it was a waste of time to teach you the spear, Mindelan."
"Probably, sir." He raised one eyebrow, his right hand reaching down to scratch at Jump's ear.
"Didn't I teach to be definitive, Mindelan?" He barked.
"Yes, sir." He relaxed.
"Only probably? Judging by your competence with that weapon, I would say definite." Lord Wyldon sighed, his hand draped across the top of Jump's head.
"But I would never let you use a glaive, would I?"
"No, sir."
"Are you ready, Mindelan?"
"My Lord Wyldon, if you can wake the scribes at this hour, the Scanrans will be so terrified that they will just surrender in droves to you." Too late, Kel realized what she had said, and she bowed her head in deference ready to receive a scolding.
"I take that as a no, Mindelan?" Lord Wyldon said with humor. Ever since the incident with Fort Haven's refugees, only rarely had he been disgruntled and emotionless with her. She had even learned that he had a devious sense of humor, if it was rare to see.
"That is correct, my Lord. But I can be ready shortly if you wish."
"That will do, Mindelan. I've decided that leaving at this dawn hour might prevent raiding."
"Yes, my Lord." Kel was still vaguely uneasy but she went to groom and saddle Peachblossom. Only when she had gathered her glaive, long sword, and a longbow, did she feel that she was ready. Leading Peachblossom, she met with Lord Wyldon in front of the scribe's tent.
"Are the scribe's ready, my Lord, of shall we rouse them?" She rubbed at Peachblossom's neck, holding the reins loosely in her gloved fist.
"Mindelan, they will be ready. Would you tell Jesslaw to bring Heart?" Kel ducked her head in the affirmative. "Good." Wyldon nodded and reached for Peachblossom's reins. Quick as a whip, he moved to bite but Lord Wyldon smacked him on the muzzle.
"None of that." He said. Kel released a sigh of relief and walked away to find Owen of Jesslaw, Lord Wyldon's squire. When she had retrieved Heart from Owen, and tried to ignore the worried look he sent her way, she returned to the tent and shook her head when Lord Wyldon shoved Peachblossom's reins at Kel impatiently and ducked into the scribe's tent. Seconds later, she heard loud apologetic voices and Lord Wyldon's cool measured tones. He strode out seconds later, rubbing the back of his neck, his dark eyes snapping fire.
"Will they be ready presently, my Lord?"
"They will be ready, Mindelan." Kel's breath frosted in the air and she stamped her feet. Finally she swung up into Peachblossom's saddle, got the kinks out of her arms and neck and urged Peachblossom forward. She got up in place beside Lord Wyldon and breathed a sigh of relief. The air might not be filled with snowflakes yet, but the wind was brisk and chilled Kel. It felt good to be up on Peachblossom's broad warm back. She whistled to Jump who hopped into the carrier on Peachblossom's back, Normalcy did not continue indefinitely however, with both Kel and Lord Wyldon being reticent. Within moments of starting the perilous trek to New Hope, one of the scribes rode up and began to try to converse with Lord Wyldon who sat silent and completely still, only the minute flexing in his facial muscles told of his irritation. Without warning, he galloped ahead and slid Heart to the other side of Kel, far enough from the scribe that she would not be able to talk to him. The scribe looked affronted only for a moment when she began to chatter on to Kel. At first she gave affirmatives and nods to show that she was still attentive but Kel soon had had enough. She turned to Lord Wyldon and asked;
"Is she so very desperately needed?" Her voice, she was horrified to note, had both a whining and pleading note in it.
"Unfortunately yes, Mindelan." He said, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement. But he continued "I'm sure Sir Nealan would know of a spell to temporarily mute a person. Until then, I am afraid, Mindelan, that we will have to put up with her."
"Yes, my Lord." Kel said firmly, and proceeded to say more softly to herself; "Just like Raoul."
"What was that Mindelan?" His sharp authoritative tone cut through her innocent expression and supposed listening to the scribe.
"I said, my Lord that you were just like Raoul." Kel shut her mouth and dared go no further, if he queried further, she would be fighting him in a duel.
"How, Mindelan?" Lord Wyldon did not sound amused.
"Because, my Lord, when I was a squire under Raoul, I practiced jousted with him." Wyldon's mouth curved up on one side; evidently he too knew what jousting with Raoul was like. "After the first time I did so, I informed Raoul that he was a bad man because he made me do logistics after he addled my brains." Kel's mouth was in a straight line and she stared straight ahead, flushed with embarrassment. Lord Wyldon's mouth briefly settled into a smile before he set his face firmly and said gravely;
"I'm sure you deserved it, Mindelan." Kel almost choked with the shock that he was not disapproving and she looked over at him.
"Yes, my Lord."
Lord Wyldon was disappointed. Suddenly she had started to show life beyond a machine that said 'yes sir' and 'no sir' and with one roar from him and she had hopped right back into that role like a scared bunny. He just could not figure the girl out. She was a chivalrous knight and an exceptional commander but with him it was as if Mindelan was too terrified of him to do anything other than jump through the hoops that he required. He liked Mindelan even if she was a girl.
Sometime later, still hearing inane talk, Kel said;
"My Lord, I may never forgive you."
"Mindelan, far be it from me to say anything, and I would understand if you never forgave me, but rather you than me.'
"Very well, my Lord." Kel said her face completely blank but inwardly she chuckled. "But begging pardon, and meaning no ill will, my Lord is a wicked man."
"That may be Mindelan, that may be." Lord Wyldon bit his lip to keep from laughing and rubbed Heart's neck. Suddenly, Jump barked and leapt from Peachblossom's and Kel halted, inwardly tense, all mirth gone. The signal for an ambush, a single bark.
"An ambush, my Lord. What's the plan of action?" Kel thought that she might have been able to take command if necessary but Lord Wyldon was far more experienced than she. He rubbed at his right arm and asked;
"How many?" Two claw scores in the dirt, twenty.
"Jump says at least twenty, my Lord." Jump barked once. -Yes-
"Damn. Mindelan, we'll have to fight, we're trapped in this gorge." Kel saw that he was right; they would never be able to retreat in the gorge. To the scribes he gave one quick order; "Arm yourselves, make haste." His sword rasped as he drew it from the sheath and he hurriedly readied his shield. Kel held an arrow to her bow, glaive loosed. A gleam in the conifer, an arrow sang through the air, sprouting from the eye of a Scanranian ambusher. Another arrow, another down. Kel was alone with an arrow and a target, nothing else. Breathe in. Release. When Peachblossom neighed impatiently, Kel broke out of her trancelike state and reached for her glaive, coolly noting twelve dead with griffin arrows lodged in their eyes or throats. She sliced a man in two, from the collarbone to the waist and freed the blade from the bone in which it had lodged. Slice a man in the throat who held his axe too high. Hit a man in the head with the butt, slice up his belly. When she became more aware of the fight around her, she saw Lord Wyldon hard pressed to hold off four men, and one archer who looked ready to shoot. Snowflakes hung suspended in the blue sky, as Peachblossom tramped the snow. Time seemed to be in flux. Kel knew she wouldn't reach him in time. She slashed a man's throat and jumped over a horse's corpse. Eternity to see an arrow fly. The sky was blue, the sun was bright as Kel prepared to live and see another good man die. She threw her head up to the heavens and gave a cry that was half growl and half shriek and hurled her glaive. She scrambled for her sword and watched the arrow soar, the archer's cry as the glaive lodged in his chest. Lord Wyldon's face wincing as he grasped at his bleeding arm, and parried another blow. In her fury, Kel cut down the first man and stabbed the second in a hairsbreadth. Peachblossom took care of the third and Jump and Lord Wyldon finished off the fourth.
"Is it bad?" Kel panted, slumping on Peachblossom's neck.
"Mindelan, I'll live." Kel cursed, coming from Lord Wyldon that could mean any number of things. She moved away and began killing Scanranians who looked no older than boys and whose blood would stain her hands red. Her blade was red all the way to the hilt when Lord Wyldon called to her, resting against a tree and bandaging his arm, when a huge brute attacked him. He blocked and parried throwing all his strength into it, and felt blood dripping down his fingers. The Scanranians must have had reinforcements, Kel and he had killed far more than twenty.
"Mindelan," gasping for breath and he missed the mailed fist that hit the side of his head, knocking him from the saddle onto the ground, unconscious. Heart reared and he hit the bandit in the chest, knocking him to the ground and stomping him to death. Kel rode quickly to his side and dismounted, setting Peachblossom into the fray and she wheeled and turned, cutting down people from every angle. Sweat stung her eyes, and then she gripped the handle of her sword hard enough to make her palms ache. Her arms shook with fatigue and her vision blurred with blood loss. The scribes had been slain far earlier and as someone came up to fight, her knees buckled. She got to one knee and parried a blow, her breath hitching in her throat as she lunged forward under his blade and stabbed him. Kel landed onto of Lord Wyldon, who didn't make a sound, Kel desperately tried to push herself up but pain wracked her ribs then her head and she rubbed at her forehead, sticky with blood. Suddenly she had two hands instead of one and her vision had black edges. Dimly she was aware of someone lifting her up, and binding her hands. Then she was thrown on a horse as what felt like an ogre stepped on her chest.
She woke suddenly when water was dumped on her head and she lunged upwards, only to be stopped by the collar around her neck and she fell to her knees. Her captor unchained her, and she wobbled, her legs weak and she almost fell when they dumped something on top of her. Straining her eyes sidewise and moving her head slowly, Kel stared into the handsome bloody face of her unconscious commander. While Lord Wyldon was particularly tall, only three or four inches then Kel herself, he was quite muscled and heavy. She staggered and then started to walk, biting her cheek as her long forgotten injuries came to light and began to throb. One foot in front the other, for what seemed to be eternity. The sun made a slow downward trek, even as Kel trudged onwards. When darkness pressed through the trees and the Scanranians stopped for the night, Kel kept going, her body set on autopilot. When the end of a halberd hit the back of her knees, she fell, her body impacting the ground with the full weight of Wyldon on her shoulders. Her hands were tied in front of her so she couldn't feel for it but Kel knew that there would be scratches and blood on her face. When a moan came from on top of her, Kel tried to move but her face was only ground further into the dirt. 'At least, under Wyldon it was warm' Kel thought dreamily. But her warmth was snatched from her as the oppressive weight rolled off of her. When a hand grabbed her arm and rolled her over, setting Kel into a sitting position, she bit back a cry of pain. One or more of her ribs were definitely broken.
"Mindelan, listen to me." Wyldon's voice was rough and gravelly, but still carried the ring of authority.
"Are you wounded, Keladry?" There was blood encrusted on the side of his head and in his graying hair, what remained of it. Kel switched her gaze to the angry scab on his upper arm from the arrow furrow, and the long gash on his chest. She shrugged away his hands and sat up, her chin set obstinately and her eye spilling fire.
"I'm fine, my Lord." Why did Kel feel so angry about Wyldon expressing concern?
"But perhaps a healer might be wise in your case?" He shook his head, looking at her and leaned forward, catching her chin and holding her head still. He pulled a rag out of the bowl of water by his side and gently cleaned her eye, closed shut with dried, encrusted blood.
"I'm not sure you've looked at yourself properly lately." Wyldon murmured, dabbing at the cut on her brow. Kel shivered, the water was cold and she was chilled already. Knowing that warmth was of greater importance she attempted to stand and walk, generating body heat, but counted without her stiff knees and Wyldon. His voice was exasperated as he growled;
"Sit down, Mindelan." As he pushed on Kel's shoulder, she gave out a cry .His fingers were sticky with Kel's blood and he let out a curse, leaning over her shoulder as he took a look at her back.
"Damn, Mindelan why didn't you tell me? I would've have thought that you might have informed me that you had been horsewhipped!"
"You didn't ask." Kel muttered, wincing as he rubbed at the long, bloody welts.
"Must I always? I thought you had more common sense." He said as the rag in his hand turned red and sticky.
"Says the man who replied 'I'll live.'?" Kel bit her lip as he cleaned a particularly deep wound.
"Point taken, Mindelan." He leaned back onto his haunches and rested the rag in the bowl. Brisk winter air seemed to cut right through Kel and she huddled, wrapping arms around herself as she shook and her teeth chattered. Wyldon set the bowl on the ground and carefully wrapped a blanket around her, swearing more at her pale face and lips. He would have to get her off the cold, snowy ground. But the Scanranians would not grant him any luxuries beyond a blanket and a bowl of water with a rag as well as some rude gestures. Her hazel eyes closed quickly but the shade of her lips was still a pale blue. Very carefully, knowing that this would hurt on his part and for Kel's, he lifted her onto his legs and her weight pulled on the scab on his chest and Wyldon muffled a small groan. When Kel woke the next morning, she was cocooned in warmth. Her entire body hurt and she stifled a cry getting up, Kel looked at the warmth she had been lying on and she burned with embarrassment. She had been lying on Wyldon and enjoyed it. How could she? He had been her training master and he was her commander, and of course the fact that he was currently espoused. What kind of a chivalrous knight was she? But he was a man, and a very good looking, long, lean one, whispered a very dirty part of her mind. Kel scowled and bent over to pick up the thin bowl of gruel the Scanranians had dished out at her feet. As she returned to her standing position, she sloshed a great deal of the gruel on the ground because of the agony slicing through her arm, signs of protest from her dislocated shoulder. She shifted the bowl to her other hand and staggered over to Lord Wyldon. Kel sipped at what remained in the bowl until the amount was halved and placed it beside her, easing into a cross legged sitting position. Kel slowed her breathing and began to meditate, sinking into wells of water, completely painless. She was Yamani, there was no pain. When a large callused hand gripped her shoulder, water was not enough. She elbowed into the intruder's ribs and went for the throat, cutting off his breath. He looked at her impassively, his dark eyes were hard and cold, and he looked like the Wyldon of her page training days, not the one of the last few months. Kel relaxed her hold and removed her hands and said;
"My apologies, Lord Wyldon, you startled me." He said nothing but the creases in his forehead deepened and his lips were a thin line. Does he suddenly think that I've become an easily startled female? Kel held his gaze and tried not to look startled as he rolled to his knees, as smoothly as a panther.
"Never mind, Mindelan."
"Yes, sir." Kel offered him the bowl of gruel, which he sipped at, tentatively at first, to space out the disgusting congealed mess and then swallowed in great doses. Lord Wyldon frowned in distaste and set the bowl from him.
"Did any of the scribes survive?" His almost condescending tone hurt Kel's pride, despite the fact that she knew that he would be feeling guilty about the scribes demise.
"No, my lord." His frown deepened and his eyes hooded over, and he fiddled with his fingers.
"Why did they capture us and not the scribes?"
"Think Mindelan, why?" Lord Wyldon rubbed his temples, a sure sign of irritation in him. Kel knew it well enough.
"Oh."
"Mindelan, you mustn't forget that you are a distinguished knight of the realm."
"Both of us, sir." Kel frowned and ran a hand through her hair, making bloody streaks.
"That too, I suppose." He dusted his hands off on his bloody jerkin and rose to his feet.
"Now Mindelan, are you going to tell me just how much bandaging I am going to have to do, or have you been magically healed during the night?" He sounded displeased and cross at the same time and Kel offered him her dislocated arm, wincing as he ran light fingers down it. Lord Wyldon glowered.
"Well, Mindelan, your arm isn't broken, just dislocated. Might I suggest holding onto something so I don't hurt you more than necessary." What a jolly thought, Kel thought as she braced herself. Wyldon pulled on her shoulder, and surges of pain flared from her shoulder, as her shoulder slipped into its socket with a click. Kel knew that bruises would be forming from the grip of his hands near her elbow and on top of her collarbone. He rested for a moment, braced on his thighs, looking at her this way and that like a bird of prey. Which is what he looked like, with the tufts of his hair sticking up in the back and his hooked nose. One of the Scanranians rode up and turning to Wyldon in the saddle, gave a slight nod, saying
"My Lord Wyldon of Cavall, you are a prisoner of war, expect to be treated as such. Any property on or with your person no longer belongs to you. We march in fifteen minutes-." Suddenly he was interrupted by a foot soldier with an axe whispering to him, and his grim smile turned to a frown
"Zear-hem" He spat as he removed one leg from the stirrup and kicked Wyldon in the chest, knocking him, face first into Kel. They sprawled together. Wyldon had his head on Kel's shoulder and one hand dangerously placed on her hip. Kel's eyes were closed and she was muttering under her breath;
"Must not kill, Scanranians. Must not kill…Scanranians." She opened her eyes, and saw Wyldon get up. He had splotches of color in his face and he looked ready to kill, when he spoke his voice was quick and lethal;
"Mindelan. Get up." Kel obeyed, getting out of the gray mud, which was not particularly objectionable since she was already covered in it.
"My Lord, do you need a healer?" Bad question, Kel.
"Mindelan, I would gladly, seek the tender ministrations of Queenscover if only he could remove me from this situation!" Kel could only swear very softly. My Lord Wyldon was angry. She launched into the tiger's den.
"What situation, My Lord?" He had been perfectly calm before as a prisoner of war, and no other such situation had arise. Kel knew Scanran but had not understood the last word. Kel suggest very tentatively;
"Does it have to do with what he said?" She gestured to the mounted man some distance away. He said;
"Not up-to-date on Scanranian swears, Mindelan? Too dirty for the Lady Knight?" His tone was mocking and cruel. Lord Wyldon had a dangerously bad temper but he had steel control. Was renowned for it. But now he was raging like the Lioness.
"I'll make sure to study up on them, next time I prepare for war." No honorific. Kel was surprised that she hadn't killed him yet, or rather that he hadn't killed her. She was known to be cool. Apparently not. But suddenly she was in control again, he sighed, saying;
"Zear, means whore, Mindelan."
"Whore?"
"Yes, whore. Mistress. Prostitute. Harlot-"
"I suppose, applying to me?" Kel wasn't surprised.
"Yes."
"Ah well. My Lord, ignore it." His eyes took on a canny glow.
"Just like you, I suppose, Mindelan?"
"Yes My Lord. Only I wish…"
"Mindeliian!" Get on with it, I know My Lord.
"That they would come up with something new. Being called a whore all the time does get exceedingly wearying." Kel suddenly put two and two together. "But 'hem' means Master doesn't it? Referring to training master? 'Or with your person…?" Oh. They thought she was his whore? Oh Mithros!
"I'm sorry, my lord." Wyldon looked astonished;
"What's to be sorry about, Mindelan? I've dealt with such things before!"
"Yes, but … why was he suddenly so forceful about it?"
"Because your name is rather famous, Mindelan. 'Protector of the Small'." She almost groaned, "That was rather derogatory to you. He didn't speak to you, just thought of you as a whore!"
"Very well, but if you judge by rumor, I'm the easiest slut to bed in Tortall." He clenched his jaw, and his knuckles went white.
"At first he assumed I was just the owner of a female slave. But once he was told who you were, you became a whore. Rather insulting, actually."
"Why?"
"Mindelan, for other people, being assumed one or that you are in the regular process of using a slut is insulting."
"Yes, sir.' Kel didn't answer anymore but Wyldon kept speaking;
"Doesn't that bother you? Mindelan?" Wyldon's voice was soft and questioning almost gently, despite his earlier rage.
"No, My Lord. It was … Joren's favorite insult. I knew it wasn't true, so why be concerned?"
"Other knights are supposed to be chivalrous, Mindelan." Wyldon looked contemplative, a new mood in him. A Scanran walked by, gesturing with his spear butt and saying in somewhat guttural Common;
"Time to march, My Lord. Wench!" The last word had a sneer attached and they began to walk. Kel just stifled the pain in her limbs and began to limp forward, unconcerned by the frequent groping of the soldiers or by the jeers. Lord Wyldon however was standing very straight and stiffly, his hands clenching and unclenching. Kel knew better than to try to soothe him and ignored him as well as the snickers and the catcalls of their guards. It was near noon when, Wyldon finally lost control. The same guard as had previously kicked him in the chest, rode up between Kel and Wyldon, rubbing Kel's shoulder with his knee. Kel ignored him, but his inroads grew bolder. He winked at Wyldon and leaned down from the saddle and caressed Kel's behind. Kel's teeth clenched tight and her wrists bled as she scraped against her bonds. Wyldon reacted faster than a striking snake, pulling the younger man down from the saddle, and with one blow snapped his neck. When the other Scanranian soldiers began to take notice, they jabbered at each other, too fast for Kel to understand. Finally a group descended upon Wyldon and pulled him away from the guard's body, beating him fair in the process.
Kel struggled free, seeing the blood running down from a cut above Wyldon's eye. That was the catalyst for the too-tightly wound guards, who set upon her, beating her to the ground. Too nervous to even try sexual advances. Kel just rolled into a ball, taking the beating as best she could. When the beating was over, they hauled her up, and led her over to a horse, also standing by was Lord Wyldon. Kel was first made to get on the horse, then Lord Wyldon. Only one horse to spare, now. The Scanranian soldiers, after much bickering, bound them together at the waist. Finally they set off again, leading Kel's horse by the reins. Kel was thankful that Lord Wyldon couldn't see her face, bright pink with color. Tied the way she was, Kel could feel every inch of Lord Wyldon sliding against her, which wasn't something she needed at the present. Nor did it help that Wyldon's hands were bound in front of Kel, effectively making him press against her. Over and over she told herself that she wasn't supposed to feel anything for this man, but the fire licking at her insides gave her away. But her embarrassment was a bucket of ice-cold water as she remembered exactly who this man was. He was Lord Wyldon, who was married, and a good deal older than she, who was her training master, and who was quite against emotion of any kind. But Kel was surprised to hear a voice whispered in her ear;
"Not one word, Mindelan. Ever. Do you understand?" The stubble on his jaw made
her skin prickle and she almost nodded fervently but then she decided against lapsing back into unconsciousness and replied softly;
"Most decidedly, My Lord." She didn't know whether he heard her or not because they rode the whole day in silence and Kel was glad for it. Talking made her head pound and her jaw ache, and besides, silence was infinitely better than remembering the currently mortifying situation that she was saddled with. At some point, Kel must have fallen asleep.
Lord Wyldon suffered in silence. Mindelan was asleep, her head cradled against his chest. He could just rest his chin on top of her light brown hair. So very much like his wife's. But why had he felt so enraged? Not about the treatment, he had been treated as a prisoner of war before. So too had he had injuries and treated them on others, Serving wenches were far more skilled at creating sexual tension and embarrassment, he had experienced plenty of that. So had Mindelan.
So why did the thought give him so much pause that Mindelan was regarded as such a slut?
Author's Note: A beta would be much appreciated for this fic. Much revising will have to be done. I don't have either Kel or Wyldon quite the way I would like them, so that will have to be worked. Please review and tell me things to work on. I will ignore flames. Period. However, if you supply evidence and or have a good reason for the critism I thank you, because I need that.
Just one more thing, this is what I think Wyldon should look like;
/union-generals/sherman/pictures/william-sherman-portrait.htm
Read and Review, please!
In the end, we will remember, not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends...